#Cole may burn his lips but he’s probably into that

[ateriblewriter]

Seven Stages

A/N: this is written differently. Please bear with me.

warnings: mentions of alcohol and consequences of drinking too much.

There are seven levels of alcohol intoxication. They are as follows:

1. Sobriety. That one should be self explanatory. You are sober. Your group decides a to have a little. A little party. It’s all fun and games. Sure you drink something but you don’t really feel anything or exhibit any signs of being intoxicated, but something is starting to build. 

2. Euphoria. During this stage you start to feel really good about yourself. As the drinks start flowing your confidence, talkativeness, and sociality begin to increase. You need to start being careful though. At this point although it maybe fun, your words will start to sound a little funny, your memory of future events will be fuzzy, you will most likely come away with bruises you have no knowledge of getting. 

3. Excitement. It should glaringly evident to everyone around that you are drunk, but due to that fact that they are all highly drunk as well it will go unnoticed. What they do notice is your large mood swings from happy to mean to sad all within a matter moments. You somehow obtain even more bruises now. You can't form words and you vision is blurry. You are starting to get sick. You need something to drink and are met with more shot which you gladly down without any hesitancy. Liquid is liquid right?

4. Confusion. You have officially blacked out. You will not remember anything after this point tomorrow. You're confused why some told you no more. You disregard them anyways by stealing the bottle sitting on the edge of the counter. Your pain tolerance is out of this world and your auto pilot switch has been turned on, making you feel like an unstoppable force.

5. Stupor. You are a zombie like creature, unable to walk, or breathe. The uncontrollable vomiting burns your throat, eventually you start to choke on the stuff coming up. Your irregular heart beat and seizure will lead to some unconciousness.

Please also note that at this stage you will need medical attention, you are close to the final stages there may be life threatening consequences that will not only affect you.

6. Coma. Everyone thinks you're just in a deep sleep because no amount of stimuli will wake you. Someone has the decency to bring you up to your room where you can sleep in off and be fine the next day. In their drunken stupor they are sorely mistaken.

7. Death. This one like sobriety is pretty self explanatory. You stop breathing, your heart stops beating and your lips may turn a cool blue color. This is the end of the line for you.

~

Quinn was supposed to be in charge. He was burdened with being the oldest person in home at the time of the incident. He was probably going to be taking the brunt of the blame for what happened to her. There was an underage kid in a house filled with booze and a dead person. He should have known better. 

Jack invited her. She was his friend first back in New Jersey. He had invited her for the summer with the intention of getting to know her than he already and maybe starting something with her. Out of everyone he felt the most guilty. If it weren’t for him she would have never been there.

Cole wasn’t even supposed to be there. He just happened to be passing through and figured it would fun to catch up with his friends. He like many of the others didn’t know his new friend but he was still there and felt like maybe he could have done more.

Trevor kept giving her drinks. He bought most of the stuff they consumed that night. He was the one playing bartender creating colorful drinks and shots that would have destroyed anyones liver at first glance, but she enjoyed them so he kept them going. Behind Jack he fully believed it he was the one most at fault.

Matt tried to get her to stop drinking earlier in that night. Even in his own drunken state he could tell it was getting out of control for her, and tried to tell her no more. He didn't see when she went behind his back and swiped another bottle of something blue full of liquor.

Alex was the who eventually brought her bed and covered her with a blanket when he felt she was a bit cool to the touch. He didn't really think anything of it. They were all highly intoxicated and needed sleep. She, like everyone else, would be fine in the morning. Well not fine, the hangover were going be killer, literally.

Luke found her. He was worried when it was well past the middle of the day and she wasn’t up yet. Grabbing a glass of water and a little something to eat he trudged into her room. He found her looking so peaceful. Unbeknownst to him, she hadn't moved an inch from where Alex had placed her the night before.

~

"Y/N it's time to get up." Luke placed the food on the bedside table next to her bed. She looked so calm and restful, as though she had been as sleep for a thousand years. He wondered how exactly she did that. He'd have to get her secrets later.

"Hey, Y/N." He placed a hand on her shoulder giving it a little shake. No response. He grabbed ahold of her face thinking she’d surely stir from the contact. Nothing. She looked so still so quiet. almost as if she were- oh no.

He needed to get anyone of the people older than him that occupied the home, most likely Quinn. Yeah he would know what to do.

But Luke couldn’t move, as though he were tethered in place. Panic coursed through his body. She is dead. No pulse. No anything.

“Luke?” Another figured entered the room, he could have probably figured out who it was by the voice but he wasn’t paying attention.

“She’s gone.” He whispered so quietly to Trevor, the other person who had moments before entered the room couldn’t understand what he was saying. He did get the sense that whatever the nineteen year old had said was most likely about Y/N.

Taking steps forward Trevor did the same thing Luke had tried minutes earlier to wake her. Finding the same success that Luke had. His heart started sinking when he searched y/n’s wrist for a pulse.

“Fuck.” Trevor ran out of the room and down the stairs to where the other were lounging around planning the events of the next night.

“Y/N. It’s Y/N.” Trevor gasped for air.

“What about her?” Jack jumped up, worry etched on his face.

“She’s she’s” Trevor had gotten out all the words he intended to before Jack made a mad dash up to her room. Seeing Luke the way he was Jack came to his own conclusion that he was never going to see her again.

“She’s what. Spit it out Z.” The others got to their ready to follow in the middle Hughes brother tracks. But they waited, wanting to her what their friend had to say first.

“Y/N’s dead.” Trevor eventually got out. “At least I think she is. I”

“What do you mean by ‘I think she is?’” Matt questioned, he reached for his phone s sharing a quick look with Quinn. A scream was heard from upstairs, presumably from Jack’s lips, sent almost everyone running.

Matt stayed behind with Alex. He was going to make the important call. If by a chance Y/N wasn’t gone she was going to need help.

~

“Alright boys, we’re going to need to talk with each of you individually. Now as of right now no one is in trouble. Y/f/N Y/L/N’s death was an accident. But we do need to know what happened. So whose going to start?” The detective asked the group. No one wanted to go, but Trevor offered to go first.

“So we’re all in agreement that this isn’t our fault?” Quinn looked at the group of hockey players surrounding him, Cole was the only one to nod. Everyone else felt some sort of guilt. They had been there they should have done something more.

“They’re going to find someone to blame.” Luke finally broke his silence that he had been holding for awhile now. “We were all here we are all getting in trouble for this.”

“We’re never going to play in the show again are we?” Cole piped up, sounding quite insensitive at the moment. “They aren’t going to want us anymore.”

“Seriously? That’s all you care about right now? Y/N is dead. We are most likely going to jail. Who fucking cares about hockey now. It’s not important anymore.” A few tears escaped Jacks eyes. 

He was right. People were going to get in trouble for this. Someone had to be at fault. But who was innocent and who was to blame?

#jack hughes #trevor zegras #luke hughes #quinn hughes #cole caufield #alex turcotte #matt boldy #seven stages #jack hughes blurb #trevor zegras blurb #luke hughes blurb #quinn hughes blurb #cole caufield blurb #alex turcotte blurb #matt boldy blurb #i’m sorry #I suck #I know #nhl imagine #nhl imagine #nhl blurb #nhl fanfiction #hockey imagine

[finn-m-corvex]

Whumptober Day 27: Scars

First it was Pixal and now it's Zane! We love our favorite nindroid, and I like this one a lot. I feel like it maybe could've been a little better but oh well, if it works it works.

Taglist: @splinnters @abigailxoxo @tornoleander @mondothebombo @ghostwalloper @toastingpencils37 @lightning-chicken

Words: 2.1k

There were so many.

Jay’s hands kept tracing up and down his arms, following the lines as they went up and up and up all the way to his shoulders. Angry and red, his arms were throbbing in pain as he tried to flex his hands. He had already applied as much cream as he could safely put on, and it was doing jackshit to numb any of the pain. Pain that was worse than almost anything that he had ever felt, and he was pretty sure that it would be less painful if he cut his arms off.

He was supposed to be doing his exercises to try and strengthen his hands, but instead he had spent the past half hour sitting on the bench and trying to keep his arms as still as possible. Sweating, Jay bit his tongue to try and distract from the fire racing through his nerves, flinching when his hands twitched against his will. Need to breathe and breathe and breathe and breathe—

“Brother?”

Zane was standing in the doorway to the medbay, looking at Jay rocking back and forth with thinly veiled concern. He was holding a plate of food, setting in down on the nearest table and making his way over to Jay’s bench. Jay was suddenly very aware of how naked he was with his shirt off and his torso exposed, all of the scars from over the years on full display.

The whips and the burns and the slashes and the claws and the—

Sitting down, the ice ninja bit his lip. “The others were getting worried when you didn’t show up for dinner. Is everything alright?”

“I…” Jay looked away, feeling the shame bubble up from deep inside. “I can’t finish my stretches.”

“You can’t?” Zane asked. “Why? Is something wrong?”

There was nothing he could say that would make Jay feel any less embarrassed of himself, even though Jay knew that Zane would be the absolute last person to make fun of him for anything. “It hurts.”

“Hurts? What hurts?”

“Everything,” and Jay finally turned around to face Zane, paranoid about the nindroid looking at his back for too long. He didn’t want to answer any questions. “Everything hurts. My skin and my nerves and my—”

“Scars,” Zane finished, a sympathetic look on his face. Jay hated how weak it made him feel. “I may not have this problem, but I think I can still help. Would you want my help?”

No. “Sure, if you think there’s anything you can do about it.”

At least it wasn’t Cole. Jay didn’t know how he would’ve felt if it was Cole, but he knew that he would’ve just waved his best friend away and continued to suffer on his own. Kai would’ve been an instant no, and honestly? Nya and Lloyd probably would’ve been too. Zane wouldn’t go snitching on him, and Zane knew a lot about how to take care of them from past experiences and plenty of research. None of that logical thinking made him feel any better.

“How long have you been hurting?” Zane asked, taking Jay’s hands in his own and stroking across the top with his thumbs. The motion felt nice, his metal skin cool against the burning scars.

It was a tough question. Jay technically hadn’t been sitting here and hurting for very long, but his scars? His scars were hurting weeks before, almost like he overused them or overextended something. But the pulsing and the throbbing and the tingling were easy to suppress, easy to wave away. And of course, Jay made no effort to take care of himself when they started flaring up.

Humming, Jay just decided to give Zane the short version. “Since this morning.”

Zane raised an eyebrow, and Jay realized that the nindroid had a finger over his pulse point to measure out his heartbeat. “You’re lying. Tell me the truth.”

Biting his lip, Jay looked away. “...why should I? It won’t make a difference.”

“It makes a difference to me,” Zane said, “but I will not push if you do not want me to. I merely wanted to know so that I may help you in a more effective manner.”

Silence settled over the two of them, and it made Jay antsy, feeling like something was crawling under his skin. Guilt wormed its way into his bones; he couldn’t remember the last time he snapped at Zane or talked back to him. Something about it made him feel afraid, like the nindroid might punish him for stepping out of line.

Jay hated how often he felt like he had to walk on eggshells around his family.

All because of him.

Pain exploded across his body in response to his brief thought about Nadakhan, and Jay folded in half as stars swam through his vision. Gasping, he clutched at Zane’s hands, using his lightning and willing some of his nerve endings to shut off so he wouldn’t feel all of the pain. He knew that Zane knew what he was doing,

“Brother, do not,” Zane insisted, activating his power and letting the soothing cold envelop Jay’s hands. “You will only make it worse.”

“I know, Zane,” Jay was biting his tongue to keep from crying out.

Pins and needles stabbed into his legs from sitting down for too long, and Jay stood up without thinking about what might happen. His ankle gave out almost instantly, and Zane’s grip on his arm was the only thing keeping him from crashing into the ground. Squeezing his eyes shut, Jay couldn’t hold back the sobs anymore as the feeling left his leg, and it felt far too familiar to the numbness of the vengestone. He shouldn’t have switched the nerves off. He needed it back he needed it back he needed it back—

His back was pressed against a wall, and Jay choked on his next inhale. Shoulder screaming in pain, he threw his hand onto the wall, trying to feel what material it was made out of and praying to the First Master that it was wood—

It was stone.

He was up against a stone wall and he couldn’t feel his legs.

No. No. No. No no no no no no—

“--calm down,” Zane was saying, but Jay wasn’t listening. Using every bit of strength that he had left he tried to toss his entire body weight onto the thing keeping him down, crying out when it felt like his skin was splitting in two again. The thing barely moved an inch, and Jay sobbed, fighting harder and scrabbling against the metal skin as if he were a caged animal fighting for freedom.

Finally understanding what was making Jay so distressed, Zane carefully took ahold of the blue ninja’s shoulders and lay him down on his back on top of the room’s small carpet. Jay felt the carpet, clinging onto it until his knuckles turned white as he tried to get his bearings. Zane let a very small layer of frost coat his hand, carefully setting it on his brother’s neck and rubbing his jaw with his thumb.

Cold. It was cold. It wasn’t Nadakhan.

“Is this better?” Zane asked softly, and Jay was aware of the tears that escaped from his eyes from his mini-meltdown. He was embarrassed, and he was ashamed, and yet he couldn’t stop himself from leaning into his brother’s touch.

“Y-Yeah. Better.”

“We are going to stay like this for a couple minutes until you catch your breath.”

And that’s exactly what they did. Zane let his processor whirr a little louder than it normally did, and Jay was grateful for the peace that washed over him when it was all he could hear other than the sounds of them breathing. The carpet was rough and scratchy underneath him, but that was good. Anything other than the smooth and slick feeling of stone against his skin.

“Jay,” Zane said, and Jay opened his eyes again. He didn’t even know that he closed them in the first place, “would you be comfortable laying on your stomach?”

Dread filled him from the bottom up, and Jay had to swallow the fear back. This was Zane, his brother, and he wouldn’t do anything that could hurt him. “I-I guess so. Just be careful with whatever you’re going to do, alright?”

“Always. You know you can trust me,” Zane said, and he waited patiently for Jay to roll over onto his stomach. Jay took his time, feeling the pain come back twofold now that the pressure on his skin was being relieved. His scars stung as he exposed them to air again and Jay grimaced, keeping the small whimpers from escaping his mouth as he stretched his arms out.

Zane straddled him, and it took all of Jay’s self-control not to buck him off out of pure instinct. Apparently, the nindroid must’ve sensed Jay’s hips tense and prepare to move, and he was quick to get back off and sit down next to Jay. Jay felt a hand slide between his face and the carpet, lifting his head up and setting it down so that Jay’s head was cushioned against Zane’s thigh. He liked this better, nuzzling into Zane and feeling his brother’s hands start to work through his hair.

Jay liked that Zane’s powers were still active. The cold was a nice difference from the burning pain that he was feeling before.

Zane sighed. “You are going to be the death of me one day.”

“I thought that would be Kai,” Jay joked, and winced when Zane tugged a little too hard at one of the knots in his hair. Probably out of retaliation.

“Kai can be trusted to tell someone about his wounds, and I know that he can’t hide anything from me. You, however, have been successfully hiding this for weeks without me noticing, and that scares me.”

“Why?”

Zane paused in his movements. “I am your brother, and I have lived with you for years. I should be able to tell when you are in pain.”

Jay let his eyes close again as one of Zane’s hands smoothed across the back of his neck. “Zane, buddy, that’s because I didn’t want you to see it.”

Both of Zane’s hands left his hair, and Jay would’ve whined in protest if two cold spots didn’t settle on his shoulder blades, Zane’s wide hands spreading themselves flat before starting to go up and down his back. Jay felt his jaw go slack, finally able to take a breath without feeling like his skin was going to snap right off of his body. “Why would you not want someone to know that you were hurting?” Zane asked.

First Master, he was too tired for this. “Not worth the effort, Zane. It wouldn’t have made any difference.”

“The effort? Of helping you to feel better?”

“Yup,” Jay said, popping the ‘p’ on the end, “not worth it. The others and you have better things to do with your time than help me.”

At least, that’s what Nadakhan and the rest of the pirates told him.

“I can think of no better use of my time than helping those that I care about,” Zane said softly, kneading into Jay’s lower back. Jay squirmed for a second and settled down again. “I do this for Cole, and for Kai, and Lloyd, and even Nya once or twice. I would be more than happy to do it for you as well.”

“Damn, I’m the last one?” Jay hummed as Zane moved over the grooves in his spine.

“Yes, and yet somehow I think you’re the one who has needed it the most,” Zane was almost grumbling, and the tone of voice would’ve made Jay giggle if he didn’t feel like he was going to fall asleep at any second. The nindroid’s ice made a world of difference; for the first time in weeks, he felt almost normal. Like he might be able to sleep without fearing for his life when he would spring awake an hour later.

“Thanks, Zane.”

“You’re welcome, but if you wish to truly thank me, please do not hide something like this from us again. Any one of us would be more than happy to sit with you and help massage until you feel better.”

“You know how dirty that sounds, right?”

Zane very lightly whacked his shoulder, and Jay snickered in response. “Hush, you need your rest.”

“What about that food that you brought me?” Jay asked, remembering that it was there and sitting on the table near the door. Zane wasn’t that worried about it, still sitting on the ground and starting to trace along the myriad of lines criss-crossing Jay’s back.

“I will call Cole to come and get it after you fall asleep. And then he can help carry you to bed.”

“Can it be with you? Cause you’re cold and it feels nice.”

“Yes, Jay. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

#ninjago #ninjago jay #finn's writing #ninjago zane #whumptober day 27 #whumptober 2023

[slafkovskys]

Teasing arber xhekaj?

um this went a little further then it was supposed to… oops also hi to my first attempt something not sfw in a whole year don’t come for me

warnings: nsfw (18+ content), language, public fingering, mentions of sharing

“what in the hell,” chelsea grumbles as she wraps a hand around your elbow, pulling you back from the rest of your group, “did you send your husband and why is he asking me about it?”

“he’s asking you about it?” you raise an eyebrow, turning your head away from where your friends were piling into the car to stare at the blonde, “what did he say?”

“answer my question and i’ll answer yours.”

you shrug your shoulders as you tug her along through the lobby of your building, “i may have sent him a picture after i was done getting ready and then ignored him when he started blowing my phone up, the usual. now, what did he say to you?”

“‘please tell me she didn’t wear that to the game,’” you snort as you slide into the suv beside nissa who throws her arm over your shoulders, already tipsy from the pregame. “i didn't respond.”

“please do and please say yes,” you smile, leaning into chelsea when nissa holds up her phone for a selfie. you turn to look at your friend, “let me have a little fun tonight.”

she stares at you for a second before nodding, pulling her phone out of her bag as she clicks her tongue, “i am so jealous of you.”

“they’re already there!” avery whines from the third row. “how did they get there so quick?”

“juraj has been talking about this all week. he was probably the first one out of the locker room,” you say, pulling out your phone to stare at all of the notifications from arber. with a smirk on your lips, you shut your phone off and twist your wedding band around your finger, “you haven’t met juraj yet, have you ave?”

“nope!”

“remind me to introduce you,” you mumble as the car pulls up outside of the club. one surprise is the line that was outside and another was your husband, dressed in half of his game day suit and practically staring you down through the tinted windows. chelsea pushes open the door before the driver could even get out and you send him a smile, “thanks toby!”

you all stumble out in a fit of giggles, avery needing some help to get out from the last row, but when you finally get settled, you turn to face arber. you send him a smile as you throw your arms over his shoulders, pressing your lips to his, “good game baby.”

“thanks,” his voice is gruff as he speaks and his hand slides down your back to cop a feel of your ass, causing your cheeks to burn as your friends let out various noises of encouragement. arber doesn’t seem to care as his lips graze against your ear, “you didn’t really wear that to the game, did you honey?”

“‘course i did, just had my coat over it. the arena’s not that cold,” you send him a smug grin as you press your lips to his cheek, “it’s what i’m not wearing that you should be concerned about.”

the dress in question, well, it wasn’t something that anyone should really wear to a hockey game especially one at the tail end of march in montreal. it was short, barely hitting the middle of your thigh and even with the long sleeves, your exposed shoulders paired with the way it dipped in the back would do you no good in a hockey arena, so of course you hadn’t worn it. you just liked the way his face fell at the assumption you had.

your hand slides down his arm and you intertwine your fingers, tugging him towards the door. as you walk through, security gives arber a nod as though they were old friends or something, arber puts his hands on your hips as he guides you towards your section for the night, “you’re playing a dangerous game, y/n.”

“what are you gonna do about it?” a big smile takes over your face as you see juraj, “there’s the birthday boy!”

“y/n!” he cheers, stepping away from cole to throw his arms around you. you let him rock you from side to side, “is amazing. so good. thank you!”

“you thought i wouldn’t go all out for your birthday?” you raise an eyebrow, watching as his cheeks flush. you shove at his chest, “none of that. wait until you see your cake, it’s even better.”

“don’t know how it could be. best party ever!”

you laugh as he slips away from you, letting avery grab your arm and pull you away from the boys and towards one of the booth seats in the section. she leans towards you, “drinks are covered, right?”

“yeah, they covered it,” you wave your hand around, not really knowing who ‘they’ was yourself. you were just mostly in charge of planning the party, everything else had fallen on the boys including getting juraj here after the game against the panthers. “get whatever. just be realistic about it.”

“i’m not going to- holy shit. there’s a two thousand dollar bottle of alcohol in here,” she flips through the menu and you sigh, knowing someone would probably order it before the night was over. the second that avery gets her drink in her hand, she’s practically climbing over you to get out of the booth and join your friends, but you’re not alone for long.

arber slides in beside you and you move to accommodate him. he grabs your hand, pushing up your ring to run his thumb over the black ink that was underneath, ax, an ode to your elementary school boyfriend turned lifelong partner. through the neon lights that flashed above your head, you catch sight of the matching one he had on his own ring finger of your initials since he wasn’t able to wear his ring all of the time because of hockey.

just two kids in love, one of his teammates had cooed when they had found out what you had done and neither of you corrected them.

chills erupt over your body as his fingers tap against your thigh, “you weren’t being serious earlier, were you?”

“you should know better than to call my bluff, xhekaj,” you do a sweep of the crowd to make sure that no one was paying attention to you before you nudge his hand up your dress. “see for yourself.”

and, boy, does he.

with nothing to stop him, he is met with the wetness that has already started to pool between your legs ever since you had first seen him outside of the club with his black shirt undone and his sleeves rolled up. he takes a deep breath, keeping his eyes on you as he rubs his thumb over your clit causing you to close your legs around his wrist. he chuckles, “baby, you put yourself in this situation. now open your fucking legs.”

“fucking asshole,” you mumble but comply.

“i’m the asshole? you’re the one who shows up to a club without any panties on. you did do that for me or someone else? maybe i should give you to juraj, let him have you as his birthday present, hm?” you gasp as he runs his finger down your slit, collecting some of your arousal before pushing it in. the intrusion wasn’t a surprise, but his words were, “would you like that, honey?”

“i-” you clench around his finger, shooting your hand over to grab at his wrist, “arber-”

“i’ve seen the way that he looks at you. kid’s got a crush and i don’t blame him. my wife’s hot,” you feel him smirk against your neck as he adds another finger, “too bad i don’t share you.”

“i knew you wouldn’t,” you let out quietly and he chuckles, “possessive motherfucker.”

“yeah, still didn’t answer my question.”

“because i was hoping when you found out you’d take me to the bathroom, fuck me, and make me come back out here with you dripping out of me and act like nothing ever happened,” his fingers still and so does his breathing. you let out a breathy chuckle as you nudge his wrist to get him to start back up, but he doesn’t, “what? cat got your tongue?”

“bathroom. ten minutes.”

is all he says, pulling his fingers out of you. he slides out of the booth and shoves them into his mouth, sending you a smirk before turning to conversate with his teammates while you hustle to grab your bag and slide out of the booth on shaky legs. nissa and chelsea send you a confused glance as you pass by and you just mouth the word ‘bathroom’ to which they give a thumbs up, slipping back into their conversation with your husband’s teammates.

once you find it, you slip inside and quickly close the door behind you and twist the lock. you lean your back against the door and try to catch your breath waiting for your husband to show up. ten minutes comes and goes and of course he would leave you teetering on the brink. when almost twenty minutes passes, you’re ready to give up when a familiar, coded knock sounds on the other side.

you twist the lock.

requests are closed!

#arber xhekaj #blurb weekend

[denimbex1986]

'Is a "Peaky Blinders" movie coming? Probably. Is Cillian Murphy the best source for "Peaky Blinders" movie updates? Maybe not. In an interview with Radio Times ahead of the release of "Oppenheimer," Murphy hinted that he is not a huge fan of being treated like a Google search page when it comes to the future of the franchise. "That's probably the worst thing about 'Peaky Blinders' — getting asked about the movie all the time!" the actor told the outlet with a laugh.

This shouldn't be surprising: It's Steven Knight, not Murphy, who made "Peaky Blinders" in the first place and who plans to cap its six seasons off with a movie. The series creator revealed plans for a feature film ending to the series — which would also serve as a beginning for a spin-off — before the sixth season had even aired, meaning fans who would have otherwise taken its conclusion as a final chapter are instead chomping at the bit for what comes next.

In 2021, Knight told Variety the film was "in development," adding, "It's a fully formed idea and it has a beginning, middle and end." In July 2022, Knight updated fans, saying the movie should shoot in the next 18 months, but that was before Hollywood came to a screeching halt as writers and actors demanded fair pay and treatment via the ongoing WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes. In short, like every other production, it's probably a bit up in the air right now.

'It has to be right'

Murphy presumably spoke to Radio Times before the SAG-AFTRA strike began in July (the actor famously left the "Oppenheimer" premiere with his castmates as soon as the strike was announced), and judging by his remarks, the story or script of the film may not quite be complete just yet. "I would love to do a movie if there's more story to tell," he told Radio Times, adding, "I'll wait and see but I have no update for you on that."

Murphy has made similar statements before, telling Rolling Stone in May, "If there's more story there, I'd love to do it. But it has to be right." While the actor doesn't clarify why being asked about the movie is the "worst thing" about the show, I could see why Murphy might not love being asked for updates. Despite the fact that Rolling Stone noted that he's working with Knight on the feature, comments he made complimenting the series' run were taken out of context and used headlines casting doubt on the future of the movie. "Steve Knight wrote 36 hours of television, and we left on such a high," he told Rolling Stone. "I'm really proud of that last series. So, it would have to feel legitimate and justified to do more."

Season 6 ended on a high note

To me, that simply sounds like an acknowledgment that the film is still a work in progress, but outlets ran with the sound bite to make it seem like the movie was in peril. Again, this is guesswork given that Murphy was tight-lipped about why he likes to stay tight-lipped about the movie, but having your words misconstrued is never fun.

Plus, he's totally right: season 6 of "Peaky Blinders" ends well, with crime boss Tommy Shelby choosing peace for once, deciding not to seek vengeance on the doctor who misdiagnosed him with a brain tumor. His storyline seems to be all but complete, as he fulfilled Polly's (the late Helen McCrory) last prediction by killing his cousin Michael (Finn Cole), leaving him alone to quite literally watch his old life burn. The movie will have to top all of that and come up with a convincing reason to reopen this story, which means it'll take time to get it right.

A fight for fair pay and a Star Wars movie

Even before the WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes began, Knight said the "Peaky Blinders" film wouldn't be ready until 2024, revealing in 2022 that he was still working on the script. As he initially noted to Variety, the choice to do a film instead of a seventh season came in part due to the pandemic's impact on production. "COVID came along, and we lost a year of production," he told the outlet, "So we put our heads together and thought that it would be a good idea to do a movie instead of doing series seven."

With the script seemingly still in the works and the industry shut down for now, that 2024 release date for the "Peaky Blinders" film is looking more and more ambitious. Plus, there's another factor that could impact the filmmaking process: In March, Knight was hired to write a "Star Wars" film, replacing previous writers Damon Lindelof and Justin Britt-Gibson, a job that will no doubt take up some time once the strikes are resolved. So yes, the "Peaky Blinders" movie is probably happening, but no, it's not simple enough to summarize its whole deal in a sound bite. Fans waiting for the film will just have to bide their time — like Alfie Solomon waiting for the perfect moment to return from the dead.

"Peaky Blinders" (the show) is on Netflix. The movie does not yet have a set release date.'

#Peaky Blinders #Cillian Murphy #Oppenheimer #Steven Knight #WGA #SAG-AFTRA #Polly Gray #Helen McCrory #Michael Gray #Finn Cole #Tommy Shelby #Alfie Solomons

[anxiousworm]

Iwannaseecolesmoochzane

Hmmm

I’ll consider it

#Cole may burn his lips but he’s probably into that #concept

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Something Blue {1}

Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: Cursing, Angst, Plot

Words: 3.9k

Summary: Nah!

Note: Please enjoy. As always, thank you for reading.

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG! ❤️❤️

 ***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

~~~~~~~~~~~

“What time does your flight land?”

 You glanced at your watch while balancing your phone and your seventh glass of champagne.

 “Seven. We haven’t even taken off yet, Eve. Oh god, I should have just taken the bus. You know what? It’s not too late.” You gulped down the remainder of your champagne then began gathering your things.

 “No, no. sit your ass down. A bus will double your travel time, and you’re already late. You should have been here this morning,” Eve whined over the Facetime call.

She was right. You were only stuck in this predicament because you had to take one more meeting wanting to maximize the time you were in New York instead of stopping when you should have to catch the right bus.

 “I hate flying, Eve,” you whined.

 It had always been this way, and it hadn’t changed. At this point, you doubted it ever would.

 “I get that, but you’re my maid of honor. You have to be here. You’ve already missed the welcome brunch and the bonding games. You have to make dinner.”

 Sighing, you dropped back into the seat. Your fate was sealed. “Okay,” you whispered.

 “It’ll be fine. It’s one hour and sixteen minutes. You’ll be fine.”

 Closing your eyes, you took slow, deep breathes and tried to focus on happy, positive thoughts.

 “At least you’re in first class where you can have all the champagne you want. Take advantage. I have to go.”

 With that, the conversation ended. You still tried to focus on your breathing and not the fact you were in a containment cell that was designed like a plane that would fly thousands of feet into the air. You also tried not to think of the fact that at any moment, this flying containment cell could fall out of the sky, having you plummet to your death. Groaning, you squeezed the armrest.

 “Can I get you anything else, ma’am?”

 Even the chirpy sound of the flight attendant’s voice was irritating. You took a deep breath but didn’t open your eyes.

 “Champagne, a whole lot of champagne, please.”

 “A glass?”

 “Just bring the bottle. I’ll pay. I don’t care.”

 As you waited for her to come back with the champagne, you tried to imagine yourself on a tropical island somewhere. You tried to envision the feel of the sun, the scent of the salty sea, and even the taste of the Mai Tai you would be holding. You were successful, but only barely.

 “Here you are one bottle of champagne. Just for you.”

 You opened your eyes to glare at the flight attendant. You could hear the shade and judgment in her voice, and you were not in the mood. What your eyes met; she was the first to look away. You were not the one. Once she’d place the bottle in front of you, she scurried away. Wasting no time, you brought it to your head. A bottle for one meant you could take it to the head. Lost in the world of the champagne bliss, you savored the liquid as if it were your sustenance. The only way you could get through this flight was to be in a state of detachment.

 “Eh-em.”

Glancing up with the bottle still in your mouth, you nearly dropped it seeing Chris Evans standing before you. He slanted his mouth in an awkward smile as he pointed. His lips moved, but you didn’t hear one word. He was beautiful. Every time you scrolled through Instagram, there were countless pictures and fangirls fawning all over his looks. You made a note that he was appealing to the eyes but wasn’t all that. You stood wholly corrected. His lips stopped moving, and the look on his face went from awkwardness to confusion.

 “Hello?”

 “Huh, sorry, what?”

 He pointed again to the seat you were sitting in, then spoke.

 “I believe that is my seat.”

 “I feel like that is my line that I should be saying to you,” you blurted out without thinking.

 His eyebrow shot up, making you close your eyes in embarrassment. Oh god, you thought. He cleared his throat, making you look back at him. The slanted smile was now an amused smirk.

 “What I mean is um—this seat?”

 He lifted the ticket in his hands to show you. There it was in black and white the seat you were in was, in fact, his. You knew it wasn’t yours, but there was no way you could get through this flight being at the window. You’d surely lose your shit.

 “Okay, look, I’m not going to pretend like I didn’t know. I did. The thing is, I hate flying. I am terrible at it, and if I sit there, I’ll die.”

 “Die?”

 “Yes. It won’t be pretty. I’ll probably cry the entire flight. You don’t look like the kind of guy who can sit by while a woman cries. Do you think you can find it in your heart to--.”

 He held his hand up, stopping what you were going to say next. “It’s okay. I’ll take the window, and you and your champagne can remain where you are.”

 Relief filled you. Pushing the table to its upright position, you slightly stood so he could pass. As he did, you heard him mumble, “You’re lucky you’re as beautiful as you are.”

 It was low, and you decided that you must have been hearing things. There was no way he said that. As he squeezed by, the scent of Kenneth Cole Black caught your nostrils, making you bite your bottom lip. Another thing that caught your eye was the way his ass looked in his dark denim jeans. It looked so damn appetizing that you couldn’t tear your eyes away. He was fine. When you looked up at him, his eyes were on you. You’d be caught.

 Groaning, you looked away and sat back down to take another gulp of champagne. Beside you, he got comfortable while you scrolled through your phone. The same judgy flight attendant came over again.

 “Hi there.” From the sound of her voice, you could tell she was in flirtatious mode. When you looked at her, your suspicions were confirmed. She was twirling the fancily folded scarf around her neck with a broad smile on her face.

 “Hi.”

 “My name is Amber; I'll be your attendant for the flight.”

 She emphasized “your,” making you snort. Glancing to Chris, he gave you another raised brow. Turning back to your phone, you pretended to ignore the conversation, but you were not. You needed entertainment.

 “Can I get you anything? Water? Tea? Coffee? Champagne? Magazines? Candy? Me?”

 Your jaw dropped. She took it all the way there.

 “I mean meat, we have plenty of meat. Not to say you don’t have meat. I’m sure you have plenty of meat.”

 With that, her eyes dropped to his crotch, and that was when your snort escaped you. There was no playing it off, so you didn’t bother; you just kept your head down.

 “Thank you, Amber. I’ll take a beer, please.”

 “Any brand?”

 “It doesn’t matter, you pick.”

 She turned and walked off, giggling to herself. Shaking your head, you took another mouthful of bubbly and fought the urge to tease him about it. You didn’t know this man. The silence stretched for a few minutes until Amber returned with two bottles of beer. He thanked her and went back to the book he was reading.

 “All right, ladies and gentlemen, thank you for choosing this flight tonight. This is the nonstop to Boston, Massachusetts. The flight will be approximately one hour and twenty minutes. It is supposed to be a smooth trip, but we are flying into a little bit of rain in the Boston area, so we might experience a bit of turbulence. You’re in good hands. Enjoy your flight.”

 You looked around the cabin. No one seemed alarmed at the mention of turbulence.

 “Unfuckinbeliable. Everyone is so calm.”

 “Why wouldn’t they be?”

 Looking at him, you realized then you’d spoken loud enough for him to hear.

 “Uh…turbulence. Do you know what that means? It means bumpy and shit.”

 Chris pinched his lips and closed his book. “He also said we’re in good hands.”

 “That is what he has to say. What would you do if your captain said we’d have some turbulence but prayers up because shit will get bad?”

 This time he smirked. “You really don’t like flying, huh.”

 “Are you mocking me?”

 He held his hands up in defense. “Not at all. Have a drink,” he said, pointing to your champagne bottle.

 Not needing to be told twice, you took a hearty gulp.

 “You’ll be fine. If it gets bad, I’ll be right here. I’ll talk to you.”

 He looked kind and gentle. You didn’t doubt he was a stand-up guy. Nodding, you leaned back and took several deep breathes and prayed.

 As the plane pulled out and rolled down the tarmac, you squeezed the armrest so hard your hand hurt. When it accelerated, you took a deep breath and held it. Even when your lungs burned, and the possibility of blacking out became real, you didn’t release it. When you felt a hand on top of yours, you snapped your head to the left and saw his hand on yours. Your eyes met, and you saw he was signaling you to breathe.

 “Breathe.”

 Gasping for air, he kept his hand over yours.

 “It’s okay. Look into my eyes. Everything is fine. Slow in, slow out. do it with me.”

 Following his lead, you did as he did. Your stomach fell, and you knew the plane was pulling up.

 “Keep looking at me. Listen to my voice. You’re fine. Breathe.”

 Doing your best, you followed his instructions. Slowly you got lost in those hypnotizing blue eyes. They were so gorgeous you lost track of everything else. Soon his words faltered, and the two of you just sat there staring at each other. Soon you heard a bell that broke whatever trance the two of you were under.

 “There. You did it. I’m Chris.”

 His smile was soft, and it blew you away. Yep, you’d done it all right, you thought.

 “Y/N,” you whispered.

 The flight continued with you downing the bottle of champagne, flipping channels on the inflight tv, shaking like your life depended on it, and working. Neither of you spoke again though occasionally you felt his eyes on you. A little more than halfway into the flight the lights flickered until they completely shut off, only leaving on the overhead lights. That was when an alarm blared, and the plane began to shake.

 “Oh, fuck!”

 “Ladies and gentlemen, remember that turbulence I warned of. We’re going through it as we’re nearing Boston’s airport. Fasten your seatbelts and hang tight. We’ll be right out of this.”

 “Liar!”

 “Calm down; it’s okay. Just breathe,” Chris suggested.

 “Calm down? Breathe? What the fuck? How do I do that? We’re about to plummet to our deaths.”

 “We will not,” Amber shouted above you.

 “Shut up, Amber!”

 “I have to get out of here. We gotta go!”

 As you made a move to get up, Chris gripped the buckle of your seatbelt. The warmth of his hand was right at your crotch. Looking at him, you found him on his knees before you.

 “Calm down. We’re not plummeting. It’s just some shaking.”

 He grabbed the oxygen mask that had dropped down from overhead and held it to your mouth. “Deep breaths.”

 Pushing it off, you declined. “You breathe. Oh my god, we’re gonna die. I’m gonna die. I can’t believe this. I haven’t even make a name for myself yet. I’m so fucking close.”

 “You still have time,” Chris interjected.

 Ignoring him, you continued. “No, I won’t; we’re going to die. I’m going to die without crossing Fiji off my bucket list or a weekend in Palm Springs. I’m gonna die being the last single friend, the last single one in my family. I’m going to die a single spinster!”

 “Uh--.”

 “I’m gonna die without ever getting a tattoo. I’ve pushed it back so many times. I’m gonna die without ever having dressed up really fancy and having a pretty woman moment. I’m gonna die, and I haven’t had a dance moment like Dirty Dancing, or a scene like in Love and Basketball where some guy plays me for my heart. I’m gonna die without even have fallen in love.”

 “You’ve never been in love?”

 The judgment in his voice had you looking at him. “Don’t judge me!”

 “Sorry.”

 “I’m gonna die without going to the most expensive restaurant ordering all the expensive things then running out on the bill. Or going on a date with someone who’s picked my outfit and showers me with roses all night. Or drinking too much and getting on a bar to dance and sing in front of complete strangers.”

 So many things were running through your head. You’d truly lived a sheltered life, and it wasn’t on purpose.

 “Or know what it feels like to get a little blue box from Tiffany’s that has an amazing ring inside. Or have someone write me the most amazing love letter.”

 The plane roughly jerked, sending you lurching forward and Chris bracing you to push you back. Everyone then screamed loudly. Gasping, you bugged your eyes, panic, and terror filling you. “I’m gonna die never having had sex in a public place, or in a car, or on a beach. I’m gonna die with never having had an entire full day of just hardcore sex. Oh my god, I think I suck at head too. My ex told me that I couldn’t suck a dick to save my life and that I was stuck up for not swallowing. Oh god, I’ve never swallowed. It’s disgusting. I hear guys love that. You don’t do you?”

 His mouth opened, but before he spoke, you continued blurting more out. Oh god, I’m gonna be single forever. My ex was right; I’m unlovable and cold, and that I will never let anyone in because I’m too scared to feel real things that aren’t fairytale. Oh god, I’m gonna die alone. Fuck, I’m gonna die, and I’ve never had an orgasm!”

 As soon as the turbulence started, it stopped. Slowly the cabin went back to normal, but neither of you moved. Chris sat there, speechless. Slowly your senses came back to you and realization of what just happened and all you’d just blurted out.

 “Ladies and gentlemen, let me apologize. That was worse than we’d expected, but just as promised, we’ve made it through unscathed. We’ll begin our descent into Boston Logan International Airport. Please remain seated and fasten your seatbelts. Thank you for flying with us,” the captain’s voice rang out over the plane’s system.

 Unscathed? That must have been a fucking joke, you thought.

 Without one word, Chris got up and took his seat. He then leaned back, resting his head on the headrest. You could have died and for a slight moment wished the plane had gone down if it would have spared you this humiliation.

 Fifteen agonizing minutes later, with the plane parked and disembarking beginning, you leaped up, grabbed your carry one, and hightailed it out of there without a look back. You had one goal and one goal alone, to get as far from Chris Evans as possible.

 After claiming your bags, you found the driver and watched Boston scenery pass you by. Though nearly an hour had passed since you massive faux pas on the plane, you still couldn’t get it out of your head. That had to go down as the most embarrassing moment of your life. As you went over it time and time again, you felt worse and worse. You didn’t know what was worse, unleashing all of that personal information to a complete stranger, or unleashing all that personal information to Chris Evans. He probably thought you were some pathetic ice queen who was a lousy lay.

 “Oh god, I told him I don’t give good head,” you rushed out before you collapsed on the back of the seat, ready for the lord to take you now.

Thirty minutes later, the driver pulled into the lavish property that sprawled on and on. Though it was night, you could still see the rolling hills and open lawns. It was amazing, and you knew that if it was this amazing at night, it must have been breathtaking in the daytime. Once the car pulled around the drive, the staff came out to meet you collect your luggage. You thanked them, and the driver then made your way inside. The lobby was gorgeous and bathed in white marble.

 “Welcome. Checking in?”

 “Yes, Y/F/N & Y/L/N.”

 The well-dressed receptionist typed your name into the computer, and seconds later, he smiled.

 “Yes, Ms. Y/L/N, welcome. You’re here for the Gordon-Wessington wedding. We’re delighted to have you with us. I see the rest of your party have arrived, all but one. I’ve been instructed to show you right to your room. Please follow George, and he will take you right to it.”

 “Thank you.”

 Turning, you saw a smiling man with kind eyes and a head full of red hair. “Right this way, ma’am.”

 You followed him across the lobby to the elevator bank and stepped onto the first available. The ride up to the second floor was a quick one. As you walked down the long hall, you took in the artwork on the wall. They were all pleasing to the eye and gave you the feel of comfort but elegance. Whoever decorated the place did a good job.

 “Here you are, ma’am,” George announced before he unlocked the door with an actual key rather than a card.

 As you stepped in, your jaw dropped at the huge bay window before you. You stepped into the living area of the suite and smiled when you saw the little luxuries the staff had afforded you. There was a welcome basket on the table before you that was filled with fruit, cheese, meats, and alcohol bottles. You made a mental note to pop one once George left to sip as you changed. To the right was another basket of a variety of chocolates all from Godiva.

 “Is everything to your liking?”

 “Yes, thank you so much, George.”

 You dug into your purse and took out a twenty and handed it to him. George bowed his head, then made his exit. Finally, alone you looked around the room that would be your home away from home for the next ten days. Eve was the one who’d made all the arrangements for this weeklong getaway, all in prep for her wedding. Parker told her no expense was too much, and by looking around the suite, you could tell she’d run with it.

 When you made it into the bedroom and sat on the bed, the room phone rang.

 “Hello?”

 “Finally! My god, what the hell took you so long?”

 Rolling your eyes at Eve’s voice, you hooked the phone between your ear and shoulder and then began undressing.

 “The fucking plane almost fell out of the goddamn sky!”

 “What!”

 You explained to her precisely what you’d been through the last two or so hours. When you got to the part about spilling every single internal thought you’d had since you were eighteen to Chris Evans, you expected some sympathy or even heartfelt words. Instead, she busted out laughing so obnoxiously loud that you hung up on her ass. You did not need to be laughed at right now. You were already embarrassed enough.

 Jumping into the shower, you did your best to push it all out of your mind. It no longer mattered. You couldn’t do anything to change it. So, what if you’d told him all those things. He probably already forgot them and you. It didn’t matter. You continued to repeat it, hoping that the more you said it, the truer it would be.

 When you stepped out, you quickly applied your makeup and did your hair, opting for an updo that would complement the strapless dress you planned on wearing. When you heard your phone chime, you knew it was Eve. Rushing to it, you checked her messages.

 MSG Eve: Hurry up. We’ve made it to the dining room. Everyone is packing in.

MSG: I’m coming. Putting on my shoes now. Five minutes.

 You spent the next five minutes trying to choose the right shoes and clutch that would tie it all together. You had to walk a fine line of not upstaging the bride but still trying to appear like a snack. You felt anything but right now due to earlier events, but you were going to push through.

 When you finally made it out of your room and onto the elevator, it was five minutes past when you’d told Eve you’d be down. As you walked through the lobby and down the corridor to the designated dining room, you tried to go as quickly as possible. Thanks to the banner outside the dining room that read “Gordon-Wessington Wedding,” you knew you were in the right place. Stepping into the dining room, you gave the room a once over, trying to find Eve and your friends.

All the way across the room, you saw Capri and Angela. They waved you over with wide smiles on their faces. Maneuvering around the tables, chairs, and guests, you made your way to them. As you passed guests, you warmly smiled and welcomed them. It was part of your maid of honor duties, after all.

 “Aah, finally,” Angela said, throwing her arms around you almost at the same time Capri did.

 “I’m here.”

 “And you came dressed to kill!”

 Smiling, you spun around to give them the full view. The two of them whistled, feeding your ego.

 “Wow, looks like you are going to be turning heads tonight. All of Parker’s friends are here, including his elusive best man,” Capri mentioned.

 “Oh my god, Y/N, finally.”

 Spinning, you saw Eve dressed in her figure-hugging white dress that showed just what a catch she was. Parker was one lucky guy.

 “I’m sorry. I’m here, though.”

 “You should be sorry,” Eve said as she hugged you.

 “Hi, Parker.” You quickly kissed his cheek.

 “Okay, we’re all here except Parker’s best man,” Eve announced.

 “He’s cutting it close, don’t you think?”

 Everyone gave you a look that said shut up, no doubt because you’d just gotten there yourself. Raising your hands in defeat, you rolled your eyes.

 “I can’t believe he’s late. He’s never late,” Parker said.

 “I’m here. I’m here,” came a voice from all the way across the dining room.

 Feeling a hand on your back, you turned to look at Capri and Angela.

 “You still have your tag.” The two of them tugged at the tag at the back of your dress until finally, it was off. Feeling the front of your dress slip down, you turned to Capri and Angela and readjusted the dress's bust, hoping it would stay in place.

 “Finally, bro, this is pretty close.”

 “Sorry, interviews in New York went over, couldn’t be helped. I’d never miss your wedding, though.”

 “Now you can meet Eve’s other best friend, her maid of honor. Y/N, this is my best friend and best man, Chris.”

 Spinning with a smile on your face, it immediately dropped, seeing Chris Evans standing before you yet again.

 “Fuck my life.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#something blue fic #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x black reader #black fanfiction #slow burn fanfic

[preciouspeterbparker]

the warmest bed i’ve ever known

finally got this bitch finished! 

based on “tis the damn season” by taylor swift. i was also listening to the phoebe bridgers cover of “christmas song”, “last christmas” cover by pale waves (recorded @ spotify), and “home alone, too” by the staves 

also this is only my 2nd time writing starker so lmk what you think plz?

happy holidays! - bloo

word count: 6.07k. this was intended to basically be a porny blurb...instead there’s so much fucking plot it’s probably overwhelming and minimal porn. i’m sorry

warnings: angst, depression & anxiety, drug use (that good kush ft some hotboxing & shotgunning), smut, character death (not tony or peter), tony’s kind of country lmao. despite all the aforementioned things, there is in fact a happy ending! 

summary: peter makes the trip back home for christmas and once again finds himself caught up in deep brown eyes and a charming smile. tis the damn season. 

Peter had forgotten how cold New York winters were. He’d grown used to the year-long warmth of Los Angeles. He supposed the cold was appropriate- it was as if the weather was in cahoots with the solid, frigid thing that was sitting in the pit of his stomach. The last time he’d spent Christmas in Aurora, the last time he’d seen him… Tony.

Just thinking the other man’s name made Peter flex his hands anxiously as he slid out of the driver’s seat of his black Mercedes AMG GT into the amber glow of the streetlight, gently shutting the door closed behind him, still in the overly cautious period of owning the new car. He wondered what Tony would think of it. Last time Peter had come home, he was still driving May’s old Subaru. It’d been almost 2 years to the day, now, which felt like both a century and no time at all. He wished it wasn’t so hard. He wished they hadn’t been caught in this song & dance for so long. It seemed like no matter how good Peter’s intentions, it always came down to one thing: he was so damn scared. He always ran away, no matter how badly he wanted to stay. 

Scuffing a boot through the slush in the street, the brunette straightened his shoulders and made his way toward the brick building, a quick smile quirking half his mouth up as he read the neon red sign above the closed garage door. Stark’s. Memories came flooding back, the countless nights he spent cooped up in the little shop during high school, sketching elaborate ensembles and daydreaming about having his very first collection while surrounded by the smell of motor oil and the sounds of tinkering. The bell above the door jingled merrily as Peter stepped through and wiped his feet on the mat. The pleasant sound of Frank Sinatra crooning the words of “The Christmas Waltz” met his ears. Another small smile flitted over Peter’s face. That was something that tended to happen when he was around Tony. 

“Just a second,” came the slightly muffled voice, a little strained. The man in question was bent over, headfirst in the engine of his old 1979 Chevy C10, the one he’d gotten senior year of highschool. The collar of a heather grey henley peeked out from under a deep red and green plaid flannel stretched over his shoulders as he leaned a little further under the hood, using a wrench to tighten what looked to be a lugnut to Peter from his spot by the door, too nervous to go further inside. 

“I can wait,” Peter replied softly, trying not to stare at Tony’s jean-clad ass and anxious of the older boy man’s reaction. (It looked like Tony had done a lot of growing up over the past two years, no longer the boy he remembered. Peter supposed the same could be said about himself in a way, though he wasn’t sure if it was for better or worse.)

And apparently he was right to be cautious.

Tony promptly smacked his head on the underside of the hood as he jerked upright at the sound of Peter’s voice. “Fuck.”  Moving more carefully, Tony stood upright and turned around, his dark eyes wide. “Peter,” he said, visibly and audibly surprised. To be honest, it hurt Peter a little bit, how surprised he sounded. Maybe coming here was a mistake. Did they not do this nearly every year over the past seven? Had- Oh god, had something changed? Fuck, did Tony finally get tired of-  Had he found-

Peter resolutely cut that train of thought off before he could panic. “Hi, Tony.” He swallowed drily, making eye contact for a moment, before casting his eyes away only for them to make their way back to the open face in front of him. “Think you have time for a quick bite to eat?” He slipped his left hand into the pocket of the new, warm wool coat he bought expressly for this trip. “It’s almost dinner time. And I have a treat,” he intoned, tapping his right pointer and middle fingers against his lips.

Tony beamed and immediately reached for a shop rag to wipe his hands, the black grease and oil smearing on the probably-used-to-be-white-at-some-point fabric. One of those hands came up to scratch at his facial hair, a new addition that made something simmer deep in Peter’s gut. The older man's brown eyes twinkled as he paused to glance at Peter. “You had me at ‘hi, Tony.’” He then proceeded to move about the shop, swiping his phone from atop a chest of metal drawers, Sinatra’s voice coming to an abrupt stop. He pulled on his old lined jean jacket (the one Peter was constantly mending in high school; now it just had small tears in some places, and what appeared to be Tony’s d-i-y patchwork in others). The sign on the front door was flipped to ‘closed’ and Tony pulled a keyring from his belt loop, locking it and flicking off the lights. The streetlights outside the building and the colorful holiday lights strung along the edge of the roof provided just enough light for them to be able to clearly see each other, the sun having set early, around four o’clock. Peter had forgotten about that as well. 

He moved to grab his car keys from a pocket but Tony spoke up, patting the dark green paint of his truck’s hood and walking over to the garage door. His hand hovered over the button that would open it. “Actually, I just finished giving Delilah a tuneup, mind if we take ‘er for a spin?” 

“Sure,” Peter agreed without hesitation, still feeling relieved (and grateful) that his invitation was accepted. 

Tony pushed his palm against the button and paused to do a double-take after the metal door lifted completely. His eyebrows rose at the sight of Peter’s car parked in the small lot beside the shop. “Damn, L.A.. Not worried about your fancy new car?” His tone was slightly teasing, but there was a bit of shock mixed with something else as well, and it caused Peter to go hot, feeling insecure. (What if Tony didn’t like who Peter was, now? Peter didn’t exactly like who he was now.) Tony must’ve noticed his discomfort, because he cracked a grin and bumped his shoulder against Peter’s as he made his way to the driver’s side, yanking the door open. “C’mon, Parker, ‘m just fuckin’ with you. Hop in - how’da some burgers from Delmar’s an’ a trip out to the field sound?” 

***

They grabbed food from the hole-in-the-wall diner down the road (the one where sixteen year-old Peter burned the shit out of his hand on his first day and promptly quit) and once they were bundled back in the truck with their burgers, fries and one banana milkshake (“yeah, but these are your favorite,” Tony had said in response to Peter’s exclamation that it was too cold out), Tony drove them out to the field behind the old high school. He parked the car under the lamppost, leaving it running in order to keep the heat on. His thick mechanic’s fingers began to fiddle with the temperature controls. Nat King Cole was playing quietly on the radio. 

Peter shifted the paper bag of food in his lap, searching for words but not knowing what to say, and plucked the joint and lighter from his coat. The paper-covered filter found its way between his lips and he inhaled softly as he lit the tip. Satisfied with the light, he french inhaled, closing his eyes for a moment. The first hit was always the best. Peter loved the way he could feel it all the way in his bones. He didn’t know how to describe it other than deep. When he opened them, he made eye contact with Tony in the dim light, and immediately cut his gaze away as he felt the heat rush to his face. He could feel when Tony looked away a moment later.

The lull continued and Peter gingerly held the joint between his fingertips as he exhaled, hand outstretched.  

Worn fingers plucked it away, and Peter’s eyes were immediately drawn to the slightly chapped lips that wrapped themselves around the filter. “You stayin’ at um, at May's...old place?” Tony faltered as he inhaled, as if he wasn't sure what the most sensitive way to talk about it was. 

“Yeah," Peter said softly as he looked down at his lap. Spending his first night in the house alone last night had made him feel the loneliest he'd ever been in his life, and that was saying something because he’d been feeling pretty miserable lately. Peter saw May everywhere he looked, waiting to hear her call for him to come taste some new-fangled recipe from the kitchen, or to please, for the hundredth time, rinse the dishes before he put them in the sink. He missed her more than he thought possible, her death earth-shattering after having already lost Ben when he was 17, back when this mess all started. When he left for the first time. When he started running away. “It’s- It’s weird but I’m...adjusting. It’s honestly not that different to when she was alive, though. Y’know- recently.” He cut himself off, not sure if he wanted Tony to know the full reality of his existence, now. 

Because it was true. It killed Peter to admit it, but his relationship with Aunt May started going downhill around the time of Ben’s death, too. By the time she had her heart attack a little more than two years ago, he hadn’t seen her in over a year, or talked to her in nearly as long. It was the biggest regret of his life, pushing May away; the second was the way he essentially did the same thing to Tony, however drawn-out it had been. 

Peter reached out for the joint and his fingers brushed against Tony’s, sending a jolt up his spine. “How,” Peter started, swallowing as he twiddled the lighter between his fingers not holding the joint. “How’ve you been, Tony?” He was scared to ask what he really wanted to know. Have you finally had enough? Did you stop waiting on me? Am I too late? To distract himself a bit, he cracked the window so he could ash the joint before taking another drag. 

"Same ol’, same ol’,” came Tony’s reply, his voice weary. “I mean, you already know this, but nothin’ really changes here." The quiet way he said it was slightly self-deprecating and the younger man hated it, hated that he had something to do with it. (Peter remembered the way he spat the words at Tony in the wee hours of the morning oh so long ago. "I've gotta get out of this fucking town- I can’t stay here, Tony! You might be okay dying here, a nobody with nothing, but I'm not!")

That’s why I had to leave, he thought, chest tightening. I was trapped in this town. It was never you, Tony. You were perfect. You’re perfect. 

"..Yeah," is what came out instead. Peter took another hit before he handed the joint back to Tony and began rifling through the grease-splotched bag, passing the older man his burger before unwrapping his own. He took the top bun off in order to lay down a handful of fries from the bag, smooshing the top back on afterwards. A moan left Peter’s mouth at the first bite, and he heard a chuckle bubble up from Tony’s chest. (He would never admit it, especially not to anyone back in L.A., anyone who didn’t know him before, but this was his favorite meal in the world.)

“Funny that you still do that. So, um,” Tony began again, stuffing a few fries in his mouth and chewing as he spoke out the side of his mouth. “I saw your new collection. It looked nice.” He licked a bit of salt off his thumb. 

Peter’s ears burned as he swallowed his bite and raised an eyebrow at the man across from him. “You pay attention to fashion, now?” He fought off a smile at the thought of Tony delicately flipping through the pages of a high-fashion magazine. 

“Not like- I’ve tried to keep up with your work,” Tony mumbled, swallowing, his own face taking on a bit of a rosy-hue. “Like to know what you're up to all the way out there.” The joint touched his lips for a few seconds before it made its way back to Peter’s fingers. “I do know how Google works.” 

Peter shivered as he felt something flutter in the pit of his stomach at the salt grains that touched his tongue when he took his next pull. “Tastes like salt,” he breathed on the exhale, locking eyes with Tony through the smoke that had accumulated in the car. 

Something flashed in the older man’s eyes as he stole the weed back and took a large hit, crooking his salt-sprinkled fingers to beckon Peter closer. 

Peter’s own reddened eyes widened when he caught on to what Tony wanted, his heart picking up speed. They hadn’t done that in years. Still clutching his burger in his left hand, he used the right to support himself as he leaned over the console to press his mouth against Tony’s. He closed his eyes as he inhaled, fighting the urge to slip his tongue somewhere it didn’t belong. One of Tony’s hands came up to pull his head closer for a moment, his tongue having the same idea as Peter’s, causing him to whine into Tony’s mouth. His pants were getting tight as he licked right back in response, feeling a slight burn from exhaling through his nose. He missed this. Nobody kissed him like Tony did-

“Shit!” Tony pulled away sharply, and Peter’s heart stopped for a second. But when he realized what was happening, he couldn’t contain the surprised cackle that erupted as he saw the joint land in the other man’s lap. “Quit it,” was Tony’s reply, though he was grinning as he said it. He grabbed what was left of the joint off his jeans and stubbed it out the rest of the way on the dashboard. “It burned my fuckin’ finger.”

“Oh poor baby,” Peter shot back, shifting in his seat and taking another bite of his burger. He willed the slight chub to go away, but knew it was a lost cause. He pretty much signed up for it; he was always turned on when he was high around Tony (and most of the time when he was sober, too). Some kind of conditioning or something, he thought deliriously. 

“Ya better hush up, Parker,” Tony snarked and dipped some fries into Peter’s banana shake. He rolled his neck a bit, reaching for his burger. “So, kid. Tell me ‘bout L.A..”

***

Peter was basking peacefully in his high, humming along to whatever was playing through the speakers. He and Tony had both finished their food, chatting about this and that, but nothing of real substance, their earlier stilted conversation far from their minds. Shooting the shit, as Tony called it, over some weed and a meal was their normal routine when they were younger, and it came as naturally as breathing. Peter had never met anyone else he could simply coexist with on this level, simply enjoying the other’s presence for what it was. I love you, he thought as he looked at Tony, who was leaning back in his seat with his eyes closed and nodding his head along with the beat. I’m so in love with you and it scares the shit out of me. 

The younger man’s eyes roved over Tony’s face as his mind raced. What was he doing? Would something be different this time? He wasn’t that angry seventeen year old anymore- now he was twenty-four, clinically depressed, and living someone else’s life. Would it be so bad to finally leave that all behind, to finally let himself have what he’s denied himself for so long? Didn’t he deserve to be happy, after all this pain? And even if it wasn’t in the cards for them, if Peter was destined to be alone, wouldn’t even the most miniscule amount of time with Tony be worth it? 

Tony’s gravelly voice startled him back to the present. “I should probably be gettin’ you home, huh, Peter?” The bearded man opened his eyes and began sitting up, turning to look at him. The expression on his face was unreadable, and Peter didn’t know if he should agree or protest, so he merely lifted a shoulder in faux indifference, shooting Tony a half-smile.

Please, call me Pete… Just Pete, Peter begged in his head. Tony calling him by his full name made the ugly thing in his chest wriggle uncomfortably. Last time he was home, before he said those awful things, Tony hadn’t called him Peter in years. Yet another beautiful thing that he’d taken for granted and ruined for himself. 

“Could also drive around for a bit if you wanted, see some lights.” Damn Tony and his ability to read Peter so well. The suggestion was soft, and he looked down as he said it, almost as if he was feeling shy. 

Peter shook his head minutely and shifted a little in his seat, gently biting his lip. “I’m getting a little tired, haven’t smoked in a while,” he lied through his teeth, but the smile on his face was real this time. 

Tony grinned right back at him.

(“What would we even do on a date? There’s nothing to do here, Tony,” Peter said with a laugh. “I dunno,” Tony replied, snuggling the lighter-haired teenager closer into his chest as they snuggled on the couch. “We could go look at the Christmas lights, get some hot chocolate… I could tie some mistletoe to the mirror in the truck. There’d be sum kissin’ involved….” He trailed off as Peter’s lips found his own. “Or we could do the kissin’ right here,” he murmured, sinking into the kiss.)

***

The drive back to May’s house was spent with Tony catching Peter up on everyone in town as they passed various houses. (“Remember Happy Hogan, the butcher?? Him an’ that pretty florist, Ms. Potts, got married last year. Think they’re havin’ a baby,last I heard.” “Rhodey’s mama died this spring, she got cancer, but he an’ Mr. Rhodes still live out here now that Rhodey’s moved home. Honorable discharge last fall. Done got himself a new girlfriend now too, Carol; he met ‘er in the Air Force.  She’s a sweet one, I think you’d like ‘er.”) 

When they pulled into the driveway, Tony cut the engine and hopped out. Peter did the same, grabbing the bag with their trash and patting his pocket, double-checking for his keys and lighter. He stepped around Tony, who had stopped at the bottom of the front steps, and walked up to the door, fumbling for a minute with his keys under the porch light to find the right one (it had robin’s egg blue polka-dots of May’s favorite nail polish). Tony’s footsteps followed him up the stairs. 

Peter stuck the key in the lock and opened the door a crack before turning to face the taller man. “So.”

Tony’s eyes searched his own as they gazed at one another. “So,” he parroted back. His index finger went up to rub at his nose as he took a hard sniff in. There was a beat of silence. “Thanks for the joint, and uh, the company. It was good seein’ you,” he said at last, a hint of his signature lopsided grin curving his lips. 

Peter felt the goodbye that was coming before it even left Tony’s mouth, and something in him broke. “Don’t leave me here alone.” The words came out of Peter’s mouth in a mumble, and suddenly he couldn’t make eye contact with Tony, losing focus and staring at his own feet instead. He felt the harsh burning of tears as it hit him again just how alone he was about to be when he walked inside, how alone he already was. He was always so fucking alone. 

Even in L.A., so much bigger than fucking Aurora, New York, surrounded by thousands of people, Peter still felt invisible, insignificant. He had no friends. Sure, he had a publicist, and connections, and celebrity acquaintances & clientele. But without his money and his clothes, what would he have? What did he have when he was just Peter Parker, rather than Peter Benjamin, semi-famous designer? Nothing. (When he got the call about May, and he’d broken down in the bathroom during a business meeting with representatives for Tom Ford, he realized he had no one to call. No one to comfort him or tell him it would be okay. He’d sobbed into his pillow that night, screaming his throat raw with Tony’s number punched into his phone, ready to be dialed. He never called.) He had nothing and no one, and it was all his fault because he was so stupid, and maybe this is just what he deserved. If he hadn’t pushed everyone-

“Hey- Hey, Peter, no. Never,” Tony was saying gently, cautiously pulling Peter into his strong arms and out of his anxiety attack. “‘m not goin’ anywhere if y’don’t want me to, baby.” He tucked Peter’s head under his chin, a chill running down his spine due to the chilly evening air. “S’okay, everythin’s okay.” 

Peter sucked in a deep breath through his mouth, trying to calm himself. His forehead dug into Tony’s shoulder painfully but it helped to ground him. The soothing sensation of Tony’s fingers tracing circles on his back helped, too. Peter’s breath was still hitching every so often, so he shut his eyes and tried to synch his breathing with Tony’s. It felt so nice to just be this close to someone- Peter couldn’t remember the last time he’d been held. Tony had probably been the last one to do it, though. (He’d had sex in L.A. of course, but it was all superficial. Nothing real. Nothing like what he had with Tony- not even close.) Shifting slightly, he buried his nose in the crook of Tony’s neck, searching unconsciously for the smell he loved so much; a mix of gasoline, teakwood, and something smoky. The scent sent a shiver down Peter’s spine, and that hot feeling simmered in his stomach again. He’d always joked that he would bottle Tony’s smell if he could. Tony would just laugh and jokingly tease Peter for always having his nose in his neck or armpit.

Now Tony just hummed lightly in response, tightening his hold for a moment before relaxing. “‘Yer’okay,” he whispered, once he could feel that Peter’s breathing had evened out for the most part. 

Peter pulled back a bit and stared at a spot in the middle of Tony’s chest, thinking. He decided to go for it. Worst that could happen was Tony saying no, and leaving Peter here alone, but he knew he’d end up alone eventually. But he’d delay the inevitable as long as he could.  “Kiss me, T,” he said quietly, leaning in before he could change his mind. His lips brushed Tony’s and he pulled back, trying not to go cross eyed looking into the other’s eyes. “I don’t wanna be alone anymore.”

Tony stared at him for a moment before their mouths met again, and Peter nipped gently at his lip before clumsily walking backwards through the cracked front door, pulling Tony with him with their mouths still connected. Tony’s foot kicked it closed behind them, bathing them in darkness, and he tripped a bit when Peter clutched at the lapels of his jacket a little too hard. Cursing under his breath, he leaned back against the door and tugged Peter along, using the support behind him to balance as he toed his boots off. They disconnected momentarily as the shorter man did the same, hands still gripping the denim. 

Peter licked his lip as they stood in the dark entryway. Looking up at Tony, he shrugged his coat off, letting it fall to the hardwood floor beneath them. He reached out and gently pushed the denim jacket off the taller man’s shoulders too before leaning in, stopping just before their lips made contact. “Come upstairs with me,” he whispered. 

Tony’s mocha eyes flitted around for a minute, searching his face for something. Peter couldn’t tell if he liked what he saw, but Tony kissed him again before taking his hand. “Your room,” he questioned, taking hold of the banister and leading Peter up the stairs. 

***

“Fuck, Tony. Right there, right there, ohhhhh.” Peter was on his back with one leg thrown over Tony’s shoulder and the other bent off to the side, the ball of his foot pushing into the mattress. The mechanic’s uncut cock was stretching his lubed hole. Tony was leaning over him and one of his hands was clutching at Peter’s hip, the other at the leg up by his face. His facial hair scratched deliciously against the pale skin on the inside of Peter’s knee as he pressed a kiss there. 

(Tony had kissed and licked and sucked praises into the skin of his neck, chest, stomach and thighs as he’d fingered him open at a torturously slow pace. “So good fer me, Pete. Look at you. You’re so goddamn beautiful.” Peter had whimpered and whined the whole time as he tried to fuck himself on the thick digits whose pads were caressing his prostate.) 

A moan left the older man’s lips as he looked into Peter’s eyes. “You feel so good, baby. Always feel so- fuckin’- good,” he grunted, thrusting further in the tight, wet heat. “Love fuckin’ your ass.”  He dug his fingers tighter into Peter’s skin, sure to leave bruises. 

Gasping, Peter arched his hips up, toes curling, cock bobbing against his stomach with every thrust. He could feel Tony deep inside him, in that place that only he had ever been able to reach. Fuck, why had he ever let this go? Never letting you go again, Tony. You can’t leave me alone. I need you. I love you. He whined, baring his neck in a silent plea and bringing his leg down so that both were wrapped around the man’s thick waist. Tony reacted accordingly; his hands moved up to clutch at Peter’s near the headboard and his mouth latched onto the column of Peter’s neck, sucking. A wounded noise escaped Peter, his hole clenching, and Tony bit down harshly at the sensation. Peter keened again, going limp on the mattress as his legs fell open to the side. “Shit, Tony, god!” 

Hot, wet breath tickled Peter’s neck with every ragged exhale that left Tony’s mouth, causing the smaller to whine lewdly, squirming. “Yeah? Are you- mine? Y’gon be mine- huh, Pete?” Peter heard the unspoken question, the twinge of desperation in Tony’s voice. Will you finally be mine? He sounded tired, that deep-in-your-bones type weariness, Peter noticed as he felt his own chest start to get tight. He’d really done a number on the person who deserved it the least. And for what? To come crawling back years later, expecting to be forgiven? 

Yes, he thought in response to Tony’s question, hating himself for it. One of his hands tangled itself in the crown of Tony’s head, fingers pulling the strands at the root possessively as teeth sunk into his neck again. Yours. Always yours. He let out another moan, rolling his hips in an attempt to get some friction on his neglected cock that was weeping precum as Tony continued to thrust in and out of him. “Please, please- Tony, please.” If Peter had any shame left, he’d probably be blushing at how needy and wrecked he sounded. Instead it just turned him on, knowing just how gone he was for the other man. 

With a grunt, Tony redistributed his weight and brought two fingers to Peter’s lips. “Open up fer a minute, baby,” he requested softly, slipping the digits inside. Peter laved them with his tongue, coating them with thick saliva and Tony groaned at the feeling, dick twitching in Peter’s ass. Once they were sufficiently wet, he pulled his fingers away, a thin string of drool stretching to connect them to Peter’s slick lips. “Fuckin’ gorgeous, Pete, Christ.” His calloused hand wrapped loosely around the hot, rosy cock between them. “Fuck my hand, baby.” 

Peter complied without hesitation, rocking his hips and pressing his shaft in and out of the slick tunnel that was Tony’s hand. He cried out when Tony’s thumb caressed the underside of the head as the cock inside of him nailed directly into his prostate. The pressure had already been a lot, but the pleasure was suddenly overwhelming in a new way. He was so close and Tony hadn’t even been touching him for thirty seconds. “F-fuck, Tony, I’m gonna- Ahhhhh-”  

“Yeah, cum for me, Pete,” Tony’s warm breath heaved into his ear, tongue sneaking out to lick the outer shell and dip inside briefly at the same time he tightened his grip on Peter’s sensitive member.  “Fuck, cum for me, baby, cum on my- Cum on my cock- God-.” 

And with a cry, Peter did just that, biting into Tony’s shoulder as the tension in his gut snapped, hole twitch relentlessly around the hard cock inside him as his own shot spurt after spurt of hot cum on his chest; some reached the hollow of his throat and his chin. “God, Tony, shit, shit, shit.” 

“Yesssss, Pete, holy fuck.” Tony buried himself inside one last time, his mouth latching onto the column of Peter’s neck as he reached his orgasm, shoving himself inside as deep as possible. His dick twitched, painting Peter’s insides with his spend and making him groan. 

They stayed that way for a moment before Tony pulled back to look into Peter’s eyes. “Lemme clean’ya up,” he offered gently as he carefully pulled his softening cock out of the heat of the younger man’s ass. There was a slight burbling sound, and he brushed his lips against Peter’s when he saw the embarrassment flash across his face. “Hol’ on.” Climbing out of the bed, he made his way to the bathroom that was adjoined to Peter’s room.

Peter’s heart was beating uncomfortably in his chest as he lay among the sheets, bringing his hands up to his chest to fiddle with each other anxiously. It couldn’t be over. He wasn’t ready for it to be over. He wasn’t ready to be alone again. 

When Tony walked back in, he got back on the bed, gently wiping the cum off Peter’s chest with a warm rag, smirking at the full-body shivers that ran through the young man in response to the cloth being swiped lightly over his nipples. Once his chest was clean, Tony moved down to run the fabric between Peter’s ass cheeks, collecting the milky-white substance that was leaking out of the hole. 

“Stay,” Peter whispered, once Tony had thrown the washcloth in the hamper and climbed back into bed at Peter’s invitation of patting the spot beside himself in bed. He wiggled so that his back was pressed up against Tony’s front. His fingers tangled themselves with those on a slightly larger hand and as he let his eyes slip shut, he felt Tony’s lips press a kiss into the sweaty curls at the back of his head. 

*** 

When Peter woke up, it was well past noon. The bed was so warm that the heat from his and Tony’s bodies trapped up under the fluffy comforter would be sweltering if he didn’t crave it so much. 

Peter swallowed drily as he looked at Tony’s face in the afternoon light, peaceful in sleep. At some point during their sleep, they had shifted to where they were facing each other. He wanted to trace his fingers along the strong facial features in front of him, but he refrained, not wanting to wake the older man. He knew he needed to talk to Tony. He knew that Tony deserved better. But maybe Peter could be selfish just this once... It was Christmas after all. Tis the damn season and all that. 

Leaning forward, with a hand pressed gently against Tony’s chest, Peter pecked his lips against the sleeping man’s in a kiss. He got no response, so he did it again, adding a little more pressure. Tony began to stir; his arm wrapped lazily around Peter’s naked waist, pulling their bottom halves together. 

“G’mornin’,” Tony mumbled sleepily as he blinked a few times before his gaze focused on Peter. His voice was scratchy and rough, and Peter’s hips jerked slightly in response as he whispered back his own greeting, partially because Tony had begun to get hard. The mechanic brought up a hand and took hold of Peter’s chin, pulling their mouths together as he ground their burgeoning erections together. 

Peter wrapped a leg around Tony’s waist as they lay there on their sides and began to gently rock his hips. “Tony,” he mewled, eyes screwed shut. The words were bubbling up inside him, just like the arousal was blooming in his gut. One of his arms wrapped around Tony’s neck, pulling their bodies together as close as they could get. 

“Yeah,” came Tony’s breathy reply. His eyes were roving over Peter’s flushed face as he undulated his own hips, thumb coming up to press against the younger’s spit-slick bottom lip. “Whadisit?”

Peter took the digit into his mouth for a moment and they made eye contact as he swirled his tongue around the tip, fellating it. He released it from his mouth with a pop, biting his own lip. “Am I too late,” he asked quietly, burying his face in the muscled chest before him, pecking tender kisses on the heated flesh. “Do you still love me?” His voice shook as he continued, breath faltering as well as the sensations built up. He squeezed his eyes shut even though Tony couldn’t see the tears building in his eyes as he chased his pleasure, preparing for the inevitable pain that was sure to follow. 

“Pete.” The way Tony said his name was reverent, like he didn’t see Peter for the walking mistake that he was. He was breathing heavier now, too, with the exertion of frotting their hard cocks together. “How could I ever stop, baby?” He craned his neck in order to meet Peter’s eyes. “Was just waitin’ on ya t’come home.” He pressed their lips together as Peter’s leg tightened around his waist. “Was always just waitin’ on ya t’come home,” he repeated. A particularly hard thrust had them both groaning, clutching desperately at each other as they chased that euphoric feeling. “’Course I love you, Peter. Now cum for me.”

Peter couldn’t help but obey as a sob burst from his lips, Tony following him over the edge. “I love you,” he cried, as their bodies shook together. “I’m s-sorry Tony, I love you- Don’t go, don’t ever leave me. I won’t- I promise I won’t go again. I can’t go again, I can’t leave you again. I won’t.” Tony’s thumbs came up to wipe the tears from under his eyes, and a kiss was pressed to his temple as he felt himself be pulled into those strong arms. 

“I’d never leave you, Pete.”

***

The bed was cold when Peter woke again. He lay there, watching the sunset through his bedroom window. Gentle creaks could be heard as the house groaned under pressure from the falling snow. He rolled over, grimacing at the pain in his lower half and pulling a pillow to his chest. It still smelled of teakwood, smoke, and gasoline. He smiled, burying his face further into the intoxicating scent. “I love you,” he whispered to the empty house, feeling lighter than he had in years. 

(Yes, the bed was cold, now. But Tony would be back to warm it up. And he’d have burgers, fries, and a banana milkshake when he returned. Maybe even a joint. Peter was glad he didn’t have to wait long. They’d had just about enough of that over the past seven years.)

#starker #hey it might be a week later than i intended to finish but at least it's out by christmas #bloo writes bad things (tm) #enjoy!

[olivinesea]

A Mixed Blessing

Chapter List

chapter three: counting up the exits

a/n: Alright, fun’s over. We’re getting into the thick of it now. Warnings for substance use, abuse, panic attacks, vomit, scars (idk let me know if I need to be tagging more things please, I really don’t know. I feel like if you’ve found your way here you probably know what you’re getting into but I could be wrong.) Love you all <3 ~5k

It surprised no one when Aaron started cutting class in high school. He didn’t usually have any plans, just headed toward the fields, trying to stay out of sight. He may already have been considered a lost cause as a freshman but that didn’t mean an adult wouldn’t stop him, demand he return to whatever class he was missing. And that wouldn’t do, that would only ruin his good mood. At first he had been leaving class to better enjoy the high his mother’s pills provided but when that ended he continued to wander. It was much nicer outside than in the building where people stared at him, whispered about him, called him names. He kicked at rocks as he slunk behind the portables in the field. They had been put up during a population surge, only to sit empty, waiting on some future use or someone to be motivated enough to tear them down.

He slowed when he caught sight of a group of students standing next to the last building. They were circled together, backs to him for the most part. He hesitated, unsure if he wanted to approach. If he'd learned one thing, it was to avoid situations where he stood out. Walking up to a group of random older kids was definitely something to steer clear of. As he was trying to decide, a boy on the far side of the circle looked up and made eye contact. Aaron’s heart beat faster, breathing became short and though he wanted to run, he couldn’t get his legs to cooperate. The boy smiled slowly, his mouth a little too wide.

As if he was being pulled by some unseen thread, Aaron took a step forward, then another. Even though his mind was telling him to turn, to leave whatever this was alone, he found that he wanted to know more. No one ever smiled at him and it made him feel both uncomfortable and something else he couldn’t quite name. He twisted his fingers in the fabric of his sleeves that he’d pulled down over his hands. A chill air current danced across the back of his neck, whispering words he couldn’t comprehend. The cold made his ears ache.

He was close enough now to hear them talking, laughter and some grumbling from whoever was the butt of the joke. No one had noticed him yet aside from the boy who’d smiled at him. He felt his heart in his throat, worried he might throw up from the anxiety of this choice, this incredibly foolish choice. The boy looked at him again with that same peculiar smile. He seemed amused by Aaron’s nervous, stilted approach. Still several feet away from the group, the urge to flee overwhelmed him. His muscles tensed, preparing to run, half a thought went towards how ridiculous he would seem when they finally noticed him as he raced away. Just as he was turning, a voice called out, raised above the rest of the conversation.

“Hey kid, come here.”

Aaron’s shoulders rose up to his ears, bristling at being addressed like that but also helpless to the attention. Normally he’d do the opposite, flat out refuse to acknowledge this stranger’s demand, but the voice sank into him like a hook. He looked back at the group, now all eyes staring at him, questions clear on their faces. He bit his lip before he could stop himself. There were too many people looking at him and he hated it. He could imagine how he looked to them—too skinny, too pale, drowning in his own clothes and the bruising that shadowed his eyes. He’d gotten taller but barely looked old enough to be a high school student even though he would turn fifteen in a few months. This had been a stupid idea.

“What’s your name?” The other boy’s voice cut through the air, pinning him in place.

“Aaron,” he mumbled, suspicious he’d been dragged into this only to be mocked (or worse).

“You a freshman?” There were chuckles around the group. He nodded reluctantly, eyes darting to the ground, unable to look at any of them directly.

“Shouldn’t you be in class?” A different voice, this one female and clearly irritated by the interruption he’d caused.

He looked up to glare at the speaker, not enjoying being teased. “Shouldn’t you?”

While the girl directed a bitter scowl at him, the first boy snorted, holding up his hands. “Fine, fine, we all make our own choices I guess.”

Aaron frowned at that statement, unsure what to make of it. The rest of the group lost interest and returned to their previous conversation, widening the circle just enough to leave space for him. He shoved his hands in his pockets to stop from fidgeting and took the few remaining steps towards the group. He couldn’t bring himself to completely join them so he hung back half a step, always ready to make a quick getaway. When he looked up, that same boy was still watching him. Up close Aaron could see he had freckles, which felt out of place somehow. They suggested a sort of innocence that the rest of his face, all sharp angles and dark, calculating eyes completely contradicted.

The person next to him handed the boy a joint. He continued to stare at Aaron as he took a drag, closing his eyes only as he inhaled the smoke deep into his lungs. He reached across the circle to hand the joint to Aaron, skipping several people who muttered in annoyance but no one complained too loudly. Their fingers touched as he passed off the half burned joint. Aaron had never smoked before but he was more than willing to try. He was certainly not going to turn it down in front of half a dozen upperclassmen.

“Make sure you inhale all the way,” he instructed.

Aaron did, coughing as the smoke came back out, scraping his throat. There was some laughter but mostly they were indifferent to him. The only one paying any attention to him was the boy with the strange smile; it wasn’t friendly and it unnerved Aaron. He tried to hand the joint back as he smothered another cough.

“Again,” he said, eyes intense.

Aaron blinked at him. The boy waved his hand in encouragement or impatience. Aaron flinched at the unexpected movement but tried to hide it by doing as he was told, bringing the joint back to his lips and taking another drag. This time was a little easier though he wasn’t sure he liked the way it made his face feel hot and his eyes water. The other boy accepted this time when he tried to return it. Already the edges of his vision were softening, his chest felt like it was being wrapped in something warm. He hugged his arms around himself, feeling very out of place, the sounds of the others talking fading in and out like a stereo speaker with a bad connection.

He looked up again moments or minutes later and the older boy was still watching him with that same expression. Aaron was finally able to place it, the narrowed eyes and too many teeth self-satisfied grin of a cat who’d caught a bird. He laughed at the absurdity of this thought. He laughed and he found that he couldn’t stop laughing. He crouched down, hugging himself tighter to try to stem the laughter that way.

“Oh no, you got the baby high, Cole,” he heard someone say. He wondered who they were talking about. Who was the baby and who was Cole; he was unable to make the association. There weren’t any babies here. Sean was a baby and he was at home. He had almost managed to stop laughing but thinking about Sean being here, so out of place with his golden curls, his innocent smile, made him start to giggle again. He started coughing as he choked on his own saliva, muscles lazily not performing their assigned tasks of conducting fluids where they belonged. He felt a hand pounding his back and he tried to roll away from the pain it caused, unsuccessfully biting back a moan. He closed his eyes, vaguely embarrassed but also not fully aware of his surroundings anymore. He knew he was outside because he felt the damp grass beneath him, pressing against his cheek. How did he end up laying on the ground? He tried to breathe but his lungs didn’t seem to be taking directions anymore. He grabbed at his chest with frantic fingers.

“Hey,” this voice was quiet, much closer to him than before. He felt a hand placed carefully on his shoulder, barely any pressure this time, a dragonfly lighting on the water. He was too confused to open his eyes, too afraid he’d made his way back home somehow—why couldn’t he remember? Why couldn’t he just get his lungs to expand?

“You’re fine.” The statement was more command than reassurance. Aaron tried to place the voice, thoughts flashing through his mind at an alarming rate. Each time he tried to catch one, they sped by faster. He’d almost gotten it but he was so distracted by the chill transferring from the individual blades of grass, the water drops becoming wet patches on his shirt. He should have more layers on, the weather was changing already. The hand shook his shoulder a little, bringing him back to the present.

“Look at me.”

He cracked his eyes open reluctantly, unable to disobey even though he was terrified he’d be met with the dark eyes of his father, that he’d find this was only the set up for something horrible. He didn’t know what to think when his vision was met with that freckled face, no longer smiling, a slight frown of concern along with a clinical curiosity. He touched his fingers to Aaron’s exposed collarbone.

“Inhale,” he said and Aaron wondered if time had made a loop—how many times had this happened already? The cool pressure on his chest distracted him from the thought and he did as he was told. The flood of oxygen immediately relaxed his constricted limbs. The boy, Cole, nodded encouragingly. “Again.”

Aaron closed his eyes to focus better, all he felt was the air filtering into his lungs and the fingers splayed against his chest, guiding it there. A few more breaths and he knew where he was again, finally locating himself in space and time. With this awareness came the full force of his embarrassment. He blushed as he pushed himself upright, curling his fists so tightly his nails dug deep into his palms. Cole looked at him from his position squatting beside him, hands on his knees, trying to be certain the younger boy wouldn’t collapse again.

“Are you coming?” someone called. The group had moved down the field, heading someplace more interesting. They’d had enough of the small drama of some inexperienced kid overdoing it. It was time to get away from campus before a teacher took notice. Cole ignored them, watching Aaron’s slow recovery. Aaron felt dizzy, still lightheaded from lack of air. His sides ached from laughing but he couldn’t remember what had been so funny. Cole stood and extended a hand down to Aaron.

“Come on.”

Aaron couldn’t decline even if he’d wanted to.

~

From that day forward Aaron found himself trailing this group around whenever he couldn’t stand being in class anymore. He’d sneak away from the building and down to the field where he’d find a few of them lingering. Sometimes only two or three, sometimes more. They never said much to him but no one told him to go away. Cole was usually there and while Aaron would swear he could feel his eyes watching him, he didn’t speak much to him either. When they’d leave campus, he would follow them to the woods where they’d taken over an abandoned shed. Over time teens with the same ideas had dragged logs and old couches around to lounge on as they got high and drank warm bottles of malt liquor. Aaron always tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible, half-certain they would yell at him to leave if they realized he was tagging along, leaching off their pot and alcohol. At first he only took sips, pretending to drink but wanting to stay alert to the people around him, not trusting any of them. But eventually, as they continued to ignore him, he relaxed into the habit.  

After the first panicked experience of getting high, he had a much better time, taking smaller hits until he built up his tolerance. Sometimes it made him giggly but mostly he liked to just lay on one of the stained couch cushions and stare at the branches above, eyes unfocused, colors blurring. He listened to the birds and the voices around him and the way they blended together, layering to make a song only he could hear. He didn’t notice the dirty looks he got from one girl, Amy, whenever Cole sat beside him, passing him a bottle of something he certainly didn’t need more of. He’d gotten better at drinking than when he was a child, no longer as prone to getting sick, but he still didn’t eat enough not to need to be careful.

On a Tuesday later in the year, a couple months since he’d started hanging around with the older kids, he didn’t find anyone when he went down to the field. But he’d already left class so he decided to go on to the shed on his own, perhaps they’d left early that day. The day was overcast and starting to drizzle. He pulled the hood of his ratty sweatshirt over his head while the mist collected and dripped off his dark bangs into his face. When he got to the clearing, he didn’t see anyone there either. It was too wet to sit outside so he pushed the door to the shed open. It was dim inside and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust as he heard scuffling noises.

“What the fuck!” a girl’s voice shrieked.

Aaron realized what he’d walked in on and stumbled back quickly. He knew he should run but he just kept backing up slowly, heels sinking into the soft forest floor, unable to take his eyes off the partially closed door. Less than a minute later it swung open again, a tall shape emerging from the dimness. It was Cole, pushing his hair back off his forehead with one hand, adjusting the waist of his jeans with the other. They locked eyes and that smile was back, the one that made Aaron’s skin crawl but drew him in at the same time.

“Come here kid.”

Aaron hated that he gave in so easily but he changed direction, retracing his steps. Once he was within reach, Cole grabbed him by the arm and pulled him inside. A camp lantern had appeared from somewhere, throwing shadows and providing just enough light to see the scowl on Amy’s face as she finished straightening her top. Cole pushed Aaron down onto one of the cushions on the floor. She curled her lip in distaste at Aaron before turning on Cole. “I don’t understand why you let this kid hang around. He’s a total creep.”

Aaron frowned and tried to shrink into his sweatshirt. He didn’t want to be there either.

“Now that’s not very nice,” Cole replied, mockingly stern. He dug around in his worn backpack, pulling out a bottle of cheap whiskey. “Look you made him feel bad. Better say sorry.” He still sounded like he was teasing but there was a hard edge in his voice, his eyes were watching her reactions, unblinking. “Maybe a little kiss will help.”

Amy scoffed, looking between Aaron, who was wishing he could disappear, and Cole, who was unscrewing the cap of the bottle.

“Fuck you Cole,” she spat and then stomped out of the building. The thin walls shook as she slammed the door. Cole shrugged and flicked the cap away. It vanished into the shadows beyond the range of the lantern. He took a gulp then pressed it into Aaron’s hands as he sat down alongside him, leaning against the wall. Aaron hesitated, he’d never been alone with Cole, with any of them, and he wasn’t sure what to expect.

Cole noticed and smirked. “Need help kid?”

Aaron’s pride flared, he hated it when they called him that, the way they acted like he was so young, too young to know anything. But he knew plenty, far more than they could ever imagine. He lifted the bottle to his lips and swallowed, wincing down the sharp gasoline fumes. It had been awhile since he’d had any real liquor. The others always showed up with beers and forties that they were able to steal or shoulder tap from the bums in the liquor store parking lot. He wasn’t surprised to find Cole watching his reaction closely. He was always watching. Silently, he nodded his chin, indicating the bottle, so Aaron drank again. He tried to ignore the feeling of discomfort, the voice in his head mocking him for becoming so compliant.

He’d spent the last few weeks watching Cole out of the corner of his eye, seeing how the others treated him differently. They might tease and rough house with each other but never with him. And when Cole said an argument was settled, that was the end of it, regardless of whether the parties involved felt their complaints had been satisfied. There was something about him that was both frightening and compelling, sending a shiver up Aaron’s spine when he thought of him. He had been trying to figure it out and thought it must be related to the way Cole’s eyes never seemed to blink as he stared so intently. It always made him uncomfortable, made him assume he was in the wrong somehow. The part that confused Aaron the most though, was that he’d do anything to fix it. Even not knowing what was wrong, he felt the need to make it right, to win the older boy’s approval. Cole silently took the bottle from Aaron’s fingers as he was lost in contemplation of this stranger he was suddenly in such close quarters with. It felt like being too close to a wild animal. Something with too much intelligence that was just biding its time until it could strike.

Cole leaned his head back against the wall, letting the bottle hang from his fingers in between his bent knees. He closed his eyes and sighed, tired of the world already at seventeen.

“Hotchner.”

He said it so quietly Aaron almost didn’t catch it. He flicked his eyes over to Cole who hadn’t moved. Maybe he was hearing things now.

“That’s you, right?” He was looking at Aaron again, expression impossible to interpret beneath the rippling shadows cast by the tree branches as they swayed in the wind.

Aaron nodded slowly, unsure where this was going. He’d never told any of them his last name but there was no reason to think that they wouldn’t be able to figure it out. The town was not all that large. He passed the bottle back again. Aaron couldn’t even taste it anymore. His head was starting to swim.

“Your dad’s the lawyer right?”

“Mhm,” Aaron didn’t really want to answer but didn’t see how he could lie about it either. Cole laughed at the scowl on his face. Defiantly he took another swallow.

“Not too fond of the old man?”

Aaron lifted a shoulder, noncommittal. Even drunk he was not about to start talking about his father with anyone.

“Mm, not sharing. That’s alright.” He pulled rolling papers and a bag of pot out of his back pocket. Aaron hoped that would be the end of that line of questioning. It was quiet for a few minutes as Cole focused on breaking apart a bud.

“I don’t have a dad,” he said as if continuing some conversation they hadn’t quite started. “Or a mom, really.”

Aaron snorted, too drunk now to be careful with his reactions. “‘fcourse you do. That’s stupid.”

Cole looked up from his task, amused by this outburst. “I don’t. Not anymore.”

The way he said it suggested something dark and twisted but Aaron shied away from the bait, opting to drink more rather than wade deeper into whatever that was. Cole resumed rolling the joint, placing it to his lips and lighting it when it was ready.

“Who—“ Aaron wanted to ask who takes care of you but that sounded too juvenile. He was already annoyed with how they treated him like a little kid. He settled on, “Where do you live?”

Cole exhaled, blowing the smoke into Aaron’s face. “My grandma’s got a basement where I crash sometimes.”

Aaron didn’t ask what he did the rest of the time, just accepted the joint that was being passed to him. He brought it to his lips with unsteady fingers. He was just aware enough to know this was a terrible idea, but Cole’s steady gaze on him wouldn’t let him stop now. He could do anything the other boy could do. He would do anything the other boy wanted him to do. It hardly made sense but this older boy—who didn’t know him, who he had nothing to offer to— nevertheless, this boy was paying attention to him in a way that no one else did. The only other person who was ever this aware of his existence was his father and that was never a good awareness. They continued smoking and drinking in silence as it started to rain in earnest.

“I hate him.” Aaron’s voice was raw with fury, the feeling so strong he was on the verge of tears. Cole nodded lazily, too stoned or too disinterested to form a reply. But now that he’d started, Aaron couldn’t stop thinking about every bad thing that had ever happened to him at the hands of his father, of how his mother just let it happen, of how no one had ever bothered to notice. His breathing sped up. He needed Cole to understand, to believe him and to acknowledge that his life, his experiences were real. He felt a sudden intense certainty that if he couldn’t have just one person look at him and see what was really there, he would disappear completely, never more than an irritation, swatted away by a distracted hand. He leaned forward on his hands, swaying unsteadily as he tried to make eye contact with Cole. For some reason he wouldn’t stay in one place, his image swinging from side to side. Aaron shook his head, hoping to clear it. The other boy lifted the nearly empty bottle to his mouth, lifting an eyebrow at this behavior, eyes bloodshot and hollow.

“I—“ Aaron couldn’t finish his thought. His stomach muscles seized and everything he’d consumed over the past day forcefully came back up, spraying across both Cole and himself. He coughed, nearly choking as he doubled over, forehead touching the dirty floor, scraping against it with his fingernails, trying to find purchase on the violently tilting horizon. Cole swore loudly, dropping and breaking the bottle in his attempt to move away from the mess. The smell of the spilled alcohol, so close to Aaron’s nose was too much and he threw up again, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t remember what had been so important just moments before, all he could do was pray he would be forgiven. He didn’t have a lot of hope.

“Goddamnit,” Cole muttered, moving away from the broken glass and liquid mess. Aaron felt a hand pulling on the back of his sweatshirt and cowered, putting his arms above his head, unable to operate on anything but instinct. Cole tugged a little harder, dragging him away from the mess he’d created.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron sobbed, wishing he didn’t exist, regretting his earlier insistence on being noticed. Cole pulled him to his feet none too gently and Aaron braced himself for the hit he knew was coming, the hit he knew he deserved. Instead he felt fingers pulling up the hem of his sweatshirt, he snapped his arms to his sides and tried to back away but stumbled back into a broken and worn office chair someone had lifted from the school. He sat heavily, barely saving himself from falling onto the floor as the chair rocked unevenly. He gripped the sides of the seat so hard his knuckles turned white and, though he wanted to close his eyes, he also wanted to see what was coming, wanted to prepare himself.

Cole stared at him for a minute, incredulous, then shrugged. He pulled his own soiled shirt off in a single motion, hooking the back of the collar to bring it over his head so none of the vomit came into contact with his skin. He balled it up, wrapping the clean fabric around the outside and dropped it on the floor. When he was finished he noticed Aaron staring at him, staring at his chest. He looked down, tracing a finger over the long purple scar that ran from the bottom of his ribs almost to his hip bone, dark against his exposed skin.

“Like it?” he asked mildly. “It’s got a partner,” he said as he turned, showing another dark scar, not as long but thicker, near the middle of his back. There were other, smaller scars, some Aaron recognized as the circular prints left by the lit end of cigarettes. When he turned back around, Aaron’s eyes were large and round, unable to comprehend what he’d been shown. Cole scratched at the long scar a little self consciously.

“My mom was real into meth and uh…well she thought I was trying to steal from her one time.” He shifted from foot to foot, pressing his fingertips against his scar. “It was a long time ago,” he added.

“You said you didn’t have a mom,” Aaron said stupidly after the silence became unbearable.

Cole’s eyes grew dark. “I don’t. Not anymore.”

Aaron shivered, promising himself he’d just shut up from here on out. Cole ran a hand through his sandy blond hair, it appeared brown in the dim lighting.

“Are you going to take that off or what?”

Aaron looked down at himself, he was covered in vomit. Seeing it made him aware again of the smell and the nausea and he raced to pull it off, forgetting that he too had something to hide. He was too intoxicated to be coordinated and his shirt came off along with the sweatshirt and he was left exposed from the waist up, just the same as Cole. It was the other boy’s turn to stare, to assess the range of injuries inflicted by the marks left behind. Aaron might not have anything as dramatic but he made up for that in quantity. Aaron forced himself not to close in on himself, to allow the other boy the same time to observe that he’d been given. He couldn’t meet his gaze though, looking out the window as his cheeks burned red with humiliation.

The silence stretched out and he started to think that he would be left standing there forever. That he was too broken, even for someone who knew what Cole knew, who had experienced a similar kind of pain. He squeezed his eyes shut to try to stop the tears, telling himself he was stupid, so stupid to have thought it was at all the same. He was startled when he felt cool fingertips on his chin, turning his face.

“It’s gonna be okay.” He said it quietly, like he knew this was Aaron’s deepest, most shameful desire. He left him for a moment, walking in a wide arc around the mess. Aaron stood chewing on his lip, trying to remain composed. He came back with a sweater he’d pulled out of his backpack. Instead of handing it to him, he pulled it on over Aaron’s head, carefully guiding his arms into the sleeves. It was too big, but clothes were always too big on him, and the fabric was soft and warm. When Aaron was dressed again, Cole pulled on his jacket, a dark canvas, faded at the elbows with frayed drawstrings. He left the zipper undone and Aaron could just see the edge of his scar. It pulled his gaze like a magnet. He couldn’t help staring; too much had just happened for him to process and he hung on this one detail, this proof that he wasn’t alone.

He believed the scar was evidence that there was one person who had lived a life like his and still managed to move through the world unbroken. He didn’t know yet how scar tissue, like icebergs and secrets, grew larger and more twisted the deeper one looked. He wanted to believe in a life with simple answers, with safe endings to stories like his. See, here’s proof. He wanted to touch Cole’s scars, absorb them through his palms as if he could absorb a resolution to his own pain, as if it would make everything stop long enough for all his own wounds to heal over, to scar and become long ago stories instead of the next act waiting in the wings.

Cole zipped his jacket closed, blocking Aaron’s view and breaking off his feverish train of thought. Cole looked at him with a complicated mix of emotion. There was tenderness but also hunger. Aaron couldn’t decipher what that meant but he didn’t care, he was already lost to this idea, a belief he was too ready to attach to this person he barely knew. High on the revelation, he would believe what he wanted: he’d found someone who understood, someone who would stay with him, not leave him struggling on his own. And he would follow him anywhere.

chapter four

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #tw substances #tw abuse #tw vomit #young hotch #a mixed blessing #criminal minds fanfiction

[myhockeyworld87]

Sparkler - Sidney Crosby

Word Count: 1,523

POV: Reader

Warnings: Nothing this is pure cuteness, unless you don’t like Sid as a dad.

Notes: No one asked for this, but here it is anyway, because it popped in my head last night when I was watching some fireworks with my family. Thanks to everyone who voted for Sid and to all those who want Dad Jamie Benn give me a scenario, or I may end up thinking of something who knows...lol. Happy 4th of July to all! 

2020 had really been a hell of a year. Right now you should be in Cole Harbour, celebrating Canada Day at the lake house, but instead, you were still in Pittsburgh as you had been since the world and the NHL went on pause. You and Sid had decided to stay in Pittsburgh, in hopes that it wouldn’t be that long, yet here you were at the start of July practically in the same place. Well, not exactly the same.

You still planned on celebrating Canada Day, but you were also going to be celebrating the 4th of July in the States this time. Which was what you’d been used to, except for the last five years that you’d been with Sid. If you had to think back on it, last year had probably been the best. You’d been at the lake house; Sid had a fire going in the backyard and was roasting you a marshmallow as you fed your eleven-month-old daughter. She’d fallen asleep in your arms before the first firework had even gone off, and blessedly she’d stayed sleeping throughout each loud boom. After Sid fed you the gooey treat, he’d scooped you both up and held you as the sky lit with sparkling stars that reflected off the water.

Now here you were a year later, and there were no fireworks in the sky, but Sid still had a fire burning in the backyard. Only now the marshmallows were for your toddler. “Are you excited to see the fireworks soon, princess?” Sid asked her as he wiped the remnants of sticky sugar from her mouth and hands.

“Uh-huh, they will be so p-etty daddy.” She’d seen a few that had gone off from the neighborhood but only small glimpses. “How many more sleeps, before they come?”

“Only three more sleeps angel and then you can see them light up the sky.” Sid had made sure that the small suburb that you lived in had enough money to put on a great show for his little girl. Your house was in a prime spot, as they told him that they usually set them off just up the hill. He hoisted his daughter in his arms, tickling her; her giggles filling the air. “And now my little princess it is time for you to head to bed.”

When her laughter finally died down, she asked, “is this sleep number one?” She held up her finger to show the number. When you and Sid had taught her how to count; she would always count the number of sleeps he would be gone on a road trip until she could see him again. You weren’t sure how she was going to handle it when hockey started back up. She’d grown very used to her daddy being home.

“Yes, this is sleep number one.” You followed the two into the house and put your daughter to bed. Then spent the last few hours cuddling with Sid, next to the fire with the monitor close by.

The following two days, you prepped the house for the impromptu get together for the 4th of July celebration. It wasn’t near as many people as you’d both like. Just some of Sid’s teammates, along with their significant others. The guys had gotten together more often as restrictions had been lifted and they were all being tested; so you figured everyone was safe. Sid manned the grill, while you took care of fixing all the rest of the food. As dusk grew closer you brought out glow necklaces for a couple of kids to wear that were there. Though you weren’t surprised to see one around Sid’s neck and on top of his head.

“Look, mommy, daddy has a cown on.”

“Cr-own, sweetie.” You told her as she was having trouble with her ‘R’s.’ She repeated the word, still missing the R, but it was rather adorable. “And doesn’t he look very handsome in it.” She nodded her little head up and down, as you held her in your arms. You felt her grow heavier, as her little head relaxed onto your shoulder.

“Hey princess,” Sid said coming up to her. “Don’t fall asleep now. You waited for three whole sleeps to see the fireworks.

“I’m tired, though.”

“Here, wear daddy’s magic crown and it will wake you up.” Sid was truly phenomenal with his daughter and it was moments like this that made your heart swell even more. He looped the glow stick enough that she could wear it on her head, which had her perking up a bit. Just then a loud boom sounded, signaling the start of the fireworks, and your daughter started to cry.

“Awww, what’s wrong sweetie,” you asked.

“It’s too loud,” she sobbed out.

“Here you want daddy to hold you.” Sid had a way of calming her down from day one, and sure enough the minute she was in his arms the crying stopped. “Now what color do you think the next one will be.”

“Geen,” she answered enthusiastically. Sure enough, a green one shot up.

“How did you know that princess?” She just put her little hands up and shrugged. “Ok let’s watch and see what this one will be.”

“It’s blue daddy, it’s blue.”

“I see it, sweetie.”

“It’s so big and p-etty. Do you think there’s a gold one for the Pens, daddy?”

“There might be, we just have to keep looking.”

“Another geen, oooo,” You listened to two banter back and forth and couldn’t help sliding up and wrapping your arms around the two.

“I think the next one is going to be red,” you told the duo. All three of you looked in the air and when the firework exploded it was a brilliant shade of gold, nothing like the red you’d predicted.

“It was gold mommy, just like I said.” And then she laughed.

“Yeah, silly mommy thinking she could play our game huh princess.” Your husband teased.

Your daughter, tilted her father’s face towards hers, hands on each side of his cheeks, and said in a very serious hushed tone. “But Daddy, mommy can play. We don’t want her to be sad.” She had the sweetest heart, just like her father, and well maybe you too.

“Of course, mommy can play, we don’t ever want mommy to be sad.” He said looking over at you trying not to smirk, then pecking your lips.

“That’s better,” your daughter said, and turned her attention back to the fireworks. They went on for another fifteen minutes or more. The three of you playing the little game the entire time. As the finale, came on there were lots more booms, though she didn’t seem to mind them anymore.

You leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Make sure you make a wish on the last sparkle before it goes out.” You could see your little one concentrating hard and as the last one went off, she mumbled something under her breath. “What did you wish for, sweetie?”

“I wished for baby sister, like Alex so I have someone to play with all the time.” Your eyes widen and you looked over to your husband.

“Well princess, mommy, and daddy will have to work on that.” He said with a raise of his brows. You knew where his mind immediately went.

As your eyes stayed locked with his, you shrugged your shoulder and said, “Or maybe her wish already came true.” You’d been holding out for the perfect moment to tell Sid that you were pregnant, but this seemed almost too perfect to pass up.

“Really?”

You smiled brightly at your husband, while your daughter rested her head on his shoulder. “Yes really, though I can’t promise it will be a girl.” He kissed your lips, a gentle caress that you both wanted to last forever.

“You’re smooching me, daddy.” Your little girl piped up, causing you to break apart.

“Sorry, sweetie. Daddy is just really happy, that your wish is coming true.”

“It is?” She hadn’t realized you being pregnant would give her the little sister or brother that she’d asked for. “How many sleeps till she comes?”

“OH, it’s a lot of sleeps princess. I’m not sure you can count that high.” Sid told her.

“I’m gonna go see if Alex can count that high for me.” She wiggled out of Sid’s arms and scooted across the lawn to go play with her friends.

Sid drew you near then, holding you in the circle of his arms, while the two of you watched her play. “Ready for number two?” You asked.

“More than ready; though I’m not going to complain if it’s a boy.” You knew that Sid wanted a son, that he could pass down all his knowledge of hockey too; not that he wasn’t doing that already with your daughter, but a little boy would be different. “Though I wouldn’t mind another little sparkler like her.” He breathed out as, as he watched his baby girl. She really did have her daddy wrapped around her finger. While you, you simply had everything that you’d ever wanted.  

#sidney crosby #sidney crosby imagine #Sidney Crosby Imagines #Sidney Crosby as a dad #nhl imagines #nhl fanfic #nhl imagine #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #Pittsburgh Penguins fanfiction #Pittsburgh Penguins imagines #Pittsburgh Penguins imagine

[mnictasbcl]

October 11th

For #dbhcolorsofdeviancy, prompt:

June 2nd: Sober android- drunk human. @connor-sent-by-cyberlife

Rating: Teen

Characters: Connor, Hank Anderson

Relationships: Connor & Hank Anderson

Additional Tags: Angst, Death, (mention of), Swearing, Grief/Mourning, Alcohol, Alcoholism, Hurt/Comfort, Guilt, Crying

Summary: It’s the anniversary of Cole’s death. Hank slips back into old habits, but Connor won’t let him suffer alone.

 TW: Alcoholism

 Story below! Or, read it on AO3

OCT 11TH, 2038

TIME PM 20:32:07

 It had been a long day, Connor noted, as they arrived back home from the DPD. A hard day of working, dragged on by a late case they couldn’t delay investigating. A strange day, as well. The android had noted a change in Hank, and somehow, something within him corelated it to that specific day. He’d thought over it in the morning, trying to figure out why he’d left a reminder on this date in his internal calendar, but what with being late to work, he hadn’t had a chance to deduce a conclusion.

Hopefully, he’d be able to chat to the man once they got inside, after he’d made a warm meal and put on some mindless TV. But first, he had to take a shower. It wasn’t that androids required them as regularly as humans, but since he’d examined a crime scene that had been rather messy, and had also still had the suspect there, who’d fought with him, smearing thirium over his front during the confrontation, he needed one.

Still, he felt like he should talk with the Lieutenant before he showered, his concerns only reaching higher levels as Hank remained silent on their trip from the car to the house. He simply gave Sumo a light pat before heading into the kitchen, pulling back a wooden chair and sitting down.

“Is…” Connor paused at the threshold to the room, thumbs twiddling, “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

The man glanced him over. “Get that blood off of you.” He jerked a thumb in the direction of the bathroom.

Connor nodded, noting that Hank may have usually made a joke about this. Perhaps it had just been a long day. “I will get to that presently. But—”

“Go on, Connor.” Hank interrupted, casting his gaze back onto the kitchen table.

The android pursed his lips, hovering awkwardly for a few more moments before deciding it would be safe to go and do the task at hand, briskly. It was likely distressing to see the blue blood coating the front of his clothes also, he thought, even if it wasn’t his own.

He made quick work of undressing and getting into the shower, turning on the water and letting it run over his body. His clothes would probably need to be taken to a cleaner’s, as thirium was regrettably a hard stain to scrub out, Connor mused, as he reached for the shampoo.

But that wouldn’t need to be an issue he brought up tonight. Hank definitely seemed to have a lot on his mind. It was then that Connor realised he had a moment to think back to his neglected task of researching the date. October the eleventh. It wasn’t a significant date from the last few years past, he noted. There was nothing monumental worldwide that had happened to affect life so drastically in the 2030’s. Maybe he needed to look closer.

LED whirring yellow, Connor put his inner detective skills to work. His shower was now fully forgotten, and the shampoo he’d lathered up in his hair was starting to drip down his forehead. He didn’t notice.

October. October 11th. It had to be something to do with Hank. Nothing last year, although he managed to find that the man had missed a day of work then also. Nothing in 2037 either. Or 2036. In 2035—

His LED flashing a bright, warning red, and his eyes flew open. He groaned, shampoo burning in his eyes, and he quickly rinsed water over his face.

After this was done, however, Connor switched off the shower and made quick work of getting dried off and into some clean clothes. Shit, how hadn’t he realised? Made a clearer note of this?

October 11th, 2035, was the day Cole had died.

And today marked the third anniversary of his death. No wonder Hank had been so different today, he was grieving. And Connor hadn’t even known.

But there was no time to dwell on what he could have done. What was important was what he would do now. Research over grief briefly gave him tips that he shouldn’t be too pushy, too close, but he should provide comfort, and support, and—

He blinked away the tabs opened in his mind. That wasn’t the way to go about things. Not like he would have done as a machine, looking up step-by-step guides on how to respond to grief in a human.

Pushing open the bathroom door, he took a few breaths, forcing his LED to cycle back to blue.

“Hank?” He called, glancing around him as he made his way down the hallway. “Are you—”

He frowned when the chair Hank had been sitting at was empty. Instead, the table now had an empty bottle of whiskey laying on its side, no contents left to spill out. He looked frantically about, before meeting eyes with Sumo, and then with the Lieutenant, who was laying sprawled out on the floor.

It was almost exactly like how he’d found Hank on the evening of November the 6th. That was only a month ago but yet it felt like years had passed between now and that moment. He’d been a machine, back then, focused only on accomplishing his mission. In that moment, his mission had been to locate Lieutenant Anderson and get him ready to investigate the scene at the Eden Club. He’d simply roused the man sharply from the ethylic coma he’d fallen into. He’d only cared about getting him ready for the mission.

Connor blinked. Right. Back to the matter at hand. He wasn’t that machine anymore. This was Hank. His best friend, his… He cared. A quick scan of his vitals told him that Hank wasn’t in dangerous levels of intoxication, simply numbing ones.

But he couldn’t leave the man lying on the floor. Instead of sharply slapping him back to consciousness, he brought his arms around him to carefully lift him from the floor, making sure to support his head. The couch was the closest place to bring him, but come the morning, the light coming from the front door and the windows would be bright and painful for his hangover. Therefore, Connor decided it was best to bring him into his bedroom.

Hank mumbled incoherently as he walked, words slurring, eyes half open at times. The android simply smiled at him; in case he was awake in any way. The journey wasn’t too long, and soon he was able to lay the man onto the bed. Connor made quick work of pulling the covers over him.

What next, he pondered, this time allowing himself to do some research. He pulled the curtains shut, fetched an empty bin with a liner in it and placed it beside the bed. After placing a glass of water beside the bed, Connor saw that he had everything ready for when Hank would wake up.

He doubted the man would be up until the morning, however, as the evening drew on, he seemed to be semi-conscious. At first, it was simply more incoherent mutterings. But when he placed his hand over Hank’s, in an attempt to calm him, he began to speak more coherently.

“Cole…” Hank’s eyes met his. “I’m so sorry.”

Connor froze. LED swirling, mind racing. Was Hank mistaking him in his state of impaired lucidity? Or was it something else? Was he recalling the event, was—

Calm down, Connor, he told himself firmly, there was an important situation he needed to be present for.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Hank. It wasn’t your fault.”

Hank blinked, eyes seeming to come a little more into focus. “I just… it was… you should have lived.”

He noticed the tears starting to slip from the lieutenant’s eyes, and so he took a tissue from the bedside table, dabbing it gently under his eyes. There was little he could say to contend against what he was saying, so Connor instead patted his hand lightly, making what he hoped were soothing noises.

The minutes ticked by, and, as he began to calm a little, Hank seemed to recognise him. “I’m not going to lose you too, Connor.”

His heart (or thirium pump- technicalities didn’t matter) jumped into his throat. Of course, with the fight today with the suspect at the crime scene, must have been stressful, and particularly upsetting for Hank on a day like today. What with seeing the thirium staining his shirt. It’d freaked him out too when he’d looked in the bathroom mirror at his reflection.

“You won’t, Hank.” He answered, tone a little wavering but confident. That fight today might have been close, but he was nothing if not good at his job. And with his deviancy, this newfound sense of being alive… with having someone to be alive for, as well as himself, he would never put himself in unnecessary risk.

Hank reached out with his other hand, shaking a little, grasping the collar of Connor’s shirt. “I can’t—I can’t lose another son.”

He wasn’t supplied immediately with a confident answer, this time. Connor’s LED cut to yellow as he processed this information. Another son—son. Hank thought of him as a son. That—why did it both break and mend his heart at the same time?

Connor dipped his head briefly, blinking away the tears that were pooling in his eyes. It hurt because it was true. In the short time he’d known Hank, in the time he’d been alive and truly known him, their relationship… it had been warm. It had been fond, filled with bad jokes and nights spent on the couch together watching crummy movies, working as partners at the DPD—behind me, Connor, as they came into every new crime scene with its unknown and looming threats… It had been finding himself, finding themselves in each other, finding family.

“You won’t.” He repeated, tone softer this time, eyes darting back up to meet Hank’s.

The man nodded. Once, twice, hand falling down from where it had been clutching his shirt and onto the bed covers.

“You better not.” Hank replied, and at that, Connor chuckled. He noticed then that Hank’s eyes were beginning to slip back shut again, and he smiled, reaching across to readjust the covers with his free hand, the other never letting go of Hank’s.

It hadn’t been perfect. He knew he could have done better, could have started with making a clear note of the day—but that was life, he was beginning to notice. Nothing was perfect. There would be grief and mourning, joy and sorrow, days where he wouldn’t be able to predict the demons lurking in Hank’s mind, where he would find the man passed out, drunk on the floor. But he would show him he’d never lose another son. He’d always be there to scoop him back off the floor, and tuck him into bed with comfort, like he knew the man would do for him. It was messy, but it was real.

“I promise, dad. I promise.”

#dbhcolorsofdeviancy #dbh #detroit become human #dbh fanfic #fanfic #dbh connor #dbh hank #dbh connor and hank #tw alcoholosim #tw alcohol

[ateriblewriter]

warning: does contain alcohol and mentions of being drunk

There are seven levels of alcohol intoxication. They are as follows:

1. Sobriety. That one should be self explanatory. You are sober. Your friend invited you over and you meet his friends. It’s all fun and games. Sure you drink something but you don’t really feel anything or exhibit any signs of being intoxicated, but something is starting to build. 

2. Euphoria. During this stage you start to feel really good about yourself. As the drinks start flowing your confidence, talkativeness, and sociality begin to increase. You need to start being careful though. At this point although it maybe fun, your words will start to sound a little funny, your memory of future events will be fuzzy, you will most likely come away with bruises you have no knowledge of getting. 

3. Excitement. It should glaringly evident to everyone around that you are drunk, but due to that fact that they are highly drunk as well it may go unnoticed. What they do notice is your large mood swings from happy to mean to sad all within a matter moments. You somehow obtain even more bruises now. You can't form words and you vision is blurry. You are starting to get sick. You need something to drink and are met with more shot which you gladly down without any hesitancy. Liquid is liquid right?

4. Confusion. You have officially blacked out. You're confused why some told you no more. You disregard them anyways by stealing the bottle sitting on the edge of the counter. Your pain tolerance is out of this world and your auto pilot switch has been turned on, making you feel like an unstoppable force.

5. Stupor. You are a zombie like creature, unable to walk, or breathe. The uncontrollable vomiting burns your throat, eventually you start to choke on the stuff coming up. Your irregular heart beat and seizure will lead to some unconciousness.

Please also note that at this stage you will need medical attention, you are close to the final stages there may be life threatening consequences that will not only affect you.

6. Coma. Everyone thinks you're in a deep sleep because no amount of stimuli will wake you. Someone has the decency to bring you up to your room where you can sleep in off and be fine the next day. In their drunken stupor they are sorely mistaken.

7. Death. This one like sobriety is pretty self explanatory. You stop breathing, your heart stops beating and your lips may turn a cool blue color. This is the end of the line for you.

~

Quinn was supposed to be in charge. He was burdened with being the oldest person in home at the time of the incident. He was probably going to be taking the brunt of the blame for what happened to her. There was an underage kid in a house filled with booze and a dead person. He should have known better. 

Jack invited her. She was his friend first back in New Jersey. He had invited her for the summer with the intention of getting to know her than he already and maybe starting something with her. Out of everyone he felt the most guilty. If it weren’t for him she would have never been there.

Cole wasn’t even supposed to be there. He just happened to be passing through and figured it would fun to catch up with his friends. He like many of the others didn’t know his new friend but he was still there and felt like maybe he could have done more.

Trevor kept giving her drinks. He bought most of the stuff they consumed that night. He was the one playing bartender creating drinks and shots that would have destroyed anyones liver at first glance, but she enjoyed them so he kept them going. Behind Jack he fully believed it he was the one most at fault.

Matt tried to get her to stop drinking earlier in that night. Even in his own drunken state he could tell it was getting out of control for her, and tried to tell her no more. He didn't see when she went behind his back and swiped another bottle of something blue full of liquor. He was the who eventually brought her bed and covered her with a blanket when he felt she was a bit cool to the touch.

Luke found her. He was worried when it was well past the middle of the day and she wasn’t up yet. He shut down when he couldn’t wake her, finding she didn’t have a pulse. He had a very hard time finding telling Quinn what that she needed help. He gave his oldest brother a look that conveyed everything they needed to know, sending everyone running towards her room.

~

“So we’re all in agreement that this isn’t our fault?” Quinn looked at the groups of hockey players surrounding him, most of them nodding in agreement.

“They’re going to find someone to blame.” Luke finally broke his silence that he had been holding for awhile now. “We were all here we are all getting in trouble for this.”

“We’re never going to play in the show again are we?” Cole piped up, sounding quite insensitive at the moment. “They aren’t going to want us anymore.”

“Seriously? That’s all you care about right now? Y/N is dead. We are most likely going to jail. Who fucking cares about hockey now. It’s not important anymore.” A few tears escaped Jacks eyes. 

If you have any suggestions or comments I'd love to hear them! I really want to know your thoughts on this one. Please? I could possibly write a full story.

#luke hughes #jack hughes #trevor zegras #quinn hughes #cole caufield #matt boldy #nhl imagine #nhl imagine #an idea #please don't hate #let me know what you think #warning #alcohol #death

[heelwriting]

Blush - Kyle O'Reilly

Title: Blush

Theme: Bonfire

Fandom/Character(s): Wrestling, Undisputed Era, Kyle O'Reilly x reader, Bobby Fish, Adam Cole, Roderick Strong, Marina Shafir.

Warnings: language

Word Count: 1110 words

Summary: reader is nervous about meeting the UE but Kyle says everything will be ok.

This is my 1st entry into @champbucks 12 Days of Christmas (@12daysofchristmas) this is all fluffy stuff and they'll get fluffier by the day.

I'll probably post them later in the day and I'll try and make the whole 12.

Masterlist

When Kyle casually mentioned meetings his friends for a bonfire in Roddy’s house, you feel off your chair, Kyle rushed to help you get up, you knew that day would come soon but you thought you could meet them one by one, meeting them all at once seemed like too much pressure.

“Are you alright?”

He asked worried.

“I’m fine”

You said sitting down again, Kyle sat beside you and laced your finger together.

“They’re not bad, I’m sure they will like you”

“Why are you so sure?”

You were too preoccupied, Kyle thought it was cute that you cared so much.

“Because they know I love you, they’re like my brothers, they won’t judge you”

No matter how much you tried to not think about it, your mind was always coming back to that thought, maybe they won’t like you, maybe you’ll make a disaster and they end up hating you, much random thoughts swirled around in your mind leading up to the meeting.

You’ve only been dating for a couple of months, but with the holidays coming up, you knew you’d have to get to know the guys from the Undisputed Era, seeing as they were like family to him, you put a lot of pressure on yourself to make a good impression.

The day was finally here, Florida was cold and wet, there was no snow but you liked putting on winter outfits to feel the time of the year.

Kyle had brought a basket with a blanket, muffins, cookies and marshmallows, walking towards the house he had his hand squeezing yours to reassure you everything would be alright, he knocked on the door, as you waited for someone to open, he looked at you with a smile on his face, leaning down to steal a kiss, he pressed your lips together, at the same time you felt the door swing open.

“You have to leave something for dessert”

Adam said in a teasing tone, making your cheeks go bright red, you instinctively hid your face in Kyle’s arm, what a way to make a first impression.

“You’ve done far worse”

Kyle attacked back at Cole, Adam closed the door as I walked behind Kyle.

“I know but you’re the cute innocent looking out of us”

Adam said, Kyle rolled his eyes.

“It’s too early for non pg things, Kyle”

Bobby’s voice made everyone look around, now Kyle’s cheeks were red, well… all his face was red, you didn’t want to know how you looked. They were coming after him like hunters to their prey.

“It was just a kiss!”

Kyle protested, they laughed, Bobby put a hand on his shoulder.

“I know”

He said to Kyle then he looked behind him, looking at you he said.

“I’m sorry, we didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, we just like messing with Kyle”

You felt better but something told you the burning sensation on your cheeks wouldn’t go away that night despite the cold wheatear.

Smiling at his friends, you went along with their shenanigans.

They all introduced themselves and their partners, you had dinner and then went to the backyard were Roddy had lighten a fire to calm the cold.

Sitting there with everyone sharing stories, you were enjoying yourself, besides teasing Kyle, they were really good guys, everybody was welcoming and you were grateful things went well.

“May I ask, what did you see in cute Kyle over here?”

Roddy said putting you on the spot.

“I swear this is like the 15th time I’ve seen you blush, and I’ve only know you for a few hours”

Adam chimes in, you blush even more, you cover your face on Kyle’s hoodie.

“Guys, come on, let her talk”

Bobby said and they backed off, uncovering your face, you finally let the words come out.

“Well, he was always paying me compliments whenever he came to the shop, that’s why I noticed him, then he asked me out and he had this big puppy eyes and I couldn’t resist”

“You’re both really sweet, you make a great couple”

Marina says smiling at you.

Kyle looks at you with big eyes and smiles, he noticed you shivering and pulled the blanket from the basket, he spread it over our shoulders.

“You seemed cold”

“Thank you”

“Do you want a s’more?”

He asked, his eyes had lighten up like he was a kid again, the moment was perfect in your mind, the cold air of winter contrasted with the bonfire, your friends around, Kyle being his sweet self like always, it was all too much and too perfect to be true.

You nodded and he got up to prepare them, at that moment, Bobby went and sat at his place.

“Were all glad to see him happy, you know? Don’t let the boys fool you, he means a lot to us, the pranks and jokes is something he started, so he had them coming”

He explained, and you laughed.

“I know how he is… actually, I was more worried that you weren’t going to like me”

Bobby gave you a smile as he shook his head.

“Sorry for my language, but you’d have to be a real bitch for us not to like you, especially considering Kyle had told us everything about you, and he is very specific”

“How specific?”

You asked fearful of what he had said about you.

“Let’s say Kyle is very detail oriented, I think I know how you order your coffee from every time has said it”

“Sorry?”

He smiled like saying ‘no problem’ and then he looked more serious as he changed the theme of the conversation.

“I’ve known him for a decade, this is by far the happiest I’ve seen him, he always talks about you and his eyes get all shiny, he really loves you and were all happy you are together”

“Thanks Bobby, that means a lot”

“Welcome to the family”

He goes away and Kyle sits back, handing you the s’mores.

“Thanks”

You said smiling and taking a bite.

“What did Bob say to you?”

Kyle asked.

“He welcomed me to the family”

“Good, because you’re not going anywhere”

“As if I wanted to”

The warm of Kyle’s body, along with the fire, it all got you feeling warm and fuzzy, and to be honest, that’s the way he made you feel inside ever since you met him, you both were very lucky to meet each other. He lifted your hand and placed a kiss on it, he held you in his arms, you observed as everyone was talking, it was the most perfect night of December you could recall.

#12daysofchristmas #champbucks #kyle o'reilly one shot #kyle o'reilly imagine #kyle o'reilly #nxt imagine #nxt fanfiction #undisputed era

[spidernerdsblog]

Love Is The Biggest Spell : Chapter Two

A/N: Chapter two is here. They meet, they part. Fate has put forth a test will they pass through it? Hope you like this chapter . Feedbacks and suggestions are always welcome.

Pairing : Warlock Tom Holland x half mortal reader

Summary : Witches are forbidden to fall in love with mortals. But what if your long lost love returns to you as a mortal, can you defy your heart? Any spell any magic seems useless in front of the magic of love. Let’s join our lovers in their magical conquest beyond life and death as they fight for their love unravelling dark mysteries of the past along their way.

Warnings : none.

Mini Playlist : Find you by Nick Jonas.

You turned to find a young handsome brunette most probably of your age you assumed, his soft hazel brown eyes could gaze deep into your soul. He was a man of expensive taste as you noticed his Louboutin shoes and Prada ensemble he was wearing. You found it quite extravagant for a walk in the forest but who are you to judge plus he was kinda cute too if you aren’t to lie. You gave a puzzled look when you heard him address you as Amber. 

For Tom time stood still, his eyes transfixed on you. Is this a dream or is it really you? Amber, his Amber after so many years when everybody told him to move on, he still kept his hopes alive that one day you will return as you had promised to him 25 years ago at this exact spot. And here you are again standing in front of him looking at him with those ever curious eyes and that adorable face. He was broken out of the daze as soon as you started speaking. 

“Uh I think you are mistaken I’m not Amber" 

"Huh!.. He blinked his eyes a few times. "sorry you just look quite similar to someone I know.. I mean knew.” he stuttered.

“It’s ok, happens sometimes. Umm can you help me to find a way out from here? I’m kinda lost actually.”

“Sure love why not. It’s this way.“ Tom showed you the way. You lifted your leg to walk as a sharp pain in your right leg made you wince. 

"Oww!” you cried out. Tom looked back and hastily came back to your aid. 

“Is everything okay?” he says with concern. 

“Yeah it’s actually I think I twisted my leg.” you scrunch your face. 

“What!? let me see.” without a second thought he crouched down and lifted your leg in his hands. You were a little taken aback as you leaned on him holding his shoulder for support. 

“uh it’s.. It’s okay you don’t have to, I can walk slowly.” But he did not listen as he took off your shoe and examined your ankle. 

“Trust me I can make it right. Just close your eyes” you closed your eyes and he recited a healing spell in his mind gently rubbing his hand over your ankle. He understood from the very beginning that you don’t remember anything so not to raise any suspicion in your mind he gripped your ankle firmly and gave it a little twist. 

“Does it hurt now?” he asked. You rotated your ankle and you were shocked that the pain had magically gone away. 

“Wow how did you do that?!" 

"Told you. I learnt that when I used play football in highschool" 

"Great!" 

"So now we are ready to go I guess?" 

"Yes,all thanks to you.” both of you strolled side by side along the uneven path of the forest. 

“So if you don’t mind may I have the pleasure to know the beautiful lady’s name?”

“Yes for sure.” You giggled

“It’s Y/N.. Y/N Warren. By the way what is my saviour’s name?" 

"Thomas.. Thomas Stanley Holland you can call me Tom." 

"Thanks Tom for helping me out." 

"Oh it’s my pleasure." 

You continued walking, occasionally stealing glances at each other. Every time you looked at him your heart clenched, a weird feeling creeping inside you as if you have known him for ages but everything now seems to be a blur. On the other hand Tom was feeling restless. A thousands of questions bubbling inside him waiting to erupt. For him you seemed to be unreachable, far away in spite of being so close. He could see the path coming to an end leading you out of the forest which meant you will be gone and he did not want that to happen. He wanted to stop this moment forever, he just wanted to touch you, hold you, kiss you, never letting you go again. 

Atlast you were out of the deep forest. Your friends caught sight of you and came rushing towards you

"Oh! Y/N! there you are.” Jane heaved a sigh of relief. 

“I was so worried baby. Where were you?” Cole hugged you planting a kiss on your forehead. 

“I got lost then this gentleman helped me find the way.” you turned to find no one. 

“Strange, he was right behind me.” You frowned. 

“Leave you are safe, that’s all it matters." 

"Can we go now? We are already late. ” Tony quipped. 

“Yeah.” You absentmindedly followed them constantly looking back eyes searching for your mystery saviour. 

Tom saw you go from behind the trees. He went back to the Academy of Mystic Arts. 

He walked past the halls as Jacob saw him walking briskly with a frown on his face . He minced his way towards him and stopped him midway

“Tom I know you’re angry but can you leave Remy for today?” 

“I don’t have time for all your nonsense so just go away." Tom said irritatedly. "And yes tell him if he ever thinks of harming her again he will see the worse of me.” Saying so he raced to the library. 

“What brings you to the library Thomas? You’re the best warlock of this academy where did you find difficulty in spellcasting?” Charles the librarian asked.

“I need everything you have on ancient magic of rebirth, soul transfer, spirit channeling and bring them fast” He demanded. Charles handed him all the books he asked for. 

He took the books and rushed back home. After reaching home he ran to his room and placed the books on his bed with a loud thud. He frantically searched the books, he desperately needed to know how were you able to take birth as a human. He completely lost track of time as he paced along his room turning the pages of the book. And suddenly Tom’s eyes went to a dusty guitar kept at a corner of his room as memories flashed back. 

“I really love it when you play the guitar. You said with admiration in your eyes.” 

“These hands will only strum on these strings just for you and no one else. He said.” And as he had said he literally stopped playing guitar after he lost you. 

But something today urged him to hold on to it again. He picked up the guitar as he dusted away the dirt that had collected on it all these years and sat on the window sill of his room. He strummed on the guitar playing the chords looking at the night sky. Amid the starlight was the ever glow of the moon, that mother of the sky whom watched over every beating heart, steady and true. He sang.   

I look for you in the center of the sun

I took a pill but it didn’t help me numb

I see your face even when my eyes are shut

But I never really know just where to find you

Your smiling face flashed in front of him. He felt content as you felt like a beam of sunshine radiating love and happiness which filled the void in him. 

I taste the words that keep falling out your mouth

You got a logic I’ll never figure out

If I could hold you then I’d never put you down

But I never really know just where to find you

Where to find you

Where to find you

But I never really know just where to find you

Every time you spoke it felt like music to his ears. He didn't knew how much starved he was to hear your voice until now. 

Try, try, try, but I

Try, try, try, but I, but I

Try, try, try, but I

But I never really know just where to find you

You think you know how to get under my skin

It’s good for now but it’s never permanent

Knock on the door but there’s no one listening

And I never really know just where to find you

He reminisced about the time back then when you knew him. 

“Amber! Amber!” Tom called out he could hear your distant giggles echoing in the forest. 

“C'mon love this ain’t funny!” You tiptoed behind him and covered his eyes with your hand from the back.

“Guess who?” You whispered. A smile spread across his face. 

“My little witch.” He held your hand turning around. 

“I love to see you get all riled up.” you giggled. 

“Ha ha very funny.” 

“What will you do if I really vanish one day?” You wiggled your brows playfully, Tom immediately placed his hand over your mouth.

“No, don’t say that ever again and even if that happens I’ll find you with everything I have.” 

“Where will I find my solace anyways other than these arms? You slipped your hands to his back embracing him and pecked his lips. 

But you had left him. Though it wasn’t your fault. You were taken away from him by those treacherous mortals.

You live for love but you never really tried

You say it’s not but it’s always on your mind

Keep chasing gold but you lose a silver line

But I never really know just where to find you

Where to find you

Where to find you

But I never really know just where to find you

You were never a person who used to express her feelings openly, maybe that had to do with you being a fire witch. But with Tom you were a different person he had this calming effect on you that made you feel safe and happy.

You were sitting under a tree reading a book, Tom was lying down his head resting on your lap. 

“They told me not to play with fire, and I should’ve listened because I got burned by your soul and you left me in the ashes.”

“What sort of cheesy pickup line is this?” you snorted.

“I’m trying to be romantic here, love.”

“As if you aren’t already?” Keeping your book aside you knelt down to his face and kissed him. 

Try, try, try, but I

Try, try, try, but I, but I

Try, try, try, but I

But I never really know just where to find you

Maybe I’m chasing a feeling

Maybe I don’t even need it, but

Maybe you’re looking for me tonight, tonight

Though are these feelings legit anymore? When he knows that he doesn’t exist in your memories. His heart pangs to know that there is another man in your life. 

What kind of twisted game fate has put you both into. He wanted you back but not like this where you don’t remember him. Where he is not anymore part of your life. 

I look for you in the center of the sun

I took a pill but it didn’t help me numb

I see your face even when my eyes are shut

Meanwhile you were back at home as you looked out of your window in your room. The sun had set and the full moon was shining in the clear night sky, radiating its soft light over the earth. Since childhood you had a strange attraction towards the moon. You gazed at the moon intently. 

But I never really know just where to find you

Where to find you

Where to find you

But I never really know just where to find you

Try, try, try, but I

Try, try, try, but I, but I

Try, try, try, but I

But I never really know just where to find you

Tom stared in the direction of the moon and he saw a glimpse of your face.

“Whenever you feel lost just look at the moon. You’ll get your answers.”  

You once told this to Tom but he didn’t understand the meaning behind your words back then. Witches can see future and you must have known what the future holds for you. And now it was clear to him what you had meant. You are the answer to his questions. Only you can solve the mystery of the past, your past.

“You seem to be quite in a good mood. Really good to see you playing the guitar after such a long time. What’s the matter?"  Harrison walked into his room.

"It’s Amber, Harrison! I knew she would come back, she can’t break her promise.” Tom exclaimed.

“Wait, wait what are you talking about?" 

"I saw Amber today in the woods!" 

"Tom are you sure you weren’t hallucinating? We can call the doctor if you want” Harrison gave a puzzled look.

“Harrison trust me." 

“So where is she then?And where was she all these years?”

“I don’t know.” 

“What do you mean you don’t know?” 

“I didn’t have the time to ask her anything and she doesn’t seem to remember anything. And also her name is not Amber, it’s Y/N.” 

“So how will you find her again?”

“I don’t know but I’ll find her.” 

You had zoned out looking out of your window and suddenly you had a blurry vision 

“Promise me you’ll come back.” You saw two broad hands holding yours and then the person raised one of his hands to caress your cheek, you lifted your eyes to meet his and you had a glimpse of your mystery savior from the forest as he knelt down to kiss you. You shook your head to bring yourself to reality, blinking your eyes a few time as you exhaled deeply. This was weird, you never had a vision like that before, not when you were awake and why did you see Tom. 

……………………………

Next day was a busy day for Tom and Harrison. For the first time in 25 years they had stepped in the mortal side of the town in search of you. They inquired about your whereabouts to some of the people in the town and they got to know about the coffee shop you work in. 

“Sometimes I hate the fact that you are my best friend and I can’t even say no to you. What are we doing in this stinky mortal world Tom?! Bloody murderers!” He scoffed opening the door of the cafe to get inside. 

“To find Amber!”

“How do you know that we will find her here?

“I just know, I feel her.” You were busy placing the utensils in the dishwasher at the back of the store as you heard the bell chime that hung on the door

“Just a moment coming!” You shouted from the back. You quickly fixed your dress and walked back to the counter wiping your hands with a towel. 

“Sorry for keeping you wait… You stopped in the middle of your sentence as you saw your new customers sitting near the counter engrossed in their phones. Tom cocked his head up from his phone. You noticed today he was quite informally dressed in a plain white t-shirt paired with blue jeans. 

“Heyyy.. it’s you!” You said excitedly. Your eyes met as Tom’s whole face lit up, he quickly glanced at you in a baby pink uniform  with a white apron tied around your waist. The uniform hugging your body perfectly, accentuates your features. You looked cute, he thought. On the other hand Harrison’s jaw dropped in shock. 

“Tom right?” 

“Yup.” 

“I was looking for you but you just vanished, didn’t get to thank you for helping me.” 

“Uh sorry I had got some emergency.” 

Harrison was still staring at you intently. Your attention shifted to the blue eyed blonde sitting beside Tom and you felt intimidated. 

“Umm have we met before?” You asked. 

“Uh.. no you just look quite familiar to someone I know.” He stuttered. 

“This is the second time I’m hearing this.” you looked at them skeptically and again turned to the blonde 

“So you are?”

“Harrison.. Harrison Osterfield.”

“Never seen you guys in this town though, new here?” They looked at each others faces .

“Umm not new but we moved here recently after finishing our studies from London. Our family owns the Runeshire winery.

“Holy shit!! You are the Hollands that is why I was thinking that I heard the name somewhere. 

“I always wanted to go to London though.’’

‘’I can take you if you want.’’ Tom offered innocently.

‘’That will be so kind of you Thomas.’’ you bent down on the counter resting your chin in your palm.

“So what would you London boys like to have?’’ 

“What would the damsel in distress recommend?’’ He shot back. 

“That will be just for one time Tommy boy I’m more than a damsel in distress.”  you arched a sly brow.

“And I would like to recommend our Fall special ‘Vanilla, earl grey, and lavender latte’ is that ok with you lads?”

“More than okay, darling” he grinned. You pursed you lips with a sly look in your eyes straightening yourself over the counter. You went to get their order. Tom turned to Harrison who was still recovering from the shock of seeing you. 

“So what do you think? Or are you hallucinating too?’’ Tom grinned. 

“Shut up! I still don’t think that she’s Amber.’’ Tom was about to say something as he stopped seeing you coming.

“Here you go.’’ You served them their orders and slided two plates of cheesecakes. 

“This is on the house.’’ You winked. “A little thank you gesture for the other day.’’ 

Cole dropped in after sometime. You excused yourself and went to him. 

“Hey babe.’’ He wrapped his arms around your waist pressing you tightly against his chest. 

“Hi darling.’’ You smiled as he knelt down to kiss you pressing your foreheads.

“Jeez guys get a room!’’ Jane came out from the back. 

“At Least someone is getting it.’’ Cole quipped

“Whatever..’’ She rolled her eyes. 

“Aww don’t get disheartened sweetie we have two new hot lads straightway from London right over there.” you pointed to the direction where Tom and Harrison were sitting.”Wanna take your chance?’’ You smirked quirking your brow. 

“By the way I really like the brunette he was the one I was talking about the other day. He’s cute don’t you think?’’ you both started gossiping totally ignoring your boyfriend standing right beside you hearing you crushing upon some random bloke. Cole cleared his throat to make you aware of his presence. 

“I’m still here.”

“So what? As if you don’t check out other girls when I’m not with you.’’ You sneered. 

"I think I'm gonna give it a shot." Jane chirped looking at their direction.

"You got this girl! Go get some! You patted her back encouragingly.

Tom’s was looking to your direction with a hardened gaze his jaw clenched. He was fuming from inside seeing you with Cole a tinge of jealousy and possessiveness creeping inside him

“I think Amber is quite intelligent enough in her new life and decided to move on.’’ Harrison teased. 

“She just doesn’t remember anything.’’ Tom reasoned. 

“Tom, how can you be so sure that she is Amber? She just looks like her.’’

“Would you like to order anything else?’’ Jane interrupted them. 

“No thank you, love.’’ Harrison said in his British accent and Jane felt butterflies inside her.  It was love at first sight or to be precise voice. She gazed at the blue eyed boy with sun kissed hair with heart eyes. Tom noticed that, a smirk forming on his face. He motioned Harrison with his eyes signalling him to carry on the conversation to dig some more information from her. 

“How long have you girls been working here?’’ 

“Oh it’s just me who works here part time, Y/N and her aunt literally owns this shop; it’s her family shop you see.’’ Jane answered by tucking her locks behind her ear. 

“So what else do you do?’’ 

"Still studying. Part time journalism at the city College. We all are classmates ’’ 

“Great! By the way nice tea.’’ 

“Thank you.’’ Harrison and Tom got up to leave.

“Maybe we can talk a little more over a cup of tea when you are free some other day. See you again, Jane Miller.’’ He read out her name from her name badge and gave her a subtle wink. Jane was swept off her feet, she felt dizzy her cheeks heating up blushing profusely, heart beating faster than usual. 

After getting out of the shop they teleported themselves to Tom’s house. 

“That went well.’’ Tom remarked. 

“These humans are petty creatures. A little sweet talk makes them swoon over anyone.’’ 

"I think she really likes you.’’ 

“What’s there to not like about me anyways?” Harrison sassed. 

“But your Amber likes someone else, what are you gonna do about that? Tom as your best mate it’s my advice that you forget her. Even if she is Amber she is a human and you know the rules. This time your love is truly forbidden.’’ 

“I don’t care about some stupid rules the only thing I care is what Amber wants. Unless she says that she doesn’t want me in her life I’m not giving up on her.’’

“Tom she’s a human now totally powerless even if you are successful to make her remember everything. The coven will not let her be alive. You will be putting her life into danger.”

“She was much more powerful than all of us and I’m not ready to believe that she has lost her powers.’’ 

“But I don’t see any signs of powers in her.’’ 

“I have seen back at the forest how the branch that Remy tried to throw on her dodged away from her. It has to be a protection spell.’’ 

“Or just sheer luck.’’ Harrison taunted.

“By the way she was a fire elemental witch, you touched her ankle right? Did she feel feverish?’’

“No but maybe it is different when you are reborn as human. She was a Hecatean witch who knows.’’ 

“Tom we know very little about them. And moving forward with just our assumptions will be just useless.’’ 

“We don’t know but the Hecatean witches will know.’’

“Tom have you gone insane?! Amber was the last one of their clan.’’

“Harrison you are in such a state of denial that you have forgotten that we can perform seance. We can summon Helena the mother of elements, Amber’s great grandmother.’’ 

“But for that we need something that belonged to her to perform the summoning spell for the seance.’’ Harrison pointed out. 

“I have her hairpin Amber used to wear that every time. It was given to her as a family heirloom.’’ 

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s get started. By the way when we are doing a seance why don’t you just ask her if Amber is alive or not? That will clear a lot of things in the first place.’’ 

Tom and Harrison drew a pentacle in the middle of the room and placed candles around it. They sat down closing their eyes as they concentrated and summoned the spirits. 

“Spirits below and above, spirits in between, caught in the fabric betwixt worlds, we ask that the veil be lifted and that you send forth the spirit of Helena. Helena, you’re welcome to this house, to this circle. If you’re here, we ask that you make your presence known.’’

A gust of wind started blowing out of nowhere, shallow whispers filled the room

“What do you want from me?’’ A celestial voice echoed in the room. 

“Oh mother of the four elements we wanted to know about your great granddaughter Amber, is she alive?” Tom reckoned. 

“No, Amber is no more; she was meant to be the best of us and to fulfill the prophecy and her destiny she had to die to be reborn from her ashes just like the phoenix.’’

“Does that mean she still has her powers? Tom asked. 

“She is a half witch, mortal blood runs in her veins but once she turns 25 she will get back all her powers.’’ 

“But how do we know if she has her powers? Please enlighten us with the knowledge of elementary magic.’’ He requested. 

“Elemental Witches are the first witches that have existed on our planet, even long before the first humans. It is said that they were created by nature to control the elements and create a peaceful nature, so that the mankind can live on Earth.”   

“Amber was fire elemental, fierce and powerful. A Fire Witch is a rare and dangerous creature, who can cause great healing or great destruction with their magic. A fire witch’s temperament is fickle at best, swinging from a warm disposition to raging inferno at the slightest provocation. Rage runs in her blood that she channels through her magic. I think now you understand what you need to do to reveal her true form but be careful the fire witch is able to hold congress with flames as easily as a pet and is able to cause mass destruction in its manipulation. Being a half witch she isn’t aware of her powers and might lose control over herself so be extremely cautious with whatever you do.” And with that the whooshing sound of the wind stopped blowing out the candles the room went dark and an eerie silence prevailed in the room.

“So we have to make her angry. And how do you plan to do that?’’ Harrison broke the silence.

“First I need to get close to her and know her again. And that can only be possible if we.’’ Tom puckered his eyebrows thinking.

“Please don’t say you are actually thinking of doing that.’’ 

“Yes you are right, get ready to  become a university transfer student, mate.’’ Tom winked.

…………………………………………………………………..

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Taglist:To be added send me an ask or message I’ll be happy to add you in the following chapters.

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #Warlock! Tom holland #haz osterfield

[mrs-hollandstan]

Make Me Love You || Frat Boy!Tom [twelve]

Warnings: Smut (18+), male & female receiving oral, Valentine’s Day sex ya know, I guess minor bdsm??, tying up, dom!Tom themes, blindfolding, toy use, alcohol & its use ;) , talk of sex with the roomies, teasing of Harrison & Cole if you blink, language, minor mentions of family issues, more fantasizing of family life

Word Count: 5,977

Author’s Note: Happy Valentine’s Day!! I hope you enjoy. Just let me say that the next few parts may or may not hurt, but I ask you to stay with me cause it is needed haha. Lemme know what you think though. :)

Series Masterlist || Add yourself to one of my taglists here

"Happy Valentine's Day to my absolute favorite women." Phoebe remarks, setting different colored sparkly heart shaped baskets in front of you, Ivey, and Scarlett at the kitchen table. Ivey gasps as you smile and Scarlett coos,

"Aww Phoebs these are so cute." Scarlett remarks. You nod, glancing up at her,

"They are, they're really adorable." You tell her. She smiles,

"Only the best for my loves." She remarks, leaning against your chair with a shrug. You smile, leaning into her. She sighs,

"Any idea what the boys got you girls?" She asks in general to the group. There's a collective shake of the head as you, Ivey, and Scarlett look between each other to see if anyone knows. You smile,

"Tom did demand I buy him new roses if anything ‘cause his died."

"You should try buying him carnations. Those last a lot longer." Ivey pipes up. You shrug, looking over the contents of Phoebe's basket,

"Any idea what we're all doing tonight?" Phoebe poses instead. Scarlett hums,

"Cole's making dinner and dessert and then we're gonna watch cheesy rom coms and make fun of them." She says with a smile. You giggle, looking to Ivey who shrugs,

"The only thing I know is Harrison and I are going to dinner." She remarks. The three of you nod before all eyes land on you. Your cheeks burn, eyes downcast,

"Uhm, I- Tom didn't really... give me much. He just told me to wear... something nice." You mutter,

"He'll probably just take you to dinner-"

"No not... not that kind of nice, uhm, he told me to wear a nice bra and panty set." You add. There's a silent a gasp,

"Ooh shit." Phoebe mumbles. Scarlett snorts,

"Look at you exploring that fuckin typical sex fiend Tom. How has it been?" She asks. You shrug,

"I don't really have much to base him off of. I was with like one guy before him and we were both in high school." You admit, picking at a string on your sweater. She hums,

"But... can he make you cum without touching you? Like, just sex, no clit rubbing?" You nod,

"Yeah, depends on what position he puts me in. He's really good in doggystyle."

"Must be nice. Sometimes Harrison just... forgets." Ivey speaks up. You smile, listening to Scarlett scoff and jokingly brush her hair over her shoulder,

"That's what you get for dating a boy Ivey. At least mine's a man." She boasts. You snort,

"Yeah, your man wore Spongebob boxers until he was nineteen." You tell her. The room breaks out into laughter, Scarlett leaning back in her chair,

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with liking Spongebob into your twenties. That's when you understand most of the jokes anyways." She defends. You giggle as she purses her lips, trying to contain her laughter,

"Besides, he is so fucking good. God that boy is so fucking sexy. His voice afterwards when he knows I still can't breathe-"

"Ew, ew, ew, that's alright, we don't have to. I'm related to that and I do not need to know." You tell her, shivering and moving your hands between you. She laughs, eyes casting up to Phoebe who holds her fingers out at a measurable distance. Scarlett reads her, holding her fingers up with a little added length,

"Balls too."

"Scarlett!" You squeal, your friends bursting out into laughter again. She holds her hands up,

"What?! How is that fair that you can talk your sex life but I can't talk mine?"

"Because yours happens to occur with my older brother and I do not need grimy details about an idiot I grew up with." You screech over the laughter. Once the laughing subsides, Scarlett sighs,

"He is good though." She mutters. You roll your eyes as a knock on the door sounds through the room. You silently thank the gods for whoever is on the other side, face brightening further when the three boys in question walk through the door. Tom rounds the corner in sweats and a tee, hat on backwards as he beelines straight for you, hands shoved in his pockets. You smile, laying your head back against his stomach as he leans in to kiss your cheek,

"Happy first Valentine's babe." He whispers to you. You smile, kissing his cheek back,

"Happy Valentine's Day love." You mutter. He glances up, watching his best friend and Cole retreat to their respective girlfriends. Phoebe drapes her arms around his shoulders,

"So I heard you requested that our sweet Y/N wear her best undies." She tells Tom who smiles, glancing down at you,

"Good thing I don't tell you my secrets darling." He jokes. You giggle and shrug,

"We're a family here. I tell them everything." You tell him. He hums, looking back up to Phoebe,

"Yeah, I got somethin good planned for her. Should be great." Is all he comes up with. Laying your head back against his arm, he nods at her. She nods in return as he purses his lips,

"But uhh, what are you doin?" He asks her. She shrugs,

"Probably sitting around here. Maybe I'll look for a hookup, who knows." She says with a shrug. You giggle as Tom smiles at her,

"Well shit, when you put it like that, there's room on my bed for the both of you." You gasp, reaching up to swat at his chest,

"Tom!" You screech. He chuckles,

"What? She's gonna spend Valentine's Day alone looking for a hookup. I could take you both on." He remarks. You pout as he stares down at you with a cheesy smile. He clicks his tongue,

"I'm kidding love. Damn I thought you'd put up more of a fight." He jokes. Phoebe smiles down at you,

"It's fine Y/N, wouldn't wanna steal your picture perfect moment." She remarks. Tom wraps his arms around you, lifting you and sitting in your spot. He pulls you into his lap, his arms wrapped tight around your waist.  He sighs, leaning into your ear,

"Just for that though, you'll have to be punished." He jokes. You smile, leaning your back against his chest, hands placed over his arms.

                                                     ---

Each of your steps are accentuated by the clicks of the heels you wear as Tom walks you up the stairs to the frat house,

"Ya know, I really, really want our own place so we can do whatever we want." He reminds you. You smile and nod, holding his hand tight,

"Well it's not like I'm quiet if there's people around. At your friend's house back in London I was pretty loud and Cole's friend definitely has neighbors and I wasn't exactly quiet." You remind. He gives a cocky smirk as he glances back at you,

“I like that about you. You don’t hide it like some girls try to.” He tells you. You hum, releasing his hand as he shoulders the front door open. It’s nearly empty, just a few of the boys standing spread through the house. Some greet you, others continue what they’re doing like you aren’t there. Tom leads you through the kitchen first, grabbing some alcohol before he leads you up the stairs and into his room. He sighs as he closes the door and you settle on the bed, laying back and kicking your heels off. You cross your hands over your stomach, watching as Tom walks forward to run the tip of his finger over the hill of one of your breasts,

“I like this dress. It shows off your goodies perfectly.” You smile,

“Thought you just cared what was underneath tonight.” He hums, not answering you at first as he pours some of the bourbon he’d brought into a glass and handing it to you. You sip from it, cringing softly. Tom smiles,

“Well I do, but ‘m just sayin, you’re pretty fuckin sexy in this little dress.” He remarks. You nod, allowing him to crawl over you. You hum as he brushes your hands up above your head, leaning in to kiss your throat,

“You know what though, I think it’ll look better on my floor.” He whispers, reaching up to slide the strap of your dress down your arm, repeating the process with the other as he slides it down your body. When your bra is exposed to him, he lets out another hum, continuing the trail down past your underwear which he blinks down at, dropping your dress on the floor beside him,

"Damn..."

"This set was just bought for this occasion." You tell him with a smile. He eyes the frilly red lace set,

"Its beautiful baby girl. You really know how to spoil me then huh?" He teases. You giggle and nod, eyes following his hand as he reaches for the bottle of bourbon, turning it upside down to drizzle some down the valley of your breasts, quickly leaning in to lap it up as it begins to run. You smile, watching him stand, kicking his shoes off and shimmying from his socks. He sheds his top and pants, watching as you sit up and lean in to kiss across his abdomen. He reaches up to run his fingers through your hair. He gives a sharp tug after a moment, bringing a choked whimper from your throat. He smiled down at you,

"I've got something for you. But you have to be a good girl for me to see it." He purrs. You smile up at him, body coursing in excitement at his tone. He wants to be domineering and you'll let him. You nod, chewing your bottom lip. He gives one curt nod, releasing your hair and walking to his closet. He pulls out a shoebox, placing it on the bed beside you and opening it. Your eyes widen at the contents: silk ties, handcuffs, a few varieties of dildos and vibrators, and nipple clamps,

"The craziest thing in this box is the clamps. But most of it's pretty mild. I just figured I mentioned toys and you didn't say no so maybe I could've bought some and then I had a little extra money. So I kinda went all out. We can try all of them in time but... I only got like three dildos cause I don't really want to use them on you when I've got a perfectly good dick in my pants but... figured maybe we'd see. But if you'd like, we could sample out a vibrator of your choice. And these are definitely being used." He rambles, dragging the ties out. You meet eyes and he gives you a cocky smirk. You cock your head and click your tongue,

"See that's not fair. I wore this for you to dominate me?" You pose, gesturing to the lingerie set you wear. Tom shrugs, looking you over, but he strokes the ties smooth as he does so,

"You did date night a few weeks ago. It's my turn to actually spoil you."

"But I wanna be on top. You always do the work." You pout, shoulders slouching. Tom presses his lips together, staring up at you without blinking for a moment,

"Fine. But I've got conditions. You're to let me tie you up to eat you out and when I'm done I'll let you do the same. But we need to establish a safe word. We aren't gonna be too crazy but," he grabs your hips and leans in to kiss your stomach, "I want us to be safe. If something doesn't feel right, we can use it and we'll stop." You nod, hands rested on his shoulders,

"What about... ooh, what about curtain call?" You pose. One of his eyebrows arches and you purse your lips,

"Ya know... at the end of a performance. Y-you were talking about stage directions the other day. I do listen." You murmur, seeming somewhat embarrassed. Tom chuckles,

"I know you do, I'm just... surprised. Yeah, curtain call is good." He tells you through a chuckle, squeezing your hips. You nod, letting him guide you back to lay on the bed, dragging you up to have you hold the posts of his headboard before he binds a silk tie around your wrists and the post. You watch, leaning up to kiss his stomach again, which moves as he laughs,

"Gonna be a good girl for me darling?" He purrs again, leaning in to kiss along your jaw. You nod,

"Yes sir."

"Now that's just wrong. You don't want me to dominate you, but you're gonna call me sir. Naughty girl." You giggle as he lifts your bottom half from the bed, pulling your panties down and swatting your butt in one sitting. You press your eyes closed for a moment, opening them as he spread your thighs to kneel between. He drags another piece of silk from the nightstand, showing it to you before leaning in to fasten it around your eyes. You gasp,

"Oh come on. That's not fair."

"You blindfolded me the other night. It's my turn. Besides... your orgasm'll be better if you're compromised." He mutters, kissing down your body. He disappears from the bed, his weight around you nonexistent anymore as he toys with your remaining senses. You gasp again, tugging at your restraints when something brushes over your stomach. Tom cackles,

"Those were my boxers by the way. And your body liked that." He purrs once more, leaning in to kiss around your belly button which draws a guttural whine from your throat,

"Tommy... please do something." You cry out. He chuckles again, humming to himself as he rounds the end of the bed, running his hands up your legs from ankle to thigh to spread them,

"What do we say pretty girl? Repeat it."

"Please." You pant, holding the wooden headboard post,

"Good girl." He gently mumbles. Closing your eyes tight, you give a shaky breath, feeling his breath across your hips before he leans in, instantly sucking your clit into his mouth. You cry out arching your back as his hands find purchase on your thighs, holding them apart while he works on you. He hums, your toes curling and you're on the verge of tears with how good it feels. Tom always makes it feel good. Sex is always the best, but the way he uses his mouth- which he hasn't since the night at the club because all of your sex has been too rushed for foreplay- is exceptional. You grasp the restraints, moaning and whimpering as you focus on the tingling and straight pleasure Tom provides, tracing his tongue around your clit and lapping at you in figure eights. You whine as he pulls up,

"Tommy... Tommy, please..." He chuckles,

"Tell me what you want baby girl." He demands. You arch your back,

"Please just don't stop. Want your tongue." You whine. He chuckles again,

"Good thing I hadn't intended on stopping then huh?" He poses, your senses dialed to eleven as he leans in, sucking your clit into his mouth and pumping his fingers inside of you once he slips them inside. Your nails claw at the bedpost, eyes squeezed shut tight beneath your blindfold,

"Fuck Tom." You gasp. He chuckles darkly,

"You like that pretty girl. So wet for me." He mutters, kissing your thigh. You can feel him shift, but think nothing of it as you focus on getting to your first high of the night. Your body craves it, wanting to feel that molten lava take over your body. You hum, gasping and shuddering as a strong vibrating sound rings through the air and cool metal is pressed to your clit. Your body lurches, tugging against the restraints at the new, overwhelming, foreign feeling and the milliseconds of uncertainty as to what it is nearly has you calling out your safe word.. He chuckles again,

"You like that darling?" You nod, panting as you seek out more pleasure from not only his fingers pumping in and out of you, but the bullet vibrator pressed firmly to your clit. You move your hips down into him, letting him slip his fingers out of you and replace it with his tongue. Your back arches again, head buried in the pillows,

"Fuck me Tommy. That feels so good." You moan, feeling your high build further and further,

"Can tell... you're soaked darling." He mutters back. You grasp the ties, toes curling and eyes squeezing shut,

"Fuck, fuck, fuck I'm gonna cum." You squeal. Tom hums, his tongue leaving you before he takes hold of your hips and flips you over onto your knees, twisting your wrists in the ties snugly, but not uncomfortably. He presses his fingers back inside of you, thrusting them quickly as he holds the overpowering vibrator firm to your clit. You whine, leaning down to bury your face in his sultry smelling pillow as he fights to bring you to climax,

"Come on love, cum for me." He directs into your ear. You let out a moan, back arching into his chest as he leans over you, stiff cock jabbing you in the side. Your body convulses after a few more seconds and you squeal, toes curled as you cum finally. You let out a whimper as he works your through it, turning the vibrator off as he draws his fingers out and licks them clean. You hold the post above you tight in your hands,

"Are you... are you gonna untie me?" You ask. He chuckles,

"Eager are we? I don't think I will just yet love. I like you like this." You whimper again as he lays you on your back, pulling the tie on your blindfold lose and tossing it aside,

"I will do that though. You look beautiful all flushed like this." He says with a smile. You return it, leaning your head up to kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue as he slides it into your mouth. You hum,

"I do quite like the dominating stature you take. It's pretty sexy." He smiles, running his hands up the inside of your thighs,

"That's good. That's kinda... my style of stuff. I like dominating my girls." He admits. You crane your head to watch him sort through the things in front of him. His smile widens,

"You sure liked that vibrator." He remarks. You click your tongue,

"That's like telling me that starving me will result in me wanting to eat. No shit Sherlock." You chide. He chuckles,

"Didn't you though? I mean obviously your body involuntarily likes it but... it's good huh?" You nod, relaxing back against the bed,

"It was good. Intense. I've never used toys before." You admit. He returns your nod, reaching for a condom as he removes the lube in the box and walks to the closet to deposit it back. He hums as he returns, standing beside you with his hands on his hips,

"I'm not ready to untie you love." He remarks. You lick your lips, raising your head,

"Come closer then loser." You bite, watching him walk forward before you lean in to take his cock into your mouth. He hums. You smile around him, shifting until you're laying on your side, bobbing your head softly. You hum as he reaches up to untie you, pulling your legs off the bed and putting you on your knees,

"Hands behind your back darling." You do as you're told, letting him tie your hands behind your back, gathering your hair in his hand,

"You're beautiful baby girl." He purrs. You glance up at him through your lashes, his lips pressing in a tight line as he stares down at you. You hum, moving forward until you're gagging. Tom curses under his breath, holding you far too lightly. You pull back,

"Tommy..."

"What?" He asks, eyes softening at your whine. You pout,

"We established a safe word and we aren't even gonna get our worth out of it." His eyes twinkle as he stares down at you,

"I don't follow darling." He remarks with a lopsided smirk. You click your tongue,

"You wanna be dominating, you gotta gag me." His smile widens as he comes to the realization,

"You want my cock down your throat darling?" He poses softly. You smile and nod, winking up at him,

"You've got me all tied up, why not play with me?" You purr. He chuckles darkly,

"Oh darling, you don't know what you're getting yourself into." He mutters as you take him back into your mouth. He hums, watching you and running his fingers up the side of your face before he gives a solid tug on your neck and you gag. He hisses,

"Fuck darling. You're very good with that pretty little mouth." You hollow your cheeks as he speaks, giggling around him as his knees threaten to give out. He tugs on you harder, hand wrapping in your hair again before he presses, gagging you effectively over and over again. After another moment, he tugs you off of him, breathing hard,

"Alright... fuck... that's enough." He pants, bringing you to your feet and turning you around. Pressing a hand to your back, he bends you over the bed, swatting at your bottom. You squeal, giggling after as he picks at the knots at your back, untying the ties and letting you lay back on the bed, rolling onto your back. He stands between your knees,

"Wanna tie me up now?" He poses. You smile and nod, taking the tie from him and sitting up. He lays back on the bed, letting you move his hands until they're grasping the same post you were. He watches you clamber over him to tie the silk around his wrists, leaning up to kiss your tummy. He hums as you crawl back down, sitting just above his bobbing cock,

"You ever not used a condom with a girl?" You ask him, raising an eyebrow. He smiles, shrugging,

"Maybe one or two." He admits. You click your tongue,

"Such a whore you are Mr. Holland." He chuckles as you lean in to kiss across his chest, rolling your tongue around his nipples. He closes his eyes, grasping at his restraints as you creep down his body. Crouching between his legs, you find the condom and lube amongst the sheets. He sighs as he waits for you to add lube to the tip of the condom after you've opened it and slide it down over him,

"I actually can't wait for the day you let me not use a condom." He remarks. You smile,

"Shoulda said something before I put it on." He raises his head, staring up at you,

"Well fuck then, take it off, what’s one condom?" He practically squeals. You giggle, shaking your head at him,

"Too late." Climbing over him, he watches you turn the lube upside down and drip it over him, setting the bottle aside and settle above him. You reach down, guiding him with two fingers to your entrance before you slide down onto him. He hums, holding the ties in his hands,

"Fuck... that's good." He mutters, eyes closing again as you settle yourself above him, hands on his chest. He presses his lips in a line, raising his head to glance down where you're connected. He sighs,

"Fuck you're good." He adds. You smile, rubbing your hands across his chest before slowly raising your hips and dropping them down again. He hums, holding the restraints around his wrists in a bruising grip. You slowly bounce on top of him, trying to stretch yourself out as he licks his lips and curses under his breath. He watches you reach down once you start to pick up speed, stroking your clit in quick circles, your body quivering from the previous orgasm you'd had. Tom gives a somewhat feminine whine,

"Fuck darling." He tugs at the restraints around his wrist. You tut,

"Don't tell me I'm gonna have to blindfold you for being a bad boy." You tease. He stares up at you with wide, lust blown eyes, laying his head back against his pillow with his eyes never leaving you,

"You're mean." He mutters. You smile down at him, back arching softly as you rub yourself, bursts of pleasure bursting throughout you. You hum, coming down harder around him. After another moment of dull pleasure from Tom, you press a foot to his bed, leaning back on his thighs to bounce softly. He watches, eyes widening again,

"Baby, untie me." He desperately begs. You giggle, pausing as you stare down at him,

"You're such a pussy. I was tied up for like five minutes and you can't even last two." He groans,

"But this is different. I can give you more, come on, untie me." You shake your head, continuing to bounce atop him,

"No way. You stay tied up until I can make you cum." He rotates his wrist in a circle,

"Then c'mon. Hurry it along then darling, I can feel it." He rushes, laying his head back against the pillow below him with a small grunt as you pick up speed. His toes curl, eyes closing as his back arches,

"Fuck..." He groans, holding his ties, focusing on you instead of the bed creaking. He desperately wants to bring his knees up to give him some leverage to thrust up into you, but he can't. You're leaning back on his legs so he just has to enjoy the ride for now. One of your hands comes down between your own legs, rubbing your clit and releasing quiet but high pitched moans. Tom chews his lip, watching you as he chases his high, loving the way your body looks. He whines, tugging at his restraints and he wants nothing more than to reach up and play with your perfect, full, beautiful breasts. His eyes are locked on them, he's captivated by your sheer beauty as your head falls back,

"Fuck Tom... that feels so good." You moan, digging your nails into his thigh. He chuckles,

"Gonna cum before me?" You hum,

"You're hitting the right spot perfectly." You tell him, heart pounding from your chest. Your head falls back again, lips pressed in a tight line as you process the pleasure coursing through your veins. Its molten lava, burning your body. You bite your lip, Tom's eyes wandering up your body. He's nearly there,

"Fuck babe. God I'm so close." He growls. A thought strikes you, a wicked smirk which Tom doesn't catch crossing your face, his eyes closed. But they pop open and he gasps as he feels your hand that's drifted down between his legs to fondle his balls. You laugh wickedly as the headboard jolts and Tom tugs his restraints,

"Babe... ah fuck darling." He spits out, starting to squirm after a moment,

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He curses, his hips involuntarily bucking up into yours as he struggles to contain himself. He lets out a loud groan as he cums, wrists red and burning as he tugs against his confines,

"Fuck." He grunts, giving one more thrust before he relaxes. You giggle, leaning over him and kissing him softly,

"Good baby?" He nods rather tiredly, glancing up as he feels you picking at the knots in his ties,

"No changing position." You demand. He nods, hands instantly rising to press over your breasts. You lean up just a little, finding the perfect spot to work back against. His hands slide down to your hips and then one slides down between them, pressing on your clit. You gasp, back arching as he circles the bud,

"That's it baby. Cum for me." He mutters, wrapping his free arm around your shoulders as you lay chest to chest against him, goosebumps erupting across your skin as the new angle allows him to press into that pleasure button. As you pick up speed, his fingers circle your clit faster, pushing you closer and closer to your high.

Each move of your hips draws a dull cry from your lips pressed to Tom's shoulder before he presses his feet to the bed, thrusting up into you. You squeal, biting into his shoulder which draws a growl from his own lips. He kisses your cheek, coaxing you along until you shudder, nuzzling your face in his chest and give a lighthearted scream as you cum for the second time. You pause, kissing his chest as his arms bind around you, legs sliding like butter down amongst the sheets as he struggles to breath below you. You hum as you rise slowly, brain clouded in a blissful haze, Tom's hands resting on your thighs as he waits for you to climb from him. You're panting as you do so, collapsing at his side, draping yourself over his arm. You pull the comforter up across your body, holding it in the crooks of your arms while Tom, just as out of breath, peels the condom from himself and tosses it into the bin beside his bed. He hums, placing his hand over your arm as he drapes the blanket across his waist, turning his head to look at you,

"Well shit." He pants out with a cheesy smile. You nod, letting out a small, breathless laugh, snuggling up into him. He runs his fingertips up your arm, tucking his other arm behind his head. You sigh, placing your hand over his chest,

"I think that was our best yet." You in part joke. He nods,

"I feel that." He mutters. Reaching up, he closed his eyes as you brush through his slightly sweat dampened hair. You lean in to kiss the corner of his mouth as his hand rests on your back, smiling and leaning in to kiss him farther after a moment. Your eyes drift to the top of his dresser where half dead roses lie,

“Wow, you weren’t kidding about your roses.” He glances up and chuckles,

“What, you think I’d lie to you about something so serious?” He jokes. You share a giggle as you lay your head against his shoulder, staring up at them for a moment longer. You raise your head again to look down into his face, heart fluttering,

"I love you. You're my everything." You tell him. He smiles, not opening his eyes for a moment. When he does open them, you watch the brown swirl, a golden speck dancing in them,

"I love you too. You're more than anything. I dunno where I'd be without you." He admits. Tracing his collarbone, he twirls a strand of your hair around his finger. Leaning back, you lay across his arm,

"Let's fantasize more. About our future. About us." You request. He hums, staring up at the ceiling as he thinks. You watch his lashes flutter,

"'Right, I want our house to be like... like warm but not like heater or natural heat warm. I want like... oven warm and I want it to smell like baked goods. And I'm," he looks at you then, eyes widening gently in worry, "I'm not like... saying I want you to sit at home and bake. I just want it to smell like baked goods just in general." You nod, staring up at him. He nods in return, glancing up at the ceiling. You hum,

"I always revert back to you with kids. I’ve always wanted to be a mom." He glances down at you again,

"You'd be a real good one, I know that much." He remarks. You smile up at him,

"Is it creepy that I always imagine you as the father of my kids? We've been together like... six months and I’ve already like… planned out their names and thought about what they’ll look like." You tell him. He chuckles and shrugs,

"I don't find it creepy, I think it's cute. You're like the only girl I've ever actually wanted to fantasize about it with." He admits. You hum, rubbing his chest,

"Fine, then I'll tell you what I think of. I think of you coming home from work and being bombarded with like... well I don't know how many but I see you being bombarded by our babies and then you sit at the table with the boys and help them with their homework as your daughter is questioning me about every little thing associated with dinner and helping me do that. She's too young to go to school of course so... she has to be distracted somehow." He nods with a smile,

"And then you teach them how to clean. Like how to do laundry and dishes and vacuum. But our baby girl will be scared of the vacuum for a few years and everytime you're trying to teach them you have to hold her." You add. He chuckles as your eyes sting in unshed tears,

“Very active imagination. That’s cute, I like it.” He remarks, unaware for a moment until he glances down. After another moment, he glances down,

"Hey. What's the matter?" He asks at the look of you, worriedly moving to brush your tears away. You shake your head and sniffle a little,

"Nothing I just... I just didn't get that growing up. I don't want what I had for our kids. This whole split family shit that I went through. I want more for them." You admit. He hums,

"And you'll get there. You're gonna be an amazing mum and hopefully I'm the dad to watch you be that. You're perfect and I couldn't ask for anything better. Our kids are going to be so fucking loved because the love I have for their mum is unreal." He rambles. You smile and nod, pressing your hand over his on your cheek,

"I know. I just... I feel like my parents said the same thing and then they fell out of love and shit. I just don't wanna go through any of that." You mutter. He nods, letting you lay your head over his shoulder,

"What do you dream about when it comes to kids?" You ask, trying to change the subject. He hums,

"Dunno. Uhm, how many kids are we talkin here?" He poses. You shrug,

"I guess if we're being serious, like... three or four." You tell him. He nods,

"I like the idea of being bombarded by little babies. I dunno if I could hold all of them though. But... I like the idea of you being pregnant and giving birth to babies that have your eyes." He jokes, leaning in to poke your nose. You smile,

"I like your eyes though." You murmur. He hums again,

"Well we'll see who our kids side with on that one." You click your tongue,

"Guess so. I like the idea of having little boys that look like me and little girls that look like you though." He purses his lips,

"Little mumma's boys and little daddy's girls. I could fuck with that." He mumbles. You smile, relaxing against him. He runs his fingers up along your spine, your brain going fuzzy as you close your eyes. You sigh, binding your arms around him. He returns the sigh,

"Why don't you get some sleep and dream some more fantasies up for me." You smile, snuggling down into his side,

"I love you." You tell him. He runs his fingers through your hair,

"Love you too darling. Get some rest." With his fingers in your hair and across your back, it isn't hard to fall asleep, your chest pressed to his. Tom glances down at you when he hears your breathing shallow, smiling down at you and pressing a kiss to your forehead,

"And happy first Valentine's my love." He whispers, kissing your temple before his own eyes close and like always with you around, he falls asleep faster than ever. Peacefully.

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How To Choose a POV?

One of my writer friends asked me to write something about POV. She didn’t have a specific question, but basically asked if I might cover the different types of POVs and which ones work better in certain circumstances. 

Well, like I told her, this is going to be a VERY biased post. I am incredibly partial to third limited. I choose third limited almost every story I write. 

Let me start by explaining the different POVs. 

First Person: Uses the pronoun I 

“I went to the store.”

Second Person: Uses the pronoun You

“First you need to go to the store, get some eggs and vanilla extract.”

Second person is rare in fiction. It is most often used in non-fiction books that include instructions, or recipes, or other how-to guides. 

Every once in awhile, a writer will be really artsy-fartsy and use second person in fiction. 

Second person in fiction would look like this:

“You go to the store. You see a long line of people. You sigh and shuffle down the aisle.”

One notable example of second person in non-artsy-fartsy fiction would be the choose your own adventure books. 

Third Person: Uses third-person pronouns such as “She/He/They/Ze/etc

“Ze went to the store.”

But within third-person you have two options:

Third Limited or Third Omniscient

With third limited, readers are privy to the thoughts and feelings of only one character per chapter or scene. A story can still have multiple POVs, but within a scene or chapter, the POV remains only with one character. 

In my novel ‘Desire and Destruction’, I alternate POVs every other chapter. So it goes one chapter in Cole’s POV and one chapter in Ingrid’s POV. When we’re in a Cole chapter, we can see what Ingrid does, but not what she thinks or feels. We can not see into her head. And the reverse is true when we’re in an Ingrid chapter. 

With third omniscient, there is a god-like narrator who is looking into the minds of ALL the characters. This narrator is often somewhat detached and may look down on certain characters and praise other characters. Basically, it isn’t that deep-third that we get with third-limited. The narrator often has their own personality and way of viewing the characters. Within any scene, the narrator can relate the thoughts, feelings, or backstory of any character. 

I do not recommend third omniscient. As I covered in my last post, very few people have the skill to know when to use it AND how to pull it off effectively. Most stories are not enhanced by third omniscient. I’m not saying you should never use it, but don’t jump in and give it a whirl just because a lot of the old classics use this style. 

Remember the time period that was hard AF for third-limited also experimented with narrative style to the point that Frankenstein is told via letters by someone who has nothing to do with the story and just happened to meet Dr. Frankenstein out in the wilderness. It’s a summary of a summary. Wuthering Heights is told exclusively in conversations between the housekeeper and a tenant, neither of whom are main characters. Look.....the classics of the Romantic and Victorian era were....on some real other shit. Writing like the classics isn’t always a solid plan. 

So that’s my extreme cautioning against third omniscient. I just don’t think it adds anything to most stories and is far too likely to jar or confuse readers and come across as head-hopping. 

But third-limited on the other hand....

I ADORE third-limited. Let me explain why I like it. 

You get all the perks of first person AND all the perks of third-person. You can be somewhat detached, but you still get a front row seat to the thoughts and feelings of one character at a time. When you really pull off a nice deep-third, you’re fully immersed in the character’s inner world, but there’s still a bit of a buffer. You still aren’t writing AS the character. 

Here is a section of my book ‘Combustion’ in third-limited where I was going for deep-third. 

~The flame birthed itself at the end of the match. It danced, red and orange, against the backdrop of the still night. Rachel opened her mouth as wide as she could, until the corners of her lips were stretched as far as they would go. She made sure that her mouth was a wide, round circle. Just like the man on fire. Probably just like Mary Reeser had done. She was going to spontaneously combust. She would do it now.

And she could stop waiting for it to happen. She was never going to have to be afraid of it happening again. It was all about to be over. Rachel watched the flame slide down lower, burning away at the wood of the match. It was going to reach her hand soon, so she had to do this fast. Spontaneous Human Combustion started inside the body.

Rachel understood why the man on fire had his mouth wide open.

There wasn't any time left.

Rachel took the match and placed it into her open mouth.~

It’s in third-person, but it’s still written in a way where we can feel her fear, her confusion, her dissociation. We can see her reasoning. Of course, her reasoning is flawed. She should not be trying to make herself spontaneously combust JUST so that she can stop being afraid of it happening. 

So how do you know if you should choose third-limited or first? (because third omniscient and second person should rarely be used). Well, I’m biased, and I believe third-limited works well for most stories. 

That being said, I have chosen first person for two of my stories. One is my now shelved manuscript ‘Femcel’ which I will eventually be rewriting and it will be retitled ‘Pick Me.’ The other is my collab story with Emily Hurricane ‘When The Darkness Takes Us.’

For ‘When The Darkness Takes Us’ I had a very specific reason for choosing first person. This character is a self-insert. It’s a fictionalized account of something very difficult I went through semi-recently. 

So I suppose I’d say, when it’s a really emotional story with strong voice, first person may be a better choice. When it’s a very personal story, first person may be a better choice. When you’re writing a character who rants and raves and switches gears mid-thought-stream so quickly that a third-person narrator wouldn’t do it justice-it would only slow the stream-of-consiousness down. 

I also chose first person for my book ‘Femcel’ which is not currently online, because I need to make some changes to it. 

Here is an excerpt from ‘Femcel.’ 

~If every single day was a day off from work with Sailor Moon dvds and an entire pickle pizza all to myself, well, then I think life would be a-okay. Today has been great. I cleaned my room and then I pulled out my trusty Sailor Moon box set. Auntie and Mom-mom are both at work, so nobody to bug me about what I'm eating. I ordered a large pizza and I got the owner on the phone when the new guy didn't understand that they can put pickles on a pizza. It isn't on the menu, but they do it for me all the time.

I told him, "You charge me for a pepperoni pizza and tell the guy cooking it to put on pickles. Ask Jim. He always does it." But the guy still thought I was full of it.

Eventually they sorted it out though. And yeah, I know it's bad to eat an entire large pizza myself. Don't go thinking I'm a total pig. I only eat like this when I watch anime.

Usually I don't eat enough. Mom-mom says I'm too thin and she isn't wrong. If I lay on my stomach too long at night, my ribs start to hurt. I'm the only woman in my family with a stick body. Everybody else has nice curves. I barely have boobs and my butt is flat. I tried doing squats for awhile, but when nothing much happened, I figured it was probably all nonsense. You know? A placebo.

It's only four in the afternoon, but already it's getting dark. I hate winter. Especially once Christmas is over. I feel so upset and anxious every day in that long dead span of winter, January through March, when there's nothing to look forward to and it feels like the world just dead ass stopped. Sludge in every parking lot. Everything is cold and wet. Kek. And it's the middle of January. Top kek. (I mean that sarcastically. Obviously).~

I chose first for Ana’s story, because I imagined her as this very voicey character with this sweet and sarcastic personality. She’s also incredibly immature (which does make sense since she’s in her very early 20s) and I felt that youth and naiveté would across more strongly in first person. 

So....what’s the hard and fast rule for deciding between third-limited and first?

I....uh.... 

 I wish I could tell you lol

Like my last post about balancing dialogue with other storytelling elements, I have to say, I just play it by ear. 

I will say, I think every writer should figure out early on which POV they prefer to write in. Try them all out. Try writing the same scenes in first and third and see which one you like better. 

I did this while I was getting my B.A in Creative Writing and after several rounds of playing with third-limited and first, I discovered I’m incredibly partial to third-limited. 

That doesn’t mean there isn’t any room for first. Like I said, I realized first was the better choice for two of my WIPs. But knowing that third-limited is my default style, I always have a starting point. I start most stories in third-limited and it’s only when third-limited starts to feel....well...limiting that I give first a whirl. 

In the end, it’s about what YOU as the writer are most comfortable with. Some people say it depends on the story you want to tell, and I agree to an extent, but at the same time, if you hate writing in first person and you try to force it, the story may suffer for it. For years, I wrote exclusively in third-limited before I was comfortable enough to test out first person. 

Third-limited and first both accomplish different things. First person has more voice and immediacy, while third-person allows a writer to be more poetic and detached. 

Which POV do you like best? When you experiment with both POVs, which allows your story to come to life more?

There’s no real rule of thumb. 

Like everything with writing, it’s all a matter of intuition; following your gut and looking at every story as a unique experience. 

I know that was wishy-washy, but it’s the best I can do while still being honest!

There just aren’t any true absolutes with writing. 

Good luck fellow writers <3

#writingadvice #writing #pov #second person pov #first person pov #thirdperson #thirdlimited #omniscient reader's viewpoint #self-insert #femcels

[sleepytyrtle]

So, I've been getting into Ninjago again after only recently having found out that it has more seasons now and, I may not have watched everything yet, but I've heard and seen enough to get the gist of it. Anyways, I've seen the part of Ninjago in Season 10 where Cole falls and then Jay yells for him and I had to write an alternate scene to how that fall played out. Bare with me, this was rushed and isn't actually written out to be a finished fic yet, more of the general idea I have for it. But, I may never actually finish it and I felt like sharing it! Again, it's currently 3 in the morning for me so this probably sucks. Either way, I hope you all enjoy!

When Cole falls Jay screams for him, reaches for him, knows it isn't enough and, without thinking, let's go of the ladder and falls after him. He watches the panic and fear flare brighter in Cole's eyes who's not just scared for himself anymore but for his stupid, reckless friend too. Jay doesn't care.

He ignores the cries from the ship, ignores the approaching darkness, ignores the wind rushing past and tugging at him with cold, harsh fingers. All he cares about is Cole and he reaches out for him.

He grabs his hand and tugs hard until he's hugging him with every ounce of strength he can. Cole hugs back just as tightly and curls himself around his smaller brother, determined to absorb most of the impact.

Cole passes out when he hits the ground, his earth element protecting his body enough to only bruise him. Jay's breath is knocked out of him and he's sent sprawling across the floor from Cole's slackened unconscious grip where he happens to smack headfirst right into the corner of a desk and pass out.

He slowly comes too, a warm liquid sluggishly making it's way down his face and he slowly sits up, confused, and touches the large cut on his head and hisses at the stinging, pulling his fingers away coated in blood.

He looks around him, confused to find himself in a news office with slowly approaching shadowy tendrils, a busted skylight and the limp body of Cole ahead of him surrounded by pieces of said shattered skylight. Reality smacks him and Cole's name is torn from his lips in a desperate and fearful cry.

He stumbles over to his friend, tears burning at the corners of his eyes and threatening to blur his vision. He softly mutters Cole's name, shaky hands hovering uselessly for a moment, fearful of doing something wrong before finally going to check his pulse.

Cole's alive!

The relief is so immense that Jay doubles over his friend, hands fisting in the other's gi as he sobs in relief. Cole slowly wakes up to the sound of Jay's distress, confused and worried. His heavy hands twitch uselessly for a moment before going up to touch his brother's face.

Dark eyes trace the other's face, eyes squinting at the sign of blood and tears, fingers moving to gently brush away the brown strands and reveal the damage. Thankfully, it's not too bad but Cole finds himself asking through a torn throat if Jay's alright anyways.

Jay can only nod weakly and laugh through his tears, still shaking hands releasing the other's wrinkled shirt to instead clasp the hand still holding his face.

Good ole Cole, always worrying about others before himself and it's a sign to Jay that everything is going to be okay.

Ye, this sucks. I'm tired. And I want more lego brother moments.

#Ninjago #lego ninjago #cole brookstone #jay walker #my fic #alternate ending #also titled When Cole Fell Jay Didn't Let Him Fall Alone #i have fallen into another pit #i love this two boys #also could be read as bruiseshipping #bruiseshipping #moto #s10