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blookmallow · 3 years

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hi i binged through all of salad fingers for the first time in like 8 years and im fixating again here are. My Theories. pls talk to me if anyone else has Thoughts or wants to discuss things. this is really long i am sorry :’ )

also shout out to the salad fingers wiki for helping me keep track of details and also for this

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thought: salad fingers is not violent on purpose he did not mean to kill that kid

this is less a theory and more “if you slander my boy with accusations i will Get you” but listen. i see people going “but he mURDERED A CHILD!!” because of the oven incident but listen. listen to me. he didnt mean to and cannot be held to the same standard of morality and understanding consequences as a. person who isn’t..... in whatever situation and mental state he has going on

- yes, the kid getting trapped in the oven was his fault. but it was not intentional or malicious and i sincerely doubt he understands what happened or why.

he was asking for help reaching the fish (there’s no reason to believe he wasn’t just genuinely asking for help. he tears up in gratitude. theres no evidence of him Tricking People Maliciously in any other context i do not believe he would do that) and was distracted by the rusty nail, causing him to let go of the door. it wasn’t “he cares more about rust than about a child’s life” or something, i dont think he can actually hold “hey look at that i gotta check that out” and “i need to hold the door open so the child doesn’t get hurt” in his head at the same time, rust is his favorite stim/an impulse thing that takes over everything else and his perception of reality and the things going on around him changes very quickly and easily. more on that later. but the important point here is it wasn’t a malicious plot, or a neglectful careless action, he literally did not realize letting go of the door would cause harm

he stabbed himself accidentally with the nail and passed out for a while (the fact that he immediately bled that much is concerning too, he probably has hemophilia which is. a medical condition outside of his control, as well) and after all that he had completely forgotten about the child altogether (and says “i must have dozed off” so he doesn’t even understand he passed out. and might not remember the nail thing in the first place)

we don’t see what happened after this, we don’t know how he responds when he investigates the fish and inevitably finds an unexpected charred corpse in there, but i guarantee he won’t remember why its in there or understand that its a corpse. we dont see it again so its. entirely possible he didnt recognize it as a person and either just disposed of it or, uh, ate it. but if he did, it wasn’t with the knowledge and comprehension of it being A Corpse or the memory of how it got there

theory: on salad fingers and memory / comprehension of death and consequences

more on that subject

- we see him frequently doing things and then immediately forgetting he did it or forgetting what was happening. he accidentally squishes the bug (which also was not malicious or intentional, he intended to pet it but just. went too hard) and has no understanding either that its dead, or that he killed it. she has gone flat and gooey for some unknown reason. that’s strange. she needs to go have a wash, that’s no way to be.

he eats the jeremy fisher puppet at one point and then immediately goes “where have you gotten to??”

he even briefly forgets hubert cumberdale’s name and immediately comes up with another one without realizing it, and then later goes back to hubert cumberdale again with no mention of barbara logan-price

he refers to the same little yellow guy as “young child” and also Auntie Bainbridge later on. he keeps up the fantasy of... whatever the fuck yvonne was being his child for a pretty long time but then when he arrives at “auntie bainbridge” ‘s house he suddenly forgets why he’s there, and even apparently forgets what yvonne is and uses ‘her’ as a window rag instead and never mentions it again (I also don’t think she was in the sandwich at the end either. it’s hard to see but the sandwich contents are vaguely brown and theres a visible lump in the black goo behind him. i like the idea that the lil yellow guy made the sandwich for him)

salad fingers is constantly subconsciously adjusting his reality to fit Whatever Makes The Most Sense At The Time and does not consistently remember things (sometimes even major things. he remembers his puppets the most consistently and still even forgets hubert’s name) or have a concept of cause and effect

i think he possibly has some sense of recognition, “I’ve seen this person before,” but doesn’t always remember Why he knows them, and his mind just automatically fills in the blank with whatever makes sense to him. he doesn’t remember who the yellow guy is, but knows he knows them Somehow, so, ah, of course, it must be auntie bainbridge out for her sunday stroll :) and he knows he’s there for a reason, but not what that reason was, so he decides it must be time to clean the windows

- milford cubicle was already dead when salad fingers opens the door, but he has no idea that hes dead. this isn’t even a cause for concern. my, he must be tired, that’s all. he kept milford there until he rotted away, too, so there was never a point where he realized anything was wrong (until he became skeleton. more on That later too)

- he finds a corpse buried in the yard and rather than confronting the confusing and alarming reality of that situation, why it must be kenneth, back from the great war! at no point does he understand kenneth is definitely dead

theory: kenneth vs glass brother

i think he really did have a brother named kenneth who probably died in the war. could be some subconscious connection between “recognizing” a corpse as his brother, but i dont think he realizes any of that. i think the glass family is probably a trauma based hallucination, but a... well, reflection. pun not exactly intended lmao. on how his real family was and how they treated him

i dont think glass brother is the same brother as kenneth, since salad fingers interacts with them completely differently

kenneth is a corpse that salad fingers projects a personality on and speaks for, while glass brother seems independent and malicious toward him. i think he had a good relationship with kenneth (so, when salad fingers imagines that he’s here, it’s cause for celebration and he’s projecting onto something inert and “safe”) and also had another brother (who was probably his twin) who bullied him and acted violently, so when that trauma resurfaces, he hallucinates a vicious Other that he cannot control or speak for.

it also tracks that the abusive brother was his twin - he sees himself reflected in the mirror, and something in his own face reminds him of that lost brother until it “becomes” him

he refers to kenneth as his younger brother, and sees him as a being that does not look like him, while glass brother is literally his reflection, so it would make sense if he had one identical twin and one younger brother

ive seen theories that he had a real sister named bordois too, but i think him calling the bug “little sister” was just. a term of endearment or one of his little odd language quirks, he seemed to be talking to it more like a pet than like a sibling

theory: regarding mable

- ok people are saying salad fingers killed mable at the picnic but i Really Don’t Think He Did

we never see him acting out violently when he gets scared. he tends to try to escape situations that stress him out, he shrinks, he cries, he goes into his cupboard (which is. incredibly upsetting given the fact he was almost definitely abused by his family)

he takes on a kind of Authoritative Tone often, he gets sort of ruffled up and disdainful toward things, but that’s not what he does when he’s scared

when he’s actually distressed (rather than irritated) he tends to break down and retreat. this includes when other independent beings act in ways that unsettle and upset him

so i dont know where the “he freaked out and killed her” idea is coming from. he suddenly goes from outside at the picnic to having a breakdown in his house so. he most likely just ran

i think the Only time we see him act out violently is when he decides he has to punish marjory for not getting a haircut like he asked - he tears her hair out, but for me that scene was particularly concerning because it was so unlike him. that was an anger response, not a fear response, though, and he tends to be harsher toward things that he’s actually controlling (I don’t think we ever see him decide to Discipline something that was independent from him other than the horses, and he didnt hurt them)

ordinarily when something irritates him he just goes “hmph! so distasteful. how rude. i shan’t have this behavior, you know” but doesn’t really actually do anything about it, and moves on

anyway we never see mable again so i think either he freaked out and ran away and she just didn’t come back, or he scared her and she ran away, or both

there’s a dress visible briefly when salad fingers is making his Flesh Boy which could be mable’s (he did comment he liked it) but it’s not 100% clear, and that doesn’t necessarily mean he KILLED her for it. she could have changed into something else and left it somewhere and he found it. she could have died under unrelated circumstances, and salad fingers found her - he doesn’t comprehend death, so. probably he decided they’ve made amends now and she’s given him her dress as a token of friendship, or something

i dont think it really looks that significantly like hers but the fact that it stands out so distinctly from the rest of the Pile could mean something

but i just feel like if he had killed her we would’ve seen her corpse again, he doesn’t have a concept of murder, or death at all, or consequences, and his memory doesn’t hold out that consistently, so if he killed her, he probably would have calmed down later and then forgotten what he did and came up with a new way to explain the corpse in front of him - oh, how rude of me, mable’s here dozing right off and i havent even offered her a blanket. let’s get you to bed

like, he probably would have dragged her home with him, with the intention of being a good friend/host to his guest, not understanding what happened. he kept milford cubicle around a really long time

it wouldn’t be like him to have any concept of hiding the evidence

speaking of milford

theory: regarding milford cubicle

salad fingers keeps milford’s corpse around until it starts rotting, and then after a very confusing series of events, the corpse is suddenly a skeleton, which surprisingly alarms salad fingers considerably, and then he goes out to find a whole bunch of himselves eating various bits of gore. they give him a present, which is a hat very clearly made of milford’s skin

my conclusion: salad fingers, in some kind of dissociative fugue state, skinned and ate the remains of milford cubicle himself and turned the remaining skin into a hat. he also saves some of it to make hubert cumberdale (the real boy) later as well, probably forgetting where it came from. he does not realize he’s done this or remember doing it, so his scrambled mind tries to make sense of it with other selves eating unknown flesh, and a lovely hat appearing (which he doesn’t seem to notice is made of flesh)

you can also see milford’s original name tag in the drawer later on when he’s building the flesh boy, so. he kept that after the mysterious disappearance of milford’s flesh, apparently. more evidence that that skin is probably also his

some other scattered thoughts regarding the most recent string of episodes and salad fingers’ mental state:

ive been trying to figure out what the fuckhell happened with the yvonne incident and everything that happened in the birthday episode

im really concerned for salad fingers’ health and mental state, as it seems to be deteriorating

some yvonne theories ive seen:

1. he ate the burned corpse of the kid who died in the oven, and it made him very sick, which ultimately resulted in a charred mass he couldn’t digest - he steadily gets worse, until his body finally ejects it (yvonne’s “birth”) and after that his health starts to recover again. since the oven incident happens really early on, all the times he mentions his stomach being upset after that until he becomes deathly ill would make sense, so i think this is plausible

2. the hair he found in the cupboard was actually a parasitic worm that grew in his stomach after he ate it and became yvonne. i think this is Possible, it is a really strangely wormy looking hair, but it doesn’t move and he mentions stomach pains before this, so it seems less likely to me

3. i also saw the concept that salad fingers is a trans man who suffered a miscarriage at some point in his past and yvonne represents that, and i can definitely see where the idea is coming from but i do think something really physically happened to him in the present time, i dont think it was all a trauma-based hallucination, since the yellow guy reacts to the black ooze and something was definitely making him severely ill

so. i Don’t Know what the fuck that was about but i think the burnt corpse theory makes the most sense

on that note: there’s a lot of cannibalism imagery in salad fingers

we have no IDEA where he’s getting food from. im pretty sure its been confirmed that he is Not a zombie, we see him bleed, pass out, sleep, etc so it seems like he must be a living person who has ordinary needs. but we see him eat... his own puppets. hairs. sand. the soup glass mother instructed him to make, which made him very sick. he has a working oven but doesn’t seem to have consistent access to water. he had a fish somehow but who knows where it came from. it’s very likely he doesn’t get food often and some of his hallucinations and mood swings could be caused by starvation (and when he does eat, it’s things that are outright inedible or probably not good for him)

the burned corpse disappears and is never mentioned again (though salad fingers is very sick afterward). milford’s flesh disappears and salad fingers violently hallucinates multiple selves gorging themselves on unknown flesh

and what concerns me the most about that is that he loses a lot of time in that episode

he passes out in the woods and when he wakes up, it looks like a shit ton of time has passed

we don’t know how much is reality and how much is his warped perception, but it looks like a tree has grown and his physical condition has deteriorated

he looks really, really unhealthy and haggard for the rest of the episode

i think he had a huge dissociative episode and lost possibly weeks of time, probably due to starvation, and he ate milford cubicle and very possibly other people as well

so my question is. how often does this happen to him

and what happens to him during that state? does he become violent and dangerous without being aware of it when he returns to himself again? or has he just been ravenously scavenging corpses when he gets desperate enough?

its possible dr papanak is another personality he has, one that’s “buried out in the woods” that he becomes when he’s in a really, really bad mental and physical state

he looks much better in the next episode (though that’s also when he has his outburst with marjory. could be that he’s still staving off the violent urges/hasn’t fully come back to himself after the last incident) and I’m really hoping the fact that he was able to finally stand up to his family (at least in some sense) and smash the mirrors could mean he’s making steps toward recovery after whatever the hell all that was

there’s not really much space to do anything with his life or get much help given the circumstances but watching him slowly losing himself even more is Awful :(

i hope we get more episodes im so desperate for more information now

lastly, some random observations

i tried to read this newspaper and it looks like it’s actually written in french, which is interesting given that salad fingers seems to be british (but fond of france, and seems to speak french or at least knows one phrase)

i wonder where he got this, or whether it ever meant something significant to him

theres a lot of evidence that he can’t read (takes no notice of the “harry” nametag and immediately names him something else, “reads” a letter that is actually a newspaper clipping in another language he’s holding upside down, “writes” a letter that is just scribbles) so i dont think he learned his one french phrase from this or anything but, still. vaguely interesting. maybe he has been to france before and brought this back with him for some reason. maybe he’s actually in post apocalyptic france and was just originally from england. We Don’t Know

theres a weird little face in the. heater? whatever that is in the background for a second and i dont like it

salad fingers leaves horace in charge, but then sees him (as a live horse) in the woods, but then comes back to find him both still on the shelf (as a toy) and in the room (as a live horse, now with his, uh, surgery scars) but doesn’t seem to notice this and doesn’t comment on it

i dont know what the hell that means other than possibly his reality is even less consistent and logical than usual/a reflection on his mental state deteriorating

#salad fingers #pinned #media analysis

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intheticklecloset · 3 years

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It’s Just a Tail (My Hero Academia)

Primary Universe

@kwaiibb Took me a bit to figure out how to make this combo feasible, but I think I managed! Hope it’s to your liking! ^^

“Hey, Ojiro?” Deku’s voice broke the silence of the dorms. It was late Saturday afternoon and chilly outside, so most of their classmates were either napping, studying, or finding ways to entertain themselves.

Ojiro and Deku were the only ones in the living room at the moment. The former was trying to solve a Rubik’s cube. “Yeah?”

“Does your tail ever get tired of being in the same position all the time?”

That was random. Ojiro glanced at where Deku sat on the opposite couch, notebook and pencil in hand, his intense-focus face on. “Not really. It’s content to just be wherever. It doesn’t get tired like the rest of my limbs do.”

Deku scribbled in his notebook.

“Wow, you really are bored,” Ojiro murmured.

“Huh?” Deku glanced up at him, brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“You’re taking notes on me.”

“Oh! I-Is that okay?”

“Well, sure.” Ojiro gave him a rueful smile. “It’s something to pass the time, right?”

“I…I guess so.”

“Come on. We both know you wouldn’t be doing that if there was anything else to do instead.”

Deku frowned. “What? No, I’ve been taking notes on you since the day we met. I have notes for all of our classmates.”

Ojiro paused in his puzzle-solving to meet Deku’s gaze.

“Okay, so that sounds a little weird, I guess,” Deku said with a nervous smile. “But it’s true. I’m not just doing it because I’m bored. I almost never hang out with you alone so I thought it was good opportunity to expand my knowledge on your quirk.”

The blonde paused for a long moment, then hummed. “Huh. Didn’t think I was that interesting.”

“Why not?”

“I mean, compared to the rest of our classmates, how exciting is my quirk?” Ojiro shrugged. “It’s just a tail. Nothing flashy like your quirk or useful like Yayorozu’s or even kind of weird like Minetta’s.”

“Your quirk is awesome!” Deku cried, putting his notebook aside and leaning forward earnestly. “You can use it to swing through cityscapes and lift up heavy rubble and pull people out of harm’s way and—”

“Thanks, Midoriya,” Ojiro chuckled. “But it’s still nothing impressive.”

There was a long silence after that, during which Ojiro went back to work on the cube in his hand. Deku shifted slightly, then got to his feet. “One more question. How’s your tail’s defense?”

“Defense?”

“Like, if someone threw a brick at you, would your tail stop it even if you weren’t looking, or would you need to be aware of the danger to stop it yourself?”

“It doesn’t have a mind of its own, no. It’s not like Tokoyami’s Dark Shadow. I control my tail entirely.”

“Okay, so, if I were to do this…” Suddenly, in a flash of green, Deku was at Ojiro’s side. He plunged his fingers into his ribs. “Your tail wouldn’t protect you automatically?”

“Gah! Whahahahahat the—?!” Ojiro was shocked to find himself giggling out of nowhere, the Rubik’s cube dropping to the floor and twisting slightly, messing up his progress. “Midoriya! Whahahat are you dohohohohoing?!”

“Testing your defense!” Deku replied, grinning. “Looks like I have the advantage since your tail is pinned under you.”

Ojiro was thrown entirely off-guard. The last thing he’d expected was for Midoriya to start tickling him out of nowhere. Since when did he do that? He curled up and squirmed, giggling and batting at his hands to push him away. “Hehehehehehehehey!”

Deku stopped, seeming to realize what he’d done all at once, as he began blushing and stammering awkwardly. “Aha, s-sorry, I uh…I got kind of carried away, didn’t I?”

“You call that getting carried away?” Ojiro laughed on his own this time. He pushed himself into a seated position and tilted his head. “I’ve never seen you tickle anyone before. What possessed you to do that?”

Deku’s blush darkened. “W-Well, I’ve started t-tickling some people lately…it’s kind of new to me, but it’s also kind of fun, and you seemed so down just now it was the first thing I thought of to do and…” He groaned. “Ah, I’m sorry. That was really awkward, wasn’t it?”

“Awkward? No. Unexpected, but not awkward.” Ojiro grinned, reaching forward to tweak his friend’s side. “Good for you starting to fight back. Things are bound to get a lot more chaotic around here now if everyone who tickles you gets payback later.”

Deku giggled. “Y-Yeah, Iida said the same thing. But seriously…your quirk is cool, Ojiro. And taking notes on you is fun. I’m not just doing it because I’m bored.”

“I believe you.” Ojiro smiled. “And I appreciate it. I’m glad to know I’m at least somewhat interesting.” Then, feeling mischievous, he leapt up and tackled Deku onto the couch in his place, poking up and down his sides rapidly. “So what else do you have on me, Midoriya? Hmm? What other notes have you taken that I don’t know about?”

“Ehehehehehe! Hehehehehehey, no fahahahahair!” Deku giggled, twisting his way into an awkward position where he was half-falling off the couch. His shirt rode up to expose his stomach, which Ojiro then scribbled his fingers over instead. “Nohohohohohoho!”

“What intel do you have on me?” Ojiro insisted playfully, grinning widely now. “Tell me, tell me, tell me!”

“Ahahahahahahaha!” Deku squealed. Then, remembering his newfound reverse-card, he powered up just enough to throw Ojiro off of him and onto the floor, then hurried to straddle him and start tickling his ribs again. “I don’t think so! You’re the one who needs cheering up. You’ll get nothing out of me except tickles!”

“Gohohohohohohood mohohohove!” Ojiro complimented through a new string of giggles. He squirmed a little but not very much. “Buhuhuhuhuhut the johohohohoke’s on you, behehehecause I’m alreheheheady cheered up!”

“Nuh-uh. You’re just trying to get me to stop tickling you so you can fight back!”

“If I wahahahahanted you to stohohohop, I’d have sahahahaid so already.”

The comment surprised Deku. He blinked, watching his friend more closely. Now that he was paying attention, it was obvious the blonde wasn’t making any move to get away. He grinned. “Do you like it, too?”

“In mohohohohoderation, yeheheheah.”

“Awesome!” Deku beamed, scribbling his fingers down to Ojiro’s sides and stomach now. “All the more reason to keep going!”

“Gahahahahaha!” Ojiro’s giggles came out in long strings only broken up by gasps for breath, but his mirth was light and airy. It was different, but felt really good to Deku to coax out of his friend. “Cohohohohohome on, tihihihihickle mohohonster, you can dohohoho better than thahahat!”

Deku smirked. “Oh, yeah? How about here?” He plunged his fingers into Ojiro’s underarms, more than a little satisfied when the blonde shot his arms to his sides and threw his head back, bursting into loud laughter.

“ACK!! OKAHAHAHAHAY, I WAHAHAHAHALKED INTO THAHAHAHAT ONE!!”

“Yeah, you did!” Deku laughed with him.

Ojiro started squirming for real now, kicking his legs and trying to roll side to side as laughter poured out of him. “GAH!! S-STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAGH!!”

“Oh? Was that a plea I just heard?”

“N-NOHOHOHOHO, I’M N-NOHOHOHOHOHOT--!!” Deku pressed in a little harder, and Ojiro squealed. “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!! OKAY STAHAHAHAHAP!! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

Deku moved back down to Ojiro’s ribs to allow him to breathe a little easier. “Really stop? Or just in that spot?”

“Reheheheheally stohohop,” Ojiro giggled, pushing at Deku’s hands.

Deku ceased as asked, climbing off of the blonde. He smirked. “Bad spot, huh?”

“Yeah.” The blonde pushed himself up and leaned against the couch, catching his breath. “My underarms are kind of like your hips. I can’t take it there very long compared to other places.”

“That’s going in my notes.”

“Ha!” Ojiro took a deep breath and let it out slowly, still smiling. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I feel more energized now than I did a few minutes ago.”

“Me, too. Want to go outside and spar a little?”

“It’s cold out there.”

“It won’t be once we get going.”

Ojiro chuckled. “You’re right.”

“Plus, it will give me a chance to see more of your quirk in action so I can take more notes later!” Deku beamed, nudging the blonde playfully.

“Heh, thanks. Sometimes I forget there’s a reason I’m in Class 1-A, you know? Like, not just anyone can do what I had to do to get here. That’s got to be worth something, even if my quirk isn’t as flashy as some others.”

“Exactly.” Deku nodded emphatically. “Your quirk is just as cool and useful as the rest of ours. Never forget that. Otherwise I may have to tickle you again!”

Ojiro laughed, then turned to look at him. “Hey, speaking of your notes, do you have anything on Shinsou?”

“Of course. Not much, but I want to add more as we get to know him.”

“Good. Because as long as we’re on the subject of tickling, I happen to know a couple of things about him that you may find interesting…”

#fanfiction #tickle fic #boku no hero #my hero academia #bnha #mha #izuku #midoriya #deku #mashirao #ojiro #notes #tail #tickling #ticklish #tickle

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lovemeleo · 3 years

Note

Thinking about Remus coming home to Sirius crying while holding a sleeping Asher and it’s because Ashers dark hair is making Sirius think of regulus and how he should have done more for him but regulus comes over and just all the love

Hey anon! I changed it up slightly, but I hope it’s still to your liking. I really loved writing it. As always, the SW world and all of its characters belong to @lumosinlove.

If you haven’t already, please read the rest of this series:

Coops become Dads

Coops become Dads Pt. 2

Dumo meets Asher

Asher’s First Dumo Dinner

Asher’s First Dumo Dinner Pt. 2

Cuddles with Cap

The Instagram Aftermath

The Lupins meet Asher

Hope you all enjoy xx

_____________________________________________

Naptime. The best time of the day. Or times.

Asher was four months now, and not only was he sleeping through the night, but he was also taking two naps a day. They were only a couple hours, but it gave them time to do whatever they wanted.

No, that doesn’t mean sexy times… Well sometimes it did. But mostly it was catching up on laundry or dishes or whatever chore had been put off. Then when they finished that, they got to take a nap of their own until Asher woke up.

Remus had just finished throwing the last load of laundry into the dryer and now he was waiting in their room, scrolling through Instagram. He wanted to wait till Sirius came back from putting Asher down, but it was taking him awhile today. Making his way down the hall, he peeked into the nursery to see Sirius in the rocker, still holding a sleeping Asher.

Knocking softly on the door so he didn’t startle his fiancé, he came into the room, “Pads, why don’t you put him in the crib?” He asked, rubbing a hand over the other man’s shoulder.

His eyes widened as a soft sniffle answered him, Sirius wiping at his face with his free hand. Remus squatted down in front of him, frowning as he saw tear-streaked cheeks, “Baby, what’s wrong?”

Sirius shook his head, “Non, nothing’s wrong. It’s just-” He cut himself off with a huff, looking down at Asher’s sleeping face. “I remember when I was little, and our nanny let me hold Reg for the first time. He looked a lot like Asher, same dark hair, same pale skin. He was so small. And I-I told him that I would always protect him.”

Watching Sirius’s face, Remus waited. He knew the topic of his childhood was hard for Sirius to talk about, but when he started it was best to let him get it all out. Sirius got up carefully, moving Asher into his crib.

“I didn’t protect him, Re. I just left him there with them, knowing how bad they were, knowing how they treated us. My baby brother.” He croaked out, a broken sob falling from his lips.

Remus quickly pulled Sirius to his chest, a gentle hand rubbing over his back, “Baby, no. You can’t blame yourself for how they treated him. Treated you. You had to get out of there. And you did get him out. He’s out now, Pads. You did that. You helped him.” He murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head.

Nuzzling into the other man’s shoulder, Sirius let out a shaky sigh, “I could’ve done more.” He whispered.

Remus led him to their room, pulling him under the covers with him, “I’ve got you, baby.” He said softly, tracing gentle shapes over Sirius’s back as he dozed off, unaware of the text Remus sent out.

An hour or so later, Sirius woke when there was movement next to him, “Re?” He rasped, voice rough from tears and disuse.

“Close.”

Sirius turned to face the unexpected voice, “Reg?”

Humming softly, Regulus nodded, “Salut, frère.” He was sitting in their bed as if he belonged there, leaned back on the headboard in a pair of sweats and a frayed Snakes hoodie. Sirius blinked at him slowly, as if he still wasn’t sure what was happening.

“What’re you doing here?” Sirius asked as he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he leaned on the headboard next to his brother. He asked the question, but now that he thought about it, Sirius knew why he was there. “Did Remus call you?”

Regulus glanced over at him before fiddling with the frayed edges of his hoodie sleeves, “I know we don’t talk about these kinds of things a lot, we go to therapy for a reason. But I suppose there are some things we should be saying directly.” It sounded practiced. Rehearsed, but not in a robotic way. More like he had been thinking it for a while.

“Probably. But we’ve never really been the best at saying things that should be said.” Sirius said with a sad smile.

A soft exhale came from next to him, making Sirius turn to face his brother again. “Siri, you know I don’t blame you, right?” The old nickname hurt, opened a few old wounds he thought were healed. Or at least scarred over. “I-It was a bad time, bad situation for both of us. I was angry, but I couldn’t be mad at you. You needed out of there. I know that.”

Sirius let out a shaky breath as the tears filled his eyes again, “But I should’ve gotten you out too. I shouldn’t have just left you with them.”

Regulus shook his head, “That wasn’t really an option back then. I see that now. What were you going to do? Kidnap me? Hide me in Dumo’s basement? They would’ve found me. You were 18, Sirius. I’m glad you got out when you did. And you did get me out. Even if it was years later, you got me out. And it’s the best thing that’s happened to me. That’s because of you. A-And I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you enough.” A tear fell down his cheek, his hand automatically coming to wipe it away.

Before he could catch the next one, Sirius had pulled him in for a hug, “Je t'aime tant, mon étoile.” He whispered, squeezing Regulus close. The younger boy let out a shaky breath, leaning into his brother.

“I love you too, Siri. No one could ever change that.”

#asher pascal #coops being dads #sirius black #remus lupin #coops #regulus black #sweater weather #lumosinlove #inspired by lumosinlove #fic prompt #anon prompt #anon ask #ask box #wolfstar #wolfstar dads

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kevyfanfics · 3 years

Text

Touch Deprivation: When in Doubt, Hug it Out

Trying this out!! Seen a lot of “tumblr fics” out there so I thought I’d see how if goes :) This is part of my “Irondad Ending in Platonic Cuddles” one shot series!

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Peter sits on the edge of the sixteen story building, feet dangling towards the street below as cars inch their way through the lunchtime traffic. Golden beams of the midday sun reflect in his lenses, but he doesn’t feel their warmth. It’s not the same. He sighs and a cloud of steam floats through the crisp, winter air.

“May has texted you that she won’t be able to make it home tonight for dinner,” Karen softly relays the message. “Her shift has been extended.” Peter closes his eyes and focuses on the chilled breeze.

“I know.” For once, his voice is ladened with defeat and acceptance. This has been the usual for the past few months. May has to work extra shifts to keep up with the ever-increasing bills, he has school and Spider-Man, mix those two together and they’ve seen each other for a total of four hours in the past week. He’s been counting. He knows keeping track isn't a good sign, but what else is there to do?

“Peter?” Karen’s voice reaches him through the deep thoughts. Peter opens his eyes and hums a response.

“Hm?”

“Are you alright?” He considers the question. Ned and MJ have been asking him that a lot lately, but he hasn’t quite found a good way to answer it. He just…doesn’t know how he feels. He’s not sure he does feel. He just kind of exists.

“I miss…people,” he settles on. It doesn’t feel right, but it doesn’t feel wrong, either. Feelings are difficult and he doesn’t have the energy to decipher them. Instead, he pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around them. The pressure against his chest feels nice. Comforting, even.

“You saw MJ and Ned today,” Karen gently reminds, trying to coax more out of him without pushing it. Peter takes in another deep breath before shrugging.

“I miss May,” he finds he’s able to clarify. He loves his friends, but coming home to an empty house for two months straight is different. If it weren’t for patrols and workshop days, he’d go stir crazy over the break.

“You had dinner with her last night,” Karen attempts, her voice sweeter than usual. “That was nice.” Peter continues to stare at the pedestrians as they cross the street in hordes.

“The only reason we ate together was because we both got home at 2am and had leftover Chinese takeout,” he counters without much thought. Even to his own ears his voice is monotonous. He feels like he lost a part of himself, but it makes him feel selfish. May’s working hard to make sure they can get by and he’s a bit lonely.

Either way, last night was a rough patrol and he ended up unceremoniously climbing through the window at 2:13am all battered and bruised. That’s all he’s gotten recently. Nothing but punches to the face, kicks to the stomach, bruises to the ribs, blood coating his hands. Nothing but violence. He hasn’t had a single, positive touch in two months. No hugs, no loving hand rubbing his back, no lingering touch in his hair, no gentle thumb smoothing over his palm. Nothing but violence violence viole-

“Peter, your alarm is going off.” Karen’s voice pulls him back once more, and it takes him a moment to process what she just said.

“Hm?” He blinks sluggishly, then unfurls his warm legs from his chest, already missing the pressure.

“It’s time to head to the workshop,” Karen patiently provides, an absolute saint as usual. Oh, Peter thinks, it’s already four. It doesn’t feel like 4pm, but he can’t exactly argue with time and space. Rolling out his stiff, aching shoulders, he lazily flings out a web and starts swinging to the Tower. He just goes through the motions: thwip, double tap to release, thwip, double tap to release.

And, in what feels like the blink of any eye, he’s there. His muscles are taut and trembling from the frigid air, but when he slips inside one of the countless windows, the warmth from the Tower at least helps minutely. As soon as he’s clear, he pulls off the mask and breathes in fresh, spandex-free air. His teeth chatter and he warms his arms up with his hands, but besides that he’s no worse for wear.

“Hey, Fri? Where’s Mr. stark?” he asks through chattering teeth hidden behind blue-tinted lips.

“He's down in the shop. I’ve alerted him to your arrival,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. promptly replies and he nods a quick thanks. First, he goes to his room to change into normal clothes, then catches a ride down the elevator. His lips are more of a peach color again, but his teeth still clack against each other as his body tries to generate some warmth. Stupid spiders with their no thermoregulation. The elevator comes to a halt and he walks into the music-ridden, always-bustling workshop.

“Hey, Mr. Stark!” he shouts over both the welder and the guitar solo. Tony’s head pops up and the music lowers at the wave of his hand.

“Hey, kid,” he greets, lifting his goggles with a smile. “How’s your bumps and bruises.” Peter shrugs, hardly remembering the superficial injuries from last night’s fight, before sitting on the nearby stool.

“Don’t really feel them anymore,” he answers honestly as he rubs his hands together. Feeling is hard these days. Tony raises a curious eyebrow, then sets down his tools and saunters over to the teen.

“And is that because of the super spidey healing or the ice cubes you call fingers?” he inquires casually. Peter glances up and tries to put on his best I’m-really-not-in-the-mood-for-this face. Nonetheless, Tony chuckles at the expression. “Alright, alright, just get warm at least.”

“I’m trying.” Peter looks back down as he responds, but then an unexpected touch has him freezing in place, muscles tense.

“Jeez, bud, you’re frozen,” Tony mutters aloud as he rubs Peter’s hands in his own to provide more warmth. It takes more than a few seconds for Peter to register what's happening. But when he does, he slowly looks up at Tony as the man continues to warm the cold hands in his own. For some reason, it makes Peter want to cry. The hands are gentle, carefully moving back and forth and all he can focus on is that it doesn’t hurt. After months of nothing but agony and breaks and blood, there’s finally something full of love and support.

He closes his eyes and his eyebrows pull together…and he starts to cry. He doesn’t mean to, but the tears slip out in a mix of relief and pent-up devastation. His toes curl under in an attempt to regain control, but it’s already too late.

“Peter? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Tony suddenly questions when he sees the tears and Peter’s distraught expression. All Peter can manage is the shake of his head, causing tears to fall from his chin and onto his jeans. He should’ve been more prepared, but he wasn’t expecting the concerned tone or the protective hands encasing his. He didn’t realize he was touch deprived until Tony held his hands, the first positive touch he’s had in two months. Two months. “I need you to talk to me so I can help,” Tony tries to get through to him, kneeling at his level.

“I- I don’t-“ is as far as Peter gets before a sob cuts him off. He wants to curl up in a ball and never face the outside world again. It’s like his armor has cracked and the cruel reality of just how brutal and heartless the world can be is flooding in. It’s breached completely when one of Tony’s hands leaves his and cups his cheek.

He doesn’t hold back the sobs after that.

He simply cries, leaning into the soft touch and grabbing his mentor’s wrist like a lifeline. The thought of losing the contact now is unbearable. He can’t. He just can’t. At the action, Tony seems to catch on. This time, he pulls Peter into his chest and holds the kid tightly in his arms.

“You’re okay,” he assures into Peter’s curls, “I got you.” Peter feels them begin to rock and a hand rubs its way up and down his back in a comforting, predictable motion. He pulls in shuddering, uneven breaths, but his body isn’t ready to calm down. Instead, he grips Tony’s sleeves and buries his head in his chest so that his sobs are muffled by fabric. All the built up emotions force their way out, but being hugged is all he needs. Warm, strong arms keeping him safe. His cries rip Tony apart at the seams and he wonders how he could’ve missed this. It’s a basic human need to have positive, physical affirmation, something Peter evidently hasn’t had for a while.

The hug eases the aching in Peter’s chest and he holds on tighter. He can’t lose this feeling again. After all these weeks of apathy and going through the motions, he’s finally able to feel everything.

“I can't- there’s no-“ Tony gently hushes him, afraid that the teen will work himself into a panic attack if this keeps up. Honestly, it’s the last thing on Peter’s mind. He just knows he doesn’t want to be let go.

“Deep breaths, kiddo,” Tony patiently encourages. Peter can feel him shift and he registers that they somehow made it to the floor while he was focused on gripping the fabric closer. Breathing, Peter recalls, breathing is important. Gotta breathe. Just have to- He takes a deep, shaking breath, but the exhale becomes a sob and he just can’t pull himself together and he hates it and he just wants to be in control again- “I’m so proud of you.” He starts at the quiet, genuine admission. “I’m unbelievably proud of you,” Tony continues. “You don’t have to be so strong all the time. Sometimes strength is asking for help when it’s tough.” Peter’s chin wobbles and fresh tears glide down his cheeks. He nods into Tony’s shoulder, and pulls his legs to his chest for extra comfort.

“It’s, it’s been tough for a while,” he divulges in a hoarse whisper.

“I know, kid,” Tony acknowledges, lightly combing his fingers through Peter’s hair.

“I didn’t,” the teen confesses in a whisper. He really hadn’t seen any of this coming. “I thought I was okay. I, I thought I was fine just doing what I,” he swallows, “what I was doing. I didn’t think it affected me this much. It was just…I didn’t feel anything.” Apathy was probably a more apt description, but it was true. He hadn’t felt any intense emotion in such a long period of time that Tony’s loving, concerned action sent him into overdrive. Tony lets out a deep breath and rests his chin atop Peter’s head, tucking the kid into him to provide as much comfort as possible.

“From a scientific standpoint, lack of human contact decreases cortisol levels and NK cells,” Tony points out. It might seem like a cold and calculating response, but he knows what he’s doing; he’s putting it into perspective for Peter. He’s showing the kid that it isn’t just all in his head. It’s a physical change to a lack of touch. Peter let’s out a breathless chuckle, his wound up muscles starting to relax into the hug.

“A, uh, a hug needs to last at least twenty seconds for dopamine and serotonin to be released. Happy brain chemicals,” he adds with a sniff, closing his eyes. He just needs a moment to take it all in. It’s rare for Tony to be the one to illicit physical contact, so he accepts it while can.

“Well then,” Tony softly starts, “guess we gotta wait til you have enough happy brain chemicals.” He situates them more comfortably on the floor, then tightens his hold. Another trembling breath escapes Peter, emotions still raw and superficial, but manageable. It's a start, and if that start just so happens to be in Tony’s arms, maybe it’s not such a bad one.

#peter parker #peter parker angst #tony stark #irondad #spiderson #fanfiction #fanfic #MCU #Avengers #writing #Iron Man #spider-man

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daydreamingintheimpalax · 4 years

Text

Unexpected

Prompt: “what happened to your clothes?” “I think i’m falling in love with you.” “I think ive always known, deep down, i think i’ve always loved you.”

Dean x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, somewhat detailed sex scene, iunno not much really.

A/N: Sorry it’s so long, i had this idea and thought it’d be a fun read. Enjoy :)

Dean sat on your bed, mindlessly watching and waiting as you hid in your closet, dress after dress, skirt after skirt flying out, one almost hitting him in the face. He caught it mid air before tossing it down next to him.

“I don’t know why you’re getting so worked up, its just a few drinks at the bar, Max already knows you, you dont need to impress him, he already likes you.” Dean spoke, watching as you popped out from your closet, three different shirts in your hands.

Dean was your best friend, you had met him and Sam as a child, your fathers had been hunting partners for a few years, always leaving you and the boys at bobby’s to cause trouble for the old man. You could still hear bobby’s voice sometimes, demanding Dean stop influencing you with his schemes.

His buddy Max had run into him at the bar last week while you guys had stopped in during a hunt and they had caught up for hours, you had connected with Max off the bat, and when he’d asked you out, you were skeptical, see deep down you always knew Dean was your guy, your never ending crush on him had turned into deeper feelings years ago, you tried to deny it for years, and definitely never told him, but when Dean had convinced you to give it a shot, go out on ONE date with a guy he knew and liked, you gave in, never being able to say no to him, i mean, to be fair you hadn’t been with a man in over 2 years and you could use a night out, maybe even some quality time in bed with a good looking guy, plus, Dean trusted him, and that was enough.

“Dean, i haven’t been out with a guy in 2 years, i’m not going out with a guy looking like a swamp monster, first dates are everything, and looking your best can make or break the date.” You huffed, holding out a shirt to him for an opinion, he shook his head, grimacing.

“First, you never look like a swamp monster, you’re stunning no matter what, you hardly have to work at that, secondly, that’s an old ratty tshirt you stole from me, really?” He pointed at it, now realizing he was right, why the hell you were even suggesting this. It was time to pull out the big guns. You sighed, hiding back into your closet, you had to have something date worthy.

Dean had popped away, grabbing himself a beer, giving himself a break from outfit advice. You were his best friend and he wanted nothing more than to see you happy, even if it meant trusting Max to take you out on a date. It was one date, it’s not like he was stealing you away forever. He had always had a soft spot for you, you were his first kiss as a kid and he’d looked out for you ever since, and even though he trusted Max, seeing you get all worked up over a guy that wasn’t him still didn’t settle well with him, but he shoved his feelings down and tried to be as supportive as he could.

He walked back into your room, realizing you were finally working on your makeup, you were slightly bent over your bathroom sink, reaching closer to the mirror as you did your eyeliner, truth be told, he loved when you did that black wing thing, it enhanced your big E/C eyes and drove him nuts everytime. He looked you over, realizing what you finally had chosen to put on, a shorter than he’d like black leather mini skirt, a matching leather shirt thing that looked similar to a bra more than anything. He cleared his throat.

“What happened to your clothes?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

You finish your eyeliner before walking past him, fetching lipstick out of your little makeup bag before making your way back to your bathroom, “What do you mean? Theyre fine.” You spoke, applying your lipstick as he piped up.

“I mean like, where’s the rest of it?” he sassed and you rolled your eyes as you walked back into the room. “It’s not that bad is it? It’s literally all i can find that isn’t covered in holes, old blood or stained monster guts.” You looked down at yourself, smoothing out your skirt. Dean cleared his throat as he eyed you properly, trying hard to calm his way out of a boner.

“Uh, no, no i’m just teasing, you look incredible.” He smiled, nodding, you shoot him a innocent smile, “Better, Winchester. Much better, right answer.” You shoot him a small wink and he chuckles. He had come a long way on talking to women because of her, she helped him realize as a teenager and a young man that he didn’t need to be vulgar or gross to pick up women and he’d learned a long time ago thanks to her that chivarly was key.

He watched as she put on her coat, Max waiting by the door to take her out, she gave him a little wave as she told him not to wait up, she’d be fine.

“Be safe, have fun.” He smiled as she walked out the door, his internal groan coming out of his mouth and he kicked himself for being too scared to ever make a move himself. He’d liked her since they were teenagers, but he was too stubborn to do anything, his fathers voice telling him hunter relationships never worked.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The night had been a blast so far, you and Max were having a great time chatting, dancing and enjoying each others company at the bar, he was sweet, nice and had a good view on life and hunting. He told you entertaning stories, some even involved moments he and Dean shared as young teenagers hunting together, being boys and trying to get girls, Max pranking Dean. They had a good friendship and you were happy Dean had someone besides you and Sam he could pal around with.

You had moved to his truck a while ago, the mix of alcohol and pure need affecting you both as you made out like teenagers, the windows began steaming up, it was an unusually warm evening in lebanon and you were thankful you wore this outfit or would have soaked right through it from the heat.

His hand moved freely on your thigh and you straddled him, his back against the backseat of his pick up with you on his lap, dry humping him like some silly teenage girl who hadn’t had sex yet, you made the first move, desperate to feel a mans touch, it had been so long.

You yank your top off, nothing but some nipple covers to cover your exposed breasts, Max lets out a soft moan, “Beautiful,” he mumbles while he kisses softly around your skin, he slowly peels off the covers off you and his mouth lands on your nipple and you let out a louder Moan than you want to but it doesn’t seem to bother him.

Before you know it, your both down to nothing but your underwear, you reach down and pull down his boxers, reaching a hand in and grabbing him and placing him at your entrance, you’re already so turned on you don’t need foreplay tonight, not when you’re this sexually frustrated.

You sink down on him slowly, and you both moan out, yours comes out as more of a shout, and you begin to move, slowly at first before changing into a soft but faster bounce, he’s making sounds, you know that for fact but you’re so distracted by the feeling of pure pleasure you haven’t felt in so long you aren’t even fully aware of what’s happening, you let out a shout, and before you know what’s happening, it all suddenly just stops.

You come back to reality and notice Max has pushed you off, he’s pulling his pants back on and avoiding your eye. Oh for fuck sakes, you haven’t even came close to your release and Dean set you up with a 2 minute one pump chump. You were going to kick his ass.

“What’s wrong? are you done already?” you ask, his looks at you, letting out an exasperated huff before licking his lips and shaking his head. “I’m sorry Y/n, i don’t think this is going to work out, besides, you shouldn’t really sleep with a guy if you’re not going to rememember his name.” He scolds, glaring at you before he shoves his shirt on and climbs out the back, you put your skirt and shirt back on, deciding to skip the panties all together.

“Hey! I do remember your name, it’s Max, i’m not stupid!” You yell at him, angry now that he would even suggest that. Max turns to you, glaring, “Oh yeah, then next time maybe you should try screaming my name out and not Dean’s, jesus christ y/n, if you want him that bad just go fuck him, i doubt he’ll say no!” He shouts and you stand frozen.

“What? Dean?, i didn’t...I don’t-” you stutter, he cuts you off. “It’s kind of obvious y/n, you screamed his name for a reason, you obviously have lingering feelings for him, and im not going to be your pitty fuck.” He sighs, he ushers you into the passenger seat, offering to drive you home in what is the most uncomfortabe, quiet, embrassing drive home ever.

You slam the bunker door closed, worst date ever. You make your way past Dean and Sam in the library as you try your hardest to avoid them, especially Dean, you were embarassed enough, you didn’t need to face him right now, and you sure as hell hoped Max kept his mouth shut about it too.

“Y/N? That you? “ You hear Dean call out but you avoid answering, flying past them to your room before slamming the door shut.

Dean’s eyebrows furrow.

“I guess the date didn’t go well then.” Sam speaks out, looking over at Dean. He shrugs, before getting up and walking towards your room

He knocks on the door softly, “Y/n, you okay? did Max do something cause if he did i’ll beat the living crap outta him.” He calls out, he can hear your sniffle, he sighs, before softly opening your door. You’re cuddled up in bed, watching your favorite episode of golden girls as you cry softly. He sighs and heads over, sitting on your bed.

“Bad date?” He asks and you shrug, “Something like that.” He gives you a soft smile. “Want to talk about it?” He asks and you shake your head. “No, i just wanna forget it.” You speak, he notices you never meet his eye. He nods and agrees to leave it alone, he joins you quietly, watching tv with you but giving you your space. When you finally fall asleep, he goes to bed himself, but not before shooting Max a text.

“Whatever the fuck you did man, she’s upset, and if i find out you hurt her, i’ll kill you.”

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It’s two weeks later when things finally come out, you haven’t spoken to Max since that night of your date. The bar is busier than usual, a few more college kids then there usually is but it is spring break, most of them are probably home for the much needed time away from school work.

Dean is at the pool tables, hussling some airhead jock out of pool money. You watch and laugh when he heads over to you, cash in hand.

“Ha ha, stupid brainless jocks. Always so much fun seeing how much of daddy’s money i can get out of them.” He chuckles, setting the money back in his pocket. You roll your eyes but smile. Why did you put up with this dork.

Before you know it, someone is calling out for Dean. “Yo, Dean!” You both turn to spot Max, waving Dean over for a game. You swallow, nervous that the details of your date will come out, you still weren’t fully over it, and you dreaded Dean ever finding out, he’d never let you live it down and he really didn’t need a bigger ego. Luckily Max hadn’t noticed you yet.

Dean motions he’ll play one round and be right back and you try to give him a smile, dreading this inside. Just don’t ask him about the date, you interally tell him, even though he’s long gone and can’t hear it.

You sip your drink, asking for another one and you try to keep your cool at those two being in the same room all of a sudden.

-----------

One game had turned into 4 and before you knew it, the two guys had captured a crowd, some betting on Max and some on Dean. It was becoming a friendly competition between the two boys.

“Aw come on Max, don’t be a sore loser, i’m sure you can come back from that.” Dean teases, watching as Max lines up his next shot.

“Easy for you to say Winchester, tell me, do you ever get sick of being a pompous prick?” Max winks at him and Dean smiles, “Eh, Sometimes, but then i remember how fun it is to watch you lose and its all worth it.” Dean chuckles, Max suddenly isn’t in a joking mood and he shoots, it goes in, he gets a few more and Dean’s actually surprised.

“Not bad, man. You’re getting better.” Dean smirks, “Still no match for me though, i always win.” Dean leans in, takes a shot and gets his last three balls in, He lines up with the 8 ball, looks up at Max, and smirks, then his eyes find you, sitting behind Max a few tables down and he shoots you a wink, before sinking in his ball. Game over.

Max turns around, realizing who Dean winked at, he turns back around, slamming his pool stick down. “Good game, I’m done, guess you won Dean, you got the money, and the one girl i’ve liked in a really long time, guess you always do win, huh?” He spits out, a bitter tinge to his voice. He scoffs and walks away.

Dean’s suddenly confused, what the hell was he talking about. He looks over at you, you’re watching the television over the bar, no clue what had just happened, he follows Max outside catching him before he reaches his truck.

“Hey! I didn’t get anything, if this is about y/n, you screwed that up on your own, okay? I had nothing to do with that!” Dean shouts. Max laughs and turns to face him. “Oh bullshit Dee, you have everything to do with it!” He sneers, “I really liked her man, she was cool, but like always, Dean Winchester always gets the girl!” He scoffs, making Dean frown, confused.

“Y/n isn’t mine! she’s my friend, whatever you did to piss her off on your date was your problem, she didn’t tell me what you did but if you wanted her that bad, you had the chance to fix it!”

“REALLY DEE? Tell me, how the fuck would you fix the girl you like screaming your best friends name in bed when shes with you? Huh? How the fuck do i fix her thinkng about you while she’s fucking me?” He swallows, “Man, forget it, you wouldn’t understand, god forbid that ever happened to you.” He spits, before he’s in his truck, driving away. Dean’s still standing there, more confused than ever.

He finally makes it back inside, his eyes roaming around for you. He finds you in the same spot, the female bar tender chatting with you and making you laugh. Your eyes find him, beckoning him over and he moves.

He finally reaches you and you smile, “I got you another beer. How did the game go? You disappeared.” You ask, and he stares at you, he finally pipes up, and your heart sinks. Oh no. Please no.

“Max seemed very upset when he saw you, what happened on your date again? Why didn’t you ever go out with him again?” He asks, you take a sip of your beer and shrug. “I dunno, he wasn’t my type, just didn’t work out.” You bite your lip, hoping to god he lets this go, you don’t need to relive that embarassing moment.

He nods, taking a drink of his own beer, “Okay, so he just wasn’t your type, that’s all? It had nothing to do with you screaming my name in the middle of sex?” He calmly points out and you nearly choke on your beer, spitting beer across the bar table, everyone close by stares at you, you turn red, apologizing and grabbing napkins to clean up your mess.

You turn and face Dean, “He fucking told you!” Dean raises an eyebrow, “In a not so nice way, so it’s true? You really did?” He smirks and you bury your face in your hands, “Oh god...” You call out and when you look back up Dean’s cheesy grin is staring back at you, “Actually, apparently it’s Oh Dean.”

You throw a nice solid punch into his shoulder before you run out of the bar, “Y/n...y/n wait!” Dean calls out but you’re already half way across the bar and out the door. He throws down some cash and chases after you, catching you half way down the road.

“Y/n...” He calls out, “Just leave me alone Dean, i knew you would use this against me, i knew it. You’re a jerk.” You wipe away a tear, he finally reaches you and grabs your arm, turning you to face him.

“Hey, i didn’t mean to upset you, i’m sorry, i just, i was surprised, that’s all.” He sighs, “Why didn’t you just tell me? I thought Max was the one who hurt you or something.” He speaks softly and you sniffle.

“it’s embarassing, i didn’t even know i did it, i was so into it and then he just stopped, for a second i thought he’d already, you know, i was disappointed then we got into an argument about it and he took me home.” You shrugged.

Dean nodded, he was quiet for a while, and then he spoke, revealing something that made even you question if you were drunk.

“I uh, i guess i wasn’t expecting to hear that, and i guess i got a little excited cause iunno i just, i think i’m falling in love with you, and when Max told me i just uh, i guess i was hopeful that maybe it meant you felt the same.” He swallows before going quiet, watching your reaction carefully.

You nodded, frowning as you realised you weren’t dreaming, Dean loved you, Dean Winchester loved you.

“I think i’ve always known, Deep down, i think i’ve always loved you.” You shrug, “Every since we shared our first kiss, i think part of me has loved you ever since.” You smile, finally meeting Dean’s eyes, the grin on his face tells you all you need to know, this man is crazy about you, always has been.

“oh yeah?” He smiles, reaching out to grab you, you chuckle, leaning up and placing a slow, deep kiss on his lips.

“Yeah, what can i say, you’re just my type.” You smirk and Dean laughs.

“Well then, why don’t we get back home and i’ll give you a real reason to scream my name.” He smirks, leaning down quite a bit to place wet warm kisses along your exposed neck.

“You’re never going to let me live that down are you?” You roll your eyes, he meets them and a sexy grin appears on his face.

“Not a chance.”

#Dean x Reader #Dean winchester x Reader

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beatriceeagle · 5 years

Note

I'm more of a fantasy than sci-fi person, but consider my interest piqued. Why should I watch farscape?

Okay, the thing is, every Farscape fan’s pitch on Why You, Yes You, Should Watch Farscape ends up sounding very similar, and that’s because Farscape is a black hole that sucks you in and does things to your brain, and after you’ve watched it you are never, ever the same, which incidentally is basically the plot of Farscape.

I would summarize the basic plot for you, but that’s work, and luckily, the show’s credits sequence includes a handy summary that I will provide instead of doing that work: “My name is John Crichton, an astronaut. A radiation wave hit, and I got shot through a wormhole. Now I’m lost in some distant part of the universe on a ship, a living ship, full of strange alien life forms. Help me. Listen, please. Is there anybody out there who can hear me? I’m being hunted by an insane military commander. Doing everything I can. I’m just looking for a way home.“

So let me break down that monologue into its component reasons you should watch Farscape.

1) Some of the strange alien life forms are Muppets.

Farscape a co-production with the Jim Henson Company, and while there are many aliens played by humans in make-up, there are also a considerable number (including two of the regular crew) who are Muppets. By which I do not mean Kermit. I mean really gorgeous, elaborate works of art.

Also, even a lot of the humans-in-makeup aliens just look cool, and incredibly weird. Here’s an alien who appears in a single episode of season 1:

Not that there aren’t, you know, occasional Star Trek-style “these guys are just humans with weird hair,” or whatever, but in general, the aliens on Farscape look really alien. And that’s more than an aesthetic choice; it’s Farscape’s driving narrative principle. The aliens look alien, they act alien, they have alien values.

You know how a lot of sci-fi shows will have a stand-in for “fuck,” like Battlestar Galactica has “frak”? Well, Farscape has “frell.” And also “dren.” And yotz, hezmana, mivonks, loomas, tralk, snurch, eema, drannit, dench, biznak, arn, drad, fahrbot, narl. Some of those are swear words, but some of them are just words, never explicitly translated, that the alien characters will pepper into their speech, because, well, why should translator microbes be able to completely translate all the nuances of an alien culture? You’ll pick it up from context. One time, in passing, a character mentions that he’s familiar with the concept of suicide, but there’s no word for it in his language. I cannot emphasize to you enough how fleeting this moment is; the episode is not about suicide, we’re not having a great exchange of cultural ideas—at the time, the characters are running down a corridor in a crisis, as they are about 70 percent of the time—it’s just that the subject got brought up, and this character needed to talk around the fact that he literally didn’t have a word, in that moment. Things like that happen all the time, on Farscape.

Because more than anything else, Farscape is a show about culture shock. John Crichton is this straight, white Southern guy, at the top of his game—he’s an astronaut! he’s incredibly high status!—and then he ends up on the other side of the galaxy, where none of his cultural markers of privilege hold any meaning, where he doesn’t know the rules, where he literally can’t even open the doors. And he has to unlearn the idea that humanity is central, that he is the norm.

2) John Crichton, an astronaut, is pretty great.

A show that’s about a straight white guy with high status having to learn that he’s not the center of the universe could easily be centered around a really insufferable person, but one of the subtle things that makes Farscape so wonderful is that Crichton is, for the most part, pretty excellent. He has a lot of presumptions to unlearn because almost anyone in his cultural position would, but he’s also just a stand-up guy: compassionate, intelligent, open-minded, decent, forgiving, brave, hopeful.

And the galaxy tries to kick a whole lot of that out of him. It doesn’t succeed, mostly, but if Farscape is about anything other than culture shock, it’s about the lasting effects of trauma. How you can go through a wormhole one person, and experience things that turn you into someone you don’t recognize.

That’s kind of grim-sounding, but ultimately, what I’m trying to say is that Farscape is almost fanatically devoted to character work. Crichton is not the only character who sounds like he should be one thing and ends up being another. All of the characters—all of them, all of them, even the annoying ones—are complicated wonders. And you don’t have to wonder whether the events of the episode you’re watching are going to matter. They will. Everything that happens to the characters leaves a mark. Everything leaves them forever changed. Whether it’s mentioned explicitly or not—and often enough, it’s not explicit—the characters remember what has happened to them.

3) The living ship houses a lot of excellent women, among them the ship itself.

Ah, the women of Farscape, thou art the loves of my fucking life.

There’s Aeryn Sun, former Peacekeeper (that’s the military that the “insane military commander” hails from) now fugitive, currently learning the meaning of the word “compassion” (literally). She will break your fingers and also your heart. John/Aeryn is the main canon romantic ship.

There’s Pa’u Zhoto Zhaan, a priestess of the ninth level, current pacifist, former anarchist. Sorry, leading anarchist. She orgasms in bright light! (Oh my god, Farscape.)

There’s Chiana, my fucking bestie, a teenage(ish? ages in Farscape are weird) fugitive on the run from a repressive authoritarian state. Chiana is like a seductress con artist grifter thief who mostly just wants to survive so that she can have fun, damn it. Characters on Farscape do not really discuss sexualities (sex, yes, sexualities, no) and it would be fair to say that several of them do not fall along human sexuality lines generally, but I’m gonna go ahead and say that Chiana is canonically not straight.

Then there’s Moya, the ship herself, and it’s hard to get a straight read on Moya’s personality, since she mostly can’t speak. But she definitely has opinions, and things and people she cares about. And she moves the plot, though that gets into spoiler territory.

Past first season, further excellent women show up: Jool (controversial, but I like her), Sikozu (I once saw a Tumblr meme where someone had marked down that Sikozu would lose her shit when someone pronounced “gif” wrong, and that’s absolutely correct, and it’s why I love her), and Noranti (who is incredibly weird, and incredibly hard to summarize, but man, you gotta love her willingness to just show up and do her thing). Plus, there’s a recurring female villain, Grayza, who I could write probably multiple essays about. (I don’t know how you will feel about Grayza, as not everyone loves her, but I think she’s fucking fascinating, especially because she’s not actually the only recurring female villain. We also get Ahkna!)

(Side note: I should mention, here, that the cast of Farscape is really, really white. There is one cast member of color, Lani Tupu, but he pretty much represents the entirety of even, like, incidental diversity in casting for the series.)

Anyway, Farscape is full of awesome women, and also awesome and unexpected men, and it really enjoys playing with audience expectations of gender roles, generally. Literal entire books have been written about the way that Farscape fucks around with sex, sexuality, and gender. It’s a little weird because it was the late 90s/early 2000s, and sometimes that does come through, but Farscape’s guiding principle was always to try not to present American culture of the time as the norm, so like. It is not.

(An aside on Farscape and sex: Literally every character on Farscape has sexual tension with every other character. If you are a shipper, this is a Good Show, because no matter who you ship, there will not only be subtext, you will get a Moment of some kind. Multiple characters kiss the Muppet. Farscape is dedicated to getting into the nitty-gritty of the galaxy—I like to think of it as showing the guts of the universe—so a lot of the show is kind of squishy. They live on a biomechanoid ship, instead of androids there are “bioloids,” there’s a lot of focus on strange alien biologies, and lots of weird glowing fluids and things. I think the sex thing is kind of part and parcel of the larger biology focus: Farscape is really fascinated with how we all eat and evolve and live and die and, well, fuck. Which is in turn, kind of part of its focus on making everything really alien.)

4) Other stuff you should know.

Farscape as a whole is excellent, but it was kind of the product of creative anarchy—an Australian/American coproduction (oh yeah, everyone except Crichton speaks with an Australian accent) that was also partnered with the Henson company, whose showrunners were based in America but whose actual production all took place in Australia, and who was just constantly trying new things. So individual episodes can vary wildly in quality. It really takes off in the back half of season one, but no season is without a few off episodes.

It is extraordinarily funny, and I really think I haven’t stressed that enough. It’s one of the shows I want to quote the most in my daily life, but almost all of its humor is really context-dependent, and if you just wander around going, “Hey Stark? What’s black and white, and black and white, and black and white?” people look at you really funny.

It’s very conversant with pop culture generally (although obviously sci-fi specifically, and Star Trek most specifically of all) and really enjoys deconstructing tropes, often to the effect of, “Well, Crichton really does not know what to do here, does he?” but sometimes just to be interesting.

There are also a lot of themes about science, and its uses and misuses.

The whole thing is fucking epic, and if you get invested at all, will take you on an emotional ride.

This show is weird. I know that that’s probably come across by now, but I think it’s worth reiterating as its own point: Farscape is so weird. Like, proudly, unabashedly, trying its hardest, weird. An amazing kind of weird.

If you’re into fantasy, you should know that there’s a recurring villain who’s just a wizard. Like, they don’t bother to explain it any more than that, he’s just a fucking wizard.

In summary: You should watch Farscape because it is a weird, wild, emotional, epic romance/drama/action/allegory full of Muppets and leather and one-liners and emotional gut punches and love, and if you let it, it will worm its way into you and never let go, which, now that I think of it, is another Farscape plot.

Send me meta prompts to distract me from my migraine!

#farscape #meta

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destiniesfic · 3 years

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132 Hours, Chapter 8:

“Are you scared of me?”

He lets out a nervous little laugh. “Are you decent?”

Note: There’s a bit of mature 🔞 content in this chapter. This fic is rated E on AO3 for a reason, so please keep that in mind. Thank you!

Read chapter 8 on AO3, or read below:

Heat steals over me slowly, like fog rolling in from the ocean overnight. I have a hard time falling asleep because it hovers at the edge of my senses; a tension headache pressing at the front of my skull, the flipping of my stomach, all compounded by the aching of my injured leg. I toss and turn a little, but not much, because with Cardan next to me there isn’t much room, and I don’t really want to kick him and alert his attention.

His sleep is also restless. I’ll hear his breathing even out, and then he’ll jerk awake, suddenly, with a little startled sound, his elbow brushing my arm, the mattress shifting under him. I didn’t think someone like him would be prone to nightmares, but I guess our situation would test anyone’s psyche. A couple of days ago I would have asked, resentfully, what Cardan would even have nightmares about, but I am learning that his life is not nearly as charmed as it seems.

We must manage to sleep sometime in the early morning hours, and it is then that my heat breaks. I know it’s begun when I wake up. The room is pregnant with it, in the same way the air grows heavy and humid just before a lightning strike. I am aware of every part of my body in a way I usually try not to be: the muscles of my thighs tensing; the prickly three-day hair growth under my armpits; sweat collecting between my breasts; an urgent cramping in my lower belly that I know—with dismay—is ovarian, not uterine; a desperate, disastrous need layered in with it all.

And I am aware of Cardan.

He is fast asleep. I know that for certain, even without listening to the rhythm of his breathing, because he would never be doing this if he weren’t. He’s wrapped himself around me like a boa constrictor, an arm clamped over my waist, a leg slung over my thigh. His hand rests on the sliver of exposed skin where my tank top has hiked up, and his palm seems to burn cold. His lips press against the crown of my head in the mockery of a kiss, his sleep-breath ruffling my hair.

Part of him, however, is very much awake, unmistakably pressed up against my ass, and although I have never handled one of those on purpose I am not so ignorant or inexperienced as to not know what’s going on.

For a moment I feel as though I have left my body entirely, suspended in a weightless space between desire and panic. After that, his hand slides a little further up under the fabric of my shirt and there is nothing I want more than for him to touch me, to cup my breast, to let his fingers slide under the waistband of my shorts. And I think, Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

And I think, What if we get it over with?

But there is no “getting it over with,” because if we start we won’t stop, not for days, not until my heat runs its course and his rut burns away. And, with a flash of shame, with a clench in my stomach, I remember Valerian trying to pin my arms and his sour breath against my cheek as he asked me the same question. Why not get it over with? “Omegas are good for one thing,” he said. “You don’t seem to have figured that out yet.” My heartbeat rabbiting in my chest as for one terrible second I wondered if he was right.

“Cardan,” I whisper. Yesterday I had kicked him awake, but I am too frozen now even for that.

Cardan groans sleepily into my hair. His grip around my waist tightens and his hips press harder against mine and my mind completely whites out at the deep throb of dreadful want that responds. I take a deep breath, count to three, and force myself to reach back and pinch him.

I feel the moment he wakes, because every part of him stiffens. Well, every part that wasn’t already stiff.

“Shit,” he breathes, and he scrambles off of me and across the room so quickly that I am forced to wonder whether he was even there, even as I feel his invisible handprint on my waist.

I roll onto my back. Cardan is now once again in what I’ve come to think of as “his corner.” Although I try not to look at his groin, my eyes seem drawn there, and his jeans are very tight, but out of embarrassment or shame or something else he has arranged his legs so that I can’t see and tugs his loose shirt down.

“So,” he says. “Uh. Morning.”

I don’t know what to say. My mouth feels like a desert. Images of—of all things—prairies at the height of the Dust Bowl that had been printed in one of my middle school history textbooks flash across my mind. Maybe I am delirious.

“It’s started,” I manage.

“Yeah, I got that.” Cardan gestures vaguely, at himself, at the room. He is in sharp focus for me in a way that nothing else is. A rivulet of sweat trickles down his neck. I want to lick it.

I am astonished that he can just sit there in his corner, although he seems more closed-off than usual. I can vaguely recall my first heat and the urge to act, even if I was too miserable to do much and I didn’t know what I wanted to do. Now I know exactly what it is that I want to do. And the pheromones rolling off of me should be sending him into a rut, and alpha ruts are supposed to be a basically unstoppable force. Before suppressants, terrible things would happen if an omega was caught out in an unexpected heat with alphas around. When we woke up I thought his had been triggered, based on the erection and now the sweat. But he’s in his corner, and he isn’t coming closer.

I must really repulse him if he can resist it like that. Normally, this would just irritate me. Now, I want to yell. I want to cry.

“I...” I begin, but then I am hit with another cramp and a chill settles under my skin. Evolutionarily speaking, the purpose of heat is to mate, and there’s logic to making my life unpleasant if I don’t do that, to ensure survival of the species. Everything goes slightly sideways and makes me a little cold-blooded; if an alpha were here to help me regulate my temperature, I would be fine. But my body has caught onto the fact that Cardan is across the room instead of pressed up against me and it says Hey, no, that’s what we want, as if it can decide those things unilaterally. And its main method of protest is to set everything on fire.

I can relate.

As the fever blooms, so does the sensitivity in my every nerve. I feel the underwire of my bra digging into my ribs, the stiffness of my denim shorts and the tickling of stray threads where they have been intentionally distressed. With an urgent gasp, I unzip my sweatshirt and pull it off before reaching up under the back of my tank.

“What are you doing?” Cardan asks, panicked.

I struggle with the clasp of my bra for another second before unhooking it and slipping my arms out of the straps. I pull it out from under my tank top and fling it across the room like it might bite me. “It fucking hurts,” I say between clenched teeth. I start on the button of my shorts.

Cardan covers his face with one large hand. “These are really mixed signals you’re giving off, um, right now. Are you getting naked? Please don’t be naked. I don’t know what’ll happen.”

There’s a waver in his voice that keeps him from sounding aloof and sarcastic. I sit up to slide my shorts down my legs and toss them beside my bra, then put my sweatshirt back on and pull the blanket back up. It’s scratchy, but I have to get warm. “Not naked.” I pause. “Are you scared of me?”

He lets out a nervous little laugh. “Are you decent?”

“Yeah.”

But I am watching his fingers closely as he lowers them from his face. My tongue wets my dry lips, and I wish they were his. Then there’s another cramp, and I feel—oh no. I feel the worst thing of all, because it feels like I’ve wet myself, when really it’s an entirely different category of bodily fluid. My underwear is soaked.

I’m glad I took off my shorts, I think deliriously. It would be such a pain to get this out of denim.

In this terrible moment, I am unable to believe that I have ever hated Cardan. Just looking at him is an experience as visceral as being punched in the gut. I look at his mouth and my lips tingle with the thrill of imagining how a kiss would feel. I look at his long fingers and press my thighs together to stop phantom versions of them from slipping inside of me. I am incoherent with want, absolutely stupid with it, and the last remaining shred of my sanity is the only thing keeping me from crawling over to him and stripping off his shirt.

That and the absolute mortification, because it feels like my entire body clenches again and another rush of fluid follows. I let out an involuntary whimper; my face burns hot with shame. At least he can’t see what’s going on down there with my legs under the blanket. I don’t know what he can smell.

“I’m gonna—” Cardan begins, his eyes darting around the room for some kind of solution to our problem. “I’m— I can’t stay in here.”

I make myself nod. Of course he can’t. As much as I am slowly being consumed by base instincts, I am still here, and the part of me that is me understands that. He can’t stay in here, because something will happen, and he doesn’t want—neither of us want—anything to happen. Of course.

“But we can’t let them in here,” he says, under his breath. “I can’t let them get you. So. Okay.” He nods. “Right. Okay. I’m gonna come over there for like two seconds. Don’t move or do anything or— okay?”

“Okay,” I say. I don’t even think about what it means that I’m going along with what he says. I’m just glad one of us has a plan.

Cardan draws a breath, steeling himself, and crawls over to me. It isn’t very far. I make myself look up at the ceiling so I can’t check whether he’s still hard and pretend to ignore him, even though I can’t not be hyper aware of his presence. He pauses at the side of the mattress and takes another breath.

“Right,” he says. “Sit up for a second.”

I do. To my surprise, he adjusts my pillow, then reaches beyond it to get the one he’d slept on. He moves to put it under my head, then says, “Oh, shit, wait, your leg,” and changes his mind, moving down the mattress to prop my left foot up on it. Then he asks me to lie back down and begins tucking both blankets around me, fitting them tightly to my body.

“We have to like, smother it, right?” he says. There’s a manic quality to his voice, like he’s on the verge of babbling. “We can’t let them smell you. So if we trap the smell in the blankets, maybe…”

“That’s smart,” I say.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Although I’m afraid it’s also useless at this point. The stale air in here is already saturated with both of our scents. Cardan’s is muskier than usual today, cocoa and earth and… I break out in a fresh round of sweat, but my body also calms down a little at having him nearer, at the possibility that something might happen.

He pauses when he tucks the blankets around my shoulders, his eyes, dark as black coffee, finding mine. If I look closely enough, I can tell where his irises end and his pupils begin. They’re blown wide, although that could just be because it’s so dark in here. Still, I am captivated by the arc of his eyelashes when his eyes flick toward my lips.

“Jude,” he says quietly. The sweat is making his hair curl even more than usual. I want to mess it up so badly. I want to be kissed. I have never wanted anything more. Valedictorian, college acceptances, acknowledgment of my accomplishments, all of those wants vanish in the face of Cardan and his perfect Cupid’s bow, his full lower lips.

For one long, tense minute, we are not moving, breathing the same air. Then there is a quiet knock at the door, an almost fluttery beat, like that of a hummingbird’s wings. It’s the Bomb’s knock.

Cardan jerks back from me like he’s been hit with a sudden electric shock. “Okay,” he says, reassuring himself. “You’re as far away from the door as you can be. It’ll have to be enough. I just— won’t let them in. Yeah.”

He stands, looking down at me one more time, and then turns away. I see him subtly adjust himself before moving to stand in front of the door, blocking the entrance.

“Jude’s sick,” he calls.

The door swings open immediately.

Cardan doesn’t move. I peer at the doorway. Behind the Bomb’s slight form, I can make out the Roach, halfway to standing from his chair at the table.

“What’s wrong with her?” he asks.

“Fever,” Cardan lies.

“I should get the Ghost,” the Bomb says. I guess it’s a credit to how scared they are of Madoc that she sounds properly worried. “If her wound’s infected—”

“Then he fucked up. That’s exactly why you shouldn’t get him.” Cardan sounds properly commanding and haughty, an alpha born. You would never know he is actually nervous. I’m not sure whether I should be impressed or afraid that he’s such a good liar.

Because, of course, the reason not to get the Ghost is that he’s a likelier alpha than the Bomb. Because Cardan has made the same calculation I have: that the Bomb, a petite woman, is probably not a threat to me.

The Bomb frowns. “Did you check her leg?”

“Well, no…”

“Might as well, before we bother him,” says the Roach. “You know how he likes it up there in his perch.”

I send up a silent thank you to whoever might be listening. Cardan moves aside to let the Bomb enter, turning to watch her approach. When the Roach comes to the doorway, Cardan subtly shifts his weight to block half the entrance with his shoulder. If the Roach notices, he doesn’t remark on it.

“Jude,” says the Bomb, crouching down at my side in the space that Cardan had just occupied. “You okay?”

I blink and wrench my gaze over to her. I try to think of what I would normally say. After all, one time I went to school with a one hundred and two degree fever so as not to miss a history test. I only got sent home because I nearly fainted in gym. Our kidnappers wouldn’t know that, but they do know I downplayed being shot. That’s enough.

“I’m fine,” I grit out. “He’s exaggerating.”

Cardan rolls his eyes. The Bomb frowns. I am relieved that even this close, her scent does absolutely nothing for me, but maybe that’s because Cardan’s still lingers in the air. “Well, you don’t look fine.” She puts a hand to my forehead and the frown deepens. “Yeah, definitely warm. I’m going to take a look at your leg.”

I nod, although I don’t particularly want anyone crawling around anywhere near my lower body. Luckily, when she pulls the blankets aside, it’s only to my knee. “Hmm,” she says. “Nothing’s bleeding through. I don’t see anything weird.” She glances back at the door, and a look passes between her and the Roach that I don’t understand. “I’m going to unwrap it for a sec.”

“Fine,” I repeat.

Even though I do try to keep still while she does it, I can’t help but glance down. The wound looks okay. It’s scabbed over, and the skin is raw and pink at the borders, but it’s clearly healing normally. The Bomb rewraps my leg with steady hands, although not as well as the Ghost had.

“Well?” Cardan asks. Impatient, irritated. He wants everyone out of the room. “How is she?”

“Her leg’s okay,” the Bomb reports. Does anybody else realize the way they’re responding to him? Answering his questions, responding to physical cues? The chemical signals he’s sending out might not be driving anybody else here crazy, but they’re certainly having some effect, and nobody seems to know but me.

“Maybe a virus,” the Roach suggests. “Something you guys brought in with you.”

Cardan forces his face into a grimace. “I probably shouldn’t be locked in a tiny cell with her, then.”

“You might already have it, kid.”

“I feel fine.”

The Bomb and the Roach exchange another glance.

“C’mon,” Cardan presses. “I’ll be good. Plus, I kind of want to learn how to shuffle cards like you do. I’ve never seen anybody’s hands move that fast.”

I am forced to give Cardan a little credit here. I had noticed the Roach playing Solitaire, but I hadn’t really paid attention to anything else he did with the cards. And flattery is definitely a tool I haven’t mastered.

The Roach considers this, pressing his lips together. “All right,” he says at last. “You can sit across from me while the Bomb picks up some medicine for her. But so much as one sneeze and you’re back in the room.”

“Deal,” says Cardan, who glances at me. I try to force my face to remain neutral, even though, now that he’s on the verge of leaving, everything in me is screaming for him to stay. But it’s the right thing for him to go. He doesn’t want me, I don’t know what I want, and if he stays the decision will be made for us. I still ache at the idea of him leaving. Or maybe that’s just the fever.

So Cardan, and the Roach, and the Bomb all go, and I am alone. I don’t even hear anyone secure the deadbolt. I must look really wretched if they think I won’t try to escape again.

They’re right.

I turn back onto my side, wrapping the blankets tighter around me. I don’t know how much time I have before the Bomb returns, but it has to be more time than I need for this. I shove my right hand into my underwear, which is already soaked, as I know the blankets probably are and the mattress is. I should probably treat my own body with a little more care, but I can’t exactly light candles or run a warm bath, and it’s not like I ever go easy on myself.

At first I just try to look at the wall as I work, try to concentrate on the building of sensation between my thighs, but my mind keeps skipping like an old record, and every skip reminds me of the way Cardan’s dick felt against my ass. Which does arouse me more, but also makes me nervous. Alphas are supposed to be well-endowed, but I can’t imagine it fitting. I know there is a hole in me, but it’s metaphorical—the gaping maw that feeds on my accumulated trauma so I don’t have to deal with it—and while I also know biology facts like “the vaginal canal lengthens during arousal” it just doesn’t seem plausible. And anyway, none of this is sexy.

So I end up thinking about his fingers instead, even though I don’t want to think about any part of him at all. His long fingers, which are always moving, drumming on his knee, scratching at the wall, running through his hair. I think about how he said he knew his way around sex things and wonder if he could do a better job than I am doing right now. Would he be rough with me, like alphas are known to be? Or would he be gentle, with the same odd tenderness he’d shown when he tucked my hair behind my ear?

I don’t know why I break on that thought—I will never have that, he doesn’t want to give it to me, I will never know—but I do. Climax feels like shattering into a million tiny pieces. I muffle myself with the pillow, tasting dry cotton.

My face is wet, but not with sweat. I am crying. And because no one is here, I let myself cry, pretending that it’s just another symptom. That it can’t be helped. I let the tears come until they’re out of my system and my well of despair has run dry.

Then I settle in for a long and terrible day.

#jurdan #judecardan #jude x cardan #jurdan fanfic #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #the folk of the air #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #tfota #mine: fic #fic: 132 hours

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itslunarwritesstuff · 4 years

Text

More than this

Word Count: 10, 000 (grab some popcorn this is gonna take a while)

Summary: Colson and Y/N have been friends since high school and for the past few years he has seen her get her heartbroken and hurt by guys who are not worth it. Well after a date gone wrong he picks her up and things in their friendship take a drastic turn.

Contains: Friends to lovers trope, Fluff, a teeny bit of angst, Cuddling.

Warnings: Language, Unconsenual touching (from a date, not Colson)

Y/N/N: Your Nickname

________________________________________________________________

You’re spread out upright on a patio chair relaxing for what seems like the first time in forever, the sun warming your cheeks in a soothing gesture.

Your eyes shoot open at an abrupt yell, “ROOK” you knew that voice all too well.

“Jesus Colson you practically scared me into the next life!” you said startling him as well.

“Sorry Y/N didn’t realize you were here” Colson walked over to you taking a seat on the chair next to yours.

Nodding as to acknowledge his apology you say “I used my key, hope that’s okay.” swinging your legs over to the side to face him.

“Well yeah that’s the whole reason you have a key, well that and when the rest of us are too messed up to unlock the door” You both laughed at the memories of how many times you had to come over at the ass crack of dawn because no one had their keys on them or miraculously lost all their copies.

“Y/N/N I don’t see why you don’t just take the extra room we have here, You’re practically here all the time anyway. Could save money on rent.”

You shot him a look as if you were saying ‘Yeah Right’.

“What? Is it cause the room is a bit small, cause if that’s it then I’m sure ROOK wouldn’t mind trading with you” Colson smiles kindly but saying the last part louder to ensure Rook heard him.

“Suck my dick” Rook came out on the patio with his middle fingers up and a smirk plastered on his face. You knew what was about to happen and so you got up and started to walk to the other side of the yard as to try and avoid the tornado that is Colson and Rook when they tussle; “Ooo bad move Rook” you jokingly seethed with laughter.

Colson was bolting towards Rook catching him off guard and the two men were trying to pin each other but instead twisted together still barreling around.

Not looking where they were going and you not fully paying attention, the two grown men’s bodies hit you full force causing you to fall into the pool.

The men unraveled from each other when they heard the splash, knowing they were in deep shit now.

When you emerge from the water, head just above the surface you look at the men who caused this chain of events and say “I am so getting you guys back for this…” Rook and Colson gave each other a look that was their way of planning their escape but you finished “...at some point. Just not now.”

You could see them both relax instantly, it wasn’t because they were afraid of you but it was because they knew what you were capable of doing when provoked that was also one of the reasons they loved you as well.

Colson bent down and helped you out of the pool pulling you upwards by your slippery hands, you fell against him but quickly recovered standing back up on your own two feet.

Soaking wet, your once dry and slightly oversized t-shirt now clung to your body in the most uncomfortable way possible, being more comfortable here even than you do at your own home you pull the shirt over your head and hang it over the chair from earlier so it can dry in the sun.

Left in your bra and spandex shorts you looked at Colson and Rook they seemed to have snapped themselves out of some kind of a trance as they made eye contact with you as you turned around. “You guys have any clothes I can borrow,” you ask the dumbfounded duo a few feet in front of you.

Rook is the first to answer his eyes looking everywhere but your face “Uh yeah…” Colson shoots him a glare that you didn’t catch, your focus only on Rook as he spoke.

“Remember you have your section in my closet” Colson interrupts.

You nod “Oh yeah I forgot about that, thanks guys”.

Being a bit confused by the energy in the air you led the way into the house waiting for at least one of them to follow but they just stood there heads and eyes following your movements.

Cause to you, you were just taking off a wet shirt; but to them, it was like a slow-motion beach scene in a movie. Sexy background music and all.

Shaking your head in confusion you continue your way into the house and up the stairs to Colson’s room.

Usually, he freaked about having people in here without him but with you it was different; you and Colson had been friends since high school you being a few years younger than him. And even if you guys lived in different states or how drastic your lifestyles were, the two of you have always been close over the years no matter what. And you would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy living closer now than in

years past.

Going straight to his closet you find your drawer the one he gave to you in case you spent the night or for emergencies such as this one. Pulling out some underwear you strip right there feeling relieved to get the wet clothes off your shivering body. Pulling on the underwear you grab a pair of joggers that are from his merch site from a while back and finally instead of grabbing one of your t-shirts from the drawer you sift through the hangers until you find a shirt of his that is thick and long perfect for being cozy. Before slipping the shirt on you mentally thank yourself for the dry sports bra in the drawer and swap that with the bra currently dripping down your back.

Downstairs Colson, Rook, Baze, and Slim have all congregated to the living room.

Rook had told the guys about what happened at the pool not even twenty minutes ago.

Slim just looked at Colson then Rook and shook his head cause he knew how oblivious you were about things sometimes. Hearing your footsteps approaching, the group stopped talking and tried to find a different conversation topic. Redirecting the topic Colson asks “Hey Y/N/N what are you doing tonight? Do you want to hang here and we can do something?”

You plop down on the arm of the chair next to him even though there are plenty of empty seats and answer “Well usually I would but I’ve got plans for once. How are you guys going to survive without me” playful sarcasm coming from the second half of your sentence.

Colson looked up at you for the first time since you came into the room and sees you wearing his shirt and everyone else notices it too. He goes to reach for the fabric currently pooling around your hips while sitting but mentally stops himself, Colson backtracks and says “Yeah right, plans. Plans to steal more of my shirts is it.” he lets out a forced laugh but even though you buy it the rest of the group can see the internal battle going on inside his head.

The rest of the guys just watch your banter and you reply with “Ha Ha. But I’m serious I do have plans tonight with a guy named David.” Rook blurts out “So a date.”

You nod “Yeah like a date.”

Slim let out a playful “Ooo” and you chuck one of the nearby pillows at him.

“Oh grow up guys. Besides maybe this time it will work out” You say with hope lining your words.

The guys all stare at you with sorry in their eyes knowing how unlucky your past relationships and dates have gone. Been cheated on or left for pretty much no reason many times and the amount of times guys have canceled last minute or not followed up for a second date was way past counting at this point,

“But anyway I should get going here in a minute.” Just as you’re about to stand up and make your way to grab your things and leave, Colson surprises both of you when he grabs your hand his eyes painted with panic. You look at him with expecting eyes and he chokes out “Uh...Um...Be careful tonight ‘kay. And if you need me just call…” his eyes connect with yours, a strange warm feeling crawling up to your chest “...I’m here for you always Y/N.”

Your stomach does an unexpected flip but you pass it off as just a friendly reaction to his kind and meaningful words. “I will, I Love you, Colson” you bend down slightly and leave a soft kiss on his cheek while the rest of the group just watches the interaction unfold in front of their eyes, knowing something that neither of you can see or admit to yourselves.

Pulling your hand from Colson’s you smile to everyone and say goodbye before leaving.

Colson still sat there, lost in his own head it seemed. After a while, Colson’s hand had slowly made its way to his cheek, tracing the spot where you had kissed him.

The guys still sat silent as they continued to watch their friend fall into his own little world.

Then Colson snapped back to reality and his face went hard turning to Slim.

Slim knew his best friend enough to know he was angry and had a plan brewing in his head.

“Alright what is it?” Slim asked.

“What do you mean” Colson gets defensive.

“How are you going to stop this guy from going out with Y/N” Slim sighed knowing that’s what this has led to. “It’s not like you know who the guy is this time ‘round” Rook says.

“And you really shouldn’t just show up there” Slim bounced back.

Colson’s eyebrows are furrowed as he thought and then Baze jumps in and says “I think you guys should just let her be and let her enjoy her night. I mean sabotaging her dates isn’t going to work forever you know. One day she is going to catch on and it’s going to suck for all of us.”

Slim counters by saying “But you know why we can’t just stop.” Slim points to Colson’s direction with his head trying his best to be secretive while Colson is in the room.

Baze nods and Colson says “No, Baze is right. This is wrong, she can handle herself.”

Surprised looks cross Baze, Slim, and Rook; that was definitely not what they were expecting.

But they agreed with him nonetheless, knowing that meddling in your love life wasn’t right no matter what the circumstances were and are.

“Alright, Imma go clean my room,” Colson said, his features were gloomy and withdrawn.

After Colson is upstairs the remaining three discuss the situation at hand.

“What are we going to do if she ends up liking this random guy?” Slim asks rhetorically.

“I know I won’t like him if Y/N ends up bringing him around here,” Rook says crossing his arms.

Everyone in that house is your family and by the few times, you have brought a guy around they were as nice as they could be but it was as if they knew the man’s true intentions before you did.

“Guys, We have all seen the way those two look at each other. That doesn’t just go away, whether they notice it or not Y/N and Colson are tied to each other. But we may have to push them a bit for them to see that they fucking like each other, or I might go crazy.”

When Colson got upset he would usually do one or all of the following; party and get trashed, make music, or would clean his room. For this current situation, he figured cleaning his space would hopefully put him in a better mood. He didn’t understand what bothered him so much about Y/N going out on a date or even dates in general. He just figured he was a good friend and was protecting her from getting heartbroken, this was not the case though.

Hanging shirts up in his closet wasn’t clearing his mind as he hoped but thankfully his phone dinged from the bed. Picking it up and unlocking it he sees it is a message from you; it is a picture of you dressed up, your eyebrows furrowed and tongue stuck out in a goofy way. The message said ‘Wish me luck’, he couldn’t think of what to say that wasn’t way out of line so he just sent a few thumbs up and hearts hoping that was enough.

In your apartment you put on some chapstick before going out the door but your phone buzzes in your hand, unlocking it is a response from Colson of three emojis a thumbs up and two hearts.

You smile at your phone and leave.

Getting to the bar you’re supposed to meet David at you thank your driver in the hopes that if things go well he could drive you home.

Taking a seat at the bar you text him telling him you’re there he responds right away with a short ‘Almost there’.

You set your phone down and order a drink before he arrives.

After about another five minutes David arrives and you stand up from your stool and greet with him with a friendly hug.

“Y/N you are looking great,” David says his hands lingering on your hips.

This was the first date after all and you barley knew this guy beside that he worked with a friend of yours so you pushed his hands off of you in a sly manner and took a seat back at your stool.

Trying to make sure things get off on the right foot you say thank you to his compliment and ask some basic questions. “So David, What are some of your hobbies” you bring your drink to your lips.

David has got on a blazer with an undershirt and a tie with the pants to match, conventionally he is pretty attractive but typically not the type of guy you would go for at all. Laidback and down for anything was definitely more your type which this guy definitely not; but you were more than willing to give him a chance considering the current lack of romantic companionship in your life.

David went on about how he was really into art collecting and you were relieved that you guys had something somewhat in common. He shows you a few of his favorite pieces on his phone and you say “Oh that’s really cool. I actually paint in my free time.” That was a bit of an understatement for sure but he was intrigued so it worked.

“Oh really? Let me see, maybe they’re good enough for my collection.” you try your best to not let your face go sour at the tone of his comment as if his opinion made you or your art worth something.

But you take out your phone unlocking it, then taking a moment to appreciate and remember the memory attached to your wallpaper. Its a picture of you and Colson at EST fest the past summer, you were covered in paint cause you thought it was a great idea to let the others paint on you for fun. After Colson painted a penis on your arm you took some of the pink paint and smeared it across his face and some of it in his hair; he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder the both of you laughing and the smiles that were smeared on your faces just like the paint was captured in the photo. And it never failed to make you smile and invite a warm feeling into your chest.

I guess you were looking at the photo for a bit too long cause David was snapping his fingers in your face and said “Come on your attention is supposed to be on me” oh god this was not going well.

After showing him a few of your paintings and him giving you backhanded compliments like “I mean its no Banksy but I guess for a hobby painter for yourself its okay.”

You are well into your third drink waiting for this date to be over when David grabs you by the wrist and all but basically drags you to the dance floor; the only reason you don’t move or protest is because of how shocked you are that he would grab you like that without your permission.

“Come on let’s dance,” he says way too close for comfort.

“Um I am good, I should get going anyways I’ve got something to do in the morning.” You say trying to find the easiest way to get out of the situation.

But he wasn’t having any of it, pulling you unwantedly closer to his body he says “But we wouldn’t want that sweet little outfit to go to waste now would we…” he sickly hisses into your ear and his hands grope you, that’s it.

“No!” you yell and you somehow manage to create some space between you and David pushing him away from you and even though he tries to bring you back in with protest, you turn and start to walk away.

He makes another attempt to grab at you, you turn around swiftly and punch him in the nose; falling over blood everywhere. “Oh, that is definitely broken,” you think to yourself.

Sprinting to the nearest exit you also thank yourself for wearing sensible shoes, not quite knowing when to stop you keep running until you’re back to a familiar street and there is no impending doom.

Taking your phone from your pocket you go to open the taxi app but hesitate and after some internal contemplating you decide it is best to call someone you know would make you feel safe.

Colson picks up after only a few rings, answering with a “Y/N what’s up. You okay?”.

You weren’t feeling teary-eyed before but after hearing Colson’s voice all of your emotions pour out and you choke out a sob. Colson’s tone goes from casual to worried real quick and quickly asks “Where are you? I’m coming to get you, are you safe until I get there?”

Somehow you manage to tell him where you were and that yes you were safe for the time being.

“I’ll be there soon okay baby girl. And I’m bringing the bike.” even just his voice soothed you.

He hangs up once you confirm again that you’re in fact safe. You put your hair into a quick braid so when you’re on the bike your hair doesn’t rat and matt together.

Not too long after the call you hear the roar of Colson’s motorcycle coming round the corner. You wave your hand above your head to make sure he sees you and he does.

Pulling over to the curb you wait for him to shut everything off, but once he is off of his seat you’re melting into his embrace not caring about the eyes that stare nearby.

“Shh its okay, I got you. I got you.” Colson whispers into your hair his hands rubbing your back.

His chest muffled the sounds of your sobs as he let you cry it out, not prying you to tell him what happened just yet.

Once you feel like you have gotten it all out of your system you tilt your head up towards his and say “Can we go now please.” your voice comes out hoarse and unrecognizable.

Colson can’t stand seeing you like this and not knowing what happened to make you a mess like this either. But he will wait for you to tell him, for now at least.

His hands smoothed over your hair with his chin resting against your forehead. This was going to be all over the internet tomorrow but surprisingly he wasn’t thinking about any of that.

"Where do you want to go sweetheart?" Colson asked while his fingers rubbed circles into your back.

You always loved it when he would sprinkle casual pet names like that into a conversation, it always made you feel some type of way.

"Can we not go home yet. Just anywhere but home right now. I don't want the guys to see me like this" Colson’s heart leaps at the fact that you consider the house home.

His hands smooth over your shoulders one last time.

"I think I know the perfect place. Come on."

You nod and grab the helmet and clip it under your chin. Colson nods to you to ask if you’re ready you nod back.

Revving the engine Colson gives you one last look and you wrap your arms around his back.

At first, you guys go slow because of the bustling streets of the city but the further out you get the faster he goes.

The wind doesn’t quite hit your face, it’s more like the breeze is giving you a hug cause it envelopes your entire body and the features of your face.

You guys go over a small hill and your stomach does a fun little flip, your arms tighten as a reaction and you can hear Colson let out a hearty laugh. Everything about this moment was exhilerating; the speed and the warmth radiating off of Colson’s body gave you butterflies, a whole swarm of them.

Leaning into him more, you realize just how grateful you’re to have someone as kind and caring as him in your life and remind yourself to thank him for everything.

After riding for about forty-five minutes Colson turns into this gravel area and stops the bike.

There is a bench that is softly lit by the nearby street light and you can faintly make out some stars in the sky, the ones you rarely saw because of the amount of light pollution that is everywhere in Los Angeles.

The both of you stand up and you wait for Colson to get off of the bike to swing your leg over and set your already unclipped helmet aside.

Your attention shifts up to Colson who’s hair is messed up more than usual because of the cool night breeze that touseled it on the way there, you smiled and reached up on your tiptoes to try and smooth down the blond mop on his head.

“What are you doing to my head?” Colson chuckles.

“Trying to fix it” you are in his personal space and he only realizes how close you’re when you bring your hand back down and stand normally.

“So what is this place?” you asked the question on your mind.

Colson scratched the back of his neck and ran his hand through his hair mussing it yet again.

“I uh found this place one night while trying to clear my head. It’s far enough out that you can see some of the stars clearly on nights like this. And I remember you saying how much you like just looking at the stars back at the fest last year. And well... here we are.” he explains.

Honestly, you’re surprised that Colson remembers that, I mean after being friends for all these years you shouldn’t be surprised but yet here he is hands stuffed in his pockets with one of those barely-there smiles plastered on his face. And just something about the entire situation made you smile as well.

Grabbing Colson’s wrist you drag him to the edge of this hill right where the slight drop off is that leads to this open field filled with flowers and grass.

You look at him with eyes full of spirit and say “We are going down there to properly stargaze”.

“Like in some cheesy coming of age teen movie,” Colson asks humor filling his tone.

You nod fast and boop his nose, excited ignoring his attempt to poke fun at your idea “Exactly.”

Without another word, you let go of him and slide down the side of the hill then letting your legs go and run the rest of the way, leaving Colson behind laughing too hard.

When you reach the spot you had chosen to stargaze you stare up to the top of the hill and yell “Come on big bird!”

Colson gets this rush at you calling him by the nickname you haven’t used in years.

He does the same as you but his long legs get caught up in the momentum and he legit cannot stop but luckily you chose a spot far enough out that the least he does is fall beside you on the grassy knoll.

You’re laughing so hard your hands grip your stomach for some sort of relief but to no avail, you just laugh harder when Colson uses a playfully serious voice and face then says “What are you laughing about missy”. Laughter overcame both of you, you fall over from the intensity of it and your head hits Colson’s chest and a couple of snorts escaped you making the whole thing more comedic.

Looking up to the sky you start noticing some of the constellations and your laughter slowly fades as your astonishment increases.

Colson throws his arm over your collarbones, his laughing had stopped with yours a few moments ago and a soft silence rested between the two of you.

“Y/N?” Colson questioned. You hum in response.

“I haven’t heard you call me that nickname in years what was it that caused the comeback” he was referring to when you called up to him a few minutes ago.

You rest your arm on top of his and lightly draw with your fingers onto his skin.

“I don’t really know, it was kind of just the first thing that came to my head. Why, does it bother you?”.

He softly says “No.” and you leave it at that.

Colson feels short of breath from the way you’re softly circling his inked skin, but he convinces himself it is from the running.

Colson knows deep down that isn’t the real answer but feels somewhat guilty because of yours and his history as friends and doesn’t want that dynamic between you two to change. But it is getting harder and harder to ignore the bursts of feelings he gets around you.

Your voice snaps him out of his debating thoughts “Thank you” you say, eyes still glued on the sky above you.

“For what?” Colson sits up on one of his elbows and you follow suit, pulling your hand off of his arm and into your own lap.

“Well besides being my best friend, Thank you for coming and getting me. I really didn’t want to be alone and you always make me feel safe no matter what.” you avoid Colson’s gaze for a moment but give in after a second looking back up at him.

His eyes were radiant even in the dark speckled sky and sometimes you would let yourself get lost in them but rarely had the chance because of conflicting emotions inside you.

“There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you Y/N. Hell, I would even help you hide a body need be” Colson chuckled and you right with him.

A cool breeze came by and you shivered from the goosebumps forming on your skin, remembering you left your coat at the bar in the rush to get out of there, but at least your pockets were big enough to hold your important belongings.

Colson notices your lack of outerwear and asks “Where is your jacket? You must be cold.”

You know it is time to tell him what happened and you also knew how furious he was going to be.

“Y/N here” Colson takes off his hoodie and even though you try to protest you know you’re too cold to argue. Letting him slip the fabric over your head, the hoodie so oversized that you’re practically swimming in it. “Are you going to tell me what happened?” Colson asked his voiced teetering on the edge of being gentle but forward and to the point. He rests his hand on your shoulder hopefully bringing you some ease.

You look down at the grass and run your fingers through the long strands poking up from the earth.

It was a short story really but it was enough for Colson to understand “He grabbed me without my permission”.

You could see the fury boiling behind Colson’s eyes and in your way to diffuse the situation you tell him the aftermath “Then I broke his nose”.

This worked in the way you hoped it would Colson lunged at you and engulfed you in a hug saying with laughter bubbling in his words “That’s my girl”.

Much like Colson’s, your heart lunged in your chest at his words.

After releasing from the hug you pull the too-long sleeves up to your face to rub the soft fabric against your face; while doing so you get a smell of him in the fabric.

“What are you doing” Colson laughed lightly at your action.

Without thinking you blurt out “You smell nice”. You realize almost immediately realize what you said and try to cover your face that is filled with embarrassment.

Pulling your hands from your face with no words Colson holds your hands in his.

And in a moment of weakness, he lets himself stare at you totally ignoring the war he was having with himself just for a moment and tried his best to remember every detail of your face.

You weren’t sure what he was looking at so you pulled one of your hands away from him and touched your face trying to feel for something out of the ordinary.

“Is there something on my face” you lock eyes with Colson.

Resting your hand on your cheek he says “Uh yeah c’mere” his hand rests on top of yours rubbing the soft skin of your face. Without holding yourself back your eyes flicker to his lips, ‘so soft’ you thought to yourself. “Did you get it” you whisper not trusting your voice to come out clear and steady.

“Not quite” he whispered back, moving his hand from your cheek to your lips and softly brushes his thumb over your bottom lip.

“...there” Colson inched closer to your face agonizingly slow trying to give you plenty of time to back out if you wanted.

But that was the last thing you wanted to do, and you had no idea until now that this was something you wanted.

Here you were sitting in the grass not completely sure of your emotions at this moment but you knew that when he was touching you like this it was like electricity was bursting and flowing through every part of your body and that you didn’t want it to stop.

He was halfway to your lips in the space between you and kind of stuck there, so taking a leap of faith you lean into where your faces were only inches apart.

His breathing hitched in his throat not expecting you to be so...willing.

You rested your forehead against Colson’s before flushing all of the boundaries of friendship down the drain.

Hearing an obnoxious ring you and Colson simultaneously scoff, you’re the first one to pull away and the reality of everything that just happened to hit you all at once.

Moving away you create space between you and Colson lightheaded from the entire situation that had your head spinning with a whirlwind of thoughts.

Pulling your phone from your pocket you answer it so fast you forget to check the caller I.D.

Greeting the person on the other end you say “Hello” rather sharply.

“Y/N” the person said in a low voice and the back of your neck gets goosebumps because of the stark fear you feel from knowing who it is.

“What the fuck do you want David” you surprise yourself with how strong your voice comes out and the fact that you didn’t just hang up.

“Well fuck, you left your jacket behind and gee I figured being the nice guy I am I would return it to you, even though you broke my fucking nose. Which you’re paying for by the way”.

Now you were just fuming, the guy touches you inappropriately and you are supposed to pay for his rightfully broken nose, hell to the no.

You start yelling into the phone about how much of a douchebag he is but Colson carefully rips the phone from your hands and says in a serious but fear striking tone; “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are David…” Colson says his name mockingly.

“...But you will not speak or try to see Y/N ever again.”

“And who the fuck are you to tell me what to do. You should have seen the little broad tonight, a sexy girl ain’t she.” David said sickly.

Colson had him on speaker as he took the information about this guy from your phone to his own and you visibly shook yourself to try and shake the comment off.

“Stay the fuck away from her or else that broken nose will be the least of your worries. I am not forgiving or keen towards little boys who think they’re men and that gives them the right to touch a woman without her permission. Now I know I have made myself clear, keep the jacket you jackass.” and with that Colson hung the phone up.

You stare at him in awe at how he handled the situation and managed to make you feel safe and secure yet again.

Finishing up transferring the info to his phone when he hands you back your cell he scrolls on his phone and says “I blocked his number for you and all of his other info but if he gives you a problem you let me know okay.” he looks up at you for an answer and you nod still in shock from the control Colson has.

“And um… could you stay at the house for at least tonight and tomorrow, I wouldn’t put it past this guy to go to your apartment and I want you to be safe.” Colson says sheepishly.

You set your hand on his knee and give it a gentle squeeze saying “Of course I will, thank you”.

You also assume you both are ignoring the almost kiss that just happened minutes before, or what if that’s not even what he was trying to do in the first place, there must have actually been something on your face that’s why he was so close and holding your head in his hand that way. Pushing the feelings of doubt down you decide to make the atmosphere between the two of you back to normal as you could.

“Guys can be such asshole sometimes,” you admit.

Something about you saying this makes the anger bubble inside Colson.

The contrast between his tone a moment ago to now was alarming “The guys you like are assholes, that’s all” Colson says coldly.

You take his words to heart and snap back at him “What is your problem?”

“It’s just you have got this weird affinity for guys who treat you like shit, I don’t fucking understand it.”

His words hit you hard because he was pretty spot on and that is what hurts the most.

You looked him in the eyes and said with no emotion in your face or voice “You’re right”.

It is only then that Colson realizes his words and how much they hurt you, he was speaking off off pure jealousy and we all know that never ends well. He tries to choke out an apology but you turn away and say flatly “Let’s just go home.”

You start making the hike up the hill towards the bike without turning back, which made Colson’s heart come to a realization he should have known so much sooner.

It all made sense that his subconscious seemed to know it before he fully did. Sabotaging dates was so much more than them not being good for you, he just couldn’t stand seeing or knowing you were with someone else. That your heart had the capability of having room for someone else other than him.

Seeing you walk away from him made him realize just how much he loved you and how long he has as well. But even though he now knew how he felt there was still no way he had any clue that you felt the same exact way.

The ride home was silent between you and Colson. You didn’t squeeze onto him tighter when an unexpected turn or bump came by, or just because you felt like it.

When the two of you got home you muttered a soft thank you not bothering to stick around to see if he had heard it or not.

You went straight to his room and grabbed your pajamas from your spot in his closet then went to the spare bedroom and changed into the comfy clothes. You didn’t have any of your products there so you just washed your face with one of the guy’s face wash and hoped it would do the job. After finishing up you headed to the kitchen to find at the very least a small snack to fill the void in your stomach but instead found Rook in there making a wrap and then starting a second one.

“You want one?” he questioned and as if on cue your stomach growled audibly and you both laugh.

“I’ll take that as a yes” Rook chuckles.

You stay silent as Rook finishes wrapping the ingredients up into the tortilla then handing the plate to you like it is his greatest creation.

Waiting till you take a bite of the food Rook asks “ Are you and Kells alright, something seemed off when you two came in.” Rook said with concern lacing his voice.

“...We had a fight is all. Things between us are a bit complicated at the moment. He has a right to be upset about tonight though” You have a hard time finding the words but you tell him the truth nonetheless.

His eyes flicker up to yours sliding the wrap over towards you.

“You guys will be good though,” Rook says.

You nodded cause you know deep down he was right, but you were still upset and hurt by Colson’s words, and both parties both had the right to feel that way.

After finishing your wrap you were on your way to the spare room to hopefully sleep off the tiring day and the feelings that lingered. But of course, the guys had other plans, guiding you towards the pool table they sat you down in a chair. “Guys what is going on,” you ask genuinely confused.

“You’re going to tell us what happened,” Slim says with his arms crossed.

“Yeah um no.” trying to stand up but being sat back down on the seat, okay now you knew they weren’t playing around.

Rook and Baze started playing while listening closely.

“Okay, whatever” you say defeated.

You explained everything from the backhanded compliments and even the broken nose, which they laughed at just as Colson did but somehow it felt...different.

And then just as you expected all three of them wanted to find this guy and as the cliches, they’re said they wanted to “teach him a lesson”.

Letting them blow off some steam by going back and forth talking about and going into great detail of how they would make him fear for his life, you only mention after you assume they have gotten most of it out of their systems that Colson already took care of it and that you could handle yourself.

That seemed to calm them down enough because they knew it was handled and that you were tough enough most of the time to defend yourself when need be as well.

You stand up and start walking in the direction of the spare room but Rook catches your attention as you turn the corner.

“What’s going on?” You ask as his hand resting on your shoulder.

“Um, I just want you to know that if it were me instead of that guy tonight, I would have made it a great time.” You were shocked, to say the least, he was so forward which you weren’t expecting and you didn’t expect for him to basically insinuate that he would like to ask you out.

Your mouth must have been hanging open cause Rook continues and says “What I am saying is, will you go out with me sometime Y/N?”

Still confused but kind of curious you say something you had no idea would come out of your mouth either, you said yes.

Then that was that and he went back to playing pool and you went to the spare room. The only thing he had mentioned was it would be tomorrow night. But you honestly weren’t sure if you saw Rook that way I mean I guess you wouldn’t know until you tried but you were ninety-nine percent sure until a mere minutes ago that you and Rook’s relationship was purely platonic.

You get to the spare bedroom and fall onto the bed back first.

Staring at the ceiling you try to unravel and solve how so much happened that night and how ready you were to go to sleep.

Plugging in your phone for the rest of the night you tuck yourself in and pick a playlist to sleep to, falling out of consciousness.

Tap, Tap, Tap.

Rolling over to the nightstand you go to pause what you thought was the sound of your music but instead you hear the door creak open. Still half asleep you aren’t as worried as you should be about the figure standing in the door frame.

“Who’s there” Your words slur together in a mumbled voice.

“Jus- me” another tired voice groggily says.

It takes you a moment to figure out who ‘Me’ exactly is but once you do you ask just to confirm.

“Colson?” you roll around towards where he is standing on the opposite side of the bed.

“Yeah” is all he says still standing there.

You pull yourself even further from sleep when you ask “Why are you here” remembering that you’re still upset with him.

He doesn’t say anything for a while and you start to think he woke you up just to be mean but then he takes a sharp intake of breath and that’s when you know he is sorry before he even actually says it.

“I couldn’t sleep knowing you were mad at me…” he barely whispers.

“I forgive you,” You say knowing that was his best version of an apology.

“No, I’m sorry Y/N I had no right.” you were shocked yet again and his actual apology warmed your heart, like the spark that ignited the fire.

“Again I forgive you, Besides I don’t like it when we fight either.” You’re now sat upon the backs of your elbows.

Now Colson just stood there silent and it kind of freaked you out because when he was quiet no good could come from it.

“What’s wrong,” you ask softly and with a caring tone.

Even in the dark, you can feel Colson’s eyes bore into your figure.

“I just don’t want to be alone...maybe we could sit on the couch or..” Colson being vulnerable in front of you was a rare occurrence so you cut him off.

“Just get in here you dumbass” Your laughter assures him that it is okay.

Sliding under the covers next to you, your pulse quickens unexpectedly.

This wouldn’t be the first time you and Colson had shared a bed, but with these new feelings that you tried so desperately to ignore were growing and multiplying as fast as gremlins who were fed after midnight.

Even with the amount of extra space on the bed that Colson could be, he chose to be face to face with you. So close in fact that you can feel his breath tickle the peach fuzz on your face and now you were suddenly self-conscious about your breath fanning his face as well.

For the second time, tonight Colson’s forehead rests against yours and you internally convince yourself that whatever happens, you will not do a thing to stop it, cause just what if he felt even a sliver of how you did.

You close your eyes relaxing in the presence of your best friend.

Whispering again Colson’s breath wafted of mint and just a hint of weed lingering; “Can I hold you?”

You reply with an even quieter “yes” afraid that if your volume rose it would somehow ruin the entire atmosphere that shrouded the two of you at this moment.

“Being with you always helps me fall asleep” Colson’s arm outstretched giving you the time to curl into his chest.

You do exactly that, tucking the top of your head under his chin and letting your hands gently caress his bare chest that still even with the lack of clothing remained cozy.

Both of his arms wrap around your waistline, holding you just tight enough which made the safety he always made you feel just multiply.

Without even a second thought you wrap your legs with his own and neither of you complains in the slightest at the affection you both desperately needed from each other.

“You’re ridiculously comfortable” you mumble and Colson just barely giggles.

Even though this wasn’t the first time you and Colson have layed with each other, somehow he always had this way to make you feel protected and loved at all times and whether that was intentional or not you had no clue but appreciated it nonetheless; and it made you think back to the first time you and Colson cuddled and how no matter how many times you guys end up in this position how nervous you’re at first but then slowly calm like the wind from day to day.

Colson’s hand brushed up your spine and let out a soft chuckle as to not displace your frame on top of him. “Are you still wearing my hoodie?” he asked.

“Mhmm, it smells like you.” you prop your head up with your hand to try and look at him clearly in the dark.

Colson was at a loss for words, he rested his palm on your cheek as best as he could in the darkened room.

And to his surprise, you leaned into his touch causing a flurry of emotions to stir up inside of him.

Brushing his thumb against your skin he whispers softly making a confession just as you did;

“You always make my clothes look better on you.” you can’t help but blush at his words.

Sheepishly you say “My bad?” you joke with him.

“No, I mean I love it.” the softness of his voice, the way his hands are holding your face and waist like your something so precious, and his eyes are looking straight into your own.

It was like you could tell just by looking into his eyes there were no walls up between the two of you.

Reaching out your hand you touch the outline of Colson’s jaw as if it was the most natural thing in the world. You and Colson had never been ones to shy away from casual affection but this is different not quite sure how but its as if you both feel it.

You move your hand to trace the inked skin near his neck, it was such an intimate gesture but you continued anyway.

Colson’s hand was still against your face softly spinning circles with his thumb every once in a while.

You feel him take in a large breath different from the rhythm he previously was following.

Ripping your gaze from his chest you look him right in the eyes, the curtains let in just a tiny bit of moonlight but it was enough the see his eyes sparkle back towards you.

It took you at least a minute to remember what your words were, lost in his gaze it made your head spin and your heart drop down to the floor, and metaphorically you were struggling to pick it up and put it back into your chest.

Then you asked the question that deep down you were scared to hear the answer too but you stayed true to the promise you made to yourself once he held you against him minutes ago, or it could possibly be longer, time didn’t exist at the moment.

“What’s on your mind? Bringing your hand up to play with a piece of hair that hung in front of his eye.

Again he takes in a big breath and you feel him sit up slightly, misplacing you a bit from the comfortable position you were in.

Before he answers Colson adjusts your body on top of his again, your legs curled up on either side of his own as he withstood your body weight on top of him.

Sitting up a little as well you look at him with a worried expression which gives him the cue to just spill the truth that was running rampant in his head.

“We’re not just friends, right?” his hands never leave your waist as he says those words that could make it or break it for both of them.

You take a second the think of what you are going to say, and where you want this conversation to go.

But throwing all caution into the wind you know that this is one of those times where only the truth was the best answer.

“I don’t think so. Not anymore anyways.” you gulped at your words, leaving the next move up to Colson.

You see his eyes go wide in the unlit room and you don’t know how to take his expression.

Was he scared, angry, or surprised? Any of those emotions could fit right now and that worried you.

“Do you... Think we are more?” he says hesitantly absent-mindedly moving his hand up and down your back as a way to distract and soothe himself.

“That all depends on your next choice of words.” you weren’t bearing your entire soul out to him until he gave you the reassurance that you needed.

He just looked at you, like one of those looks that someone gives when they are trying to figure out what the other is thinking and or feeling.

One of Colson’s hands leaves their spot from your midsection and he pulls you closer to him from underneath your legs; before knitting his fingers into your hair smoothing the strands to calm himself.

He knew that the universe has somehow set this moment up, to give him probably the one and only chance to admit his feelings.

Softly gripping your face with his hands you give him your full attention.

“I love you…” he declares and you go to open your mouth to say something along the lines of ‘I knew that’ trying to convince yourself that he meant it like you guys always have but Colson cuts you off before you can even try,

Dipping his head down to catch your wandering and panicked gaze he says “And I don’t mean that in a brotherly way or any other possible way than me admitting that Y/N I am in love with you. So hopelessly in love with you. And even though it scares the hell out of me I know it is true.”

His gaze bore into you and without a second thought you admitted as well “I love you too Colson.”

Your voice was quiet and shaky but it was true and that’s all that mattered.

Eyes flickering to Colson’s lips, you lean towards him slowly without realizing it.

Colson’s hand moves to your back pressing you as close as he can while the other cups your face just underneath your jaw.

Colson felt every emotion at that moment; joy, fear, and exhilaration.

Your foreheads bump against each other and you both chuckle with embarrassment at the lack of coordination.

Resting there for a second forehead against forehead, practically tasting each other’s breath you are sure that the anticipation is gone and that you let yourself get your hopes up.

But Colson whispers and it almost makes you giggle because of his breath fanning on your skin.

“Y/N can I kiss you?” his thumb circles the apple of your cheek waiting for your permission.

And you answer him, just not with words.

Taking charge you pull Colsons face towards yours, trying so desperately to fill the gap between you both.

You let your entire body curve into him, your noses bumping in anticipation.

Softly you let your lips feather over his for a moment, but then your eyes flutter shut when Colson fully presses his lips onto yours, taking your actions as your answer.

His hands cupped your face as to not let you fall away or into pieces, which at this moment you were pretty sure was possible.

Every and all thoughts escaped your mind leaving everything blank inside of your head.

It wasn’t just that you were kissing Colson and the fact that he was kissing you right back; it was the way he held your face in his hands like you were something too special to let go of.

After a few seconds, you both have to break apart in order to breathe.

Foreheads resting on each other your lips don’t stray too far from one another so when you speak you are murmuring the words against his mouth.

Eyes still closed with your mouth agape, you feel the same as times in the past when you would drink on an empty stomach.

Lightheaded and wispy.

Speaking without filtering anything you say “Woah” as soft as can be; you weren’t sure if Colson had heard you but when he exhales with a breathy laugh you knew for sure that he did.

“Woah, is right” Colson replies rubbing the side of his nose to yours in an innocent gesture.

Then it felt like everything caved in on you at once, you had just kissed your best friend.

And even though you should be panicking about what all of this means you smile instead when Colson pulls you back in for another kiss, this time he tilts your head back deepening the action of the kiss.

Taken back a little you hum as a response to his actions.

Almost all doubt flew away from your mind when he pulled you back in because you knew he wanted this, he wanted you just as much as you have wanted him even if it wasn’t so long ago that your feelings for him blossomed.

After many hushed kisses and repetition of ‘I love you’s’, the two of you melt into the mattress and one another drifting off to sleep.

The next morning, well afternoon; you woke up tangled up in Colson content as can be.

Even though you knew you and Colson had to talk about all of this at some point, you were no longer worried about the drastic dynamic change between you both.

Colson’s arms were fully wrapped around your waist, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

One of your hands that was stuck underneath his tall frame grazed his back, and not being able to resist the urge to touch him in the mid day glow peeking through the curtains your freehand brushes his unruly hair from his still shut eyes.

Arms tightening around your body, Colson groans; signaling to you that he is waking up.

Pecking him on the lips in hopes he will open his eyes he groans again.

“What?” you giggle when you speak for the first time that day.

Colson pulls one of his arms from around you and points to his lips “Another” he says his voice all raspy.

You go in to give him another quick peck but he uses his free hand to hold you there, giving you a real kiss that leaves you breathless.

When you break apart your eyes are now closed, not being able to come back down to earth.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” Colson tucks a messy thing of hair behind your ear.

Forcing your eyes open you look at Colson with this gleam in his own eyes.

“You really think so?” you question him for reassurance.

“Inside and out baby” he kisses your forehead.

Your cheeks flush at this new normal between you two, moving so you can rest your head on his chest.

Then you suddenly remember the yes you told a certain someone the night before.

“Ah, Shit” you curse.

Worried Colson questions quickly “What’s wrong?”

After last night there was no way you were going to lie to him, so you tell him the truth.

“I totally forgot I told Rook that I would go out with him tonight…” before you can even explain to him that you were going to tell Rook about what happened with you and Colson and hoped he understood;

Colson was ripping the covers off and barging to the door saying “I’m gonna kill him.”

Even though you knew he wasn’t going to actually kill him you ran after him to find him trying to corner Rook in the kitchen.

Rook had his hands up in surrender and was trying to explain himself, but you couldn’t hear him over the sound of Colson spewing profanities at Rook.

Coming up behind him you put your hand on Colson’s back and he calms instantly.

“Colson let him speak” you demand.

Letting his arms fall to his sides in defeat he gestures to Rook to speak.

“We knew you guys liked each other and as a push, I asked Y/N out to try and get at least one of you to spill your feelings beforehand. It wasn’t going to go any further than a ruse I swear.” Rook kept his arms up awaiting the worst.

Now a normal person would be angry at this, but no one in this house was normal so you and Colson busted up laughing leaving Rook standing there confused.

The rest of the group made their way into the kitchen sharing the same expression Rook did.

Walking up to Rook you laughed in between your words placing a hand on his shoulder“You guys tried to play us is it ?” you say with humor filling your voice.

“Wait I am so confused. What is so funny?” Rook says his eyes flickering between the two of you trying to connect the dots but failing to do so before you and Colson spill the beans.

You and Colson glance at each other and just smile.

“Y/N Bring your pretty little butt over here.” his arms are wide open and you oblige, speed walking back over to him. He pulls you into his embrace and spins you above the ground slightly.

Looking at the group Colson speaks saying “We have got it handled” rubbing his hands up and down your back.

The guys looked at each other finally understanding what has occurred.

“All I have to say is it is about fucking time.” Baze unleashes.

Everyone laughs together and you have this content feeling in your soul that even though you don’t know what the future holds for you and Colson; you do know that everything is going to be okay and you were happy with that. Reaching up on your tippy-toes you connect your kips with Colson’s with hopefully many more to come.

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ahgaseda · 4 years

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two can keep a secret || chapter 10

⇥ synopsis : when your father reveals his intention to remarry, you find an unlikely confidant in Mark, your soon-to-be stepbrother, but what began as a revenge fling ironically becomes far more complicated...

⇥ warnings : this story in its entirety includes but is not limited to strong language and dialogue, recurring alcohol and drug use, and explicit sexual content, and is intended for an adult audience only!

Mark sat in the hospital hallway for God knows how long. At the start, he had stood just beyond the door to your room, but after the first blood-curdling scream left you, his knees buckled and he slumped to the floor.

And there he sat. Nurses and doctors passed by without a word. The clock ticked on the opposite wall at a glacial pace. Mark stared at his fists held limply in his lap. He had never felt so helpless in his life, but he was vaguely comforted that Jackson was in there with you, holding your hand.

Time kept crawling by. Mark rubbed at his tears roughly. Was it his fault this was happening to you? Didn’t really matter if it was or not, because he would blame himself forever.

Mark had never imagined the white picket fence life for himself, but you changed his mind. For someone who was convinced he was wholly unlovable, Mark was ready to bend and break his life around you just for loving him.

So Mark prayed to whatever gods would listen. Prayed you would be okay. Prayed the baby would pull through. He swore with everything he had that he would make it work. He would be whatever you needed and he would be all that his father wasn’t.

The door finally opened and Mark heard footsteps shuffling out. You had quieted sometime during his prayers and that made Mark nervous.

At long last, Jackson stepped out. “You can go in now,” he said softly.

Mark leaned forward, like someone had socked him in the gut. He buried his face in his hands and could no longer hold the tears at bay.

Jackson crouched down, clapping his best friend on the shoulder and shaking him a little. “Get up, bro,” he said after a moment.

Mark sobbed, “What do I say?”

“You say whatever you have to so she can get through this,” Jackson told him rather firmly. “You and me… we will never know what that pain is like.”

Mark bobbed his head and composed himself, rising shakily to his feet with a strong arm from Jackson.

Jackson held him steady and once convinced his friend was stable, gave him a nod and cocked his head toward the room.

Dragging his feet, Mark entered and shut the door quietly behind him.

You lay in the hospital bed, hands overlapped on your stomach, eyes somewhere on the window opposite him. When you heard the footsteps, you used what little energy you had to turn and look at him, whispering, “Hi.”

“Hi,” he said back, pulling up the nearest chair beside your bed and plopping down heavily.

“It was…,” you choked, voice faltering in an instant. You bit your lip, eyes filling with a new wave of tears. “They said this happens. It happens for any number of reasons.”

Mark reached forward, taking your hand and holding it between his own. “Okay,” he sighed, wanting you to know he understood, but he lacked the words to convey any of what he felt.

You stared at him, seeing he had been crying out of your sight. Gripping his hand tightly, you sucked in a breath and rasped, “I lost the baby, Mark.”

Mark had known that deep down, but hearing you say it knocked the wind out of him regardless. “It’s okay,” he tried to console you, stroking your fingers.

Your face tensed with agony. The lingering pain in the core of your body was nothing compared to the pain in your chest, where your heart was twisting violently. “I put so much stress on it and me and…,” you trailed, looking away.

Mark’s first instinct was to reprimand you for blaming yourself for something completely out of your control, but he couldn’t bear to scold you. “Stop,” he interjected gently, looking at you with intent. “It’s not your fault.”

You pulled your hand from his grasp and hid your face behind your palms, sobbing, “I’m sorry.”

Mark reached for your wrists, prying them back. He wouldn’t allow you to hide in shame. “Don’t ever apologize,” he said shakily, another surge of sadness hitting him.

You cried when he rose from his chair and cradled you in his arms. You buried your face in his chest and cried until you had no more tears left. Mark did, too. You could feel him shuddering against you, trying to conceal his own emotion for the sake of yours.

When you finally stilled, Mark pulled away, surveying your face and rubbing his thumbs over your damp cheeks. Seeing you like this - broken and hurting - was threatening to tear him apart.

“I should have told you,” was all you could bring yourself to say.

Mark brought your hand to his lips and pressed a chaste kiss. “I forgive you.”

You sighed, “I didn’t want to make you stay with me.”

Mark met your eyes. The two of you had never been so raw, so laid bare to each other and vulnerable than in that moment. “I’m here to stay,” he said, a quiet and solemn promise.

You smiled faintly. “Please hold me.”

Mark stood again and moved to the opposite side of the bed, crawling in alongside you and molding himself to your body. You leaned into him, rubbing your hand over his arm where it lay across your waist. Mark held you tightly and the warmth of him soothed your aching heart.

For a moment, only silence filled the room and it was what you both needed. You drew strength from each other. You focused on the feeling of his arms around you. Each time your mind drifted back to the baby, the one you would never get to meet, you looked into Mark’s eyes for some kind of anchor.

You could see he was an overflowing well of love for you. And love was all that could push past the pain.

When you had stilled, no longer constantly on the verge of tears, Mark spoke tenderly to you, “Hey, listen to me. In a couple years, after we work through all our shit, we’ll have, like, the most beautiful baby ever.”

You stared at him. The unexpected words made you smile. “You think?”

“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “We can have as many as you want.”

You chuckled briefly and confessed something you had never told anyone, “I always pictured myself with two.”

Mark kissed your temple and whispered, “Well, start including me in that picture.”

Tears gathered in your eyes, but unlike the others, they weren’t from a place of sadness. “I missed you,” you breathed, almost inaudibly.

Mark grit his teeth. He didn’t have the energy to cry anymore, but that almost killed him. He squeezed you snugly in his arms, buried his face in the crook of your neck, and joined you in sleep.

You were woken by the nurse coming in to check your vitals. She discussed your follow-up care and recommended the availability of counseling. You nodded, knowing you were too emotional to be rational at the moment.

Mark was a steady constant at your side, his level breathing put you at ease as it always did. You wanted to lay there and sleep in his arms until the end of days.

When Jackson came in after the nurse left, your brow furrowed.

“Your father is here,” said Jackson carefully. “He wants to see you whenever you’re ready.”

“You told him?”

Jackson nodded. “Exactly like you asked me to.”

The hospital had told you notifying next of kin was non-negotiable. That was your father. You let Jackson call him and explain the situation. Now, you were ready to face the consequences.

“Mark,” you called, jostling him.

Mark startled awake, glancing you over worriedly and asking, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, but I need a moment. My Dad is here.”

Mark’s nostrils flared and he entered fight response quicker than you thought possible.

You slipped your hand to his chest and coaxed, “It’s okay. We’re just gonna talk.”

Mark reluctantly clambered out of your bed, moving with Jackson to the door. “I’ll be right outside,” he said sternly.

You nodded.

When your father walked in, you felt like a child again. You remembered how close the two of you had once been, how you used to think he could do anything in the world. And the moment you saw him, you wished he could make it all better.

Your father took one look at you and collapsed into the chair at your side. He hung his head in shame and stammered, “This is all my fault.”

You shook your head. “No, I carry the blame.”

He propped his elbows on your bed and took your hand in his own, cheeks stained with tears. “I’ve done nothing but drive around and think since I left that house.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I never realized how much pain I put you in. It never crossed my mind. And for that I’m ashamed. I failed as a father.”

You reminded gently, “You’re only human.”

“I was so caught up trying to fill this hole inside of me that your mother left.”

Hearing the mere mention of your mother made your tears return and you whispered, “I think I was doing the same thing.”

He continued with a heavy heart and a trembling voice, “Your mother was the love of my life. I tried to replace her. But you are all I have left of her. I’m sorry. Please come home.”

You gave him a tender smile. “I forgive you.”

Mark paced back and forth. He was cycling through emotions faster than he thought possible. Anger and sadness, anger and sadness. For the time being, Mark thought that was all he was capable of anymore.

When your father emerged, the two stared each other down.

“You okay, kid?”

Mark blinked in surprise at the kindness, but his reply was rough, “I’m fine.”

Your father approached, mulling over his words. “I will never approve of you being with my daughter, but… I don’t think I’ll ever approve of anyone dating my baby girl.”

Mark stood his ground and said, “I love her.”

“I’m sorry this happened to both of you.”

Mark wanted to be vindictive, wanted to blame your father in some way for the loss, but he was exhausted and he knew that wasn’t what you wanted. With a sigh, Mark finally asked, “Truce?”

Your father nodded in agreement.

You jolted a little when Jackson barreled into your room without warning. “Hey, so before I head outta here,” he began, pulling out four packs of pudding from his pockets. “I may or may not have stolen these from the food cart.”

You chortled weakly and immediately popped open one of the cups. “Jackson, you’re a good friend.”

Jackson gleamed and quipped, “That’s what I like to hear. You take it easy, alright?”

Your eyes shone with unspoken gratitude. You would never forget how Jackson had been there for you on this - your worst of days. “I will do my best.”

Jackson leaned in and pressed a kiss to your brow, then bid you farewell.

Mark returned, shutting the door in Jackson’s wake, and sat on the edge of your bed, glancing you over.

You simpered. The weight in the room was heavy. You wanted to set it afire. You naively thought if you did, maybe it would be like this day never happened.

Mark stared at you in wonder, still bemused by how effortlessly you had stolen his heart. Looking back, he never would have imagined falling in love with you. Now, it was all he could think about. At that thought, he asked, “Will you move in with me?”

Your answer was a firm, resounding, “No.”

Mark flinched, utterly shocked and confused. “No?” he questioned.

“I’m gonna go home,” you told him, placing your hand over his on your bed. “Work on straightening things out for a while.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna do the same. I just thought we would do it together,” Mark replied, failing to hide his hurt.

“I need time, Mark. This loss…,” you trailed, finding your voice. “It’s reopening old wounds.”

Mark saw the glistening in your eyes and relented. “You need to heal.”

You nodded. “In more ways than one.”

“I can live with that,” Mark said, lacing his fingers through yours.

You peered up at him, nervous to ask, “Will you wait for me?”

Mark considered it a worthless question. He was all in. “As long as you need me to.”

You smiled with relief and told him, “I love you.”

There were a vast number of things he wanted to say. He wanted to tell you he would get his act together. He would clean himself up. He would become someone you could be proud of. And most importantly, someone you could trust.

But in the end, he settled with, “I love you too.”

And that was more than enough for you.

The first month was the hardest. There were days you struggled to crawl out of bed. But it was during this time your relationship with your father began to mend. He was there for you, every waking moment.

While you grieved for your baby, he finally grieved for your mother.

The second month was a little better. You started letting Mark back into your life. He was your best friend and you needed him. Endless texts throughout the day. Falling asleep on the phone with him at night.

And he could barely hide his excitement when he told you his parents were potentially reconciling.

By the third month you could look in the mirror without letting your gaze falter. Though there were still times you sat in the window and stared off into the sky, wondering why.

Everything happens for a reason, Mark would text you. It had become his new mantra in life.

Your pregnancy broke the cycle; the cycle of vengeance and self-destruction. Though you didn’t get to keep it, that baby saved your life. And that was how you chose to accept and remember it.

“Everything happens for a reason,” you began telling your own reflection.

At some point, you adopted the words, too. You had to let go of the past and find a way to move on, but you knew without a doubt that Mark was a part of your future.

Checking yourself over in the mirror, you swayed a little. It had been longer than you cared to admit since you got this dolled up, wearing a pastel yellow dress and matching high heels. Once upon a time, Mark mentioned he liked yellow on you.

The last time you saw Mark was in that hospital room. Your heart was aflutter. You had changed so much since then. Like a lifetime had passed in just a few short months. Now, you were finally ready to see him and he was coming over for the first time. Hence, the pretty outfit you were sporting.

The sudden ringing of a doorbell tore you from your thoughts and you raced down the stairs to answer.

The moment you opened the door, Mark said, “Hey.”

“Hi,” you greeted sweetly.

He made no moves to step inside, standing shell-shocked on the porch as he glanced you over. “You look beautiful.”

You bit your lip and replied, “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Mark handed you a bouquet of assorted, vibrant flowers, which you hadn’t noticed at first. You were wholly distracted by him and how much you had missed his dumb, handsome face.

“Thank you,” you gasped in surprise, giving the flowers a sniff and finding their scent to be heavenly. “I love them.”

Mark smiled, trying to hide his awkwardness. “You’re welcome.”

“Come in,” you offered, waving him inside. Leading him into the kitchen, you found a vase to put the beautiful flowers in.

“How are you?” Mark asked. He texted you that every day. It was warm to finally hear the words in person.

You turned to him after positioning the flowers in the vase and said, “I’m good. How are you?”

Mark was over the moon to see your voice and expression match your words. You were glowing. Light was glistening in your eyes, but not from tears. Though staying away killed him, Mark respected your need to find yourself again and he was overcome with emotion to see the time had done you well.

“Never better,” he replied coolly.

Your thoughts were similar to his. He looked good. Not just in that Mark Tuan hot as hell kind of good, but he looked healthy and flushed with vitality. And it made your heart soar. “Glad to hear it.”

Mark really didn’t know what to do with himself so he cut right to the chase. “Can we… start over?”

You cocked a brow. “Clean slate?”

“The cleanest of slates,” he retorted.

You chuckled and never passed up an opportunity to tease him, “Shoot your shot, fuck boy.”

Mark flashed his teeth in a grin and began, “A little birdy told me you like Disney and guys that have really horrible social anxiety, but are sober and ready to grow the fuck up.”

At the word ‘sober,’ you wanted nothing more than to fling yourself into his arms and hug him with all of your might. You knew Mark had his demons to fight and you were relieved he was winning the battle. “In a nutshell,” you sang, gleaming.

“With that in mind, I was wondering if you would like to go on a date with me?”

You had never been on a date with Mark before and the idea made your pulse race with excitement. You couldn’t hope to hide the glee in your voice. “A date?”

Mark saw your face light up and he smiled broadly. “Yes.”

“What would we do?” you asked curiously.

Mark had obviously given that plenty of thought and answered, “I was thinking we could go see the Frozen sequel and eat lots of greasy, cheesy pizza.”

“Ah, dinner and a movie; the ideal first date,” you told him humorously, cheeks aching with your grin. “Sadly, the Frozen sequel came out on DVD last week.”

Mark gawked. “Damn it.”

You stepped toward him, heels clicking on the tile floor. “Improvise. I like guys that improvise.”

“I have a PlayStation. It plays Blu-Ray. Where is the nearest Wal-Mart? They would obviously have Frozen.”

You chuckled. “Obviously.”

“And every pizza joint delivers.”

You echoed the proposition back to him, “A night in? Pizza, Disney, and pajamas?”

Mark joked with a laugh, “Yes, but absolutely no sex. Zero.”

“Bummer,” you whispered facetiously.

Mark’s eyes widened. They practically twinkled. Then, his tone changed, “But I’ve had my full of nights in. I’m sure you have too. And as beautiful as you look, you should be flaunted.”

Of all your imaginings of what a date with Mark would look like, there was one you dreamt about the most. “It will be sunset soon. And I’ve missed the beach.”

“Okay, we can walk the beach and get to know each other,” agreed Mark playfully, pulling out his keys.

“Perfect,” you cheered, heading for the door with him in your wake.

“Hey,” said Mark, grabbing your hand and tugging gently.

You turned back to face him, expectant. “Yeah?”

Mark came close, speaking softly, “Don’t tell anyone, since it’s our first date and all, but I’m totally in love with you.”

You leaned in, pressing a sweet, chaste kiss to his lips, and whispered, “Your secret is safe with me.”

[ The End. ]

chapter 09 ⇤ chapter 10

Hey there, beautiful! If you enjoyed this, please leave a like or reblog or follow me! Or maybe buy me a coffee so I can keep writing? Or check out my masterlist here for more stories! Thanks for reading :) - Katya

This work is fictional and for entertainment purposes only, but is licensed and protected under a creative commons attribution-noncommercial-noderivatives 4.0 international license. Any instances of plagiarism will be dealt with accordingly. Do not re-post or translate without my permission.

#got7 fanfiction #mark tuan #mark tuan smut #got7 smut #mark smut #mark fanfic #got7 fanfic #mark fanfiction #mark scenario #got7 scenario #mark imagine #got7 imagine

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strawberryjmilk · 4 years

Text

at the end | lee jihoon

word count: 3135

paranormal hunter!jihoon, ghost!reader, gender neutral reader

TW : mentions of death! there are some bad words sprinkled in!

The Lee household was always plagued with rumors. It didn't help when one of the neighbors from across the street went missing, tallying the number of missing people too high for comfort. The Lee house was known for its mystery's — the biggest of all being how some people still claimed to see Lee Seokmin wandering around the yard, looking sad and heartbroken.

Coincidentally, a newcomer strode into town, a degree in demonology and only the finest equipment by his side. He'd been doing this for years — trying to make people see that demons and ghosts and whatever else simply didn't exist. It's what he lived for and what helped pay his bills. He could prove any weird feeling or mysterious sighting was all merely a coincidence.

And, coincidentally enough, he shared the same surname as the most haunted place in town.

—

He let out a sigh, his bangs fluffing up slightly from his breath. There were only two hotels in the small town, and he was not staying at the one that smelled only of sweat and cigarettes.

"Here to check in?" A voice called. He looked up to see a boy taller than himself, hair a mix between red and orange. He only nodded. The other boy smiled, "cool. I'm Jeon Wonwoo. If you need anything just ask! You are...?"

"Jihoon," he introduced, "Lee Jihoon."

As expected, Wonwoo's face paled at the name. He gulped, eyes dashing across every surface he could see before nodding. "Okay," Wonwoo squeaked, "here's your key."

Then Wonwoo just left. Jihoon blinked, before letting out another puff of breath. This town is weird, he thought, and way too superstitious. Shaking his head, Jihoon walked to his room before unlocking the door. He didn't think twice before plopping into his bed and falling asleep immediately.

He was awoken by drops. Drops of water that fell to his cheeks slowly, one-by-one. Blinking, Jihoon realized he couldn't open his eyes all the way nor could he move his body at all. His breathing stalled — it'd been a while since he was held by sleep paralysis.

Gasping breaths were coming from beside his ear, icy breath brushing against his cheek. "Don't," it whispered, "don't come to our house."

The feeling and sleep paralysis disappeared and Jihoon soon fell back asleep, forgetting it even happened.

———

Jihoon was at the library the next day. His hands sifting through old news articles — ones dated back so far that they didn't even try to log them into the computer. As far as he could tell, the narrative of the Lee household had aged as the town did.

That house and it's ghosts seemed to always exist.

But, attention was never drawn to the house until years ago, when a boy named Kim Taehyung disappeared. His story was similar to everyone else's — he moved near the Lee household and began talking about seeing a smiling boy. Days later, he'd disappeared without a trace.

The story repeated with numerous names — numerous people who were whisked away by a smiling boy. Jihoon couldn't even read about them all — he had a feeling there was more to the list. Joy; Seungmin; Minhyuk; Gahyeon; Jehyun; and the latest victim — Y/N.

Jihoon bit his lip as he leaned back in the library's chair. So many people — they just vanished and no one was doing anything about it. The house was searched — the Lee household was honestly the first place anyone looked when a person was declared missing. But, it was as empty as it had been for years.

He shook his head — he needed to get a closer look.

A girl with short, black hair was gardening when Jihoon arrived at the Lee house. She was just across the street from it, glancing at the unsteady and gray house from time to time. Jihoon paused before making his way to her, watching as she jumped at every noise she heard.

"Hey," he spoke. The girl looked at him wide-eyed and he finally noticed her trembling hands and wobbling lip. Fear was the only thing clouding her eyes. Jihoon furrowed his eyebrows, "are you alright?"

She parted her cracked lips, eyes growing hazed and blurred as her mind drifted. "It's been a year since." That's all she would say in a tired, worn voice. "It's been a year and sometimes I can still see them, waving at me sadly."

Jihoon watched as the girl blinked before she looked up at him. She spoke once more, "why won't they leave me alone? I just want all of them to leave me alone."

Then it clicked — Y/N had left one person behind when they disappeared. One person who refused to take the search any further because she was certain her friend was still in the Lee house.

"Yeeun, right?" Jihoon had to make sure. And he had to tread carefully — he didn't want to bring up any more memories this close to the date Y/N vanished.

The girl simply nodded.

"I bet you miss them." Jihoon wanted to smack himself in the face. Of course Yeeun missed Y/N! They were roommates and best friends and the disappearance was so unexpected.

Clearing his throat, Jihoon looked away awkwardly and was faced with the Lee house once more. It was desolate and rusted and seemed like it was going to fall apart if you looked at it for too long. He tilted his head when he realized one of the curtains swayed, like someone had just peeked at him and Yeeun.

"You shouldn't go in there," she spoke up. Jihoon glanced back down at her, seeing how worn and haggard her face seemed to grow within the last minute. Her eyes were blank again as she stared at the house across the street. Yeeun looked up at him, "you seem too interested in that place. You should just leave — to be safe."

Jihoon shook his head, "I need to look for answers."

Yeeun looked at him sadly, "no answers are worth being stuck in that house."

———

"It's not technically illegal if I'm telling you, right?" Jihoon was speaking to Wonwoo, trying to convince the red-haired boy that it was okay for him to stay in the Lee house. "At least for one night!" Wonwoo looked apprehensive so Jihoon sighed in irritation. "I'm going to do it regardless."

Wonwoo let out a sigh of his own before nodding slowly. "Good luck," his voice drifted through the door as Jihoon left. "Hope to see you again. Alive."

Oddly, the house looked brand new on the inside. Jihoon lifted an eyebrow, looking around as his over-night bag slid from his shoulder. The walls looked freshly painted; the floors were sparkling; the furniture looked like it hardly been touched. The place even smelled clean — like someone had washed it head-to-toe and sprayed a subtle mint and lemon air freshener!

"What the..." Jihoon muttered. This couldn't be right! The house was hundreds of years old — there was no way it could look this... fresh. "Something weird is going on here."

"That's not very nice."

Jihoon's head snapped to the right where he saw a boy. A smiling, happy boy. Chills ran up his spine as the boy stepped closer. The boy continued to smile. "You're visiting my home, after all. You should be a little polite."

The hair on the back of Jihoon's neck stood straight at the words — my home. There was no denying it. This was the smiling boy. This was the reason so many people had disappeared. This was, "Lee Seokmin."

"So you know of me?" Seokmin's grin grew even wider. "How nice!"

Jihoon shrugged, feeling like his voice was lost. "Just rumors."

"Well," Seokmin let out a melancholic sigh, "I'm afraid you'll have to take the couch. All of my rooms are... occupied." His eyes seemed to darken and Jihoon was only growing more apprehensive.

"Seokmin," the boy froze, "stay away from the guests."

Seokmin let out a bitter chuckle. "You don't control me, T—."

"Seokmin," his face fell completely, "you were told to leave the alive ones alone."

"But, my hap—."

"Go. Now."

Before he could blink, Jihoon was alone again. Seokmin was gone and he was too shocked to notice a new figure stepping in front of him. "You should go."

Jihoon let out a squeak as he faced forward. And there you were, in the same outfit you had died in. His lips parted, "holy shit."

"I'm not kidding," your voice was stern. Jihoon could only stare at you, refusing to believe any of this was real. "You really need to leave."

Jihoon shook his head, "I'm staying."

You could only scoff turning away from the boy, annoyed. You glanced up the stairs, before facing him again. "Whatever," you were monotonous, "it's your funeral."

Jihoon hoped you were just being dramatic.

He had a lot to think about as he laid down to sleep. First — he was in the most haunted place he'd heard about. Second — everyone in this town seemed to be too terrified of the house to even speak about it. Third — he had just met Lee Seokmin, the possible cause for all of this.

Finally — he met you. The last victim. And you seemed to have some kind of hold over Seokmin, something the others didn't.

Sometime during his thoughts, Jihoon drifted off to sleep. He awoke again, the feeling of his limbs being locked up sending a panic signal to his brain. He was laying on his stomach, he noticed, and someone was walking towards him.

Their feet were wet — almost sloshing as they walked to him. Jihoon could only stare as a pair of bare feet came into his view, a puddle forming from where they stood. They were there for a few minutes before they turned and left him. Just like that.

———

He could tell that someone else was in the room with him when he woke up. Scrunching his nose, Jihoon's hand dance against the floor until he found his glasses and slid them on. He looked up and gulped.

People were around him — a lot of people. And they were all too familiar to Jihoon.

"Uh..." he cleared his throat, "hello?"

A gray-haired boy let out an unbelieving scoff, "you're still alive, huh?"

Jihoon glanced around the room again, seeing all the eyes. "Yes?"

"Tae," a girl with orange hair spoke, "remember, Y/N said to be nice to him."

The boy clicked his tongue before frowning, a small amount of sadness creeping into his eyes. "I know, I know! Just confused is all."

"True," a new boy said. He, too, was looking over Jihoon curiously. He pursed his lips, "it's weird that Seokmin left him alive for this long."

You appeared again, arms crossed as you eyed everyone. A boy with two-tone hair was beside you — he looked familiar. "Seokmin only runs this place because all of you are afraid of him." You glanced at Jihoon, smiling softly. "Glad to see you're okay," you looked to the other guests again. "Introduce yourselves at least."

"Kim Taehyung," the gray-haired boy nodded in greeting. Jihoon remembered reading about him.

"Call me Jehyun," the two-tone boy introduced. He propped his elbow on your shoulder, leaning into you with a grin. "Y/N's right hand g—," you elbowed him, "guy! Right hand guy... yeah."

The orange-haired girl spoke up next, "I'm Joy!" She smiled at Jihoon and he returned it — he'd read about her, too.

"Joo-hyuk," the second boy smiled sadly, "you won't find me in the papers."

Long black hair covered Jihoon's vision as he laid on the couch. Looking up, he noticed a woman was peering over him, her torso bent over the back of the couch. She tilted her head at him curiously. Across the room, Jehyun cleared his throat and she blinked, remembering she probably needed to introduce herself. "Everyone here calls me IU... I don't remember my real name. Most of us don't."

Jihoon looked at all of them again, remembering all of the newspaper clippings and articles he'd read. He let out a sigh. "You aren't... missing, are you?"

The room went silent and pieces were starting to come together. You looked at him with sympathy — the others looked down. Jihoon gulped, "all of you are—" his voice caught in his throat. "You're all... dead, aren't you?"

You smiled sadly, "you figured it out, huh?" And that was the only answer he needed.

"Hyun-woo," a new voice spoke. Jihoon turned to see a man curled up in one corner of the room, staring blankly ahead. "Lee Hyun-woo. He liked my last name so he brought me here. I was twenty-seven. I liked movies and wanted to be a director someday. Lee Hyun-woo. He likes my name so I have to stay here."

Joy cleared her throat, "he's been here for a while."

"Your memories start fading," Taehyung spoke up. He looked sad again and if ghosts could cry, Jihoon was sure the boy would be sobbing. "After a few years. They just go away — vanish. Just like we did."

"Some people are still looking for you, though." Jihoon wanted to reassure them. It was strange — his entire career was based on denying the existence of any and every supernatural being. Yet, here he was, wanting to ease the self-hatred he could see. "Not everyone has forgotten."

"That's nice," IU said with an airy voice.

"He's lying," the voice made you scowl. Jihoon cleared his throat before sitting up as Seokmin came into view. "Everyone stopped looking for you. You're missing to them, that's all. Don't let this new person tell you different."

He seemed to grow darker and some of the spirits cowered away from him. "Don't forget where you are and who's in charge."

"Who, you?" The only person who would speak against the ghost was you. Seokmin seemed to hate that.

He let out a scoff, "my happiness, please. Don't be rude in front of the guest."

"Not yours, Seokmin," you glared, "never was."

With that, you disappeared. Jihoon only blinked.

———

It was his third night at the Lee household and every person in town looked at him in awe. Maybe they were concerned, too, but Jihoon knew this would help lessen their fear off the house. After all, it was just a house. It's the things inside the house that they should be afraid of.

Currently, Jihoon was sat on the staircase of the house, glasses perched on his nose as he wrote in a journal. Or, the journal, really. The one where he wrote of his experiences. He was writing things he'd heard or seen during his stay — almost like he needed to write it down to remember it. To make sure he still believed when he left.

Humming, Jihoon reread over his previous conversation with Jehyun and Taehyung, mentioning what they explained about their memories. "They disappear just like we do." It was a frightening thought. Suddenly, a voice was humming alongside him.

Jihoon froze, a little afraid to turn and see who was keeping him company this time. Sliding his eyes so that he could use his peripheral vision, he sighed. "Hi, Y/N."

"Oh," you blinked, "hey."

The silence surrounded the both of you briefly. It was getting late, the sun setting and full moon preparing to show itself. Jihoon pushed his glasses up his nose, "do you usually stay with me? Just... floating around out of sight?"

You hummed, pursing your lips in thought before looking away from him. "Well I— I like to hear you sing, is all. And you do that a lot when you're writing or reading, so."

"Right." Jihoon decided to just ignore your presence for now, not really bothered with it. As moonlight seeped in through the window, Jihoon felt a chill. He began to hear various things — the floor creaking; a door slamming; water dripping. He looked to his watch warily, realizing he never stayed up this late.

Not in this house, at least.

Slowly, the dripping water became louder and louder and louder until Jihoon had to see where it was coming from. To his left, you were still standing there. But, you didn't look okay. You looked cold and you were shaking and you were sopping wet. Jihoon fought the gasp he felt climbing up his throat.

"It was you." He said simply. You tilted your head at him in question. "I think I've been seeing you — having dreams." His eyes drifted from your dripping hair to your bare feet. You shifted uncomfortably.

"His doings," you spoke through chattered teeth. You crossed your arms across your chest out of habit — you'd already grown used to the cold you felt, a long time ago. "As punishment. As a reminder of what we are and where we are."

Jihoon frowned, "I wish I knew how to banish him."

You let out a snarky laugh, "don't we all?"

———

He was leaving. Lee Jihoon was finally leaving the Lee house and all its beings. He looked almost lost as he packed his bag, looking around the room with a frown.

"You don't have to leave," IU said with a pout. Joy was beside her, nodding enthusiastically. The orange-haired girl grinned, "yeah! You could stay here and be our friend."

"Guys," Jehyun warned them. They frowned at Jihoon again before popping out of sight. Jehyun let out a sigh, "I think they're going to miss you a little too much."

Jihoon grinned, "I'll visit."

"Don't let Seokmin hear you say that," your voice carried to them. You lifted an eyebrow, smirking. "He might make you one of us."

Jehyun sensed the two of you needed to talk, so he joined the others. Wherever they were. You looked down at your feet, shuffling them against the floor awkwardly. Jihoon spoke up, "I'm not kidding." You smiled at the familiar words you'd said to him once.

"You need to go," you replied. You jutted your chin out, gesturing to the journal he was holding. "You have all of our stories to tell, after all."

Jihoon nodded once, sternly. "It's about time this town knew the truth."

You bit your lip as if you were fighting with your thoughts. Jihoon waited, patiently watching as you gathered what you wanted to say. "Make sure she knows, too."

He knew who you meant. Waving — sadly, but he wouldn't admit that — Jihoon turned and left, shutting the door behind him. Taking a deep breath, Jihoon turned around once more as the golden shine of the house dimmed and sank. Instead, he was now standing in a run-down house, wondering when it'd last seen the sun.

Lee Jihoon nodded to himself as he patted his journal — he had a new job to do.

— happy halloween! 🎃🦇 this is sort of a part two to ‘cracked shutters’, but they can be read separately! i hope you enjoyed this and i apologize for the lack of imagines recently. hopefully ill get back into the groove of things soon. thank you for waiting and reading, ♡

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goulets · 3 years

Text

Heartland

Chapter: 1/8 Pairing: Jason Todd/Dick Grayson Additional Characters: Colin Wilkes, Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake, Alfred Pennyworth Rating: T (for now) Case Fic/Kid Fic a03 link

Jason looks down at the baby, at watery brown eyes and tiny hands, fingers stretching out without knowing what they're reaching for. She yawns and makes a sucking noise, turning her head into his chest.

Damn it.

“We'll do shifts,” he says to Dick, making his tone as businesslike as possible. “I still have shit to do; I can't sit around playing house with you all day.”

Dick doesn't smile, but Jason can see that he wants to. “That sounds reasonable.”

“This is temporary. Just until we find the fuckers that want to take her out.”

“Sure it is.” Dick's all doe-eyed now, watching the baby settle down to sleep. “Welcome home, Jaybird.”

(colin)

It's a quarter past five and the first streams of daylight are curling over the horizon when Colin finally makes it back to the orphanage. He's down to his normal size, brass knuckles heavy in his pockets and slowing his already exhausted steps. It'll be at least three hours before the younger kids wake up; time enough to get one REM cycle in before he's got all those mouths to feed. Damian taught him about monitoring his REM cycles, how it's sometimes better to get three hours than four, how to stay sharp even when he's running on no sleep at all.

Even better, Dick once told him he's welcome at the manor anytime he needs to rest undisturbed, or a hot meal, or a 'flying lesson', whatever that means. Damian had thrown a batarang at his head when he'd suggested it, so Colin assumes it's some kind of inside joke. Regardless, he hasn't been back at the manor to take Dick up on his offer. Batman's back – the real Batman – and Colin would be the worst kind of liar if he said he wasn't a little bit terrified to face him, considering the circumstances of their first meeting.

A motion in the alley next to the orphanage catches his eye, and he stills. Vagrants don't usually start coming around until the soup kitchen opens, and all the thugs he's used to dealing with tend to wait until the kids are up to start messing with them. That's why Colin likes the walk back from patrol, despite his tiredness, despite the chill that rolls off the ever-present fog. The city's glow is muted at this hour, its inhabitants either just starting to stir or just turning in. He's alone with the smog and the molten aura of the streetlights, and there's a quiet about it all that makes even the bloodstains on his knuckles feel pure, purposeful.

That said, he really does need to invest in some gloves.

The figure in the alley is still moving, clumsy and hurried, and all at once Colin realizes what it is they're fumbling with. There's a sort of house-shaped capsule outside St. Aden's, a narrow chute with a small door that doesn't have a lock, and a weathered sign on the front that depicts the outline of an infant. It's a Safe Surrender site, a place where people can legally abandon their newborns, and someone is using it for the first time since Colin's been at the orphanage.

He creeps closer, keeping to the shadows.

The figure spends about five more seconds fumbling with something on the ground, then wrenches open the door to the capsule and deposits something inside. Colin's stomach twists; the blue light above the capsule illuminates, and he can hear a faint alarm going off in the nuns' office. He wonders if they'll even know what it's for. The figure startles at the light, hastily grabs what looks like an empty bag off the ground, and bolts.

Colin wants to follow, but finds himself unable to walk past the capsule without checking it, and once he sees what's inside, he knows there's no chance of him giving chase. The baby is sleeping, definitely not a newborn, but not more than a few months old. Its tiny body is wrapped in a dirty blanket, wisps of black hair sticking out from an unprotected head. Colin supposes he wouldn't have needed to pursue whoever dropped it off; for all intents and purposes, they might think they're doing the right thing. St. Aden's won't turn the baby away, and it's a better option than leaving it in a gutter or a dumpster, which, in Gotham, is not a thing unheard of.

The baby stirs as a stiff breeze swirls through the alley, making Colin shiver. The nuns will be dressed and out in five minutes, give or take. They'll at least put a hat on the baby, Colin thinks. He doesn't know much about babies, but he knows they need hats. The orphanage has baby hats, and diapers, and blankets, albeit thin ones, most with holes. They might even have a spare teddy bear for when the baby has nightmares. No one comforts you when you have nightmares at St. Aden's. The nuns aren't big on hugs, even the babies they hold as little as possible.

Colin may not know a lot about babies, but he knows what happens when you don't hold them. The kids at the orphanage who've been there since infancy are a testament to that. Colin shivers again, thinking of vacant eyes and hunched shoulders. Pale skin and raw voices. Underdeveloped, broken bodies, floating in the river.

The light in the nuns' office comes on. Less than a minute now. Before he can fully process what he's doing or why he's doing it, Colin scoops the baby out of the capsule and cradles it carefully in his arms, walking briskly out of the alley the way that he came. The fog feels damper; it clings to him like it means to shield him from view. As an afterthought, Colin takes off his own hat and uses it to cover the baby's head.

***

“What is so urgent,” Damian snarls, swinging into the garage and making Colin jump and almost topple over, “that it couldn't wait at six in the fucking morning?”

Moving past his initial alarm, Colin feels relief wash over him at seeing his friend. Damian is decked out in his Robin costume and, all things considered, no grumpier than usual. “I'm so glad you're here,” he says in a rush. “I think – I think I screwed up, and I don't know what to do. Um.”

He decides not to draw it out, and instead steps aside, gesturing to the side compartment of his motorcycle. The baby is still sound asleep; he's wrapped his jacket around it as well. He won't die from the cold, but he worries that the baby might.

“What the – ” Damian blinks at the sleeping infant, then points to Colin without looking away. “Explain.”

Colin does. “And I thought if I called you, you might know what to...because you and Batman have handled this kind of stuff, right? You know who to, um.” He pauses, and realizes that he doesn't actually know why his first instinct was to call Damian, aside from the fact that he really has no one else to call. He wraps his arms around himself and lets out a short breath. “What do we do?”

“There's no 'we',” Damian says automatically, just like Colin knew he would. “You can't take care of a baby. You're ten. You have to put it back.”

Colin doesn't move. He knows Damian is probably right. “I just,” he starts to say, searching for the words. He's so tired he can barely think straight. “I guess I wanted it to have a chance. You know? Kids at the orphanage...kids like me, we don't get a lot of choices. Everyone ends up being a bad guy or a victim.” He swallows. “We don't need any more of either in this town.”

Damian scowls and rubs at his mask absently. “You're not either one of those things.”

Colin look at his fist and squeezes it, concentrating. Within a minute, his forearm is as big around as his leg. “No, I'm not,” he says. Damian has gone very still. Colin closes his eyes and feels his way back to his normal size, flexing his hand once it's shrunk back down. “Not anymore.”

“I – ” Damian cuts himself off, clenching his jaw. “Fine. We'll take it back to the manor. We have to go now, before they realize I'm gone.”

Colin bites back a grin and scoops the baby up, cradling its head carefully against his chest. The baby's face isn't cold anymore, which gives him an unexpected surge of elation, and he practically skips to Damian's side, earning a severely reproachful look from his friend.

“How did you get here?”

“I swiped Father's keys,” Damian says dryly, holding them out and pressing a button. Brilliant headlights illuminate the alley outside the garage, and Colin's jaw drops as a sleek, two-door Batmobile pulls up in front of them.

“How did – ”

“Remote autopilot. It drives itself.”

“Whoa.”

Damian rolls his eyes and presses another button, making the roof retract halfway. He swings in over the door and says, “Don't scratch the interior.”

Colin slides in beside him, awestruck. He's in the freaking Batmobile. If everything under the sun goes wrong with this sort-of kidnapping, even if he winds up in jail, it'll be so worth it.

***

(jason)

Jason's not having a particularly good day.

Scratch that, it's nine in the morning, and Jason's already not having a particularly good day.

“Where did you say you heard this?” Bruce asks, frowning at his computer screen. Translation: which parts of this are you lying about, Jason?

“Oh, you know,” Jason says, not caring to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “Me and some of my League buddies were doing tapas over at Ocho, and you know how they get when the wine starts pouring.” Bruce glares at him, and he glares right back. “All I know is Shiva's overseas for the foreseeable future. Just thought I'd share, since I heard you were looking. But whatever you want her for, I'm telling you, she probably didn't do it. This time.”

Bruce stares at him, cold and still as a statue. Jason wants to hit himself. Idiot move, coming here. Not like the Great Bat Detective needs his legwork anyhow.

He squares his shoulders and says, “Hey, take it or leave it. Which, speaking of, I'm gonna go ahead and leave now.”

Bruce's silence follows him out, and Jason practices the tried-and-true strategy of stirring up old resentments to mask the hurt. Not like he'd expected old Batsy to fall all over himself with excitement on account of a visit from his fallen son, but there's a cold reception, and there's the patented Bruce Wayne Freeze-Out. If Jason had imagined their shared history of returning from the dead would bring them closer together, he'd been sorely mistaken.

“Will you be joining us for breakfast, Master Jason?” Alfred asks, wiping his hands on a dish towel as Jason attempts to hustle past the kitchen. Habit has him pausing, because you just don't blow off Alfred, and that small hesitation is all it takes for the smells wafting out of the kitchen to hit him head-on. And oh, do they hit him. Pancakes, eggs, bacon – turkey bacon, Jason's favorite, of course Alfred remembers that stupid little detail. He probably also remembers that Jason is pathologically incapable of refusing food. Bastard.

“I'm not really – ” he starts to say hungry, but his stomach picks that exact moment to let loose a traitorous growl that echoes down the hallway and probably wakes up any still-asleep inhabitants of the manor.

Alfred, to his everlasting credit, doesn't even flinch. Jason heaves a sigh. “Yeah, all right. Just a bite, I guess.”

“I'll set a place for you.” Like the old man hasn't already.

Jason tugs off his gloves and makes his way to the sink to wash up. No telling what's living under his nails these days, but it's probably better not to ingest it.

“This is really good, Alfie,” he says through a thick bite of pancake. “Damn. I hope the new kid knows how good he's got it.”

“I'm afraid I haven't met anyone quite as enthusiastic about my cooking as you, Master Jason. Except, on occasion – Master Richard!”

“Hey, Alfie! Man it smells good, what's the occasion?” A shirtless, pajama-pants clad Dick Grayson bounds into the kitchen, more golden retriever than man, and stops on one foot with his face six inches above the bacon pan, breathing in. “Hey, is that turkey bacon?” He whirls around. “Jason!”

“Um.” Jason goes very stiff in his seat, teeth locked together around a forkful of eggs. Chew, swallow. He hadn't know Dick was here; hadn't figured any of the bat clan would even be awake at this charming daylight hour, except Bruce, who Jason's convinced deprogrammed the biological need to sleep out of his system years ago. “Hey.”

Dick looks pleased to see him, but confused. He's still on one foot. Jason represses the childish urge to throw something at him; knock him over like a big stupid bowling pin. “What are you doing here?”

“Just came by to drop off some intel,” he shrugs, fidgeting with his napkin. “You know how it is. Spend enough time cracking skulls, more than brain tissue leaks out.”

When Dick doesn't react beyond placing both feet on the ground and pursing his lips disapprovingly, Jason puts on his best shit-eating grin. Ah, ruining family meals. Just like old times.

“Thanks for the grub, Alfie,” he calls, swinging his legs over the side of his chair. “Think I've overstayed my welcome now, so I'm just be on my way.” He deliberates for a moment before snatching the last piece of turkey bacon off his plate, then walks briskly out of the kitchen and towards the front door.

“Jason – wait up a second.” Dick's voice behind him, close behind him, practically a whisper. Jason turns and takes a deliberate step backward, putting space between them. He's fairly sure he can take Dick hand-to-hand, but he wants to be as close to the exit as possible when he does.

“What?” he demands, more roughly than he needs to. He shifts his hip to feel the handle of his knife pressing into it; the exact shape he'll mold his palm to if he needs to draw it.

Dick crosses his arms and stares him down steadily. It's a mistake to make eye contact with him, because Dick's stare isn't like Bruce's, shrewd and penetrating, it's not a gaze that takes any effort to hold. Quite the contrary – Jason's always had trouble breaking eye contact with Dick. Bruce's stare goes through him, turns him inside out, but Dick's grips him, surrounds him, takes the full measure of him without pulling everything ugly to the surface. It's unnerving. He'd rather face Bruce any day.

“You don't have to leave just because I walked into the room.”

He shouldn't be able to project so much earnestness in nothing but faded Superman sleep pants, Jason thinks. It defies human nature.

“It was more of a sashay,” he smirks, still not blinking. “And it's not on your account, don't worry. I just have shit to do.”

“You should come by more often,” Dick presses.

It's all Jason can do not to throw his head back and laugh. “Right,” he says, narrowing his eyes. “That's gonna happen over Bruce's dead body.”

There's a flash of pain on Dick's face, and Jason thinks his phrasing was probably ill-advised. Too soon and all. Oh well.

“That's not true,” Dick shakes his head, shaggy hair falling in front of his eyes. Jason feels a bizarre and fleeting urge to brush it away, makes it an immediate priority to repress desires like that as far down as they can possibly go. “Look, I know it hasn't always been easy – ”

Jason scoffs. “Oh, sure.”

“ – but if you'd just give him some time, I know he wants you back, Jason. You're family. And I think you know it too, or you wouldn't even be here.”

Defiant rage stirs in Jason's stomach, but this isn't the time or the place for that kind of reaction. He settles instead on indifference. “That's an old tune, Dickie. Might be time to learn some new ones.”

Dick's expression softens. Damnit. This is why he can't stand around talking to Dick, making fucking chitchat and this perverse, endless eye contact. They observe each other in circles, it's nearly impossible to hide, and Dick doesn't hide anything, which means Jason's at an automatic disadvantage. Every goddamn time.

It's pointless to bare his teeth in a grin and offer a sardonic wave, but Jason does it anyways. “It's been real, Boy Wonder. I'll catch you la – ”

“Shh.” Dick puts up a finger, frowning. He looks up the stairs. “Do you hear that?”

If this is another strategy to try and stall him, Jason's gonna start throwing punches. “Hear what?” he demands. He's about to tell Dick to go fuck himself – which, he probably can, fucking acrobat – no, bad visual, stop thinking about Dick naked, Jesus fucking Christ – when he hears it too.

It sounds like – “Is that a baby?” He looks sideways at Dick. “Bruce have a second love child already?”

Dick says, “I'll see you later, Jason,” and starts climbing the stairs.

Well, obviously Jason can't leave now.

They follow the cries down one of the many upstairs hallways, which, from the portraits and weaponry lining the walls, Jason figures must lead to Damian's room. Dick pauses outside a closed door, pressing his ear to it, and, curiosity getting the better of him, Jason follows suit.

“You have to get it to shut up! The whole mansion's probably heard it by now!”

“I'm trying!” an unfamiliar voice hisses, and there's the sound of a hiccup from a third unfamiliar voice. Presumably something babylike. “Do you think it's hungry?”

“How the hell should I know? This was your moronic idea, Colin, don't you know anything about babies?”

“Maybe we should google it.”

“I'm going to kill you. Actually, when Father finds out we kidnapped a fucking baby, he'll kill us both. I can't believe I let you talk me into this mess.”

The crying starts again. Dick looks at Jason and mouths, one, two, three, before pushing the door open and revealing their presence.

It's quite a scene. Damian's in half his costume, mask, boots, and cape discarded on the floor, and he's grinding his teeth at another boy, a redhead kid in a dirty checkered sweatshirt who looks to be around his age. The redhead kid looks horrified to see them standing there, first going furiously red, then white as a sheet. But the thing that really grabs Jason's attention is the baby – yep, a flesh-and-blood human infant – cradled awkwardly in the redhead kid's arms, screaming its tiny head off.

Dick looks between them, his eyes enormous. “Damian? Colin? What is this?”

It's a question, not an accusation. Jason has to hand it to him; Bruce would've had them sizzling on the grill the second the word 'kidnapped' reached his ears.

Colin says, “It's not what it looks like!”

Dick glances sideways at Jason. “Okay, but. I'll be honest, I'm not even sure what it looks like.”

Jason shrugs. “You kids abduct any babies lately?”

“We didn't abduct it,” Damian snarls. “Colin found it. Abandoned. It was my mistake to bring it here.”

The baby cries louder. It's a miracle Alfred hasn't come running yet.

“Someone dropped it at St. Aden's,” Colin says quickly, between bouts of screaming. “I just – I couldn't just leave it there, you don't know what it's like, growing up that way.” He clutches the baby to him fiercely, bitterness etched all over his face. “You might as well hand him over to the gangs right now, because that's where he'll end up.”

Dick looks horribly conflicted. Jason laughs out loud.

“So, what was your plan?” he asks incredulously. “Two ten year olds, teaming up to raise a baby? Which one of you's the mom?”

Dick's arm blocks Damian's sharp kick to Jason's face. “Thank you, Jason, that was helpful,” he says. “But, uh, what was the plan, exactly?”

Everyone looks to Colin, who shrinks visibly under their combined gaze. “I don't know,” he says in a small voice, nearly indecipherable beneath the baby's cries. “I hadn't really thought that far ahead. I just – I thought Batman could save him.”

It takes everything in Jason's face-saving book not to respond to that, but he barely manages to keep his mouth shut. Dick shoots him a look of gratitude, and he rolls his eyes. Obviously there are more pressing issues at hand than his lingering manpain; Jason's not that self-involved.

“Okay,” Dick says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Here's how we solve this. He – she? – we'll figure it out, whatever, is probably hungry. And wet. Did you two change its diaper?”

Damian and Colin look at each other and shrug helplessly. “Right.” Dick points one hand behind him. “I'm going to go to the kitchen; I know Alfred keeps formula in there somewhere. And we should have diapers in one of the emergency supply closets. I'll get that stuff. Jason, take the baby for a minute, would you? Colin looks like he's about to drop.”

Jason backs against the wall, saying, “Oh no, I don't – that's not a – ” but then the screaming bundle is being precariously extended towards him, and instinct has him reaching out to take it.

“Jesus,” he mutters, feeling the fragile weight of the baby in his arms. Can't be much more than ten pounds. He has handguns with more substance than this thing. “Where're you keeping those lungs, little guy?”

Silence falls over the room, and it takes Jason a minute to realize that he didn't spontaneously go deaf, the baby stopped crying. Its tiny eyes – brown, dark and wet – are blinking up at him like he's the most interesting thing in the world.

Oh, no.

This is a disaster.

He doesn't hear Dick's intake of breath so much as he feels it, which might be because he's holding his breath too, because the baby is looking at him, and damnit, this is the last fucking thing he needs in his life. “Go,” he says to Dick, inserting as much venom into his voice as possible, wrenching his eyes away from the baby's. “It's probably just going into shock or something.”

The baby farts.

“Okay, or that.”

Dick bites his lip hard, and ten different emotions of various intensities flash through Jason's gut. Then he's gone, cartwheeling down the staircase, knowing him.

Colin says, “Wow, it really likes you.”

Damian smirks. “I guess we know who the mom is.”

“Don't think because I've got a ten pound handicap I won't kick your ass, kid,” Jason snaps. It's an empty threat, and they all know it. For now anyways. Once the baby situation's dealt with, all bets are off.

Dick's back within five minutes, armed to the teeth with things more frightening to Jason than any weapon he can imagine. Diapers, wipes, blankets, bottles, even a tiny blue hat that looks handmade. Jason's heart thuds unevenly in his chest, recognizing Alfred's handiwork in the stitching; indisputable evidence that Bruce Wayne, Batman, was once a baby just like this one. It'd be hilarious, if he could push a laugh past the lump in his throat.

“Here.” Dick hands him a diaper. It has Mickey Mouse on it.

Jason shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. I didn't sign up for this shit. And I mean that in the literal sense; I did not put 'clean up baby shit' in my day planner today.” He thrusts the diaper back at Dick.

“Fine,” Dick snaps, holding his arms out expectantly. “Give me the baby. Damian, shake up this formula, will you?”

Damian snatches the bottle out of his hand and shakes it with the aggression of a paint mixer. Well, hey, at least he's dedicated.

The baby starts to fuss as it's transferred from Jason's arms to Dick's, and the lump in Jason's throat gets bigger. “Hey, hey,” Dick croons, settling the baby down on the rug and starting to unwrap its blanket. “You're okay, little guy. We got you – oh, I'm sorry,” he grins, glancing up at Jason. “Little girl, I'm guessing.”

Jason peers over his shoulder and sees that under the blanket, the baby is wearing tiny pink pajamas with little white and green flowers. Like the blanket, the pajamas are dirty. He wonders when the baby last had a bath.

Not your problem. He needs to get the hell out of here.

“Ooh, someone's got a full diaper,” Dick goes on. Jason wants to kick him in the back of the head. “Let's fix that, huh? Oh, yeah. We'll get someone on that right away.”

Jason jumps backward when Dick extends the dirty diaper to him, and Dick rolls his eyes. “It's just pee. Get over yourself, honestly.”

“Fuck you,” Jason growls. “I'm not part of this.”

Colin walks over with dogged footsteps and takes the diaper from Dick, folding it over until it's a tight little pocket that fits in the palm of his hand. He turns to Damian. “Where's the garbage?”

Damian jerks his head in the direction of the bathroom, and Dick glares at Jason as he refastens the baby's pajamas.

The baby's fussing turns into loud wails again, and Dick picks her – no, it, can't think of it as a person, damnit – up, rocking his arms gently. The baby cries, rubs its face on Dick's chest, and then turns its head and look directly at Jason.

“Aw, Jay. Looks like she's got a crush.”

“Please.” Jason rolls his eyes and tries to ignore the vise that's squeezing in his chest. He really, really needs to leave. Like, yesterday.

But then Dick starts feeding the baby, and Jason finds himself utterly rooted to the spot.

It figures that parenting is something that would come naturally to Dick. It seems like most things come naturally to him, particularly the things that terrify normal people, like leaping off tall buildings, running into the line of fire, taking on twenty armed goons with nothing but his stupid fucking escrima sticks. Dick cradles the baby with arms that've put hundreds of criminals on their asses, arms that are scarred all over, just like Jason's. He gazes down at the baby as it eats, murmuring praise, shifting slowly from foot to foot, and that damn thing won't stop looking at Jason, even while it's sucking enthusiastically at the bottle.

Footfalls behind him; a distinct step he'd know anywhere. “I took the liberty of digging up some clothes for our young guest,” Alfred says, as though nothing is out of the ordinary. “They're a bit dated, but I believe they should still be suitable.”

“Can we all get out of my room now?” Damian asks. “I'd like to change, and I'd prefer to do it without the entire household watching.”

Alfred nods. “Certainly, Master Damian. Master Richard, perhaps it would be prudent to bring this matter to Master Bruce at this time.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dick says, heavily, shooting another look at Jason. Why does he keep doing that? “Let's just get her fed and changed really quick.”

“Of course.”

As soon as they're downstairs, the baby spits out the nipple and screws up its face like it's going to start howling again. Jason doesn't know what it is, some kind of long-buried impulse, a skill set he never thought he'd had to begin with, but he's stepping forward with his arms outstretched, palms open and flat, like he could do a damn thing to keep the baby quiet.

Dick pegs him with a curious look, and Jason freezes. “You wanna hold her?”

“What? No,” Jason says, shoving his arms down to his sides. “I just – I thought you were gonna drop it. Her.”

Dick doesn't say anything, and Jason feels a flush creeping up his neck. “You know what, it seems like you guys have this all handled. I'm just gonna...go.”

He turns, and the baby starts crying again.

Jesus Christ in a goddamn handbasket, this is bad.

“If you wouldn't mind,” Dick says, carefully, “We could use the help. Until we figure out what to do.”

“He can help,” Jason protests, pointing at Colin.

“I actually, um,” Colin looks vaguely terrified, glancing guiltily between them. “I have to go, my kids – there's kids at the orphanage, I have to be there. For them.”

Jason doesn't think about the time he spent on the streets, doesn't relive those fun childhood memories for any reason, but they're a scar on his psyche, forever etched in, and he can't exactly make them go away, either. He remembers the kids from the orphanages, how little and lost they were, better cared for but more unloved than any of the other street kids. He remembers standing up for them as much as he remembers knocking them over and stealing from them. No kids are worse equipped to protect themselves. Colin looks like he weighs eighty pounds soaking wet, but Jason reasons that he wouldn't be friends with Damian if he couldn't take a hit.

Colin probably takes a lot of hits on behalf of his kids. The thought turns Jason's stomach, and he knows he can't ask him to stay.

Dick frowns and starts to say, “I'm sure – ”

“Go,” Jason says quickly, giving Colin a short nod. “It's fine, whatever. My shit can wait a few hours.”

Everyone stares at him. The baby is still crying.

“Oh, for fuck's sake. Fine, give me the damn kid.” He sets his jaw and takes the baby from Dick, expressly avoiding Dick's eyes, or any part of his face, for that matter. The baby fusses for a minute, then seems to catch sight of Jason's face again, and settles down at once.

Shit, shit, shit.

***

“You're doing this completely wrong,” Jason tells the baby as they make their way down to the Batcave. “I'm sure as hell not taking you home with me, I'll tell you that much. No offense.”

The baby coughs, and Jason finds himself holding it a little tighter. It's all very unnerving, the way he's already used to the shape of its small form in his arms, the way its head fits snugly into the soft spot of flesh between his shoulder and his breastbone. Alfred threw out the ratty blanket it was wrapped in and gave them a new one, along with a pink cotton onesie with a stiff lace collar. Purchased forty odd years ago by Martha Wayne, on the off-chance that she was having a baby girl. A little piece of trivia that Jason is going to any lengths necessary not to think about.

“It fits with the intel I got last week,” Tim is saying, “Qurac is a big job; she wouldn't be doing it alone.”

“No,” Bruce agrees, hunched over in front of his massive screen. “Perhaps the League of Assassins isn't behind this at all.”

“So either someone's setting it up to look like they...” Tim trails off, catching sight of Jason, or more accurately, the wiggling bundle in his arms. “Is that a baby?”

Jason looks down and gasps. “Holy shit, how did that get there?”

Dick rolls his eyes. Tim says, “Wait, it's not – ”

“It's not mine, Replacement. Don't give yourself a stroke deducing over there.”

Bruce turns in his chair to face them, frowning deeply. His eyes take in Dick, Jason, and the baby. “Where's Damian?”

Dick steps forward. “He went with Alfred to take Colin ho – back to St. Aden's.”

“Ah.” Bruce nods. “So that's where he went this morning.” His gaze lands on the baby. “I take it the infant came from the orphanage as well.”

“She's really sweet, Bruce.” Dick adopts a pleading voice. “Colin thought he was doing the right thing.”

“Colin can look after her when she's returned to St. Aden's,” Bruce says firmly. “The Mansion is no place for a baby.” He stands and walks over to Jason. “May I?”

It takes Jason a moment to realize that Bruce is asking his permission to hold the baby. He doesn't know what's more surprising, the fact that Bruce is asking at all, or the fact that he wants to refuse, to take the baby and run as far away as possible, to an alternate universe where parents don't abandon their kids or sell them out, where they don't let psychopaths murder them, where they'd rather burn the world down than let any harm come to another child on their watch.

He thinks that Bruce can probably see his struggle painted on his face as he waits for his answer. And he is waiting, because the question wasn't a formality, it's a real uncertainty, and Bruce is asking Jason whether or not he trusts him to take this small life and protect it, even if it's just for a few moments.

Jason's reflexive answer is a harsh and unforgiving fuck no, but that's not the end of it. There's something deeper inside him, something that's been climbing toward the surface for a while now, no matter how hard he tries to bury it, that tells another story. A lot of other stories.

Rather than sift through them, he bites his tongue and hands the baby over. He tells himself he won't look at Bruce to see his reaction, but how often do you get to see Batman with a baby?

Jason will die again a hundred times before he ever admits it, but the vision of Bruce, half-suited up, broad and unyielding and Batman, folding his arms into a cradling position for the baby, is actually pretty fucking charming. He wouldn't've guessed that Bruce had a lot of experience with small children, but he doesn't look uncomfortable. The baby whines and stirs, little hands feebly reaching up to clutch at the bat symbol on his chest, and Jason thinks he actually sees Bruce's mouth quirk in a smile.

“I'm just going to scan her handprint,” he says, addressing Jason.

Jason shrugs. “Whatever.”

The whining stops as soon as he takes the baby over to the enormous computer screen, and Jason hopes that all the lights and flashing images don't fry the baby's brain. There are shots of crime scenes, bodies with blood spilled onto the street, rotating in the corner of the screen, and Jason hopes the baby's subconscious doesn't file those images away for night terrors down the road. Although, if it's going back to the orphanage, it'll see the real thing soon enough.

There's an uplifting thought.

“Danielle Leigh Torres,” Bruce says after a moment. “Born the sixteenth of January. Parents Linda Torres – deceased, and Mitchell Howard, also deceased.”

“Wait a minute.” Tim's gone still with his hand hovering over the keyboard. “Mitch Howard – that's Big Mouth Howard's real name.”

Big Mouth Howard. Jason's heard the name – some lowlife, maybe a bookie? He doesn't know why it'd be significant to any of them, but the way Tim and Bruce are looking at each other suggests that there's something fairly major he's missing. Jason glances at Dick, and is relieved to see that he looks just as out of the loop.

“You two wanna clue us in?” Jason demands, stepping closer to the screen. “Who the fuck is Big Mouth Howard?”

Bruce continues scowling unfathomably at the screen, and Tim lets out a long exhale. “There's been a lot of activity in the East End this past week,” he says. “You guys have probably noticed.”

“Yeah, bunch of dealers got capped,” Jason confirms, still not understanding why this should matter so much to Batman. “Turf wars. Big fucking deal.”

Tim shakes his head. “Not just dealers. Cy Reynolds was Intergang, they bought out the Dragons’ territory a few months ago and have been pulling in major product from Venezuela. His whole family was taken out, all his lieutenants, all their families.” He pulls up a mug shot of a sneering, overweight man with some serious dental issues. “Big Mouth was one of them.”

“So, you're thinking professional hits.”

“Reynolds had a lot of enemies. Guy dipped his pen in way too many wells. We thought Intergang might've taken him out themselves, because he was something of a liability, but why take out the lieutenants?”

“And the families,” Dick adds, frowning. “Someone wanted to send a message.”

“Exactly. He's gotten on the wrong side of the al Ghuls more than once, and this is their style,” Tim continues, pulling up more detailed shots of the bodies. “That one's Linda Torres. She wasn't even married to Big Mouth, but they still got her.”

“League's got bigger fish to fry,” Jason says dismissively. “They wouldn't bother.”

“Yeah, well, you would know,” Tim replies, raising an eyebrow. “Anyways, we're thinking it's a move against Intergang now, not just Reynolds. I have a couple hunches, but we need to examine the bodies more closely to know for sure.”

“Bruce,” Dick says, “if they're really sending a message, they're gonna be looking for Danielle.”

Tim opens his mouth and shuts it. No one speaks, and, as if on cue, the bundle in Bruce's arms starts wailing again.

Something is squeezing Jason's lungs, making it hard for him to breathe normally. Danielle. The baby has a name, it's a goddamn person and it's – she's – been in this world for three fucking months and she's already got a price on her head. God almighty, what a piece of shit world they live in.

Jason grinds his teeth. “No way she goes back to that orphanage.”

Everyone turns to look at him. He ignores them and steps forward, extending his arms towards Bruce, who slides Danielle over to him without protest.

“Jason – ”

“Forget it, Bruce. I don't know what paragraph of your moral code stipulates that you have to throw a fucking baby to the wolves instead of, oh, I don't know, protect her, but you can shove it up your ass. I'll fucking take her if it's that goddamn important to you. And if anyone comes for her, they die.”

“ – I was going to say, I think she should stay here. For the time being.”

Jason pauses. “Oh.”

“Provided, of course, that someone will be able to look after her. Other than Alfred.”

“I'll stay,” Dick volunteers. Of course he does. Fucking boy scout. “Jason?”

Jason looks down at Danielle, at watery brown eyes and tiny hands, fingers stretching out without knowing what they're reaching for. She yawns and makes a sucking noise, turning her head into his chest.

Damn it.

“We'll do shifts,” he says to Dick, making his tone as businesslike as possible. “I still have shit to do; I can't sit around playing house with you all day.”

Dick doesn't smile, but Jason can see that he wants to. “That sounds reasonable.”

“This is temporary. Just until we find the fuckers that want to take her out.”

“Sure it is.” Dick's all doe-eyed now, watching Danielle settle down to sleep. Idiot. “Welcome home, Jaybird.”

***

#jaydick #reposting this initial chapter from 8 years ago bc the other one's formatting got all screwed up #we are back at it again though #my fics #heartlandverse #forgot to put this in the description but the word count for this chapter is 6000

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css1992 · 4 years

Photo

Secret Smile

Prompt/Summary:“After being in a relationship for years, Peter is finally back on the market. Tony immediately rushes to make his interest known, but he didn’t realize he had competition. (Maybe a college AU? Or something where they’re closer in age)”

Warnings: Explicit, 18+, mentions of an abusive relationship (not between main pairing, not explicit), violence (not between main pairing), mentions of blood, jealousy. If you find anything triggering, please let me know!

Word count:13.4k

-x-

Finally, he laid eyes on him.

Peter was standing in the corner, drink in hand, and his eyes looked sad, but there was relief in his lose, smiling lips. Tony sometimes forgot how beautiful he was, how the corner of his eyes crinkled when he laughed; how his lips always looked soft an inviting, even when they were set in a straight line; how his curls always looked messy and bouncy; and how he used to be his.

In a way.

It was easy to forget Tony used to be the center of his attention, easy to forget how he used to look at him like he hung the moon. How he said things without using words, how he had this specific, secret smile that he used only for Tony. It was easy to forget because he used to think he would have time to commit all those things to memory. He used to think he had all the time in the world – but, as it turned out, time was a fickle thing.

So he didn’t want to waste it anymore, not again.

He stalked towards Peter and saw the exact moment when he noticed his presence. It was like the younger man had a radar, he could tell when Tony was looking at him, no matter from how far, no matter how many other people were around them. It was like he could smell him from miles away, he would look around and their eyes would meet before Tony could ever look away. And always, without fail, that beautiful, slow smile would spread across his lips, even if all he ever did was wave silently at him.

Even if they never talked anymore.

Peter looked surprised and the smile faltered a little when he noticed Tony was heading his way. The older boy took a deep breath and kept moving through the sweaty, dancing bodies that separated them in the living room. When he finally reached him, his eyes were wide, mouth hanging open, cheeks flushed. He looked breathless – and breathtakingly beautiful.

“Hey,” the older boy greeted, because how else could he bridge that two-year gap when they didn’t speak to each other, just smiled and waved politely from across the room?

“Tony,” Peter breathed out, still looking a little surprised, but mostly confused, and Tony couldn’t blame him. They used to be inseparable in high school, but ever since he left for college, it was never the same again, not even when Peter followed him a year later.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” he said dumbly, and Peter frowned, but smiled anyway.

“We see each other every week.” He dropped his gaze to look at his feet, hands buried in his pockets. They took Professor Strange’s class together, so, yeah, of course they saw each other every week. Stupid Tony.

“No, yeah, I mean, we haven’t talked in a while,” which was the understatement of the century, of course. Tony was going to say something clever, but it slipped his mind when Peter raised his eyes to meet his gaze again and the older man finally noticed that his cheeks weren’t just flushed – his left cheekbone was bruised. It was a little swollen and purplish, just under his eye. Before Tony could think twice, his hand flew up to cup his face carefully, and Peter flinched for a fraction of a second, before leaning into the touch, eyes fluttering closed. “What –“

Someone coughed loudly to his left and it was like some kind of spell was instantly broken. Tony was reminded that they weren’t alone in some alternate universe where only they existed, but rather at a very loud, very crowded party.

“Uh – Sorry! Uhm, Tony, this is Harry!” Peter jumped away from him and Tony’s eyes flew to the guy next to him. He looked expensive and aristocratic in a way that Howard would probably want him to look, his clothes were impeccable, his hair carefully gelled back. He had high cheekbones, straight brows, and eyes that glared daggers at him, clearly telling him to fuck off. “He’s a friend. Harry, this is Tony, he, uh – we used to go to school together.”

Tony pretended that it didn’t hurt that now all that he was to Peter was an old acquaintance – it was mostly his fault, anyway. He focused on the purplish bruise on his cheek, ignoring the hand that the other boy extended to him in greeting.

“What happened to your face?” He asked, raising his fingers to try and touch it again, but Peter dodged them immediately.

“It’s nothing.” He looked intently into his eyes and Tony knew what he meant – let it go. And he wished he had a right to demand an answer, but of course he didn’t. He was just someone he went to school with.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” He glanced sideways at the other guy who stood that much closer to Peter now, frowning, trying to assert some dominance or something, but the younger man seemed barely aware of his presence.

“He – I – we’re not together anymore.” And Tony knew that, of course. Had known for a week, Natasha called him as soon as she heard it from Wanda. She didn’t know many details, but she said it was ugly, which begged the question: how ugly? Why was Peter’s face bruised?

And who the fuck was Harry, anyway, and what the fuck was he doing with an arm around Peter’s waist?

“Hm,” Tony muttered, eyes lingering on Harry’s fingers brushing Peter’s hipbone, and he noticed when the younger boy discreetly pulled away until he let go of him. “Do you wanna get out of here?” He asked, casually, like they could still say stuff like that to each other, and Peter was taken aback.

“Dude, we were having a private conversation here, wh –“

“Fuck off.” Tony didn’t spare the other guy a glance, eyes focused on Peter, who shook his head, as if getting out of a trance.

“No, he’s right, Tony, I – sorry, I can’t go with you. I’ll see you around, okay?” He waited for an answer for a few seconds, but when Tony said nothing and didn’t make any move to leave, he sighed. “Ok. C’mon, Harry.” He walked away in the general direction of the backdoor of the house the party was being held at and Tony let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, when he felt a firm hand land on his shoulder.

“Tough night, huh?” When he looked over his shoulder, it was Nat, smiling pitifully at him.

“Something like that.” He rubbed a hand across his forehead, turning around to face her. He accepted the red cup she offered him. “Do you know this Harry?”

“Harry Osborn. He’s been following Peter around like a lost puppy for a few months now, I think Peter and Beck’s fight had something to do with him, you know he was a jealous fucker.” Yeah, Tony knew. It was one of the reasons he and Peter hadn’t talked in nearly two years before that night.

“Do you think Peter likes him?” He asked, quietly, and the redhead shrugged, looking in the direction they had wandered off to.

“I’m not sure, he never tells him to fuck off, but he’s too polite to do that anyway, so.” She looked back at him with a serious gaze, brows furrowed. “Why, gonna give up that easily?”

“Of course not, I just –” Tony looked into his cup, biting his lower lip. “He didn’t seem too excited to see me, it’s all.” He shrugged, a little defeated, and Nat chuckled.

“He was a little shocked, you haven’t talked to him in years, give him some time.” She smiled, slapping his arm encouragingly. “C’mon, Romeo, the night is still young.”

But not young enough, it seemed. Tony didn’t see Peter again until a few hours later, when he watched him leave with Harry’s fucking arm around his shoulder and it felt like losing him, all over again.

–*–

One day, Tony blinked and Peter was taken.

Suddenly, that sweet boy who was always by his side, with huge, bright eyes and that innocent, wishful look on his face, went off with someone else. Which was – unexpected. Unexpected, yes, because Tony saw the way he looked at him, the way his eyes glinted as he listened to him, the way his cheeks burned a lovely pink when they touched, the way that shy, secret smile made its way across his face whenever they were close enough.

Tony knew Peter was in love with him, the boy couldn’t keep it a secret if he tried.

And he loved him, too. He loved the sound of his voice as he explained chemical equations Tony pretended not to understand, just to hear him talk nerdy. He loved how silly he looked when someone said something unexpectedly funny and he let out a surprised giggle. He loved his small, steady hands, that were always helpful in the workshop Howard set up for him back home. He loved his weird left eyebrow, which seemed to be perpetually disheveled.

He did. The timing just wasn’t right.

They were so young when they first met, Peter hadn’t even had his first kiss yet, all those years ago at Midtown High. Tony remembered falling in love with him on their way from the AP Physics classroom to the cafeteria, remembered stealing his first kiss after school by his car, in the parking lot, and panicking right after because he just wasn’t ready.

For commitment, for Peter.

But to be honest, he was so sure he was always going to be there, he wasn’t in any rush. He thought he could take his time before he settled down with Peter, so he dated other people – although, to be fair, it wasn’t really dating, it was just fooling around, he was just having fun, it didn’t mean anything. Even so, he knew it made the younger boy miserable. He pretended not to notice how red and puffy his eyes were some days, when rumors were spread about Tony’s hook-ups.

He thought he had all the time in the world, so he took it.

He left for MIT a year earlier than Peter and that was when it all went south. Because of Quentin Fucking Beck. He was charming, handsome and a genius in his own right. None of those things mattered to Peter, Tony knew, he was such a nice boy. What won him over were the niceties, the card on valentine’s day, the innocent teddy bear on his birthday, the invitation to senior prom. Tony fucking knew and he should have seen it coming, but he was cocky, he was confident that Peter loved him above all those little gestures, that he loved him enough to look past those and wait. Wait for him to be ready. Because he must have known, right? He must have known that Tony loved him, too. Wanted him, too.

But Peter didn’t know, it seemed.

Because he went off with Beck, he kissed him at the end of the night at prom, he went home with him, lost his virginity to him, then called Tony the next morning and told him all about it. Tony thought maybe it was just – maybe Peter was confused, maybe it wasn’t serious, because he loved Tony, why would he want to be with Beck?

The older boy went back home for the summer break, after a year away. He thought it would all go back to normal, that he and Peter would see each other everyday, hang out together in Tony’s workshop – the only place he felt at home – or at Peter’s place, and he would realize he was wasting his time with Beck. Tony was ready by then, the thought of losing Peter to someone else was enough of a wake-up call, so he was ready to settle down, he was ready for commitment.

Peter was waiting for him at the airport and jumped in his arms as soon as his Tony-radar picked up on him. He kept him company when he went home to face Howard, but then he had to leave early because he had a date with Beck. Which was okay, really. The following day, Tony went to visit May and they hung out for a while, but soon after, Beck was there, too. The next day he made plans to catch a movie with Peter and, sure enough, he showed up with Quentin attached to his hip.

And Peter laughed at his jokes and let him hold him by the waist and let him whisper in his ear and payed attention to every word he said, like it fucking mattered, and it didn’t, because seriously, that guy was a prick, he was arrogant and full of himself and – what the fuck was Peter doing with him?

Beck started tagging along every-fucking-where they went, even in the workshop. Tony slowly began to notice that it wasn’t because he wanted to be with Peter at all times, at least not only because of that. He was jealous – possessive, even. Whenever Tony got physically close to the younger boy, he’d glare at him, sometimes he even “playfully” pulled Peter back. If Tony ever suggested he and Peter do something just the two of them, for old time’s sake, the younger man looked uncertain, almost nervous, so he stopped asking.

At the same time, Peter seemed to miss their time together, too, but he couldn’t seem to be able to tell Beck to fuck off. He always had that apologetic look on his face when he asked if it was okay for Beck to come and Tony put on his best, fake smile when he said yes.

At first, Tony thought he could take it, he thought that he could hang out with them and not be weird, but he was wrong. It was fucking weird. Because he was in love with Peter and Peter was in love with someone else.

So Tony stopped calling as the weeks went by, then he stopped picking up Peter’s calls, then he stopped answering his texts until they were reduced to only exchanging waves and smiles by the end of the summer, as if they’d never been friends before.

To be honest, Tony thought it was temporary, because deep down he believed – had to believe – that Peter still loved him, even if he was dating Beck. So, whatever, they wouldn’t talk for maybe a few months, but soon enough he would realize that Quentin was shit and that he was better off with Tony. But he didn’t. He kept dating Beck for two fucking years and when Tony finally accepted that he had missed his chance and that he should move on and find someone new, Nat called him. And he decided he wouldn’t waste any time this time around and still, somehow, he was fucking late.

Because of Harry fucking Osborn.

– *–

Two days after the party, Peter posted a selfie on Instagram. He was lying in bed looking cozy and sleepy, the caption read “Three more weeks to go”, probably referring to the upcoming spring break. He looked effortlessly beautiful and soft, but what drew Tony’s attention, what got his heart pumping and his hands shaking was the glimpse of a dark blue hoodie with yellow strings that looked an awful lot like the one Tony had lent him in high school and never got back.

Did Peter do that on purpose? He must have known Tony would see it, right? Was that a sign? He was wearing his clothes, for fuck’s sake.

“Nice hoodie.” He shot him a DM and bit his nails as he waited for Peter to see it. For some reason, he thought he might not answer at all. Tony was still a little disappointed by the way he reacted at the party, but he didn’t even know what he’d been expecting. He was the asshole, after all, he was the one who stopped picking up the phone.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t recognize it, in case you’d want it back.” Tony’s heart did a little back flip in his rib cage and a wide smile spread across his face. It was a playful answer, a peace offering. And maybe it meant he’d been thinking of him when he took that picture, maybe even before that, when he put on the hoodie. Did he wear it often?

“Well, then you shouldn’t have posted that pic, I’d recognize it anywhere. It brings back lots of good memories.” Like walking back to Peter’s place after going to the movies together, wrapping said hoodie around his shoulders when he saw him shiver, hanging out at his place until late that night, getting yelled at by May for putting his feet on the couch, going home hoodieless, thinking that the next day he’d be leaving for Boston and wouldn’t be seeing Peter for a while. Little did they know they’d never have nights like that again after that day.

“So you want it back?” He asked with a sad emoji and Tony couldn’t help but smile to himself, shaking his head no to no one in particular.

“Nah, it’s yours. It has always suited you better, anyway.” Peter didn’t write anything back for a few minutes, and Tony was afraid it was the end of the conversation, but then another message came.

“Not true, you looked pretty good in it.” Tony puffed out his chest proudly and felt stupid when he realized Peter wouldn’t see it, then quickly started typing.

“Never said I didn’t, you’re just way cuter in it, what with the sleeves hanging off your hands and all.” He was again nervous for Peter’s answer, which came quickly.

“I just have short arms.” He sent it with the emoji of the little monkey covering its eyes. For whatever reason, it reminded Tony of the bruise on his face at the party, and it bothered him to no end that he still didn’t know what happened. Well, deep in his heart, he did, he just didn’t want to believe it was true, because if it was – then it meant he’d failed Peter.

“Hey, how’s your face? I was worried the other night.” He asked, trying to make it sound casual, but he knew it probably wouldn’t work, which proved to be true when Peter’s evasive answer came.

“No need to be, it’s fine.” Before Tony could say anything else, he sent another message.“Did you have a good time at the party?”

“Not really, I felt lonely,” He smiled to himself, again feeling silly because he was alone in his room and no one would see it.

“There were a lot of people there.” Tony could imagine his face, the smart glint in his eyes, already knowing what the answer would be. Or maybe he was insecure and shy, blushing as he waited for the answer. Or maybe he didn’t care at all and Tony was an idiot to think he might be interested in him. He preferred to believe the first option, so he answered accordingly.

“Yeah, but I was hoping to spend time with someone else. But he kinda disappeared on me.”

“Oh, yeah?” He imagined his secret smile making its way across his face, lighting up the whole room. “Next time look harder for him, then, I’m sure he didn’t actually disappear.” Tony’s heart fluttered.

“I will.” He answered and Peter was silent for several minutes, so he thought the conversation was over, but because he was a masochist asshole, he asked, “So, you and Harry, huh?”

“What about it?” He didn’t offer any information.

“You two seem close.” Tony said, dumbly, and Peter’s answer didn’t take long to arrive.

“We are.” And it crushed his chest, completely erasing the good feeling he had when the conversation started.

“Cool.”

“See you in class?” Peter sent as a way of goodbye and Tony thought it was a good thing there was no one in his room after all, so no one would see how his face fell.

“Sure, see you.”

–*–

Tony was always late to Professor Strange’s class, because it took place at ass o’clock in the morning every Thursday. Luckily, the grumpy, old man liked him well enough that he was always allowed in with only a threatening, “You are late. Again”, but nothing ever came of it, so it was fine. That Thursday, though, he was up early, too excited and anxious to see Peter again now that they were talking. So he hurried to the physics building and would have gotten in without paying any mind to his surroundings if he hadn’t heard Peter’s voice coming from the side of the building. He quietly turned around the corner and watched as Beck stared down at the shorter boy, who had his back to the wall.

“Tell me I’m wrong, tell me you weren’t fucking him when we were together, I dare you! We’ve been apart for three weeks and you’ve been walking around with him like you’re his fucking bitch!” His light blue eyes bulged out of his eye-sockets and made him look like a madman ready to pounce, but Peter stood his ground.

“You’re sick, Beck, you’re paranoid and obsessive and I told you, I won’t take it anymore! Back the fuck off and leave me the fuck alone, I’m serious!” He tried to push away from the wall, but the older man pushed him back, making him slam his head against the side of the building.

“You little whore!” He grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and Tony finally jumped into action. He rushed to them and before they even noticed him, he barreled into Beck.

“Hey, asshole, get the fuck away from him!” Beck was caught off guard and tripped, walking few steps backwards before he fell on his butt. Tony didn’t look back to check on Peter, he kept his focus on Quentin, who looked at him with fury in his eyes. “Don’t you fucking touch him, you piece of shit!”

“He’s not worth it, jerk, you’ll find out soon enough.” He got up and brushed his hands down his pants. “He’s a lying, cheating, little cockslut and before you know it he’ll be sucking someone else’s dick while you –“ Tony grabbed him by the collar and even though they were the same height, he was able to lift him a little off the ground, noses almost touching.

“If you say another word about him, I’ll fucking murder you,” he threatened, almost in a whisper.

“Fuck this,” Beck slapped his hand away from his shirt and pushed him for good measure, but Tony didn’t move and inch. He glared at him for a few more seconds and scoffed, shaking his head, hands raised in surrender. “You two deserve each other,” he said, walking away, not sparing a glance Peter’s way.

“Are you okay?” When Tony turned around and looked at Peter, he was slumped against the wall, both of his hands covering his face as he sobbed. “Oh God, did he hurt you?” He rushed to his side, checking for visible injuries, but Peter shook his head.

“I’m fine,” he managed to say between sobs, and Tony quickly gathered him in his arms, letting him bury his face in his chest, soaking his shirt in tears in the process. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to –”

“I know, it’s okay, he’s gone now.” He petted his hair, holding him even closer and tighter and Peter responded in the same way.

“How could I be so blind for so long?” He raised his eyes to look at Tony and the older boy ran a hand down his face, trying to stop the flood of tears that wouldn’t rolling down his cheeks.

“It’s – You didn’t...” Tony didn’t know how to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, that Beck was fucking toxic, abusive. It felt so fucking weird to acknowledge the fact that Peter was in an abusive relationship, he felt so fucking guilty. He should have noticed it from the start, from the very first few times he hung out with them, there were so many tells, but he was blinded by jealousy. So stupidly jealous he abandoned Peter when he needed him the most. He was childish and selfish and Peter got hurt – how could he ever forgive himself for that?

“I feel so stupid,” he whispered, drying his tears roughly with the sleeve of his denim jacket, which left red marks on the delicate skin of his cheeks. Before Tony could stop him or say anything else, they heard another voice.

“Peter, is that you?” They both turned in time to see Harry jogging to meet them. As soon as he was within reaching distance, Peter fell into his arms. It shouldn’t bother Tony, it was definitely not the time to be jealous, but he couldn’t help the way his heart ached and his stomach sank when the younger man left the warmth of his arms to hold Harry. “God, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, sorry I scared you.” He was a little calmer by the time he answered and Harry cupped his cheeks in his hands, looking closely at his face, searching for something – Tony knew what and it drove him crazy that Peter was in such a situation that people assumed he was hurt.

“When I got your text I thought that psycho was–“ Peter texted him, Tony thought, dropping his gaze to the floor, burying his hands in his pockets. Peter texted him. He wanted Harry to be there when he thought something bad might happen. Not Tony. Harry.

“I’m fine, Tony showed up and he left.” For the first time since he arrived, the other boy acknowledged his presence. He looked at Tony suspiciously and frowned, apparently annoyed that he was there.

“Oh. You.” He said as an accusation, as Peter let go of him to stand between them.

“Yeah. Me.” Tony straightened his back and puffed out his chest to seem a little taller and wider, but the other boy looked unimpressed.

“Hm,” he muttered, looking him up and down with disdain, then turned to Peter. He extended an arm to reach for the younger man. “Come on, Pete, I’ll walk you to class.”

“It’s ok, Tony’s headed that way anyway, right?” Peter shrugged his arm off, looking at Tony for confirmation.

“Yeah, right. I’ll walk you,” he answered quickly and it was his turn to wrap an arm around Peter’s shoulders – and he wasn’t even sure if he was allowed to do that, but Peter didn’t seem to mind when his secret smile made its way across his face as he looked up at him.

“Are you sure?” Harry frowned, arms crossed over his chest, annoyed, but Peter nodded.

“Of course. It’s fine, Harry, seriously.” What the fuck did that asshole think he was going to do, anyway? Who died and named him Peter’s keeper?

“Okay. Okay, but call me after class, will you?” He sighed, burying his hands in his pockets, eyes focused on Tony’s hand on the younger boy’s shoulder, anger and jealousy clear in his brown eyes. It made Tony smirk slightly in triumph, which wasn’t lost on the other man.

“Ok, talk to you later.” Peter waved innocently at him, seemingly unaware of the tension between the two of them. Harry stared for a couple more seconds, before nodding and turning around to leave.

Although he had put on a brave front for Harry, Peter was still pretty shaken when he left, Tony didn’t even have the heart to get (too) jealous of their little interaction. Peter ran a hand through his hair and raised his bloodshot eyes to look at Tony, it was heartbreaking how sad they looked. Tony didn’t remember ever seeing him like that when they were younger and the guilt crushed his chest. He could have prevented that look on his face if he had stayed and taken care of him, no matter what.

“Beck is a jerk, none of what he said is true, you know that, right?” He almost whispered, they were so close, his arm around Peter’s shoulder allowed him to pull him closer, close enough that their faces were almost touching.

“I don’t care what he says about me, I just feel – embarrassed, you know? It took him literally –” He interrupted himself, but Tony knew exactly what he was going to say. There was so much information in his silence, it was maddening.

“That bruise on your face –“

“It was my wake-up call,” he said, definitive, not leaving any room for any questions. “It had never happened before and it’s never gonna happen again, because we’re not together anymore and eventually he’ll forget I exist, so let it go, ok?” Judging by his expression, it was clear that he knew exactly what Tony wanted to do to Beck.

“What about today? What if I hadn’t got here in time, what if –“

“I’m not that delicate, Tony,” he chuckled as he started walking to the building entrance, forcing Tony to walk alongside him. “I probably couldn’t take him in a fight, but I’m sure I could do some damage.” He looked up at him with a wicked smile and winked. It made Tony’s heart melt a little.

“I’m sure you could.” When they finally reached their classroom, Tony stopped and held Peter’s shoulders, forcing him to face him. “If he ever comes looking for you again, please let me know?” Peter chuckled, shaking his head a little.

“Between you and Harry scaring him off this past week, I doubt he’ll try anything anytime soon.” Of course. He had Harry. “C’mon, we’re already late to class.”

–*–

When Tony moved to Boston, he had to stay at the dorms for his first year, as was required by MIT. He didn’t mind it much, to be honest, it was noisy and messy, but so was most of his life, so it was fine. Besides, he got Rhodey as his roommate and they became fast friends, which was awesome. But of course it wasn’t good enough for a Stark, according to Howard, so in the beginning of his second year, he got Tony an apartment close to campus. It had three bedrooms and an open kitchen, separated from the living room by a counter, and it was huge.

At first, it was fun having the whole place to himself, but after a year alone, he invited Rhodey to live with him, and it was the best idea he’d had yet, they spent all of their free time playing video games, drinking beer and tinkering, when they didn’t have friends over.

They were having a quiet night in, Rhodey was studying for finals and Tony was giving DUM-e a few touch-ups, when he decided to take a break to check his phone. Of course, as he did every time, the first thing he checked was Peter’s Instagram. There weren’t any new pictures – he wasn’t the type of person who posted everyday, it was more like once a week – but there were new Instagram stories. It was a series of short videos of him rambling about his tests and how he couldn’t wait for spring break, so Tony took the opportunity to shoot him a message.

“Someone’s excited for spring break. Do you have plans?” He asked casually, but his heart was pumping, he always wondered if Peter got excited to speak to him, too.

“Hey! No plans, I just really need a break right now. Lol. Why do you ask?” He answered almost immediately, and Tony smiled.

“No reason, you just seem really excited about it. Are you gonna be in town?” In all honesty, it was just an innocent question, because Peter could want to go visit May, but the answer took his breath away for a second.

“Yeah, why? Are you gonna ask me out or are you just stalking me?” The message was accompanied by a smiley face with the tongue sticking out.

“Do you want me to ask you out?” He sent back with the smirking face emoji.

“Answering a question with another question? Rude.” Tony held back a smile, biting his lower lip.

“I’m sorry, the answer is yes, I’m asking you out, what’s yours?” Go big or go home, he figured, and Peter seemed interested, so what the hell?

“You’ll know when you ask me.” He sent the emoji with the tongue sticking out again.

“I just did!” Tony argued, laughing to himself, he could almost see Peter’s secret smile in his mind.

“I’m sure you can do better than that. I’ll wait. So you’re not going back to New York for the break either?” He quickly changed the subject, which was fine, at least Tony knew that he was definitely interested, even if just a little.

“Yikes, no way. Twice a year is way too many times already.” He was suddenly reminded that he still had to call his mom to give her his final answer.

“Lol. If I remember your mom correctly, she must be calling non-stop.” Tony smiled again. Peter and Maria used to get along weirdly well for a nerdy teenager and an old, slightly stuck-up socialite. Tony even caught them trading stories about him once, it was terrifying. And a little heartwarming.

“Only everyday for a month now.” And he wasn’t even joking, Maria called daily to ask him to come home for spring break. And if it were for her, he would, but there was Howard.

“Lol.”

“She asks about you sometimes.”

“And what do you say?”

“That you don’t love me anymore.” He sent it before he could overthink the answer. It took Peter a full minute to write back.

“You’re a menace, Tony Stark. Next time tell her the truth: that YOU got fed up with me.” To soften the blow, he sent a laughing emoji. “Tell her I said hello.”

“That’s not true, I’m here now, aren’t I?” Before Peter could ask what was the truth, then, because that was a conversation Tony wasn’t ready for, he added. “I’ll tell her you said hi.”

“See you next Thursday?”

“Can’t wait.”

–*–

“Dude, calm down, I’m pretty sure he’ll still be there five minutes from now,” Rhodey chuckled, watching Tony with a bemused expression after he jumped up from the couch and rushed to the bathroom. He ran his hands through his hair to make sure it was a carefully planned mess, put on his best cologne and decided to change shirts – maybe something a little tighter across the chest, something that would show off his biceps better.

“I’m sure he’ll be there all night long, but I need to be the first to get to him, I swear to God, if that Osborn asshole gets there before I do, I’m losing my shit.” He made his way into his bedroom as he heard his roommate laughing from the living room.

“Just ask Nat to keep him busy until you get there,” Rhodey leaned against his bedroom door and Tony turned around and spread his arms, showing off the t-shirt he had picked up. It was plain black, with little holes in it, and just a tad too small. His friend gave him a thumbs up.

“I did, I just don’t know how long she can keep that creep away.” He sat on the bed to put on his sneakers and missed the way Rhodey smirked.

“Knowing her, I’d bet on pretty fucking long.” He wasn’t wrong, Natasha was scary as fuck, but still, Tony couldn’t risk it.

Just a few minutes earlier, he was lounging on the couch playing Counter Strike with Rhodey when Peter posted a picture on Instagram. He was all dressed up in tight fitting jeans, a light pink sweater and his old, beat-up vans. His curls were brushed back and he was smiling at the camera. The caption read, “#SpringBreakWarmUp”. Tony immediately sent him a DM.

“Hey! Spring break warm-up, huh?” He asked nervously, wondering where Peter was going and, more importantly, with whom.

“Yeah, you’re coming, right?” He answered just a few seconds later, and Tony was relieved he hadn’t been ignored.

“Coming where?” He tried to remember if he had any plans for the weekend, but none came to mind.

“Thor’s party! He said you were coming?” Tony slapped his forehead, he thought the party was the following weekend. But more importantly, had Peter asked Thor if Tony was coming?

“Oh, yeah, sure! Yeah, I’m on my way, where are you?” Of course he was nowhere near the party, but he could make it happen.

“I’m already here! See you soon, then.” As soon as he read that text, he jumped out of the couch, scaring the living shit out of Rhodey.

So excuse Tony if he was driving like a madman to the party, even if his older friend was begging him to slow down from the passenger seat.

“You can’t fuck him if you’re dead!” He shouted from his right and Tony just chuckled and said nothing. He told Rhodey a very short and edited version of his history with Peter, he left out words like “love” and “yearning” and “pining”, so he probably thought Tony just had crush on him.

When he got to the party, it was already in full swing. There were people hanging outside and the door was open, Tony could hear loud music coming from the living room. He and Rhodey walked in and were almost immediately engulfed by Thor’s embrace and booming voice welcoming them. They chatted for a few minutes, but Tony was a man on a mission.

“Hey, have you seen Peter by any chance?” He tried to sound casual as he looked around the room, trying to catch a glimpse of Nat’s fiery red hair, but Thor smiled knowingly at him.

“The two of you should have made arrangements to come together instead of asking around for each other.” He winked at Tony with one of his blindingly white smiles, and the brunette gasped.

“He asked about me?” He might have squeaked, but the music was really loud, so who knew, but Thor’s booming laugh told him otherwise.

“Ah, you kids.” He shook his head, placing a heavy hand on Tony’s shoulder. “He’s in the kitchen.”

Tony wanted to repeat his question, but he had embarrassed himself more than enough for one night, so he just smiled thankfully and rushed towards the kitchen. Well, tried, he was stopped by the “newly-wed” couple, Steve and Bucky, who had just moved in together and were even more annoyingly perfect than ever.

They tried to strike up a conversation about home décor, of all things, but he left Rhodey with them – not without getting a threatening look that said “you’ll pay for this”, but oh well – and kept searching, until he finally saw Nat talking animatedly to Peter by the kitchen counter.

“Hey there!” He approached them and tried to look – well, like he hadn’t basically run there after Peter messaged him.

“Tony!” And it paid off, because the younger man seemed really excited to see him, he smiled brightly up at him and, best of all, Harry was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey, I’m gonna go talk to Wanda, see you guys later.” He barely noticed as Natasha made her exit, Peter didn’t seem to care either, all his focus was on Tony and it reminded him of how they were in high school. Living in their own little world.

“Hey, for a minute there I thought you weren’t coming,” Peter said, getting a little closer to Tony so he could hear him over the music. He looked amazing, his clothes were clearly new, his hair was bouncy and shiny and he smelled incredible. It made Tony a little self-conscious because he had just jumped out of the couch and changed shirts, now he wished he had taken a little more time to get ready.

“Yeah, I almost forgot that was today,” He scratched the back of his head and Peter gifted him with one of his secret smiles.

“Figures, I bet you had other places to be.” He bumped him with his shoulder and that innocent touch was enough to send a jolt of electricity down Tony’s arm.

“Only one where I could find you, though, so here I am.” He winked and Peter blushed and pushed his shoulder like a younger version of him would have, anytime Tony flirted shamelessly with him back in high school.

“Shut up,” he mumbled, still smiling, then pointed to the backdoor over his shoulder. “There’s a keg out back, do you wanna…?”

“Yeah, sure, lead the way.” He followed Peter outside, where there was a big yard with a pool. They each grabbed a cup of beer and stood close to the water. The music wasn’t too loud out there, which allowed them to talk more easily. “So, where’s your guard dog?” Tony asked and watched as Peter frowned for a second, before realization dawned on him and he laughed.

“Who, Harry?” He asked, amused, and Tony nodded. “He couldn’t make it, he’s packing, he’s going home for the break.”

“Ah, what a shame,” Tony said, sarcastically, and Peter laughed again.

“You don’t like him very much, do you?” Tony looked at him with a look that screamed “you think?!” and Peter chuckled. “Funny. He’s not a fan of you, either.”

Of course he wasn’t, Tony thought, huffing, but didn’t say it. Before he could change the subject, though, he heard something. It was quiet and discreet, but Tony caught it, and so did Peter, if the way his face fell and his smile disappeared were any indication.

“Slut.”

He didn’t need to look to know who it was and who the person was talking to, so Tony didn’t waste any time when he turned around, he only stopped long enough to aim right at their nose and punched, making sure to put all of his body weight and force behind it. Beck swayed and, for a minute, it looked like he was going to topple over and fall in the pool, so Tony grabbed him by the collar. It was the first time he got to look at him after he knew for sure what he’d done to Peter, and it took all of his willpower not to smash his head in, but he knew the younger man wouldn’t want that.

“Oh, my God! Tony –“

“Let’s make something clear, right here, right now.” He didn’t pay any mind to the people gathering around them, nor to the fact that there was a decent amount of blood running down Beck’s nose, he even pretended not to feel the way Peter was trying to pull him away, he was focused on those crazy blue eyes. “You don’t get to talk to Peter anymore. Ever. You’re not worthy of him, you don’t get to call him names, you don’t get to look at him, you don’t even get to breathe the same air as him, so if I ever see you within breathing distance of him again, we’re gonna have problems, Beck, do I make myself clear?” Beck stared at him with huge, scared eyes, blinking rapidly as if to trying to remain conscious.

“You’re ins--”

“Do I make myself clear?” He shook him hard for good measure, and it seemed to cause his nose to bleed even more. “It’s a simple yes or no question!”

“Yes, fuck off!” His hands tried to weakly pry Tony’s away from his collar, but he didn’t succeed.

“Good, get the hell away from my face.” He pushed him with enough force that it almost sent him straight to the floor, but some friend of his held him up and they scurried away. Slowly, things went back into motion, it appeared, Tony could hear the music again, people started talking to each other loudly and some of them were dancing. He kept breathing hard, trying to regain his calm and gather enough courage to face Peter, who should be mad at him for making a scene.

“I wish you hadn’t done that.” In the end, it was his sweet, quiet voice that lured him back to reality and he turned around to meet the smaller boy with his arms crossed over his chest, but he didn’t look nearly as pissed off as Tony thought he would be.

“I don’t. I wish I could have killed him.” He could barely believe how true that statement was and Peter must have noticed, too, because his eyes widened a little, before the muscles around his mouth softened in that secret smile of his.

“Well, thanks for – I don’t know, protecting my honor, I guess?” He chuckled, letting his arms fall to his sides, before grabbing Tony’s right hand, which was a little bruised and dirty with Beck’s blood. He examined it for a few seconds, then looked up at the older man. “Just don’t ever do that again, okay? I’m sure we can find other ways to keep him away.”

We, he said. He didn’t want to do that alone, he wanted Tony to help, he wanted Tony to be there for him. We.

Tony smiled breathlessly and nodded, squeezing the small hand that was still in his. He looked around, worrying his lower lip, then looked back at Peter.

“Do you wanna get out of here? I have a six-pack back home,” He suggested as he pulled him a little closer and the younger man shot him a slightly shocked and surprised look. “Wh –no! It’s not what – I mean, we could go for some coffee instead, really, whatever you want, I just don’t feel like staying here, but I will, if you want, I just –“ Before he could finish his ramble, Peter started giggling, shaking his head.

“I could really use a beer. And I guess I don’t wanna stay, either,” He shrugged and Tony smiled, taking his hand to lead him back inside.

They quickly said their goodbyes to their friends and Tony let Rhodey know that Peter would be over. His friend quietly pulled him to the side as Peter talked to Wanda and asked if he needed him to crash somewhere else for the night and it almost made the brunette burst out laughing. “I wish,” he told him. Peter would probably stay for a few beers and leave early, if he knew him. Rhodey shrugged and said he would crash at Carol’s, just to be sure, and Tony clapped him on the back and thanked him.

He and Peter walked to Tony’s car, the air was cold, not terribly so, but the older man regretted not having a jacket when he saw Peter shivering. He had a little déjà-vu about their last night together in New York, almost three years and a half earlier, the day Peter kept his hoodie. They were walking to his place from the movies, the air was a little chilly, summer was almost over. Peter’s cheeks were flushed and when Tony wrapped an arm around his shoulder, he looked up at him and shivered. The older man quickly unzipped his hoodie and wrapped Peter’s smaller body in it.

It felt like a lifetime ago now.

When they got inside the car, Tony made sure the heater was on max as Peter rubbed his hands together, pulling the sleeves of his sweater down.

“Sorry, I don’t have a jacket to lend you, but it’s gonna warm up soon.” He smiled apologetically and the other boy waved a hand dismissively.

“It’s for the best, you’d never get it back if you did.” He batted his eyelashes playfully and Tony laughed as he started the car and pulled out of the driveway. They were quiet for a few seconds, but it was a nice, comfortable silence.

“How’s your aunt?” Tony asked, just to make small talk, but also because he liked May, she was really cool, although she sometimes screamed at him for no reason, like the time he allegedly blew up her toaster.

“She’s getting married, actually.” Peter looked amused and a little unsure. “To a doctor from this new hospital she’s working at. He seems like a nice guy.” He didn’t sound specially excited sharing the news.

“But you don’t like him?” Tony asked, confused, and the boy shook his head quickly.

“It’s not that. It’s just – It’s weird. I guess. For so long it was her, uncle Ben and me, then everything changed when uncle Ben died and we had to learn how to be a family just the two of us. Now it’s all changing again. I just feel weird when I come home to them, you know? It makes me feel a little like an outsider, like I’m intruding in their privacy. And it kinda makes me miss uncle Ben, for some reason. But he seems to make her really happy, so that’s more than I could ask for.” He shrugged and Tony smiled softly at him, he knew exactly what he meant. Peter blushed slightly, but smiled back. “How about your parents? Is your dad still on your case?”

“It’s a little better now that we’re in different states. Summer break is always a pain, though.” Tony felt like he and Howard would never get along and he was slowly getting used to that idea.

“Well, if you ever need asylum, I hope you remember your way back to Queens,” Peter grinned at him and it warmed his heart. He didn’t trust his voice to answer so he just smiled and nodded. As if I could forget.

When they got to Tony’s building, the older man warned Peter not to mind the mess, but he was relieved to remember that he and Rhodey had tidied the place up a little just a couple of days earlier, so at least the living room and the kitchen should be fine. They rode up the elevator to the top floor and when they finally got to the apartment, Peter whistled lowly, looking around the spacious living room.

“Wow, this is awesome! Do you live here by yourself?” He asked, walking towards the couch. The PlayStation controllers were still on the coffee table by the couch and there were a few empty beer bottles on the floor.

“I used to, Rhodey moved in a year ago, it was boring living here on my own.” He gestured for Peter to follow him to the kitchen, which he did, still in awe of the place.

“Cool! He’s that guy you were talking to before we left, right?” Peter and Rhodey had never met formally, when the younger man joined MIT, he and Tony weren’t talking anymore. Tony nodded, offering Peter one of the beer bottles he grabbed from the fridge, before leading the way back to the living room.

“Yeah, we were roommates my first year here.” They sat on the couch, but not too close to one another, and they both opened their drinks.

“Remember we used to make plans about being roommates if we both got into MIT? We were such dorks,” Peter laughed with a reminiscent look on his face and Tony’s heart melted, because, yeah. He remembered.

“About that.” Tony took a deep breath and then a long gulp of his beer, before turning to face Peter in the eye. He owed him at least that. The younger man looked back at him curiously, head cocked to the side. “I owe you an apology,” he breathed out slowly and Peter frowned. “We had a great friendship and I screwed up royally, so. Sorry for being a shitty friend.” He bit his lip for a moment, watching Peter’s reaction, but his face didn’t move, so Tony took another long sip of his beer. “Say something.”

“I –“ Peter started, but then paused, narrowing his eyes and shaking his head. “I just never really understood what happened. I mean, I can see now that Beck was a jerk and it must have been a pain to hang out with him when we were together, but you just –“ He smiled sadly, looking down at his beer. “You didn’t even answer my calls anymore,” he mumbled the last part, as if Tony didn’t feel terrible already. “Was it something I did?”

“What? No, of course not. I was –“ He debated for all of three seconds if he should tell the truth, but he was too much of a coward and so not ready for that particular conversation. “I guess I was feeling a little like a third wheel, maybe. And I really didn’t like him. It was stupid, it’s not gonna happen again.” Peter nodded slowly, staring at him as if he could find out the truth if he looked hard enough.

“Okay.” He was silent after that, his nose scrunched up in a cute way, as if he was thinking hard, trying to understand something, trying to make a decision. He downed the rest of his beer in one go and Tony thought he hadn’t bought his terrible excuse, so he was going to try to explain himself better, but Peter was faster. He slid across the couch and sat right beside him, then grabbed Tony’s bottle and drank the rest of his beer, too, placing the empty bottles on the coffee table. Tony just stared a him in confusion. “Uhm. I’m gonna do something crazy, so just – I’m sorry in advance.” And just like that, he kissed him.

Tony would be lying if he said it tasted familiar, that it took him back to that awkward first kiss in the school parking lot, leaning against his car. It was completely different, it was like kissing someone else for the first time, Peter was different. He wasn’t awkward or shy when his soft hands grasped Tony’s face and pulled him closer, when his tongue begged for entrance in his mouth. He tasted like beer when their tongues touched, and it must have gotten Tony immediately drunk, because he lost control over his own actions just like that. His fingers found Peter’s hips and started pulling him closer and closer, until the younger man climbed onto his lap and straddled his thighs.

It was heaven, that moment right there, engulfed in Peter’s smell, his hands getting lost in his hair, his lips demanding Tony to keep up, his body undulating discreetly on top of his, begging to be touched. Tony indulged him, his fingers squeezed the deliciously soft flesh of his hips, before making their way up to his waist then down to his lower back in an eager caress, pulling him even closer. His lips chased Peter’s like he was starved, never letting him get away for too long, maybe worried that he would wake up from a daydream if he stopped.

Peter bit and pulled on his lower lip and Tony groaned, hips bucking up and fingers squeezing Peter’s waist in anticipation. The smaller boy looked into his eyes for a fraction of a second, like he, too, didn’t want to wake up in case it was dream, then his lips slid across Tony’s scratchy cheek, down his jaw, then up to his earlobe, where he bit teasingly, his hot breath sending shivers down his spine when he heard the boy whisper a timid “please”.

It was all it took for Tony to grab him by the hips and flip him, laying him down on the couch and positioning himself between his legs. It was a tight fit, but he was afraid that if he suggested they moved things to the bedroom, it would be over. Peter whimpered when Tony let his weight rest against him, bodies touching from chest to groin, pressed closely together, rubbing against each other each time either of them moved.

Tony started sucking on Peter’s smooth neck as his hands dragged the offending sweater up his torso until it was bunched up under his armpits and his chest. Peter raised his arms and Tony took it off completely, mouth promptly latching onto a tiny, pale-pink nipple, which made the smaller man hiss, hands flying to entangle his fingers in the brunette’s hair.

Peter pulled the strands of Tony’s hair, as if he wanted him to stop his ministrations, but as soon as the older man’s mouth left his chest, he pulled him back down, moaning and squirming, seemingly undecided if he wanted more or less of Tony’s lips and teeth on him.

Meanwhile, the older man bit and sucked on his nipple, which became rigid and swollen, sensitive to the point that Peter couldn’t take it anymore and finally pulled him up for a kiss. Tony obliged happily, hips grinding down against Peter’s, feeling his erection rubbing against his, both so hard it hurt.

Peter started pulling Tony’s t-shirt urgently and the older brunette made just enough room so that he could take it off and drop it to the floor. They went back to kissing, Tony’s stubble leaving faint, red marks on Peter’s cheeks and down his neck, the boy under him whimpered and begged quietly – for what, exactly, neither of them was entirely sure.

“Do you – uh – can we –“ Peter started, but didn’t seem capable of finishing his line of thought for a second, when Tony bit down on his jaw. “God – uhm, can we go to your room?” When Tony looked down at him, his cheeks were flushed and he wasn’t sure if he was embarrassed or hot.

“Of course,” he smiled, kissing his lips briefly, before wrapping Peter’s legs around his waist. “Hold tight.” With a little effort – which he would never let Peter notice – he was able to get up from the couch with the other boy in his arms, and he quickly moved to his bedroom. He kicked the door closed but didn’t bother locking it, since Rhodey said he wouldn’t come home that night – God bless him.

He carefully laid Peter down on the bed – which was miraculously made and clean – and his small frame was engulfed in the king-sized bed sheets and pillows, his flushed skin contrasting with the dark gray linens. Such a mouth-watering vision. Tony positioned himself between his legs again and stared shamelessly, as his hands traveled all over his bare chest and down his toned abs, until Peter blushed and grabbed his wrist, trying to pull him down.

“Stop that, c’mere,” he whined when Tony didn’t comply, choosing to keep staring at him for a few more seconds, before leaning down to kiss him deep and soft.

“You’re beautiful,” He whispered against his lips, one of his hands stroking Peter’s hip, close the waistband of his jeans. His fingers lightly made their way to the buttons on the front, where they rested against Peter’s lower abdomen. “Is this ok?” He asked, looking directly into his eyes, and although Peter’s face grew almost impossibly red, he nodded, breathing out an almost soundless “yes”.

It was all the permission he needed to undo his pants, dragging them down his legs along with his boxers, leaving Peter completely bare and exposed to him, like a dream, a vision. Not even his best fantasies – and he had quite a few – could live up to the real thing. Peter’s body was lithe, but fit, the lines of his muscles were visible under his soft, unblemished skin. His nipples were perked up and helplessly rigid and red, which made his mouth water once again. His tapered waist led to narrow hips and plump thighs, his cock was small, but fully hard, swollen and flushed pink, resting heavily against his belly.

“Stop staring, it’s embarrassing,” He blushed, but smiled, hands pulling Tony’s biceps, forcing him rest his weight on top of him, skin on skin, so hot he felt his chest burning. “Besides, it’s not fair if I can’t admire the view, too,” he whispered against his ear, fingers playing with the waistband of Tony’s jeans.

Tony devoured him in a kiss and rutted against him, trying to take some of the edge off, the whole thing was driving him insane, he worried he wouldn’t last a minute longer if he didn’t get things under control, it was embarrassing, he hadn’t felt like that in a long time.

Peter wrapped one leg around his waist and pressed up against him, before throwing his head back, exposing his throat, and Tony buried his face in it, nose quickly filling with the smell of his cologne and a little sweat, the perfect combination to send him straight to heaven. Tony’s hands went down to cup Peter’s ass cheeks and he was not surprised to find they were deliciously round and soft, but firm. He kissed Peter one more time, before gently nudging him to turn around and lie with his stomach down.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, once again hypnotized by the sight of his slim body, from his gorgeous shoulders, down to his thin waist and glorious ass, so fucking round and juicy, like a ripe peach begging to be bitten. Peter gasped in surprise when Tony leaned down and did just that, bit his flesh softly, but it was enough to make the younger man jump.

“What are –“ he was cut off by his own moans, as Tony started licking and biting on his ass cheeks, starting almost at his lower back, making his way down to the fleshiest part of his ass, before moving inwards. “Tony,” he whimpered, sounding like he wanted to resist, but his body said differently, if the way his spine curved and his hips were pushed up from the bed were any indication.

Tony grabbed both of his cheeks, spreading them apart to expose his hole. Again, his mouth watered, the little ring of muscles looked insanely tight, but it was fluttering eagerly in anticipation. The way Peter whimpered “Tony” made it seem like he maybe wanted to say something, but his body didn’t leave any room for doubts. Still, he asked.

“This okay?” It was a little of a low blow that he was close enough that his hot, moist breath could probably be felt between his cheeks, but Peter buried his face in the pillow and, after just a couple of seconds, nodded. “I need to hear you, baby.” He whispered again, and the boy just turned his head a little to the side to whisper a breathless “yes.”

Tony squeezed his cheeks one more time, before moving his hands down a little to Peter’s thighs, to spread his legs further apart. Again, Peter buried his face in the pillow, the skin of his back turning red in a full-body blush, but his hips were pushed up, slightly off the bed. Tony smirked and started teasing him by licking his balls, sucking each if them into his mouth in turns, making the boy cry out and push his hips back into the bed, trying to rub his cock on the mattress.

Tony quickly held him in place as his tongue made its way up, finally reaching the quivering hole that had been begging for attention from the start. He circled the rim with his tongue, feeling its contractions, as Peter whined and writhed underneath him. He pushed his tongue against his entrance, trying to make his way in, but it was still too tight and he could barely get the tip in.

Once he felt Tony’s tongue trying to breach him, Peter started humping the bed, hips moving up against Tony’s face, then down, pressing his cock against the mattress. The older man smirked but let him keep fucking himself on his tongue, as his hands alternated between spreading his cheeks further apart and kneading his thighs, occasionally slapping his ass for good measure.

“To-Tony, I – I can’t, please, I gotta –“ He couldn’t finish his sentences properly, but Tony understood exactly what he wanted to say. He placed one last kiss on either of his cheeks then moved up the bed, reaching for his night stand. He saw Peter turn his head to the side, watching as his hand fished for a bottle of lube and a condom. He bit his lower lip and looked back at Tony. “Please.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, almost dropping everything to the floor. He left the items on the bed and started undoing his pants in a haste. As soon as he heard the sound of the zipper being undone, Peter turned around, lying on his back, resting against the pillows. Tony was a confident motherfucker, so he didn’t even blush as Peter watched him with hungry eyes, lazily stroking his cock as his eyes traveled all over the older man’s broad chest and toned abs.

Once he finally freed his cock, Peter sat up, reaching for it. Tony was kneeling between his legs, looking down at him as the boy wrapped his fingers around his shaft. The older man moaned, closing his eyes when he felt Peter start moving his hand up and down, slowly. He grabbed his shoulders and let his head fall back a little and enjoyed the feeling of Peter’s smooth palm sliding up and down his shaft. He gasped, though, when he felt the warm moisture of his mouth enveloping the tip of his already leaking cock.

“Pete – shit, fuck,” he jerked back sitting on his heels in front of the boy who looked back at him with a naughty smile. “Lie back, you fucking tease.” Peter complied immediately, feet planted on the bed, knees pointing up, legs spread wide.

The older man uncapped the lube, covered two fingers with a generous amount of it, then prompted Peter to place his heels on his shoulders and the boy obliged easily. Tony leaned forwards, almost folding him in half, knowing full well that he was flexible enough that it wasn’t uncomfortable. Exploring said flexibility further was on his secret list of fantasies, but it would have to wait.

He covered Peter’s lips with his in a hungry kiss at the same time as his middle finger forced its way into his entrance. Peter flinched for a second, but soon lost himself in the kiss, hands tangling in Tony’s hair, as he relaxed, making it easier for his finger to slide in smoothly. Once inside, he started moving it gently, curling it a little to loosen his muscles and Peter whimpered, pushing down against his hand as much as possible in the position he was in.

Tony moved his lips to Peter’s neck, teeth leaving faint, red marks on the way, as he tried to insert another finger in. He met a lot of resistance at first, and actually felt on his lips the way his shoulders tensed, so he made sure to be extra careful and gentle as he peppered kisses along his collarbones and lips, trying to distract him from the pain.

It worked, after a couple of minutes Peter’s body opened up beautifully for him, almost pulling him in as his fingers made their way inside. Tony stopped to let him adjust for a few seconds as he devoured his lips again in an eager kiss. Peter’s hands slid down his back and pulled him closer as his hips pressed back against Tony’s hand.

The older man started scissoring his fingers as he thrust his hips against Peter, the tip of his cock just lightly brushing his ass cheeks, but it was enough to drive him mad. Peter rocked back and forth with him, rolling his hips on his own account until, finally, his eyes grew wide and he threw his head back with a gasp.

“Oh – right there, Tony, right there, right there, please,” he begged incoherently and the older man quickened his pace, fucking harder into him, trying to keep hitting that spot again and again. “Fuck! Tony, please, just – please, fuck me.”

“Fuck, you can’t – just say things like – fuck,” He let his body weight rest on top of Peter, burying his face in his neck as he tried to get himself under control. The younger man’s legs slid down from his shoulders to the curve of his elbows as the boy chuckled. Tony pulled his fingers out and sat on his heels, reaching for the packet of condom. He opened it deftly and put it on in record time, before spreading a generous amount of lube to his cock, but didn’t waste much time stroking it. He put one of Peter’s legs back on his shoulder, the other wrapped around his waist, and positioned himself, holding the tip of his cock against the boy’s quivering hole. “Okay?” He asked one last time, to which he boy whispered a quick yes, arms tight around Tony’s neck, as the older boy started breaching him.

It was obvious he was in pain at first, but Tony was patient and placed little kisses on his face as he waited for him to get used to the burn, before he kept going. Once he felt the boy relaxing around him, he took his lips in a deep kiss as he sank deeper and deeper into his warmth, his hole felt so fucking tight and inviting and when he was finally completely sheathed inside him, he let out a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding, eyes rolling back in pleasure.

“You’re amazing,” he muttered, dazedly, and felt Peter’s lips stretch in a smile against his neck. He wondered if it was his secret smile or just an amused one, because Tony sounded high, and maybe he was, maybe he fucking was because Peter was like opium and Tony was already addicted. “Fucking amazing.”

Tony drew his hips back slowly, then thrust forward a little faster, making them both moan in pleasure. He grabbed Peter’s thighs and squeezed tight, imagining leaving marks on his pale skin, imagining that no one else would dare to touch him after. He set a quick pace, hips snapping firmly against his, their mouths and tongues lost in one another, chests touching, Peter’s legs around him, his arms around his neck, everything felt so fucking amazing, like in a dream, a fantasy.

“You feel so good,” Peter whispered in his ear, hips rocking to his rhythm, meeting him thrust for thrust, and it drove the older man a little mad as he fucked harder into him, so fucking hot, so tight, so –“Oh, shit!Tony, right there, please!” He cried, nails digging into his shoulders to the point it hurt, but he didn’t stop, he went wild, aiming at that same sweet spot, hitting it over and over again, as Peter moaned and writhed underneath him, babbling things Tony couldn’t quite understand.

He grabbed Peter’s cock, which was rock-hard and bobbing between their stomachs, and stroked in sync with his thrusts and, without any warning, Peter cried his name, eyes squeezed shut, as he came, spilling his come all over their chests and stomachs, the pressure of his hole clenching down on him and the sight of Peter lost in his own pleasure sent Tony over the edge. He bit Peter’s shoulder to avoid screaming like a madman as he emptied himself inside him, hips never losing rhythm until they were both completely spent.

He let himself rest against Peter for just a few seconds before rolling off of him to take off the condom, which he tied and threw in the bin by his bed. He quickly turned back to Peter and pulled him to his chest, and the boy nestled against him and buried his face in his neck, taking a deep, calming breath.

Tony wanted to say something. Like “I love you”, but maybe less intense. Maybe “we should do this again”. Maybe “do you wanna go out sometime?”. Anything to ensure that that wasn’t a one-time thing, a one-night stand. He knew it wasn’t Peter’s style, but he had to make sure, he needed to know for sure that it meant something.

The prolonged silence made it possible for them to hear a phone vibrating somewhere on the floor. They both raised their heads to look and Tony reached down to grab Peter’s pants when he saw its pocket shining. Peter thanked him and took the phone, eyes going a little wide when looked at the screen just as it went silent.

“Fuck, it’s Harry, and he’s called a hundred times already, I gotta take this.” He looked flustered and a little nervous as he prepared to jump out of bed.

“Please, don’t.” Tony sat up and grabbed Peter’s arm before he could leave and the younger man frowned, a little confused and apparently a little annoyed, which made the older man feel embarrassed.

“What? Why?” He demanded, and Tony bit his lower lip, trying to find a way to explain himself without sounding clingy or needy.

“Because – I mean, I know you just got out of a bad relationship and maybe you want to meet other people and have different experiences and stuff, and it’s probably not a good idea to jump in a relationship with someone else right not, which is fine, I mean – I guess what I’m saying is... If you want to keep seeing him, I understand, just... keep in mind that I really wanna be with you and I think we’d be great together, so I hope you’ll pick me in the end.” He probably didn’t make any sense to the other boy, he wanted to say “Leave that jerk and give me a chance” but somehow ended up encouraging Peter to keep seeing someone else and now he felt stupid.

“Wh – Tony, I – you think I’m two-timing you and Harry?” He shook his head confusedly, eyes blinking rapidly as if he was having a hard time understanding something so absurd.

“Not two-timing, just – you’re seeing him, right?” He felt stupid when Peter just stared at him for a few seconds before he burst out laughing, to the point that he laid back down on the bed, clutching his belly. “What? So you don’t – you two aren’t –“ Tony was still sitting on the bed, looking down at a laughing Peter drying tears from the corner of his eyes.

“Tony, Harry is just a friend – a very overprotective friend who thinks you’re a jerk for hurting my feelings when we were younger, by the way – but that’s it. He’s straight, he’s got a girlfriend back in New York. I thought you knew this, it’s all over his Instagram.” He sat back up by his side, shoulder touching his, and Tony felt unbelievably dumb and so fucking relieved he wanted to cry. He wasn’t even embarrassed that he’d made a fool of himself just a few minutes ago. He sighed deeply, closing his eyes to thank whatever deity was out there. When he opened them again, Peter wasn’t laughing anymore, he was looking curiously at him, worrying his bottom lip. “So… What did you mean by, you know, wanting to be with me and stuff?” He mumbled the last part, looking down at his naked lap.

Tony felt weirdly vulnerable and exposed in that state of undress, so he reached for a sheet and covered them both with it. Peter smiled gratefully at him. He took a minute to organize his thoughts, he considered trying to play it down a little, but at the same time, he really needed to get that out of his chest. So he took a deep breath.

“The reason why I stopped talking to you back then wasn’t because I was feeling like a third wheel. I was jealous, because,” he paused, glancing sideways at Peter who looked back at him with huge eyes. He bit his lower lip and shrugged. “I was in love with you.”

“You – but you – why didn’t you –“ Peter looked and sounded pretty confused, he shut his eyes and shook his head as if it could get his thoughts in order.

“I don’t know, I was stupid,” Tony answered anyway, because he knew what he wanted to ask. Peter was silent after that, the older man kept looking at him, expecting some kind of reaction, but he just looked back at him, pursing his lips. Calculating.

“Did you, uh – are you over it? Like, do you –” He tried speaking again, but he seemed to have lost the ability to string sentences together, so Tony smiled softly and put him out of his misery.

“I love you, Pete. This hasn’t changed.” It was amazingly easy to say those words, words he’d been using in his mind for so long, ever since they were teens. Anytime he said “take care”, “call me”, “I missed you”, “see you soon”, he actually meant “I love you”. So it fell from his lips like the easiest words in the English lexicon. It felt freeing. “But I understand you’re not there yet, so don’t feel pressured to –“

“Are you crazy? I’ve been in love with you since ninth grade,” Peter’s eyes were wet when he looked into Tony’s, one hand coming to rest on the older man’s cheek. “I thought it was hopeless, I thought you’d never love me back.” He frowned and tried to pull his hand away, but Tony held it against his face, heart breaking. He never meant for Peter to feel like he could never love him back, he was just a stupid kid. “I thought I could forget you if I replaced you with someone else. I guess it worked for a while, until you talked to me at Clint’s party and I just – it reminded me how just talking to you makes me weak in the knees.” He smiled shyly and it was Tony’s turn to cup his face in his hands.

“I’m so sorry, Pete.” The younger man smiled and shook his head fondly.

“I love you, too, dummy,” Tony smiled brightly, his heart felt so fucking full and complete. It was like a missing piece fell right into place. He kissed Peter’s own smile right off his lips, forcing him to lie down, bodies entangled from head to toe. Things were heating up again quickly, when they were interrupted by Peter’s phone vibrating again.

“Oh my God, Harry is gonna kill me, hold on.” He grabbed the phone from the bed and Tony watched, amused and relieved. So fucking relieved. And happy. And whole. “Hey – okay, calm down, I’m fine, I – yeah, I’ll tell you if you let me speak. I’m at Tony’s. Yeah, that Tony. No, it’s fine, we’ve talked and – what? Harry, no! This is ridiculous, I’m an adult, you’re over – okay, fine! Hold on,” He turned to Tony with a frown, looking embarrassed and shy. Tony raised a brow. “Uhm, I’m really sorry about this, but he wants to talk to you, could you –? If he’s too much, just tell him to fuck off, he can be a little overbearing.”

“It’s ok, gimme.” Tony was actually grateful Peter had a friend like Harry – well, now that he knew they were just friends. Peter needed that, he needed someone to be there for him and to put Tony in his place if he was ever out of line. He deserved someone looking out for him, something Tony wasn’t capable of doing when Peter was with Beck. “Hello?”

“Listen here, punk, I know your type, I know how you operate, and let me just tell you, it ain’t gonna fly with me, do you hear me? I will not allow you to hurt Peter again, I want you to know that I’m fucking watching you and if you so much as touch a hair on his head I’m gonna make your life a living hell, I fucking –“

Tony wasn’t even mad, he really wasn’t. He was so happy he wanted to cry. When he looked at Peter, he looked mortified, but still, his lips were spread in a smile. That beautiful, secret smile of his, the one Tony missed so damned much for too fucking long.

He’d never have to miss it again.

“Nobody knows it,

But you’ve got a secret smile

And you use it only for me.”

(Semisonic – Secret Smile)

#starker #college au #CssPrompts

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secretpeachtea · 4 years

Text

Onigiri Miya Tidbits Ch 2

Title: the duplicate

Genre: gen fic, reader insert

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Onigiri Miya is now hiring and you just happen to be the right person for the job. The business has been gaining popularity since its grand opening, and many customers travel from different cities just to have a bite of Miya Osamu’s delicious recipes. You did expect some craziness from working in food services, but what you didn’t expect was to be bombarded with frequent tomfoolery from a bunch of attractive volleyball players during your shifts.

disclaimer: manga spoilers

A/N: I know the twins (or anyone from Hyogo for that matter) have a very specific accent, but I have a bit of trouble translating that into my writing, so I hope you guys can still use and hear that accent when you read their dialogue!

Previous///Next

It’s been a little over a week since you’ve started working at Onigiri Miya, and thankfully, things have been going well. There have only been a handful of problematic customers, but you were able to handle them quite efficiently, much to Osamu’s satisfaction. You’ve even been able to get acquainted with your boss much more since it’s only the two of you working long shifts together. You can definitely say that things have been working out really well at your job.

Today is another typical day for you as you walk towards the entrance of the shop, ready to start another day of work. You had actually left your apartment a lot earlier than usual, so you were a bit surprised to see that the door was already unlocked since Osamu usually arrives on the dot. You’re a little concerned that you might’ve jumbled up your alarm this morning and was actually late, but your phone displayed the right time. Not wanting to prolong your anxiety, you slide open the door and meet an unexpected sight.

Sitting at the counter is a man who looks like a carbon copy of your boss but with blonde hair. He’s sporting a mustard-colored tracksuit and is carrying a confident aura.

“Miya-san?”

The stranger looks up and makes eye contact with you. There’s a brief air of silence before he breaks out into a wide grin. “Oh! Hey, new girl!”

Not knowing how to respond, you just lift your hand awkwardly. “Um...hi?”

“I heard from a friend of mine that ‘Samu hired a new worker.” The blonde runs a hand through his hair. “Didn’t think you’d be such a cutie though.”

Before you even had time to react, your boss walked out of the storage room with a bag of rice on top of his shoulder. “‘Sumu, you got rice all over your chin.”

Miya Atsumu flushes red from embarrassment and proceeds to grab a napkin to clean his face. Now that you’re paying more attention to your surroundings, you notice that there’s an empty plate on top of the counter and you can assume that Osamu gave him food prior to your arrival.

“I’m gonna take a wild guess and say that this is your brother.” You shrug off your jacket as you walk further into the building and address Osamu casually.

“What gave it away? The nose or the ears?” Osamu jokingly teases as he shoves the bag of rice off his shoulders to one of the lower shelves.

“You never told me you had a twin,” you respond with an equally playful tone.

“Never asked.”

You briefly glance to check the clock on the wall. “You’re here pretty early. Did I miss something?”

Your boss shook his head as he straightened up. He then pointed towards his brother who was just watching you two converse with intrigued eyes. “Nah. He’s here to eat something before practice and wouldn’t stop nagging me to make him something, which is why I’m here earlier than I should be, sleep deprived and all.”

“Sounds like you had a rough morning,” you laughed.

“Um, hello? I’m still here,” Atsumu interjected with a slightly sassy tone. “By the way, I didn’t catch your name, and your boss kept telling me to figure it out myself.”

You take a mental note at how petty your boss could be with his brother and stifle a laugh. “It’s (Surname) (Name).”

The corners of Atsumu’s mouth lifted upward. “Glad I could finally put a name to your face, (Name)-chan.”

Okay, you were definitely not used to someone calling you by your first name in such a casual manner, so you couldn’t stop yourself from getting a bit flustered. This did not go unnoticed by both twins, their eyes taking in the pink tint on your cheeks.

Not wanting to expose yourself any more than you already have, you look away and head towards the back room. “I’m just gonna go get ready really quick!”

Once you’ve put your things down and secured the apron around your waist, you walked back to the main room. The brothers have occupied themselves with other things in the meantime. Atsumu is scrolling through his phone with a bored expression, while Osamu is prepping the display case to get ready to open soon. You figured you should stay productive too and make your way to the fridge. You peek inside through the glass door and notice that there’s a shortage in beverages.

“Miya-”

You’re at a loss of words when both brothers set their gazes on you once again.

“Atsumu’s fine by me, sweetheart.” The blonde man smirks at your conflicted expression.

“Stop flirting with my employee. And, she wasn’t talking to you, you scrub.” Osamu sighed and brushed his hands on his thighs before turning his body to face you. “What’s up?”

“I think we forgot to pick up some drinks yesterday.” You pointed towards the bare shelves in the fridge. There were a couple green teas and carbonated drinks, but it definitely wasn’t enough to last the rest of the day. The last thing you’d want to do is disappoint any of the customers.

“Ah, shoot. You’re right. I was supposed to take care of that last night.” Your boss looks up at the clock and sees that there’s still some time before you have to open. “I’ll head out and bring those in really quick. You think you can babysit this guy for a bit?”

“Hey! I’m not a little kid!”

“Yup! Leave it to me!”

“Woah, woah! Hold up now!”

Completely ignoring his brother’s protests, Osamu leaves the shop in your hands to bring in the drinks from a convenience store a couple blocks down. This left you and Atsumu in each other’s company for the time being. Not really having much to do until the drinks come in, you just position yourself in front of the register as usual, checking to see if everything is set up correctly. Atsumu seems to take this as his cue to have a one-on-one chat with you.

“So, what’d you do to get the job? Bribe? Save a life? Cast a spell?”

You tilt your head in confusion and blink once. “Huh? What do you mean?”

Atsumu raises his arms in emphasis. “‘Samu doesn’t just let anyone work here. This place is practically his child. Protects it at all costs. It’s the reason why it’s just been him for so long even though it can get pretty busy around here”

“Oh, uh, I just applied and he accepted me.” You would be lying if you said that you weren’t surprised when you found out that he was the only other worker when you got the job.

“Interesting…”

Feeling a bit uncomfortable over how Atsumu was practically trying to analyze you and borderline interrogate you, you try to switch topics. “Seems like you know your brother pretty well.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of inevitable when we share the same face. Although, I personally think I am the more good-looking twin.”

You sweatdropped. “Well, despite the way you look, you guys are definitely different in a lot of ways.”

“For sure! Sometimes we can be complete opposites!” Atsumu nods his head in agreement.

“Does that mean you’re a bad cook?” You take this opportunity to tease the blonde, but start to regret it after you see a competitive glint in his eyes.

“No way! I’m a great man in the kitchen! Just watch! I’m gonna whip up an onigiri that’s on par with that fool!” Atsumu stands up from his stool and marches over to the other side of the counter.

“That’s probably not a good ide-”

“Relax! I got this!” Famous last words.

As soon as Atsumu was in reach of anything on the work space, all hell broke loose. As he placed some sticky rice into his hands, his elbow knocked over an entire container of sesame seeds, while his other arm ripped a couple sheets of nori* during his attempt to catch the tumbling seeds. A couple eggs fell out of a carton that Osamu had left aside due to the ruckus, painting the floors with yolk, and somehow the rice on Atsumu’s palm had ended up splattering onto his chin.

You watched everything unfold with distressed shock. “What are you doing?! Are you trying to get me fired?!”

“I didn’t mean to do that, I swear!” The clumsy man just furrowed his brows as he frantically tried to stop anything else from going wrong. Trying your best to calm him down and avoid making more of a mess, you closed the distance between you and held onto his forearms.

“Hey, calm down, or you might trigger something else. Let’s just clean this quickly before your brother comes back or we’re both good as dead.”

That surely got Atsumu’s attention and the two of you quickly began to clean up the mess. You grabbed the nearest cleaning cloth, while he took a hold of the trash can. In just a matter of minutes, the workstation was already starting to look as neat as it was before. If it wasn’t such a ridiculous situation, you could honestly say that you and him were a pretty good team when faced with Osamu’s potential wrath.

It wasn’t until you were finished sanitizing the counter space did you notice the pieces of rice that were stuck on Atsumu’s face. “Hey, you still have some rice on your face.”

“Again?” He tries to wipe off his face with a napkin like he did before, while he occasionally asks you if he got everything. You point out the ones he misses, but he keeps missing one rice grain on the corner of his mouth.

Feeling a bit impatient, you lean towards Atsumu and he stiffens his movements. “Here, let me help. Hold still.”

You cup his cheek with your fingers to make sure he doesn’t move. Using your other hand, you gently remove the last rice piece, your fingers lightly brushing over his bottom lip unintentionally. Atsumu just stays completely quiet as you do wonders to his poor heart. He even unconsciously leans into your touch, but you’re too focused on the task at hand to notice.

“Got it.” You give him a triumphant smile, but falter as you notice Atsumu’s expression which held a certain softness to it with something else you can’t quite pinpoint.

Atsumu snaps out of his trance when you let go of his cheek and his entire face heats up, red crawling up to the tips of his ears. You pull away and discard the rice into the trash.

“T-t-thanks.”

Atsumu quickly turns his back towards you and wipes a small smudge on one of the containers, willing his heart to calm down from its fast beating. You think he’s acting a bit strange, but brush it off for now.

The only thing left to clean was the sticky floor. You’re about to mop up the egg remnants when you hear a voice call for your name at the front of the restaurant. “Hey, (Surname)-san! Can you open the door? My hands are kind of full.”

You and Atsumu look at each other with wide eyes, both realizing that you haven’t finished cleaning and Osamu was right outside the door. You hunch over and Atsumu mirrors you. Cue the furious whispering.

“What do we do?!”

“What do you mean, what do we do?! We gotta scrub the floor clean until he sees it!”

“But, he’s right outside!”

“Well you better figure something out, ‘cause if I don’t open that door right now, he’s gonna get suspicious!”

With that, you straightened up and made your way to the entrance, making sure to take your time with each step. You hear quite a bit of shuffling behind you but choose to pray that everything will work out. Once you reach the door, you slide it open for Osamu to enter. He was holding three boxes of drinks, the bulging veins in his arms indicated how heavy they were.

“You sure took your sweet time.”

You laughed nervously. “Sorry about that. I was in the back room.”

When the two of you walk back to the counter, the blonde is nowhere to be seen. Thankfully, it seems like he was able to get everything done. The floor was spotless, maybe even a little too clean.

Suddenly you hear the bathroom door slam shut and turn your head towards the sound. Atsumu is walking out with slightly wet sleeves, so you assume that he just washed his hands.

“You’re still here?” Osamu just gives his brother a blank look as he places the drinks down next to the fridge. “Don’t you have to go to practice soon?”

The other twin just shrugs his shoulders. “Eh. Not for like another hour.”

“Then, why the hell did you make me wake up so early to make you food?” One of Osamu’s eyes started twitching.

“I was hungry.”

“Die.”

Ignoring his brother’s bitterness, Atsumu sat at one of the stools near you and leaned his head against his arm. “(Name)-chan, you should try my favorite onigiri flavor!”

Your eyes light up at the mention of the first onigiri your boss made you. “Oh! The Minced Tuna and Spring Onion one right?”

Atsumu looked a bit surprised. “Yeah...how’d you know?”

“Your brother let me try it about a week ago after my shift.”

“Wait,” the man in front of you paused for a moment before a realization hit him. “You’re the reason why I had to eat cereal for dinner that one time?!”

You’re a bit stunned for a moment and direct your next question to Osamu who’s not even trying to hide his smirk. “I thought you said he’d get takeout?”

“Not my fault. This idiot dropped his wallet in the toilet and couldn’t remember where he kept his credit card.” Your boss just casually crosses his arms. “Turns out I conveniently forgot my wallet at the shop that day too.”

“Yeah, you made up for that today, you scrub,” Atsumu scoffs. You just watch the petty banter between the twins, discreetly enjoying their strange way of communicating.

Their conversation was interrupted when Atsumu’s phone vibrated indicating an incoming message. He checks his phone and quietly reads its contents before abruptly standing from his position and stretching. “Well, this was nice and all, but Bo-kun is asking for some extra spiking practice, so I’m gonna head out. I’ll be back soon, (Name)-chan, so don’t miss me too much!”

As Atsumu pocketed his phone, he leaned against the counter where you stood and held out a fist. “I had fun today.”

You laughed softly with a small smile on your face and reciprocated the fist bump. “See you around, Atsumu-san.”

The blonde just waved an arm at his brother, who couldn’t care less, and left without another word. Although, Osamu did nod his head in acknowledgement.

You didn’t think you’d have to deal with so much drama before the shop even opened, but at least you got to meet the brother with good taste.

Today had been another successful day at work. There were quite a few customers and all of the onigiri sold out by closing time. You stretched your arms to relieve some of the tension from standing in the same position all day. Osamu seemed to be doing the same as he rolled his shoulders back and forth.

There was a lingering question that you’ve wanted to ask him since this morning. “Just out of curiosity, is your brother a volleyball player too?”

“Yeah. Do you remember that owl-looking guy from last week? They’re on the same team.”

“Oh, so that’s why you were pretty familiar with him.”

Osamu nodded his head. “I’m surprised the whole team hasn’t come in yet. They frequent this place since it’s convenient and has decent prices. You’ll probably meet all of them pretty soon.”

You just hummed at his words.You were ready to start sweeping and moved your arm in the direction of the broom.

“My turn to ask, then.” Osamu stated. “What’d you guys talk about while I was gone this morning?”

You hand froze in the air. “With Atsumu-san?”

“The one and only.”

“Oh...um…” You tried to think of something to cover up any suspicions Osamu may have, but he was already on to you.

“He did something stupid.”

You looked at your boss in the eye and sheepishly laughed. Might as well just tell him the truth. “Maybe crack some eggs and ruin some rice?”

Osamu sighed. “I figured. I did think it was a little weird when I saw the trash half full when we hadn’t even opened yet. There was also a very conveniently placed newspaper at the very top covered in yolk. Not to mention the eggs shells tangled in the mop.”

You silently cursed at Atsumu’s carelessness, but didn’t hold it against him since you both were in a rush to get everything clean. Before you had the chance to defend yourself, Osamu spoke up once again.

“Glad you told me the truth though, or I might’ve fired you.”

Panic. You are struck with panic at the mention of possibly getting fired. Your mind reels with everything that could possibly go wrong in your life if you were to lose this job, but Osamu’s amused laugh cuts off your thoughts.

“I’m just messing with you. I know how insufferable ‘Tsumu can be when he sets his mind to something.” He pats your head lightly. “Don’t worry, I don’t plan on letting you go so easily.”

“Thanks, Miya-san.” You silently let out a small sigh of relief. There’s a short pause as the two of you just stand in place facing each other. Osamu looks a bit tense and turns his head away to look at the fake plant on the counter to his right.

“...Osamu.”

You pause with bewilderment and look up to catch his eyes. “...what?”

He moves his arm to rub his neck and avoids your gaze. “You can call me Osamu.”

You hesitate a bit and take in Osamu’s shy attitude. “But, you’re my boss…?”

“I wouldn’t mind if you called me by my first name. P-plus my brother shows up way more than he should, so it’ll probably get confusing,” He quickly rationalized, but his red cheeks said otherwise.

At this point, you’re both a bit flustered. In any other situation, something like this probably wouldn’t be that big of a deal, but this conversation seems oddly intimate.

“O-okay. Then, you can call me by my first name too, O-Osamu...san”

“Sound good, (Name)-san.”

Nori = the seaweed stuff

A/N: I know this is supposed to be a gen fic, but I couldn’t help but add in a bit of fluff when it involves the twins

#haikyuu #onigiri miya #onigiri miya tidbits #secretpeachtea #osamu #atsumu

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aerynwrites · 4 years

Text

Stardust

Cassian Andor x Reader Soulmate!AU

Author’s Note: Why do I do this to myself? I almost cried writing this you guys, I am upset lol. I hope you guys like this bc I was so inspired to write this for whatever reason, hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Character death, angst, lots of emotional turmoil, that’s it.

////

You had never met your soulmate.

Even though you had lived your entire life feeling all of their pain, their heartache, everything, you had never met them. You surmised from the countless bruises that appeared and the random bouts of pain that you recieved that they had a very active and apparently dangerous lifestyle - but you had no idea who they were. You didn’t know if it was a man or a woman, if they had dark hair or light, what they looked like, what they sounded like...it was all unknown to you.

So why did it hurt so much when they died?

You had been carrying the crop from your garden into your small home when you felt it. It started out as just a deep heartache, that for some reason slowly ebbed away until it was replaced by a terrible fiery pain all over. You dropped the basket in your hands, the pain bringing you to your knees before it was gone in an instant, replaced by something even worse than all the pain you had felt over the years.

There was nothing. Your soulmate was gone.

Your kind elderly neighbor, a woman named Ada who had basically been your mother since your parents had passed, heard your wails of anguish from her home. But even she could not console you as you screamed at the stars. You weren’t even thirty years old and already you had experienced the worst thing anyone ever will - the loss of your other half. Your mind went numb, you had never felt something this powerful in your short lifetime, something this life altering - aching so deep your bones seemed to hurt as Ada forced you from the ground and into your home. Everything was a blur, hidden and misconstrued by the utter anguish in your soul. You think the kind woman had tried to say something, ask what was going on, but you didn’t answer. You couldn’t past the tears burning your cheeks and the sobs ripping from your throat. The next thing you knew, you were in bed, curled in tightly on yourself with the blankets pulled up around your shoulders as you continued to wail into the pillow beneath you. You didn’t even know how much time had passed - seconds? Minutes? Hours?

The only thing your foggy mind seemed to register was that you needed sleep. That and an unfamiliar faint whisper as you fell into a fitful slumber.

‘I’m so sorry.’

***

It had been a couple of days since they died. And instead of things getting even slightly better, they just seemed to get worse. You felt empty since the moment you woke up, a part of you was missing after all, but even though you felt empty on the inside, you had the eerie feeling of not being alone. Every step you took around your small cottage, you felt watched - but not only that, things were...off. The first day after you woke up, you hadn’t left the bed, you didn't have the physical or emotional energy to do so. Yet, despite knowing you were the only one in your home, it’s like you could feel another presence. You tried to brush it off, excuse it as your mind trying to find some way of coping with this complete and utter loss you didn’t know how to deal with. But when you got up the following day and noticed small things were out of place, you didn’t really know what to do.

It went on like this for almost a week, you trying to cope with the fact that you would never meet your other half, along with these strange events. Sometimes you would walk into the living area, only to see your history books open and splayed out on the coffee table. Then the next moment you would be in the garden and you would hear footsteps next to you, like someone was walking through the foliage, only to turn and see no one there. But it all came to a head when you were awoken in the middle of the night - the first time you had managed to finally get some sleep - to the sounds of loud thuds and crashes coming from your living room. You leapt from your bed, and rushed into the room, shocked to see all of your books ripped from their shelves and tossed onto the floor. But the thing that set you off, that finally pulled at your last shred of sanity, was the photo album that lay open in the middle of it all. One of the pages floating back in its place slowly - as if someone had been leafing through the pages of memorabilia. You all but stomped over to the messy pile in the middle of the room, kneeling down to look at where the pages of the album had stopped moving, seeing only you and your parents smiling faces looking up at you. You felt a new wave of tears spill over and down your cheeks as you clutched at the book desperately, as if it would somehow ground you.

“What do you want?” you cry, looking up from the book and around your empty home, “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

You didn’t expect a response, you knew that you were most likely crazy, seeing these things - these figments of your imagination as a way of trying to cope with what had happened. So, when you finally turned to look in front of you once more, you let out a small scream when you saw a figure standing there. You flung yourself backwards onto your butt, hands reaching out behind you to catch yourself as you took in the intruder in your living room. He was tall, taller than you at least, and he looked like he had just fought a war. His dark hair was mussed, he had several cuts and scrapes on his face, and his clothing - a beige shirt and dark pants and boots - were covered in dirt and had holes in them. But the thing that struck you the most, was that you could see right through him. It's like he was a vision, something here but not quite all the way, as you could see your dining room table through his figure.

“Where am I?” the figure asked, his voice snapping you from your observation and instead bringing you back to the first night this all started.

‘I’m so sorry’ - The words ring in your ears as this stranger repeats his question in the same voice that spoke those words to you a week ago.

“Hey!” his voice bites, the snapping of his fingers making you focus on him again, “Tell me where I am? How did I get here?” His voice was sharp, his accent unfamiliar to you, yet you find a small sense of calm wash over you as he barks his questions.

You sit up slightly, never taking your eyes from him as you finally speak, “You’re on Kaith,” you say simply, voice weak after days of disuse.

The man shakes his head, “I’ve never heard of it,” he says flatly.

“It’s a small planet...on the outer rim,” you offer quietly, watching as he seemingly mulls over the information.

You take this moment of silence to speak up once more, you feel like you know this man, despite never having seen him in your life. He just feels…. familiar.

“What’s your name?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper as you gaze up at him.

You see him open his mouth to answer, before it snaps shut, a look of complete and utter confusion taking over his features as he looks about the room frantically before his eyes return to you, “I don’t know,” he breathes.

And then he’s gone.

***

It’s a few more days before your unexpected house guest shows himself again. Things had been calmer since he had shown up, less things moving around and such. You supposed he was too busy trying to remember who he was. You had rushed over to Ada’s house the day after he had appeared, stumbling over your words as you tried to explain what had happened. She didn’t say much, just listened to you while holding your hand and giving you a knowing look the entire time. She didn’t tell you much after you had finished either, just telling you some cryptic line about how you should be open to this and try to communicate. You had left her house more confused than before but opted to try and talk to the strange apparition again.

But he beat you to it.

“Cassian.”

You gasped as the voice reached your ears, breaking the silence of your home as you were cutting up vegetables for dinner. You dropped the knife and turned around at the sound of the familiar voice, seeing the same man as before standing a few feet away from you in the small space of your kitchen. He looks slightly different this time around. He was still transparent, his clothes were still tattered, and his face was still scuffed up, but his hair was neatly styled, combed to the side. He was looking at you intently, hands in his pockets as he waited for you to say something.

“What?” was all you managed to get out.

He chuckled slightly, and you tried to ignore the butterflies it created in your belly, before he spoke up once more, “My name,” he said, “It’s Cassian.”

You nod your head slowly, taking in the information for a moment before gaining the courage to speak again. You tell him your name, taking notice of the small smile that graces his lips as he repeats it, telling you it’s nice to officially meet you.

“Why are you here?” you blurt out, your curiosity getting the better of you, “I just want to understand.”

You see Cassian go stiff for a moment, before letting out a breath, running his hand through his neatly styled hair, “I don’t know,” he admits, “I don’t even know how I got here - I don’t understand what’s happening,” he sounds desperate now, confusion and panic lacing his words, “When I’m here, with you, it feels real - but then when I’m not it feels like a dream, like I’m floating in space,” he tries to explain.

You watch as he takes a few steps towards you closing the distance and you can really see the panic in his eyes, as he tries to find reasoning behind what’s happening, “Am I dead? Is this a dream? Please, you have to he-”

And then it’s like his voice is carried away in the wind along with him. You blink, trying to make sense of what the hell just happened, why this stranger just keeps appearing and disappearing out of thin air. Why he’s appearing to you, why he’s appearing at all. But you can’t seem to come up with an answer. At least not right now.

***

You’re crying when he appears again.

Curled up in your bed as the emptiness in your chest takes over once again. Since your soulmate died, you’ve had good days and bad, usually more bad than good - but today was especially tough for some reason. You had woken up from a dream cheeks damp with your tears as your mind haunted you with flashes of your soulmate even though you had never met them - but what had made it even more confusing was that it was Cassian’s face that kept appearing in your dreams. You hadn’t moved from your bed the rest of the day, alternating between waking moments filled with tears and grief, and sleeping moments mercifully filled with nothing but inky blackness.

Cassian had appeared in one of the waking moments.

You were surprised slightly when you felt a gentle sensation on your ankle, you looked down to see Cassian sitting at the foot of your bed, hand ghosting across your ankle in a comforting gesture. You also noticed that he looked different again, his clothes looked brand new, his hair was styled, but he still had the scrapes dusted along his forehead and cheekbone - and he was still transparent.

“Why do you cry so much?” he asks softly, eyes filled with concern as he gazed at you.

Part of you didn’t know if you wanted to tell him what was wrong, the rational part of you telling yourself that you didn’t know this man. But a smaller part of you, a part that you couldn’t really explain told you that you did know him. You could trust him - you were connected somehow.

“My soulmate died,” you whispered, bottom lip wobbling as you forced the words out.

Something flashed in Cassian’s eyes, a flicker of emotion you couldn’t quite catch before it disappeared and he spoke once more, “Were you together for long?”

You looked away from him then, shaking your head and wiping at the stray tears that fell from your eyes, “I hadn’t even met them yet,” you confess, “but I felt it when they died - and it’s like a part of me died too.”

You bring your eyes back to the man at the end of your bed and you take in a deep breath, “Did you have a soulmate?” you ask quietly, voice barely a whisper, yet Cassian heard it with ease.

That one question seemed to confirm the thought you both had. You said did - past tense. Cassian was dead. The one thing he had feared since he had shown up in your home. But despite his fear at this revelation, he doesn’t disappear, he tries to stay - for you.

So he shakes his head, “I mean I think I did,” he begins, “But I hadn’t met mine either,” he admits, his gaze falling to something in the distance as a wistful look crosses his features.

You speak up one last time, “What’s your last name?” you blurt, bringing his attention back to you, “You told me your first name, but never your last.”

A small smile graces his lips, and for the first time since he’s started appearing to you, you see him start to fade away slowly. You sit up quickly, afraid he’s going to leave again without answering your question but as he finally fades from sight, a light whisper and warm breath fans over your ear.

“Andor”

***

You sat in your garden, staring at your holopad, the information on one, Captain Cassian Jeron Andor staring back up at you. This is why you wanted his last name, to see if you could find out who he was, what he was doing here, and if you could help him. However, the more you read, the more things started to make sense, and it confirmed your fleeting thoughts since the day your soulmate had died. The fact that Cassian showed up when he did corresponded with his date of death and your soulmates, the event starting on that day you lost your other half, neither of you having met your soulmate...it all made sense now.

Cassian Andor - Rebel pilot and intelligence officer, hero of the rebellion who valiantly gave his life for the rebellion in order to save the galaxy - was your soulmate.

“I’m sorry,” the familiar voice appeared again.

This time you didn’t flinch, but as you looked over at him, sitting cross-legged next to you in your small garden, you couldn’t help the surprise that you felt. He looked good. Even though you had acknowledged long ago that he was handsome, you could really see it now. It looked like he had never seen battle at all, he was clean, no cuts or scrapes, clean clothes...and most shockingly, he was solid. You couldn’t see through him like before. It was like he was right here with you, and maybe, the fates were being merciful and giving you one real moment with the half you lost.

You set the holopad off to the side, opting instead to reach over to him slowly, afraid that one wrong move and you would lose him all over again. But as he met you halfway, his larger hand enveloping your much smaller one, you knew you would get this last moment with him.

You couldn’t help the tears that fell when you felt the warmth coming off of him, or the smell of blaster fire and spice that invaded your senses. You took in a shuddering breath as he pulled you into him, his own warm tears dampening your shirt as he tucked his face into the crook of your neck.

“I know this is crazy,” you gasp, “But I love you Cassian Andor.”

Cassian pulled away from you at your words, cradling your face in his hands and wiping away your tears, “I’m sorry,” he whispered again, “I was selfish.”

Despite your tears, you let out a small chuckle, “I think sacrificing yourself for the good of the galaxy isn’t selfish Cassian.”

But he shakes his head, “But I didn’t even think about you - about us,” he insists.

You place one of your hands over his own that's still resting on your cheek, “What’s done is done,” you say quietly, “I still love you, no matter what.”

Cassian doesn’t respond, his eyes just dance across your features, aware that this may be the last time he gets to see you, before he’s pulling you to him, sealing his lips to yours. Your hands come up to his cheeks, resting there gently relishing in the feeling of the scruff under your fingertips. Your tears mix with his where your lips meet as you both pour all of your emotion into one single action. You can feel his hands drop from your face down to your waist griping at you desperately.

“I love you too,” the whispers against your lips, breath warm as it fans over you.

Your words come out in a whimper, “Cassian-” and you open your eyes, more tears spilling over as you are met with empty space, the smell of Gunsmoke and spice lingering in the air where he was just moments ago.

Cassian’s gone.

///

Also i know Cassian isn’t force sensitive or whatever so like technically he couldn’t appear as a ghost in canon but i just wanted angst okay xD. so please ignore that small detail.

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#cassian andor x reader #Captain cassian andor x reader #Rogue one x reader #cassian andor #rogue one #diego luna

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elsanna-shenanigans · 3 years

Text

April Contest Submission #9: Shocking Confessions

Words: ca. 5,000 Setting: Modern AU with powers Lemon: No CW: Kinda angst, hospitals, anxiety

Soft gentle hands gently tug at the fashioned twin braids of Anna’s hair, slowly turning them into a frizzy mess. For how cold her sister often was, the kiss was hot, passionate. All her deepest desires all poured into one place. For several minutes, it felt like they were both lost in the empty blackness of space, holding tight to each other so they wouldn’t drift apart again. Then something starts to build within the nerves of Anna’s being. Something searing hot that burned through her blood and brought tears to her eyes.

Her body jolts with the electric currents, waking her from this trance. Anna’s head slams into the metal machinery above her head, the only conductor this electricity needed to infect everything else. As she shouts her pain and falls back to the base of this machine, the power and lights flicker, then go out completely. Heart beating extremely fast after the dream she just had, Anna stares at the screen above her head. A dim blue light shone on it, produced from her own eyes.

“Anna?! Anna, are you alright?!” Elsa’s voice broke the silence in this small room just as her flashlight pierced the darkness. Momentary relief washes over Anna, before remembering why she was here. What would she say to them? Dreams like that were meant to stay out of this place and in her own bed only, but it wasn’t like she could control it. Continuing to lie about them would make so many dents in the progress they were trying to make. Controlling these abilities used to be so much easier…

“Y- yeah, I’m okay.” She could hear the sigh of relief from Elsa.

“Thank god. You shorted out all the power in the hospital again. At least this time they know how to get it back online quicker. You’re still going to have to crawl out from inside there.” With a dismayed sigh of her own, Anna carefully rolls herself over onto her stomach so she could try pulling herself through the small gap at the end of the cylindrical machine. Just like last time, Elsa was there to catch her arms and pull her out. This time though, the blonde holds Anna tight in a hug. She could feel the older woman’s heartbeat going very fast.

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to.”

“I know, baby…” A pale gentle hand strokes the back of Anna’s head, which normally would’ve been a soothing gesture for her had the dream not happened. Not wanting the flashbacks for fear of accidentally shocking her sister, she pushes herself away. “What is it? What made this happen again?”

“Just another nightmare.”

“Anna, you know you can’t be that vague. We need to know what’s haunting your mind. We need to know why your powers are responding to it like they are! It’s for your, and everyone else’s, safety. That’s why we’re doing this in the first place, remember?” Desperately searching on loose strings for an excuse, Anna holds her arms tight over her chest, hoping that the constriction would calm her down.

“I- I just need a moment, okay?” Her anxiety was plain as day in her voice. Elsa once again reaches towards her with her free hand, but Anna flinches away. In seeing the hurt on her sister’s face from the motion, the ginger gives a defeated sigh and moves into the careful embrace. This time, Elsa wouldn’t make any rash movements, just hold the girl.

“Fine, but you have to tell me within the hour, otherwise I know you’ll forget.” An hour was probably enough time to think of something, but Anna wanted so bad to confess. This secret had dragged her down for about a couple years, wasting too much research and money. She knew Elsa was terribly worried for her, too. It was just… a terrifying subject to bring up. There was no way to know how her sister would respond to it. “Anna?”

“Yeah, I will, I promise. Can we… go to the place?” Elsa seems a bit hesitant to reply, but does so just as the lights flicker on again.

“Yes, just as soon as we get the results.” The machine behind Anna starts to whirr back to life and Elsa quickly leans forward to turn it off. She was one of the employees here at the hospital, and the reason they were able to afford this kind of thing in the first place. It was a different kind of place than you’d normally imagine a hospital to be, but it still helped people. It just specialized in helping a certain strange kind of people. A long slip of paper buzzes out from a slot in the machine that Elsa takes and looks over while Anna continues hugging the taller woman. When the only response to her findings was a hum, the ginger curiously tries to look at the slip of paper, only for Elsa to raise it above her eye level. “Looks like you’ve started sleep talking now, too.”

“Wait what?!” Panicking over this idea, Anna reaches up to grab the slip and pull it out of Elsa’s grasp. However, all that was on it was her heart rate over the course of time she was asleep and other squiggle lines she didn’t understand the meaning of.

“Hey!” Elsa takes it back with a glare.

“Sleep talking? How could you tell? All that shows is my heart rate.”

“You think I don’t know that? There’s a microphone on the machine. There used to be a soundproof sealing on the end in case the patient would scream during testing. Of course, we would immediately shut down the test, but we couldn’t have screams echoing down the hallway.”

“Oh. How come it’s gone?” Elsa finally turns off her flashlight and clips it to her bluejeans, her gaze still looking at the piece of paper more so to likely avoid looking at Anna.

“Well, with the fear of power outages, we found it would be too easy for patients to get stuck and suffocate. For those who need the containment, they have backup generators in their rooms, but you don’t require such concealment.” Guilt crawls into Anna’s chest, ruining any appetite she had. She couldn’t keep doing this. It was harming others needlessly, not to mention costing the building far more money for the generators. Today, she had to tell her sister what was really going on, no matter the suffering she would have to endure. A lifelong friendship with her big sister ruined by a single sentence.

“I’m sorry.” Folding the paper and stuffing it into her pocket, Elsa reaches down and takes Anna’s hand.

“It isn’t your fault, Anna. We can only blame our parents for not letting you get the help you needed. Besides, the weather can be unpredictable sometimes.”

“But I was doing so well with them! Until… Until…” With her other hand, Anna wipes away the tears trying to glaze her eyes. “They didn’t want people to experiment on me.”

“No one is experimenting on you!” It sounds like it takes a lot for Elsa to say that without a growl. Anna should’ve known better than to bring up something their parents and Elsa argued about so often. “We are observing and working on finding solutions for the problem.”

“Right..” She almost apologized again, but restrained from doing so, so Elsa wouldn’t feel worse about yelling than Anna already knew she did. The blonde’s arm wraps around Anna’s shoulders as she leads her to the door and out into the bright white hallway. This place had the makings of an asylum, with the twist of actually helping people get better and letting them leave. Some patients just took a little longer than others and had no family or home to go back to, so they stayed, but Anna has Elsa.

“Hey, I have something for you.” After getting into the car, Anna curiously looks over to Elsa, who held up a KitKat bar. Instantly, a smile grew over Anna’s face, always taken by the candy bar. When Anna takes and unwraps it, she breaks off the two pieces from each other and offers the other one to her big sister, just like always. It was like a short little break they could share together despite the trials of this stressful everyday life. The break was less the candybar and more being able to take a small moment with Elsa. Without disappointment, Elsa accepts the other half and bites into it before starting the car. Somehow, the blonde never failed to have one after every stressful occasion. Even on the day of their parent’s unexpected demise, they shared the solemn binding treat. Anna knew that Elsa suspected their death was the reason Anna kept having nightmares, but that obviously couldn’t be true. However, after that day, the two had become more inseparable. When they didn’t have to be away from each other, they did everything together. So, in a way, their parent’s death was definitely a contributing factor. Because Elsa had a financially stable career and Anna had just become an adult, the ginger had moved in with her sister, with only one requirement: that Anna had to forgo observation over her abilities.

A half hour later into their drive and they had finally made it to the river trail that Anna loved so much. There was something about how the air just felt much more peaceful and crisp to her senses. Maybe it was just because she had been cramped in a tiny space and a tiny room for so long, but the freedom was amazing. Despite the warm summer weather, they found no one on the trail as they trekked through the dirt path. Not that Anna would mind. As long as she had her sister, she would always be perfectly content, even if the blonde was a little overprotective and made her at least wear a jacket against the sun’s rays. Sure, she thought about maybe getting friends outside of family, even a girlfriend to try and rid herself of the romantic lust she held for her sister, but no one was worth her time the same way. Friends after school just didn’t seem to stick to her. Besides, she wanted to believe Elsa needed her just as much as Anna felt she needed Elsa.

The river was loud as they approached, rushing against its rocky bank. A large stretch of grass separated the trees from the water, bathed in warm sunlight that looked more than welcoming to sit in. So, they did. It was a wonder why such a loud spot would be so calming, but Anna liked to listen to it like music. Just another way to drown out the nervous thoughts in her head. Elsa said she enjoyed sitting near it as well, but she always wore such a sad expression whenever they did. Today was no different. Her big sister watched the water with a glassy blue gaze, somehow still stunning when looking so depressed.

“Elsa?”

“Hm?”

“I think I’m ready to tell you.” Anna’s gut twisted with her anxiety and guilt, only getting worse when Elsa looks up at her. Now that she had the blonde’s undivided attention, her voice seemed to die in her throat.

“Take your time. Don’t forget to breathe. In three, out four.” Nodding, Anna takes a deep breath and then slowly lets it out. This wasn’t the first time she tried to tell Elsa the truth. Except, every other time, she chickened out and went with the most believable excuse she could come up with.

“It’s you,” she quickly confesses. So quickly, in fact, that Elsa doesn’t react for another few moments.

“What?”

“You.”

“Me? What about me?” Elsa seemed completely confused, which was to be expected.

“Would it make more sense to say it wasn’t actually a nightmare?”

“Oh… Oh!!” The blonde exclaims, her eyes wide with what could have been surprise, but looked more like the face of someone who found the answer to an impossible puzzle. Slowly, she reaches into her pocket to retrieve the slip of paper. “Wait…” Squinting as she stares, Elsa’s face gave away that she was trying really hard to think of something to say, probably a scientific explanation to try and resolve any awkwardness. “Well, if this is the first time it has happened, then it obviously doesn’t really mean anything, so-”

“It isn’t.” Anna cuts off, her teeth buried into her lip while she fidgets with her hands. Afraid of what she might see, her gaze avoids Elsa’s. The silence that followed was due to Anna being too ashamed to explain any further and Elsa searching for the right thing to respond with. What the hell would be the right thing to say in this scenario? Was this it? Were they going to forget about the whole thing and stop the tests? Write it off as insignificant and keep living their lives? That had to be the best case scenario. The worst would be Elsa separating herself from Anna in order to try and help her.

“Why?” Was not the answer she expected. Perhaps the one she should have though. For the first time in a really long time, Elsa’s powers finally show itself. Ice creeps along the grass from under the blonde’s hand on the ground, the other still holding the slip of paper very tightly. Worry and dismay grows in Anna’s chest, afraid this was a huge mistake. There was no taking it back now.

“I… Elsa, why would I know? Do you think I would have asked for these feelings?”

“I was asking about the dreams, but uh.. now it’s a pretty clear answer.” Face flushing in embarrassment, Anna shoots a glare at her sister, only to get a nervous kind smile in return. Elsa’s smile made it practically impossible to be mad at her, but if Anna wasn’t going to be mad, she could feel the sadness creeping into her eyes. A hopeless sensation that started happening that night when they got the call. Likely depression, but Anna refused to let her sister take her to get any real diagnosis. To her, medication wasn’t a solution, and therapy would only keep her away from Elsa longer- who she viewed to be the only form of medicine needed. She could tell Elsa carried something from that night as well. Elsa would hesitate to pick up her cellphone when it rang every time, very unlike the quick precise person she was. At work, she made no such hesitation. “So, how long have you been lying to me, Anna?” The question pulls Anna back to reality, where she was sitting here in the middle of the forest confessing to her big sister. Oh god, what had she been thinking…

“I prefer to call it ‘strategically avoiding an awkward conversation’. Lying to you sounds bad.”

“Anna, I’ve been so worried about you. I thought things were haunting you.”

“Things are haunting me! Sort of. Just… not monstrous things. More like illegal things, like tax evasion.” Elsa had the audacity to laugh.

“Incestuous feelings, you mean.” When Anna refuses to look at Elsa again, she brings herself closer to the ginger and wraps an arm around her. Anna groans and drops her head in her hands, leaving Elsa to semi-awkwardly rub her back with a hand. “Just out of curiosity, when did these… uhm.. When did this start?”

“Mhh hard to say,” she lies, her face feeling very hot from embarrassment. “Maybe 2 years ago.”

“2 years ago?! Anna, what the fuck?!”

“I thought it would go away! You know, like a normal crush!” It was unlike Elsa to swear, but maybe this situation could warrant nothing other than profanities. “Does it even matter? Like- truly? I’m practically over it anyways, which is why I decided to tell you now.”

“Oh really? Does someone who’s over said crush have such…” Elsa seems to wrestle with the words for a moment before choking them out, “intense dreams that end up wiping out all power in that large ass facility? You must have been feeling something! If it wasn’t fear then it had to have been…” she trails off, suddenly feeling too embarrassed herself now to say it.

“Would you believe me if I said yes?”

“No!”

“Oh, so just cause you’re a scientist, you suddenly know everything about emotions?” Anna watches Elsa now, whose face was a mix of panic and something else.

“Well, I don’t know everything, but I have a decent idea about the chemicals and reasons for certain reactions.” Rolling her eyes, Anna scoffs at her sister’s claim. Of course, always with the logic with her. Unfortunately for the scientist, Anna wasn’t willing to reason with her logic, or the chemicals she claimed.

“If that’s true, why don’t you explain this then?”

“Explain what, specifically?”

“How on earth I’m attracted to you!”

“I would sound like a narcissist if I did…”

“Do it for your precious science.” Her glare found Elsa’s uncertain gaze, where they shared a moment of silence. Well, as much silence as you could get while near the river.

“Fine. In theory, romantic feelings could be aroused by looks or certain personality quirks. Or, all of that could go out the window when it comes to a stranger, or even someone you care about, touching you in a different way.” It seemed to make Elsa incredibly nervous to talk about this, stumbling a bit on the words and going back on them to reiterate. Anna didn’t even know why she wanted her to explain it. Maybe because her older sister seemed so confident with her reasoning and staying calm rather than actually feeling things herself, and acting rather than thinking for once. Yeah, that was probably it.

“Touching in what way?” Struggling not to smirk as she asks it, Elsa finally returns the glare.

“Not the kind you’re thinking about.”

“How do you know, smarty-pants?” Suddenly, Anna found Elsa’s hand at her waist. It stayed for merely a moment before disappearing and reappearing on Anna’s thigh instead.

“Touches like that. Certain nerves that are for the ‘lover’s interest’.” Then her hand falls back into her lap and Anna could finally let out the breath she held. However, it didn’t escape her how Elsa could have simply said these things instead of demonstrating. The ginger’s eyes now try to maintain eye contact with Elsa’s, but the blonde unfortunately seems far more interested in keeping them on the grass. “However, it’s completely determined on the relationship you share with that person or whether your brain already finds them attractive visually. As sisters, we are extremely close with each other, and neither of us go out to see many other people unless it’s at work.”

“Yeah, but you’re my sister, so this logic is complete bullshit.” Anna says, matter-of-factly.

“M-most sisters probably aren’t as close on a daily basis as we are. Among already living together, dining out together, and not already seeing other people, my coworkers have already asked if you were my girlfriend. I think not sleeping in the same bedroom and making out with each other are the only things that divide the line between us being sisters or a couple.”

“Why are you defending my feelings for you?” Suddenly taken aback by her sister’s surprisingly quickly executed rebuttal, Anna stares at Elsa with wide eyes. This was not at all what she expected this confession to be like. Though, it may still end very horribly… Knowing Elsa and how little she judged a person, she must be very conflicted. “Excuse me for a moment.” Needing a break from this conversation, Anna gets to her feet and quickly walks back towards the trees. Within the forestry, the ginger stops herself at a place she was sure she could find her way back to where she had left Elsa. The sound of the river was still very close, but muffled enough that she could think and try to calm herself down.

When hugging her arms over her chest and leaning back into a tree, Anna could feel something in her left boob pocket. It crinkled and pressed awkwardly against her chest. Slowly unwrapping her arms, she curiously reaches into the pocket to retrieve that familiar red wrapper in its technically trapezoid shape because of the candy within. Despite it basically being her comfort food, Anna never bought it for herself. The candy was just something Elsa liked to get her once being able to pay for things on her own. If she were being honest, she didn’t even like them much at first, but anything from her sister was everything to her, even at 8 years old. How had the years quickly escaped them both?

Anna easily tears the wrapper, leaving the double chocolate bars in the palm of her hand, so she could tuck the wrapper back into her denim pocket. Then, being careful not to drop either piece, she snaps the two from each other. Sure, at the moment, there was no Elsa to share it with, and the thought of enjoying both bars sounded sad, but this had clearly been put in her pocket deliberately. Elsa probably wanted Anna to eat it when she needed to think of sweet wonderful times with her big sister. Though, after confessing her romantic love for Elsa, that thought made her feel kind of ill. Regardless, she had already removed the wrapper and wasn’t about to let the candy go to waste.

“Wow. Already breaking off your KitKats without me now? Might as well make it official and move out.” At the sudden sound of Elsa’s voice, Anna jumps in surprise, almost dropping the chocolate. The older woman had apparently been summoned by the snapping of a KitKat..

“Jeez Elsa, you scared me!” Out of habit, she offers the other bar to Elsa while biting into her own. The blonde doesn’t hesitate to take it and join her sister leaning against the tree. Anna knew Elsa was just kidding about the moving out thing, but she started considering it. Not living in the same house as her sister would make her feelings easier to abolish, wouldn’t it? “Yknow, maybe I should.”

“What? Anna, I was joking.”

“I know, but I’m not.” There was a new tense kind of silence, like Elsa was holding back from saying something.

“That’s ridiculous! There’s no reason to. No, you don’t need to move out. It would just complicate everything. Unnecessary. Besides, with your financial stability right now, and the way your ability is acting up, it’s just… well, a wildly horrible decision. As your big sister, I really suggest you stop thinking about the idea altogether, e- even after you get that… financial stability.” Ah, there it was. Highly suspicious that Elsa wanted to keep her so close. Or was it? Damn, it’s so hard to know when trying to read her sister. Sometimes it was like Elsa felt the same, and other times it was like she was reading all the signals completely wrong. Such a frustrating way to live.

“No reason to? Elsa, I-”

“I know, but that doesn’t matter! I don’t want to lose you!”

“Then why did you hesitate to decide that?”

“Anna!” With an exasperated groan, Elsa pushes herself off the tree to face Anna with a furious expression. “Why are you making this so difficult for us both?”

“Because I’m afraid to admit that you’re right! Right about everything! Because this is wrong! Everything about it is wrong! I shouldn’t feel this way, but I know exactly why I do. You care about me like no one else does. You hold me like I’m the last person you ever want to let go. You know everything about me! I don’t go out to make friends, because you’re the only person I ever want to be around. You’re everything to me!” Her walls were breaking, falling apart like a KitKat bar that you’d left in your pocket for too long, thankfully unlike the one she had discovered. Before she even knew she was crying, cold fingers were gently wiping away her tears. “And here you are, keeping me close to you when I just want to make this better for you for once!” Once again, the silence carries on for several moments too long. Part of Anna wanted Elsa to finally be disgusted and tell her to be better, to get rid of these foolish feelings so she might actually be able to, but that’s not what happened. Instead, Elsa’s response was to press a very soft kiss to Anna’s forehead, and then her tear stained cheek, and finally… her quivering lips. Elsa’s hand cradles Anna’s face, her other hand resting over the one Anna had against the tree. This moment must’ve lasted for several seconds, but to Anna, it only existed for the fragment of a second. Far too short to register what was going on.

When it was over, it was almost like nothing had happened. No loud explosions or confetti. Only the loud noise of water hitting rock over and over again. Anna dazedly stares at her sister, absolutely shocked by this turn of events, despite her earlier suspicions. Elsa seemed not to know what to say either, likely worried she had made a horrible decision by the look on her face. Finally, the ginger let out her breath, a rather familiar sensation roaming her body. Was this another dream? Eager not to lose this chance, she leans towards Elsa, only for the blonde to fall away with a gasp.

“Ow!!!” Elsa stares at her hand, a burn spot on the back with light grey smoke drifting from it. Quickly, the older woman sprints back to the river, where she could submerge her burned hand under the freezing surface. Anna chases after her in a panic.

“Elsa! Oh god, I’m so sorry!” Definitely not a dream. Watching Elsa take one deep breath after the other, it was evident by the frustration on her face how badly she was trying to stop herself from cussing.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” Elsa hisses out. “At least now we have actual answers that we can start working with. Damn it, Anna. 2 years…” Worried about her sister, but afraid to get too close to her again, Anna crouches down a foot or so away.

“I know, I know, I- Wait, are we just not going to talk about you kissing me?”

“Why would we? Didn’t seem like you minded all that much. Unless that’s the reason you zapped my hand.”

“No! No, I didn’t mean to. Why would we-?! We would talk about it, because it was absurd and illegal and amazing and… and..!” Thinking about it brought a wave of mixed feelings upon Anna, mainly of astounded confusion. Though all it brought to Elsa was another smile to watch the blush on Anna’s face grow. “Don’t laugh, this is serious!”

“I’m not laughing. I just love watching you slowly register things. Like when it took you 2 years to realize I love you, too.”

“Y- you what? I mean, of course you do. We’re sisters, of course you love me. Th- this is different.”

“Alright, I take it back. 2 years and… I’ll give this a week, because I’m generous.” Offended, Anna didn’t think twice before pushing Elsa. Of course, the blonde just had to lose her balance and fall forward into the river. The current swept her away before she could bob to the surface, but luckily, a couple of rocks stopped her from getting too far downstream.

“Elsa!!!” Anna’s spontaneous nature told her to jump in after her sister, but with how unpredictable her powers were becoming, she might as well just be a damn toaster. So, instead, she stood at the edge panicking.

“I’m fine! Just stay there!” Elsa shouts over the water. Using her own ability, she creates a solid wall of ice against the water. The object had enough force to throw the water back onto itself and start to rise up the river edges very quickly, but it also gave Elsa a short amount of time to battle against no current and to get back to the edge. Instantly, Anna crouches down and extends her hand out to her sister, who just barely manages to take it before letting the wall fall. Water crashes over them both in a powerful cascade, Anna holding tight to Elsa’s arm with both hands while trying to pull her up onto the grass. Only when Elsa gets her other hand up to solid ground was she able to pull herself over, Anna then dragging her away from the water.

“Elsa, I’m so sorry. I’m such a disaster. Please, I’ll find a way to make today up to you.” Elsa just gives a small groan, her eyes slipping closed for a moment. Anna feared the worst despite knowing her sister better than that.

“There’s only one way I’ll let you make this up to me.” Elsa’s voice was almost too quiet to hear, clearly exhausted.

“Anything!”

“Continue breaking your KitKats with me and… don’t ever stop loving me the way you do.” Hesitating, Anna stares down at Elsa’s tired face until she finally opens her gorgeous blue eyes again.

“Elsa, are you sure?” Her sister gives a tired nod. “Okay.” While still being very confused by this turn of events, she would still do anything for Elsa.

“Say it.. Out loud.” Elsa specifies, her eyes staring deep into Anna’s. It made the ginger’s heart beat hard against her chest, like Elsa was asking her to recite an oath instead of a simple request. So full of emotion and desperation…

“Elsa…”

“Please. You’re my everything, too, Anna.” Elsa’s voice suddenly sounded very broken and weak, like she was about to start crying. “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.” A small smile teases the edges of Anna’s lips. Of anything to come from confessing, relief was not something she expected. Her hand gently pushes back wet strands of platinum hair from Elsa’s face before softly caressing her sister’s cheek.

“I promise to always share my KitKats with you, and I promise to never stop loving you the way I do right now. Unconditionally and completely.” Elsa’s mouth grew into a relieved smile, her eyes slipping closed again as Anna took this opportunity to finally get the embrace she dreamed so often about.

#elsanna #submission #April 2021 contest #prompt: break

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