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harveywritings92 · 3 years

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BNHA vampire soulmate scenario: you see them again/ they introduce themselves.

They find you and don't leave you alone.

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Dabi: It had been almost a month since the 7/11 incident, Dabi kept his distance watching and protecting you from the shadows, That all change today, he was watching your house from the old abandoned grocery store-across the road from your bar (your house is on top of the bar). He noticed you haven't step outside for almost two days, Dabi frowned as he step out of his hideout and as soon as he got close enough to your home his nose scrunched up as he was hit by a fowl stench: he made a disgusted noise... it was like mix of rotten milk and cantaloupe...

You were sick! but that wouldn't explain your lack of activity...unless- Dabi felt his stomach drop into his feet he checked the gargoyle you keep by the door for your spare key, he unlocked the door and walked inside your house and found you passed out on the floor at the bottom of your stairs! he rush over crouched down to check on you... he put his hand on your neck, Fuck your skin was like a furnace. "What the fuck do I do?" he hissed picking you up of the floor and putting you on the couch in your living room.

You wheezed in protest feeling your body being lifted away from the nice cold floor, your eyes opened straining to see who had moved you? but all you could see was a black and purple blob looking down at you; before moving away from sight as your overheated mind tried to comprehend what was happening, Who was that? How did they get in... but soon you drifted back into unconsciousness, and felt something cold on the back of your head...

You woke up disoriented and very confuse you looked around and you were still in your Livingroom... with half melted bag of frozen carrots resting behind your neck and another bag of frozen corn shoved down your shirt, which bewildered you the last thing you remembered was trying to crawl upstairs and go to your room, than nothing. You heard someone clear their throat and looked next to you to find a man who looked like a ragdoll was sitting in your recliner watching you...

"Who the fuc-" you croaked only for the guy to thrust a yellow pill and a glass of water towards you. "Take this first.." he muttered as you eyed the pill suspiciously "patchy" rolled his eyes at your wariness. "It's just Tylenol." he put the glass on the coffee table and showed you the box, "If I wanted to hurt you, wouldn't I have done it already?" he stated as you hesitantly took the pill and the water from him and swallowed it trying not to gag as it went down your throat. "Who are you?" you hissed voice still hoarse trying not to show fear, which was in vain as Patchy's cerulean eyes lit up in amusement seeing through your bluff. "I have several names, but these days I go by Dabi." he said waiting for your reaction but, to his utter astonishment you clearly had no idea who he was... "ok..."Dabi" How did you get into my house?" you huffed as Dabi gave you this unimpressed look.

"Y'know the whole reason for hiding a key, is to not make it obvious."

"What are you talking about? What key?"

"Yeah, good one...the key under the gargoyle."

"...I don't keep a key under my gargoyle."

You say watching Dabi's expression shift to confusion as the scarred man pulled the the duplicate key from his pocket, he showed it to you and your stomach felt like it was full of rocks... that was definitely your house key!... But, it looked newer, shinier then the one in your purse. "You don't recognize this?" Dabi asked feeling your fear which caused his instincts go haywire wanting to remove whatever caused the distress, as you shook your head insisting you've never owned a spare key!

Dabi took a sharp breath through his nose, taking it in all the scents around the house before picking up faint traces of a another male... Dabi let out a low inhuman growl as he relaxed against into the recliner. "Good news doll, you gotta a new roommate." Your mouth opened to protest, but something in the deep crevices of your soul was telling you to trust the scarred man as he played around with the duplicate key. with a feral glint in his eye. "Bad news is... It's gonna suck for whoever the hell pissed me off." his purred flashing his fangs at you.

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Hawks: You were at work it had been to weeks since Hawks showed up on your doorstep, let's just it didn't go so well... It was like in the movies you opened the door saw the blond vampire standing there, you gasped, screamed and fainted scaring the crap out of the poor guy! At the moment he was currently loitering outside the gym you were teaching at, he could hear some of your students parents talking about you.

"It's waste I tell you, someone with her Quirk should've gone pro!" A woman said in a snarky tone the man next to her nodded. " I agree. if I had a Quirk like L/n-san I would be saving lives and kicking ass, instead of teaching kids how to dog paddle!" Keigo growled looking up from his phone and spoke up.

"Yeah...She could've gone pro, but instead she's here teaching your kids not to drown..."

Both adults froze and saw the number 2 hero glowering at them his wings slightly puffed and raised making him look bigger, They sheepishly apologized and scurried off, Just as you walked out, with an unreadable expression it was obvious you had heard everything just now, but were relucted to say anything as the two of you started the routine of walking home together, you were still on the ropes about Hawks.

When he first showed up (after you woke up) you freaked out thinking he was there to to silence you and keep his secret, however after calming you down, he started going on about soulmates, blood-bonds and you being his other half, you were very reluctant to believe him after all... the first time you saw him, he was covered in blood feeding off a woman who looked half dead! Hawks seemed genuinely remorseful about you seeing that, it wasn't his intention to scare you, he explained how the woman was fine.

She wasn't dead like Y/n had thought! he just used his venom to put her into a state of ecstasy... she likely has no idea the winged blond had been drinking her blood, She was at home most likely believing she had a wild night with the number 2 hero. He even showed you the girl's social media account to prove it; There she was doing a bathroom selfie bragging about the wicked "hickey" Hawks had given her...

Now here you are a month later and the vampire hasn't left your side since! Well... Except for when he has to go on patrol, then he has one of his feathers following you, and you have this sinking suspicion that Hawks has been sleeping on your roof at night...though you're never sure, you could hear something rolling around up there but whatever it is, is usually gone by the time you go check it out, later that night Hawks texted you inviting you to dinner, you read the restaurant's name... Dang that's pretty swanky place, you didn't even know if you had a dress or whatever to wear! luckily in the far reaches of your closet you found an old black dress that seemed suitable enough for the job... and sighed. " I only wore this once, to a funeral..." you muttered before getting ready.

You wished you had taken a shot of whiskey before you left the house, you were a ball of shaking anxiety as you entered the restaurant, the hostess eyed you with a unpleasant sneer. "Can I help you?" she said in fake sweet tone. "Y-Y/n L/n, I-I'm here to meet a Mr. T.K.?" you stammered the hostess scrunched her nose as she gave you a once over snorted.

"I don't know how you found out about his reservation... but I can assure you the number 2 hero doesn't associate with your type." she with sneer your face would would've been flushed with anger if you weren't holding back every fiber in your body to slap that smug smile off that bitch's face. "Well can you go check?" you snapped standing up to your full height which threw the hostess off, she curt nod and walked off into the back...

(Hawks knew you were here he could smell you the second you walked in, his eyes briefly skimmed over the menu as he herd hostess approach, without you... "Sorry about that Hawks." the redhead cooed as the blonde looked at her bemused she snorted. "Some fake (h/c) slut tried to say you were waiting on her-" she continued talking as Keigo talked over her. " I am waiting for Y/n." he stated firmly as the hostess finished what she was saying. "Just let me ask my boss to let me off and we ca..." she trailed off and blinked not believing what she just heard.

"w-What?" she chortled thinking this was a joke as Hawks deadpanned repeating what he said. "I am waiting for Y/n, go get her." it wasn't request the hostess looked like a fish as she stared at the No. 2 slack-jawed. "Bu...You.. I- what about me?!" she sputtered lip quivering like a child who'd been denied candy, the winged man just eyed her incredulously making it clear he doesn't know her. "What are you talking about?" Hostess didn't answer she just stomped away to go get you.)

A few minutes later she came back all red in the face. "Please follow me ma'am." she huffed now it was your turn to be smug. "Oh?... But I thought the No. 2 hero didn’t associate with my type?" you hissed as she snapped her head up to look at you eyes her brown eyes filled with jealous rage and you realized....It was her. The girl from the park. "My apologies ma'am." she said with a forced cheery tone as she led you to a private booth where Hawks was waiting his wings stood up at full attention as you sat down.

"Hey did you have any trouble?" he asked nodded towards the front desk where the hostess was giving both of of you the stink-eye. "You don't recognize her?" you whispered as Keigo's brow furrowed as he tried to piece it together.... had.. they slept together?...Hmm no, signed her tits? that was a possibility, He hummed scratching his beard You could tell he was drawing blanks. "She's the woman from the night...when we met?" His gold eyes widened.

"Oh... the blood that tasted like charcoal and moldy bread." he grimaced in disgusted as he finally pieced it together you tilted your head as him bemused. "That’s what smoker's blood taste like...to me anyways, other Vamps have told me it varies." he stated you hummed nodding your head both intrigue and worried that you were getting use to this odd situation.

While you two were going over the menu, Keigo couldn't help but notice how off you were acting, you were fidgeting and looking around almost like you were...scared. why would you scared? all the other girls he'd brough.... Then it hit Keigo like ton of bricks.

He was treating you like one of his fans! and not his...hopefully soon to be lover, Dammit! He didn't even think about your comfort zones or asked if you wanted to go out and where did you want to go, he just assumed you would jump at the chance, because what girl doesn't want to go on a date with the number two hero?

After a few moments Keigo put the menu down. "Hey...wanna get out of here?" You were about to protest but the blond put his hand up. "Let me rephrase that; Do you want go somewhere else?" you shyly nodded Keigo called the waiter paid for the drink he had earlier and the two of you went on a very simple and impromptu park date involving pizza and an outdoor movie theater that Keigo had no idea existed; all in all he actually had fun!

And so did you given the joy and admiration he was sensing coming off you in waves. as opposed the fear and defensiveness you usually gave off around him, which made Hawks hopeful for the future... but for now he'll just settle on being friends, He smiled staring at the spare key you gave him, the blond let out a tiny churr feeling giddy as he fell asleep on your couch, as you caught him outside earlier.

…..Yes, he was totally sleeping on your roof.

#boku no hero academia #bnha fanfiction #bnha vampire au #bnha scenarios #Dabi #touya todoroki #dabi x reader #Touya todoroki x reader #hawks #hawks x reader #keigo takami #keigo takami x reader

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dreamescapeswriting · 3 years

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A New Life ~ KSJ [Request]

WORD COUNT: 4K

GENRE: family AU, IDOL AU, nasty parents, siblings, ANGST, happy ending but still angsty

PAIRING: Sibling Jin x Sibling!Reader

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Nasty parents with some triggering subjects, thoughts about not being good enough, told you’re not good enough, mentally abusive parents, car accident, mentions of blood, broken bones and depressing thoughts, death, twist ending?

If anyone would have told you that you would have been attending your own funeral one day you would have laughed in their face and yet here you were watching yourself being placed into the ground while your family all pretended to mourn your passing. Rain was hammering down above them as your mother turned t cry in your twin-brothers arms, he glanced over at his father who was staring down at the ground as they lowered the coffin into the dirt. You couldn't help but stare at your mother as you watched her faking tears in front of everyone they'd managed to get to attend. You wondered if anyone knew what had really happened that day or if your parents were going along with the same story they had assembled together as you'd laid in your hospital bed. Jin let out a choked sob as he held your mum, the only true family member that you thought could have possibly been upset was him at this moment but there was no way the rest of them would have been. As if they could ever be upset that you were now gone from their lives forever. See, this wasn't some romance story about how you'd managed to overcome a terrible home life and came out stronger at the end of it, no, this was the story of how you died.

Scoffing at your mum you continued to let her yell at you for things that were out of your control while she told you how Jin would have had them finished seconds within being asked. He was coming home so of course, he was being brought up into every conversation she could think of. All morning she'd had you running around after her like you were some kind of maid instead of her daughter. Cleaning the house from top to bottom, making sure that everything was perfect for Jin's arrival. He'd been on tour for the last four months so you'd managed to avoid speaking with your parents unless you came home one night from work and they were still awake. Other than that you did your damn best to stay out of their way not wanting to get caught in the crossfire of them hurling insults about you. It didn't matter what you were doing they would put you in a side by side comparison with your twin brother Jin. The famous k-pop star that had managed to move out, have a successful job and life while you were still living at home. Working three jobs trying to save up enough to leave but your parents would never see that, they only saw what they wanted to see. In their eyes, you could do nothing right whereas Jin could do nothing wrong, it had been this way for years only you were the only one who wasn't blind to it. Jin could hardly see it since he wasn't around much when it happened, when he was around they played it off as some kind of joke so he wouldn't get upset. The two of you had always been close since you were twins but your parents always put you both head to head with one another. Trying to play it off as harmless and healthy family competition when it was nothing of the sorts, it was more like competition to see who was the better child.

"You expect your brother to stay out in the garage when his room is perfectly capable of being cleaned and stayed in?" Your mother snapped as she looked at you, it was the night before Jin was due to come home and of course, it was being put down to you at the last second to get the house cleaned and ready for him to come back to. Only now that you had finished the household chores she was expecting you to sleep in the garage while Jin had his old room back, which had been converted into your bedroom when he moved out.

"I just finished cleaning, I put everything-"

"I don't want to hear any excused, my baby boy deserves his room and his room is what he shall get. Move your stuff out. It's only for a couple of days." There was no use in trying to argue with her when you knew she would only move your things out when you weren't looking, only she'd throw everything into the trash instead of moving it out properly. There was no point in this, Jin was only home for three days, it wasn't as if he was attempting to move back in full and he'd ahead called to say he was fine on the sofa.

"Fine," You grumbled, walking towards the staircase to go and clean everything out of the bedroom as well as change the sheets over so he wouldn't have to sleep on dirty used sheets. Your mum wouldn't want her precious prince sleeping on something someone else had been sleeping in.

"Make sure you get that smelly cat out of there!" She screeched up the stairs as you rolled your eyes, staring down at your peacefully sleeping kitten as you thought about moving her out of the room.

"Come on bubs," You whispered, picking her up and carrying her into the bathroom where she curled up in a pile of your washing so you could continue cleaning the bedroom up.

"I told you I was fine on the sofa," Jin laughed as you took him up to the bedroom, carrying the bags he'd bought home with him into your room.

"Mum said you needed a real room to sleep in, I'll be fine on the sofa." You lied knowing that if you even attempted to sleep on the sofa your mother would throw a fit, you'd be out in the garage on a blow-up air mattress.

"You sure? I know how cramped you can get on them-"

"Exactly why my little boy will be in a comfortable bed. I need him to be well-rested so he doesn't get too sick for work," You mother told him as if she'd been waiting for the perfect time to chime in on your conversation,

"Tell him you're fine on the sofa," She stared at you, the look on her face was one you knew all too well. "Agree or be prepared," so you nodded, faking a smile as you told Jin it was fine.

"Me, you and your father are going out to dinner tonight. We're going to make sure we celebrate the end of your tour." Jin glanced in your direction wondering why you hadn't been invited along to the family event but your mother pulled him out of the room before he could ask questions. Your father came in next with a look of disgust on his face,

"You could have dusted, poor boy is going to catch a cold or something in here." That was the way it always was. No matter how hard you worked or how perfect you had something it was never enough.

"I'll do it while you're out to dinner." You mumbled, pushing past him as he grumbled about you not having manners while your brother was blessed with them. The small jabs were the ones that hurt the most, the ones that were seemingly innocent to everyone around you but hurt you a lot on the inside.

"What are you doing now? Are you still working in that pet store?" Jin looked at you as he seemed generally interested in your life and for the most part he was. Jin had always been the kind and caring, older-than-you-by-five-minutes brother but he didn't notice what went on with the family and if he did he chose to ignore it all.

"Yeah, I work at the pet store on the weekends, then I have the pharmacy on the weekdays and at nights I do some bar work," Jin stared at you confused, he worked more than enough for none of you to work not to mention he'd give his parents access to an account for you to use for funding to move out.

"Why-"

"Jin! You need to shower, the restaurant is quite fancy," Your father told him as he patted your brother on the back, patting your shoulder at the same time only he began to rub harsh circles into your muscle.

"Why isn't Y/n coming?" Jin asked not noticing the grip your father was giving to you getting tighter the longer you sat there.

"She's going to work all weekend, she needs her energy. Isn't that right?" Your father stared at you and you knew it was a ploy for you to go along with it so you nodded,

"Busy, busy bee." You laughed forceable but Jin looked more confused, wanting to ask why you were working three jobs while his parents barely worked one and why you were even still living at home but he was pushed out of the kitchen.

"We have to catch up later!" He yelled as your father pushed him up the stairs, your mother glaring at you as if daring you to say anything more to him on the job subject. The fact was, you weren't working that weekend. You'd managed to take some time off to get to spend it with your brother, convincing all three of your bosses that you needed the time for family.

Later that night when you thought Jin would be asleep you began taking your sleeping bag and light out to the garage, he'd come back a few hours ago with an intoxicated mother and father who headed straight to bed. Jin and you had decided to have a catch up on the sofa but you managed to avoid all conversations surrounding jobs, focussing most of the conversations around him and his tour of the world. You were always so proud of your brother for doing something he'd dreamt of doing since you were kids, relieving his childhood fantasies of exploring the world whilst getting paid to do so.

"Where are you going?" You froze in place as you saw the light in the landing turn on and Jin staring at you, he was standing in some RJ pyjamas while watching you, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"To get something from the garage, go back to bed." You were hoping he was too tired to question it but he stepped down the stairs and walked closer to you. Touching the sleeping bag that was in your hands,

"With a sleeping bag and a torch? What are you doing?" He chuckled as he thought you might have been sneaking out to go camping for a while but you couldn't think of a single thing to tell him. Not a single rational thing that was.

"Mum asked me to stay in there, she doesn't want the sofa to get messy or ruined." Jin seemed to wake up more at the mention of your mother and he frowned.

"Speaking of mum, why are you still living at home? Working three jobs?" He laughed thinking it was your choice to do this but you saw it as him laughing at you, joining in with his parents.

"Not all of us can be blessed with talents that got us out of the shitty home we live in. I'm working like a dog day and night to get out of this hell-hole." You scoffed at him finally losing your cool with your brother after all these years. It had nothing to do with him but it still hurt to know he was laughing at you.

"Why? You don't have to work three jobs? I sent you enough money in that account to get you an apartment for a year-paid in advance, with food and everything you would need," You stared at him, mouth hanging open as he told you that you had your own bank account that you'd never even heard about before.

"What?" Your heart dropped as you realised what your family had been keeping from you, what your mother and father had no doubt spent already while you worked more hours than legally required.

"I sent mum and dad the details last year, they didn't give it to you?" You dropped the sleeping bag and torch onto the floor, storming up to the bedroom with tears in your eyes. You had no idea if you were going to speak to them or if you were going to confront them, your body was moving faster than your brain could register anything.

"Y/n! Wait! They're sleeping! You can't just-" You span around and JIn stopped talking, tears were running down your face with anger as you confronted him,

"I can't just what? Barge in and demand what they've done with my money? I can't just ask them why I'm paying the rent for this entire fucking house while they sit around and do nothing all day?!" You were yelling now, past the point in caring if your parents woke up or if the neighbours heard you but Jin was shushing you, begging you to be quiet.

"I work like a dog! Day and fucking night and for what?!" You stared at Jin as the door behind you opened, your mother wrapped her body in a dressing gown.

"What is going on?" She snapped, staring at you waiting for the answer so you turned back to face her.

"Where's the money that Jin sent for me?" She stared at you confused, shaking her head as she was trying to think of an answer for you, seemingly coming up with nothing as she stumbled over her words.

"We were saving it for when you were mature enough to handle it," You scoffed at your father's words as he spoke from the bed, not bothering to move out of it to sort the situation out.

"Mature enough to handle it? In other words, you spent it all and didn't bother to let me see it?" Jin watched in horror as you spoke back to your parents with the attitude you were using,

"Tell him, tell Jin that I had no idea the account even existed," Your mother turned to look at Jin but he held his hand up,

"If this is the way you act with them I have no problem seeing why they kept it from you," You stared at him, your mouth hanging open again as he took their side throughout this.

"Do you hear yourself? Accusing them of spending the money?" He questioned as he looked at your mother, faking tears as your father rushed to her aide,

"Unbelievable. They don't work but I'm expected to work three jobs a week...I'm fucking done, find someone else to use as your scapegoat." You stormed down to your bedroom, pushing the door open as you grabbed random bits of your clothing, food and water you had stored inside of the room.

"What are you doing?" Jin asked in a panicked voice as he came onto the drive to see you packing up his old car, it was the one he'd learnt to drive in when he was 18 and had been sitting in the garage rusting and breaking for years but it was the only escape you had.

"Leaving. I want to see if they'll still be able to live in the fancy house without my money," You forced out a fake laugh as you stared up at your b brother,

"Or is it your turn to bail them out? Have fun," You slammed the boot of the car down and climbed inside, ignoring Jin's pleas for you to wait until the pouring rain stopped but you didn't want to wait. You didn't want to give them a chance to weasel their way out of this squeeze they'd gotten into.

"I am done Jin!" You yelled, tears rolling down your cheeks without them meaning to, he watched you as he saw the pain in your face. All the years of mental abuse you'd taken from your parents finally hitting you in one night,

"I'm done being the child that went wrong, I am done with them using me for my money. Do you have any idea what it's like to live with them?"

"Of course, I do. I lived here too-"

"No, Jin. You didn't have to put up with constantly being compared to your twin brother, the one that was famous, the one that could do no wrong. The one that everyone adored! But, me? I work three jobs, I study, I do everything around the house including pay the rent and I don't even get a thank you," As you explained it Jin shook his head, not believing for a second that his parents would be the ones doing this to you there had to be some kind of explanation for it all but if he wasn't going to believe you then there was nothing more to be said.

"You're just jealous," You stared at him in silence as the thunder around you clapped loudly, you started the engine and drove off without another word.

"Y/N! Y/N! The car won't make it!" He screamed running inside to get his own car keys and follow after you, not trusting the car in the slightest.

Jin panicked when he couldn't see you around in the roads, he'd only left five minutes after you but there was no sight of you anywhere or the bright green car you'd driven away in.

"Come on," He groaned looking around the roads, it was calm to say it was pouring it down with rain and as he went to turn on one of the crossroads he saw it. The green car you were driving struggling to move as a grey van came rushing towards you, the once quiet roads were now buzzing with yelling, car horns and screeching sounds, as the van driver who hadn't been paying attention suddenly try to swerve to miss you failing miserably. All of a sudden it was as if time picked up, the car rolled over into a ditch and a large banging could be heard, Jin raced over to you. Ignoring people as they told him not to get too close, the acrid smell burnt his nose as he got closer to the car, you were crying out as you waited for someone to come and get to you. The driver-side door was crushed against the floor of the ditch and Jin could tell from one look you'd broken more than one bone on the impact,

"I'm coming." He mumbled, sliding into the ditch to see you, your eyes were heavy and you choked out a cough, blood falling down your chin as you struggled to stay awake.

"Hey, I'm right here. I'll get you out," He told you as he yelled out for someone to call an ambulance, you stared at him through your half-lidded eyes, struggling to breathe from the airbag that had burst and the seatbelt that felt as though it was crushing you.

"Look at me Y/n, look at me." He begged as your eyes began to close you stared back at him, shaking your head as you mumbled something he could barely hear.

"We're going to get you out, everything will be fine." He whispered as he heard you mumbling something about dying, he took your hand in his as he reached through the smashed passenger window trying to comfort you in any way that he could. Ignoring the instincts inside of him that told him to run from the car, it was leaking all kind of liquids and he knew it could explode at any point but he wasn't going to leave you there.

After pulling you out of the wreck, Jin carried you up and away from the car not wanting to be close to it when it exploded and you coughed out more blood onto the floor beside you.

"What happened?" A paramedic asked as they laid you on the ground, wrapping you in a neck brace as they began to try and take vital signs from you, your hand was gripping onto Jin's as you stared up at him shaking your head. Your body was growing weaker and weaker by the second and it was harder to breathe now than ever,

"Don't bring me back," You said breathlessly as you stared up at him, the paramedics stared at you waiting for you to repeat it,

"What?"

"Don't...Bring me back," You begged with your old brother who looked at you, tears rolling down his face as he began to realise how bad things must have been at home for you to beg for this to happen. The sounds around you began to fade as you laid there, the paramedics still working on your body no matter what you had said to them but you knew your time was coming, you smiled at the thought of getting away from it all and laid there accepting your fate.

"This was all her fault, if she hadn't decided to run off in a hissy fit none of this would have happened," Your father grumbled as they spoke to a police officer that had come to the door to inform them of everything, they had no idea Jin was standing just off the side of the porch listening in to everything.

"She'd been drinking, we went out to a meal." Your mother lied as she spoke to the policemen, no tears in their eyes as they listened to what had happened to you that night.

"Our son, Jin, he went to look for her is he..." Your father trailed off wanting confirmation that Jin was okay but the officer shook his head,

"I was just told to inform you about your daughter, we'll inform you if anything else comes up." The officer left but the front door was left open as your parents spoke with one another, your mother crying out as she gripped onto your father's shirt.

"If he's gone too we will lose everything, Jin is our last option for the house." Your mother whimpered as Jin stood there in horror, at a time like this all they could think about was the house?

He waited for them to shut the door before heading to the hospital to see you laying there, hooked up to different machines and covered in casts. You'd broken your arm and leg as well as your right rib, losing a lot of blood but the doctors told Jin you were going to be fine. He sat down in the chair beside your bed and held your hand that wasn't in a cast,

"I promise to get you out of here." He whispered, kissing the top of your hand as he got up once again to find someone to speak about moving your room and finding another person to guard your room wanting to protect you from anything he could.

Jin walked into a hotel bar after the funereal with tear stains down his face as he looked around, wiping his eyes he walked over to some of the bar stools and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, the funeral was over. The old you had died and this was your chance for a fresh start in life. Your parents thought you were gone and that was the least you could do for them, if you had just run away things would have been worse. They never would have stopped trying to bring you back and Jin knew that he created accounts for you to use for money, setting you up with a new home and identity far away from your parents and him.

"How was it?" He asked as he slid you a drink, you laughed sipping on the wine,

"It's weird...Attending my own funeral, never thought I would do it," He laughed softly, kissing your cheek as he smiled at you.

"I promised to keep you safe...I'll visit whenever I can just try not to get in the papers or...You know, go back home." You nodded in agreement with him, changing your identity had been the easy part of all of this, leaving behind your brother was going to be harder but he told you he had a plan. Slowly taking his parents off his money before no longer funding them, he wanted them to pay for everything they had done to you over the years and he was going to do whatever it could to make up for you being treated that way, even if it wasn't his fault.

Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @rjsmochii @taestannie @kneel-begyourpardon @sw33tnight @sweeneyblue1 @jin-from-the-block @acciocriativity @that-anxious-bisexual @mwitsmejk

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ohmystars-marvel · 3 years

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So...you’re mine, huh? pt. 2

Pairing: Tony Stark x daughter!reader; Peter Parker x reader (eventually)

Word count: 1,798

Summary: When your mother passes, she wrote in her will if she passed when you were still a minor, guardianship would get passed to Tony Stark. You have no idea what their relationship was, despite both of them living their lives in the spotlight. However, for someone who lived in the spotlight, your mother held plenty of secrets.

A/N: So um.....surprise!!! It’s finally here!!!!! I’m sososoSO sorry ;_; life’s been kind of rough and since I’ve been in uni it’s been hard to actually get time for myself, but I’ve finally actually gotten the time to sit down and write it out. I’m sorry it’s not that long, but I promise I won’t ghost like that again, but without further ado, here’s chapter 2!

(Also credits to owner of gif)

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The funeral felt like everything was moving in slow motion. A couple of people came up to talk about (Y/M/N), and Tony noticed how whenever the people at the podium would give you a pitying glance in between their eulogies. The older man that was seating with you earlier isn’t sitting up front with you. He sits in a row behind you, leaving you all by yourself in the front. Tony also noticed how stoic you appeared to look. You sat with your head tall, your hair styled out of your face, tightly and professionally, evenly squared shoulders; the perfect sitting posture.

A couple of people near him whispered about you. Some admired how composed you looked, just like your mother. Some whispered that you looked like you didn’t care that your mother passed, you just cared for the money that you were inheriting. Selfish brat someone whispered around Tony.

She inherits all that her mother worked for without having to put any work ethic in

She isn’t going up to talk at her mother’s funeral?

She does take after her mother after all..couldn’t give a care less that her parents died, why wouldn’t her daughter act the same way now?

In Tony’s opinion, you didn’t look composed and neither looked like you didn’t care. You looked like a kid who was trying to hold it together in a room full of adults in order to be perceived as an adult. A child trying to act far more mature than their actual age.

When the funeral was over, people started getting up to either talk to you, or to talk to others around them. Disgusted with how people talked about you while a funeral was taking place, Tony walked over to talk to you instead. Besides, he felt that he needed to get to the bottom of how the hell (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N) had a kid he knew nothing about. He also wanted to figure out whose kid you were. No kid should have to get through their only parent’s funeral alone.

When Tony walked over, you were finishing a conversation with one of the guests. Tony stuck his hand, reaching for a handshake. You accepted his handshake, and surprised him when it was a solid, firm one. Guess (Y/M/N) did teach you well.

“Ms. (Y/L/N). We haven’t had the chance to meet, and I wish it was under better circumstances. I’ve known your mother since we were children, and I know what a devastating loss it is now that she’s gone. I know you’re hearing this phrase more often than you’d like to right now, but please know when I say that if you ever need help, please do come to me. Stark Tower or Avengers Headquarters, you'll be accepted anywhere there.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark. That’s very kind of you. I as well wish that we could’ve met under better circumstances. You’re kind of my hero, honestly. The advancements you’ve made with arc reactor technology is amazing.” (Y/N) admitted shyly, while sporting a small smile.

Tony analyzed your face. Jesus, it was like Tony was thrown back in time. I looked so much like your mother when she was much younger. That’s where the similarities stopped though. Your shy demeanor and politeness were honest reactions, no acting involved. Your eyes were also different from (Y/M/N)’s. (Y/M/N) looked at everyone like a certain degree of coldness, keeping people at a distance. Yours were gentle, inviting. There’s no way this kid can be hers. She’s nothing like her.

“Mr. Stark,” you interrupted his thoughts, “I’m only telling a select group of people who actually knew my mother well. We told the public the coroners haven’t signed off yet. That, however, isn’t true, and we'll be doing a more private service. I want to give enough time for the press to leave, and for people who my mother claimed that ‘actually cared for her money, not her well-being to leave’. I’d like it if you were to join us.”

“Please, call me Tony. I’ll be there, Ms. (Y/L/N), don’t worry. Gives us all the chance to actually give your mother the goodbye that she deserves, don’t you think?”

You blinked at him, an expression of shock that briefly broke your composure. “Of course, Mr-” she caught herself when Tony smirked at her, and she smiled sheepishly. “sorry. Tony. It’s going to take me awhile. There’ll be an announcement that’ll be given for the burial service so please, stick around and chat. Please excuse me, I’ve got to greet the others who came as well. It was a real pleasure to meet you, Tony.” She bid him a small smile and left him standing by himself.

When you left him, Tony went to grab himself a cup of water. While sipping on his water, the older man that sat next to you before the funeral approached Tony.

“Mr. Stark, it’s a great pleasure to meet you. Though, I wish I would be meeting you right now at something like the Stark Expo.”

Tony didn’t respond, but took another sip to avoid the small talk that the man was trying to achieve. The man cleared his throat.

“Right then. Mr. Stark, I’m Philip Ashcraft, (Y/M/N)’s lawyer. Could we step out in the hallway and talk? (Y/M/N) left something important to you, and the both of us would very much rather have this conversation where someone can’t overhear.”

“You find a hallway during a private funeral? Let me guess, you wanna suggest the coat closet next? I mean I guess we can meet in there, but you have to promise no playing seven minutes of heaven-”

“Mr. Stark, please. It’s of the utmost importance.”

“Why don’t you take this up with my secretary, Mr. Ashcraft? They can schedule a meeting with you within this next week. After all, I am not in the mood to discuss business right now, considering that we’re currently at a funeral.” Tony took a sip of his water, raising an eyebrow at the lawyer.

“This isn’t something that can be pushed away! Mr. Stark, this is in regards to what (Y/M/N) has left for you, and her will states for you to receive her last wishes as soon as the funeral’s over.”

Tony sighed. “In case you haven’t noticed, (Y/M/N)’s funeral is not over. If whatever (Y/M/N) left for me is that important, then you can wait until after the burial service is over. That’s when the funeral is over and that’s when you will have my attention. Until then, kindly fuck off.”

The lawyer swallowed, clearly trying to keep his temper, and walked away, begrudgingly. Victorious, Tony walked away from the water pitcher and found himself an empty corner that no one else would bother him. Besides, he had some homework to start before (Y/M/N)’s burial service started. If he didn’t know anything about (Y/N) (Y/L/N)’s existence, then how much did the rest of the world know about you?

Tony pulled his phone out of pocket, and pulled it close to his face, pretending like he was taking a phone call. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. I need you to do something for me really quick.”

“What do you need, boss?”

“Look for anything in regards to (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I don’t care if it’s newspaper clippings, science fair photos, or even a mugshot. Anything that just proves her existence.”

“Looking online now. I’ll check back in with you when my analysis online is complete.”

“Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y.” Tony mumbled to himself. He put his phone back in his pocket and decided to wait out the thirty minutes by himself.

******

Tony watched as time passed and those that were clearly not invited or were exhausted from trying to butt into (Y/N)’s business left the room. Tony saw that besides himself, you, that asswipe of a lawyer, and approximately two other people were invited to the service. He noticed that the one who told him who you were wasn’t included in the group. For some reason, that didn’t sit well with him.

The burial service went by just as smoothly as the service given inside. Tony noticed that when you placed flowers on the headstone, your eyes were glassy. So this was the group you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with, not terribly vulnerable, but enough to know that this clearly affected you. When the service finished, the two others were conversing with you, one holding one of your hands as you wiped your eyes delicately, clearly still trying not to cry. That’s the time that the lawyer decided to act. He put a hand on your shoulder, and whispered something in your ear. You nodded and went back to listening. The lawyer made his way to Tony, and opened his mouth to speak, but Tony beat him to the punch.

“Alright, bug-a-boo, now we can talk.”

“Do you mind if we talk inside, Mr. Stark? I am required to have your signature.”

Tony sighed and made an after you gesture with his hand. “Christ, what is it that (Y/M/N) left behind that is so goddamn important that you have to dump on me at a funeral and require me to sign?”

Ashcraft clenched his jaw, and opened the door to the funeral home and stalked into the room where the public service was held, Tony close behind. Ashcraft unlocked his briefcase, which held an envelope that was thick with papers. He pushed it into Tony’s hand with plenty of force.

“The thing that (Y/M/N) is ‘dumping’ on you is her child. She left guardianship claims on (Y/N) to you, Mr. Stark” Ashcraft said bitterly.

Tony hurried to open the envelope. There’s no way. There’s no fucking way you actually left your kid to him. It’s gotta be some kind of a joke. At least, that was what Tony tried to convince himself before he found a handwritten will that was in your handwriting. The last sentence is what made his heart drop in his chest.

In the case of my passing before (Y/N) can legally care for herself, I leave guardianship rights to Anthony Edward Stark.

Tony’s phone buzzed in his pocket. F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s search had been completed, and only included one document. Tapping on the document, it opened into a scan of your birth certificate. What drew Tony’s attention was the name that was entered for the father’s name. Tony softly scoffed to himself.

“So...you’re mine huh?”

#avengers fanfiction #avengers x reader #tony stark #tony stark x daughter #tony stark x reader #Tony Stark fanfiction #peter parker x stark!daughter #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker

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otptings · 3 years

Text

Countless Moons

-Idol; Niki

-Word Count; 3k+

-Genre; 13+, angst , two endings (one horror, one ambiguous fluff)

-Warnings; detailed death, blood, cussing, aged up Niki, mentions of eating disorder, descriptions of grief multiple breakdowns, mentions of vomiting, self harm, insanity

-Synopsis; 2 years ago you witnessed your boyfriends death firsthand. Now after his 2 year death anniversary weird occurrences have started happening.

-A/n - here is my warning, this has a really detailed death scene that caused me to become choked up while writing this. if you do not think you can handle that please do not read this. requests are open for Enhypen (super small print is a dream, italics are flashbacks)

"I'm sorry."

Tears dripped down your cheeks. Fat and warm as they landed on your hands that you were wringing. Staring at the gravestone in front of you.

Riki Nishimura.

December 9th 2005- November 30th 2020.

Gone too soon.

It was the second anniversary. That means two years. Two years since you've witnessed him get hit by a car. When you thought too long about it you could remember that day perfectly.

That dreaded day.

Seeing his purple hair and the pout on his face after he had gotten lectured by the soccer coach because of it. The sun beating down on you, warming you despite the cold breeze that threatened to force you to put on a jacket. Niki's jacket that he always left for you just in case. Watching as he dribbled the ball, confidence displayed on his face as he kicked it toward the goal. Tossing his arm over K's shoulder as he cheered, turning to face you. Raising his fist, a smile on your face as you happily cheered for him.

Tugging said jacket closer around your body as another cold breeze brushed by. The clouded sky only made the day more dismal. Knowing that not even the sun would shine on you, as if it knew what this day meant.

"I should've listened to you," You wiped away your tears releasing a shaky laugh, "If I was more careful you would never had have to run after me."

The gravel digging into your knees and palm. Hearing your jeans rip as you hit the ground. Turning around in time to see the car hitting Niki. You could hear crunches, and a thud as he hit the ground. A blood curling scream was heard, but you don't know if it was from you or Niki. The driver of the car veered into a tree, who you later found out was drunk, passing out against the wheel.

The horn blared as you ran over to Niki, placing his head in your lap. His purple hair appearing red faintly, his eyes fluttering shut. Begging him to stay awake, tears blurring your vision as you cupped his cheek . Eyes widening you say blood dripping from his forehead.

So much blood.

The crimson liquid spilling around his body, seeping into your clothes as you held him closely. Looking around you saw bystanders staring on in disbelief, watching as you cried over his body in the middle of the street.

By the time the ambulance showed up Niki had stopped breathing. More screams and tears leaving you as the paramedics pulled you off of his body. One of them wrapped a silver blanket around you, another called your parents. You watched as they attempted to revive Niki.

They weren't successful.

His time of death was 5:37 pm.

"I wish you were here with me. I still sleep with the teddy bear your mom gave me, the one that used to be yours." A bitter sweet memory, his mom coming to your house with tears in her eyes. Handing you a box of his belongs. She hugged you tightly, muttering a sorry, before giving you her number. That was 2 years ago, before they moved to Osaka.

You couldn't blame her.

The box was precious to you. Filled with various teddy bears that he had around his room, various assortment of clothes, and letters that he had written you.

Goosebumps erupted over your skin as you felt eyes on you. Was someone watching you? Raking your eyes over the tree line, you thought you saw a glimpse of purple. Chills ran through you. It was time to leave anyway, it was past 7 pm.

Placing the narcissus flower on his grave, you stood up not bothered by the grass stains on your jeans. Pulling the jacket closer to your body, you headed to the gateway of the graveyard.

As you approached the archway you felt an urge to turn around. It was strong, like someone whispering it directly in your ear. Glancing over your shoulder you saw someone crouching over his grave, exactly where you were mere moments ago. The flower you placed in the figures hand as they stood up. An involuntary gasp left your mouth, and then the figure was gone. Vanishing into thin air.

"Niki?"

The sun beamed down on him reflecting his silver hair as he stepped into the river. Niki turned to you with a giant smile on his face, his hand up covering his eyes from the son. Strangely you couldn't make out his eyes. You let out a laugh watching as the bottom of his jeans got soaked by the water where he hadn't pulled them high enough. He looked down at the flowing water, a pout on his lips.

The water seemed to continue rising, as fear shown in his eyes. Just like the day the car hit him. You tried to scream at him, tell him to get out of the water, but no words left your mouth. A wave rose out of the water and hit Niki. A gurgled noise filled the air as you ran to the river. You ran into the river, desperately looking for him when you something grab your leg and yank you under the water. You were met by dark red eyes, and a fanged smile.

He let out a laugh as the water filled your lungs. When your vision started to get blurry he whispered in your ear.

"Be back soon love."

No fucking way. Your stomach dropped as you read the text.

Niki Niki 💞

Hi baby

Your hand shook as you quickly blocked the number. This was a sick fucking joke. Nausea flooded your stomach, and you felt bile rise in your throat. Dropping to your knees you started to get choked up. Covering your mouth you tried to quiet the sobs leaving your mouth.

Who the fuck would hack a dead persons phone? Why would you think that was okay?

Seeing Niki's contact appear made your heart drop. Memories flashed through your mind.

His face lighting up after the goal, when he looked at you in the bleachers and knew that he wanted to make you proud. His smile shining brighter than the sun. Whining when he pulled you into his arms after, laughing as he rubbed his sweaty cheek against yours. His hair stuck to his forehead when he leaned down to you, placing a kiss on your cheek.

Hearing the sound of his body hitting the ground. Holding him tightly to your body, begging anybody to help you. Feeling his blood soaking through your jeans, sticking them to your skin like paper mache. Watching him open his mouth as he tried to talk to you. The panic in his eyes as his breathing got more ragged. A gurgling noise presenting itself as his lungs filled with blood. Seeing his eyes becoming glazed over as you held him to your chest, begging him to stay awake.

You should've held him tighter that day. Kissed him a little harder. Not bothered worrying about his sweaty jersey. Just cherished the time that you spent with him.

Unknown

this looks weird I know but please listen to me

meet me in the place where we first met

I need to see you love

Tears streamed down your face as you held your legs close to your chest. Your skirt was covered in mud and grass stains. The bottom of it was torn where it had snagged when you tried to run away from them. Quiet cries left your mouth as you hid under the bleachers, praying that the bullies would leave you alone. You covered your mouth as you heard them getting closer, chants of your names.

"Come out piglet."

"Yea piglet. You love to play in the mud right?"

"Come out come out piglet." Their laughter got quieter as they walked further away. You slowly relaxed. You just had to wait out here til the bell rung. Only flaw in your plan was that you had no clue what time it was.

"Are you okay?" You jumped pulling your legs closer as you heard someone. Turning to your right you saw a boy with dark brown hair, hanging shaggily over his eyes. He held out his hand, attempting to help you stand up. When he realized you weren't gonna grab it he sat down beside you, not caring about the mud getting on his clean uniform. "My names Niki. What's yours?"

Niki didn't seem bothered at your silence. Taking off his jacket he handed it to you.

"I see your uniforms dirty. You can wear my jacket for the day if you like." Reluctantly you took his jacket, slipping it over your arms as he watched you with a smile. You stared at him weirdly as the bell finally run. Recess was over and you had successfully escaped your bullies.

Standing up Niki held his hand out to you again. This time you took it.

"Thank you." His smile only grew larger.

"Of course. I think we're gonna be friends."

"This is fucking stupid." Your words got sucked into the quiet of the night. You knew the Niki was dead. You witnessed his death. Held him in your arms as he died and choked on his own blood. Even spoke a eulogy for his funeral. He was dead as doorknob.

Here you were though. Pacing back and forth underneath of the bleachers. Sneakers crunching the dry grass. It was the middle of December. Instead of studying I was waiting to see who hacked my dead boyfriend's phone.

And what specifically was I waiting for? To have them appear then force them to apologize? They have no morals if they could hack a dead teen's number. What makes me think that any useful would happen from this.

"Fuck!" You growled as you crouched down, tears burning at our eyes. "He's not fucking coming back." You tried to convince yourself. "Everyday was supposed to get easier without you, but they're only getting worst and worst." An uncontrollable wail left your lips. You grabbed your hair, pulling it as you tried to ground yourself.

Nothing made sense anymore. Niki died at 15. It's been 2 years and you're still holding on to him.

"He isn't coming back." You wiped your tears with the sleeve of the hoodie, sniffling as you stood up.

"Who's not coming back?" Whirling around your mouth went dry. A gasp left your mouth as dizziness overcame you. "Are you okay? You look pale."

Him screaming your name was the last thing that you heard before you fainted.

"How could you bring her here? She has no fucking clue?"

"And leave her there?"

"He's right this is the best choice."

"Bringing her here is dangerous for all of us. Especially here."

"If you guys even touch her I'll kill you."

"We would never."

"What if she finds out what you are?"

Your eyes flickered open at the sound of harsh whisperings. Sitting up slowly you looked around the room. It was a stereotypical boys room, posters on the wall and clothes scattered across the floor. Turning to the nightstand something caught your eye. Picking up the picture frame you saw it was a picture of you and Niki.

Freshman year homecoming. First dance since you started dating, almost 5 years after you met for the first time. Our parents forced us to take pictures, changing up our poses every couple of photos. This was ironically the most hated one from that day.

The sun was blazing, beaming down as your parents snapped photo after photo. His arms wrapped around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder. He whispered jokes into your ears, causing laughs to flow freely. Every picture was almost the same. Niki's lips close to your ear, a wide smile on your face as you laughed.

Tears started to blur your vision as you set the picture frame down, albeit with a little bit of a thunk. The whispers went quiet outside, obviously they all had heard it. Someone turned the doorknob with a click before pushing it open, peeking their head in. Light in the hallway shone behind them, obscuring their face. They closed the door quickly, the whispers starting back up.

What the fuck was happening? You pulled your knees to your chest, pulling the blanket tighter around your body. This had to be another nightmare. Yea. Just a silly little dream. Where my dead boyfriend rose from the dead, texted me, and then took me to some strange house. Of course totally normal dream behavior.

Suddenly someone quickly stepped into the room, closing the door behind them with a resolute thud. You threw your hand over your eyes, covering them from the harsh light that abruptly turned on. Blinking a few items, you looked at the person as your vision cleared.

"This is a sick dream." Tilting his head to the side Niki started to walk over to you. Throwing your hands up you stopped him in his tracks. "Stay the fuck away. You are not Niki. I saw him die." His face softened as he stood in the middle of the room, brown eyes showing sadness.

"I am Niki."

"You're fucking not! I saw him die! I held him as he fucking died!" He jumped at your screams, looking taken aback as tears streamed down your face.

"Love. Please let me explain."

"Don't fucking call me that! Only Niki can call me that!" With a sob you curled yourself into a ball. Praying for this nightmare to end. There is no way Niki is alive.

Thud. Warm blood. Gurgle.

He was dead.

Dead.

Another guttural sob left your mouth, holding yourself tighter in hopes that you could just disappear. You flinched as you felt at the feeling of getting touched, a hand placing itself on back. He rubbed soothing circles as he whispered into your ear, words reassuring you that it was truly him.

"I'm sorry love." At the sound of that, overwhelming thoughts to go to sleep flooded your mind. You opened your eyes, confused at what was happening as you gripped onto Niki's shirt. An apologetic look on his face before everything went black for the second time that night.

"I know that you pity me. Some of you feel bad because of what I witnessed. The death of my best-friend, and boyfriend. But you shouldn't. I've known him 5 years but he has made the greatest impact on me. I look at everything in a positive light because of him. I work my hardest because he constantly encouraged me to. Niki was the best person that I know and I feel as if we should all live in his honor. I'm happy that he isn't suffering. I know that Niki is happy wherever he is. And if there is a Heaven he is definitely there. Niki if you can hear me I love you. I'm so grateful that I got to know you. I'll be with you again someday. The sun will shine on us again."

Niki Niki💞

I took the liberty of unblocking my number

when you wake up please text me

if you give me the chance I will explain everything

Love🦦

hurry

Here we were. Niki sitting on the opposite side of the bed from, just looking at you. Apart of you wished that this was real. That Niki was really in front of you. Drinking in his appearance you let a sigh leave your mouth.

Niki was in front of you.

His hair hung messily in his face, now grey instead of his signature purple at the time of his 'death'. Every other part of him looked normal. A hoodie hanging off of his skin frame, the same one that he wore for soccer practice with his jersey number on the back. He hasn't aged a day.

"I know you're confused," His voice broke the silence, seemingly the only thing that has changed. Having heard it multiple times you hadn't realized that it had gotten deeper, "please just let me explain. If you want nothing to do with me afterwards I'll let you go. I just missed you."

He ran his fingers through hair, before pulling the hoodie over his head. A nervous trait of his. It's nice to see that some things never change.

"I died. I remember the fear that I had that day, how you held me tightly in your arms, choking on my own blood. I remember all of it, and I truly did die." You stared at him, more confusion after part of his explanation than you had before.

"I was scared when I woke up here. I had all of the memories of my death, but woke up with no scars. No physical sign of the accident. Heeseung was the one that comforted me. He told me that I was chosen. Talked about fate's arrows and connecting two worlds. My memory of the speech is hazy after two years." Scooting closer to you he grabbed one of your hands, intertwining your fingers.

"You've been here this whole time?" Regret shone in his eyes as he nodded, "Why didn't you tell me?" His face dropped at your voice. Desperation was clear in the way that your voice cracked.

"I couldn't. They told me I would put in danger. That you would reject what I am now."

Niki cupped your cheek wiping your stray tears. Sighing you nuzzled your face into his palm. His hand was cold. The same coldness that filled you for years after his death.

"I missed you so much. I fought myself day and night. I needed you too. I'm sorry love."

All the nights filled with tears, sobbing until your throat was sore and your head felt like it would explode from the pressure. School days filled with people staring, whispering to each other about the poor girl that witnessed her boyfriends death. Bile rising in your throat every time you ate, thoughts of Niki bleeding out in your arms, remembering scrubbing the blood off of you in the shower. You never could keep food down, rushing to the bathroom after every meal. Tears flooding your eyes as you gagged, constant flashbacks.

But Niki is here. In front of you. His hand cupping your cheek, whispering apologies into the air between you. Maybe everything would be okay.

It's been two years. Two years since you've found out that Niki was still alive. As a vampire, but 'alive' nonetheless.

Leaving town was always your plan. After Niki's death what was left for you in Okayama? You always thought about going to South Korea, or maybe even to America. Somewhere to get a full fresh start. Not being known as the dead boy's girlfriend. Who wasted away due to grief. Who died 3 years after his death, a brutal suicide that raked the town.

You were the real Romeo and Juliet. Two young lovers separated at 15, death forcing them to part. You never recovered from his death, so at 18 you followed him. After your funeral your family left town, not being able to bare the pain.

It was a fresh start for you. And Niki.

Your love Niki. Who laid now on your chest as you watched a movie, a cult classic funnily enough. The other members spread out on various couches. Looking down at Niki you ran your fingers through his hair, a sigh leaving his mouth as he relaxed. Grabbing your other hand Niki placed a kiss on it, a smile blossoming across your lips.

In the dead of winter, under countless moons you were together again.

thank you for reading this, I really hoped that you enjoyed it. I tried to make it the ending as fluffy as possible without ruining the vibe I had going for the whole oneshot. underneath of this is the alternate ending if you want to go insane read it. it does contain mentions of insanity, and self harm. you have been warned

It's been two years. Two years since you've found out that Niki was still alive. As a vampire, but 'alive' nonetheless.

That’s what your parents told everyone at least.

The truth is police found you under the bleachers, writhing on the ground as you nonsensically spouted about vampires and curses. Telling everyone who listened how Niki was still alive. They would tut, turning around while mentioning how the accident affected you. Ruining you mentally. Your parents' concerns only grew when you would speak to the thin air. Claiming it was Niki. That he missed them, and wished they would allow him in the house.

You would claw at yourself to ‘feed’ Niki, blood dripping from your arms. It came to a halt when your parents walked into the house, crimson surrounding your mouth as you happily told them you had turned. You were now a vampire. You could now be with Niki forever.

They shipped you to the farthest asylum. One in Virginia, hidden away in the mountains. Far are from them. Far away from Niki.

Maybe after countless moons you’ll meet again one day. When the insanity no longer claimed your mind, and shrouded your reality.

#enhypen #enhypen angst #kpop angsts #enhypen oneshot #enhypen drabble #niki rishimura #Riki nishimura #enhypen riki #enhypen niki #kpop horror #enhypen horror

90 notes · View notes

inarizakibabe · 3 years

Text

Beginning

After weeks of testing and studying hard you finally made it into class four. Now time to make friends with your classmates and shoot up the ranks into popularity. Swallowing your nervousness you approached a group of people to introduce yourself.

"Good morning. I'm (l/n)(f/n) it's nice to meet you all." you gave them the biggest smile you could muster.

The group acknowledged your presence then continued their previous conversation ignoring you. After a few minutes you decided they'd be a lost cause and moved onto a different group. After successfully managing to make no friends you cut your losses and took a seat.

"Well that went well." a voice beside you said.

"Oh shut up. I don't see you trying to make friends." you replied irritated.

"Nah too much work. I have a team full of people to tolerate already."

"Wait why are you even here?" you asked the boy beside you.

"Rude. This is my class if you must know." he said annoyed.

"Hold on. You? Suna Rintaro? Class four? Is the world ending?" you asked apprehensively.

Suna grunted and ignored you. Slowly a smirk formed on your face, "Your mom threatened to come see you again didn't she?"

"You're in my business princess. Don't do that." Suna booped your nose.

You stuck your tongue out at him right as the teacher walked in to start homeroom.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Half the day and three periods later it was that weird period right before lunch and Suna's attention span couldn't keep up any longer. At this point you were taking notes for Suna to steal later when he could be bothered to write them down. The clock on the wall showed there were five minutes left until lunch so you decided to zone out.

Your thoughts ranged from getting homework on the first day of school to what you might be having for dinner tonight. Eventually they strayed to the boy napping beside you. You two had been friends for a long time. You met your second year of elementary school when Suna thought it would be funny to see how hard he could tug on your pigtail. After filling his shoes with sand you two became inseparable. Years later in your last year of junior high Suna was scouted by the coach of the Inarizaki High volleyball boys club in Hyogo. It was a great opportunity for him but it meant you guys would be separated. Unfortunately the club you joined didn't have a way for you to be recruited and even though your grades were good they weren't good enough for your parents to pack up and move all the way to Hyogo.

For your entire last year of junior high you mentally prepared to say goodbye to Suna until your mom's job decided to transfer her to Hyogo. Eventually your family moved to Hyogo, with a promise to the Sunas to take care of their eldest son, and thus your high school story began only it's not going the way you hoped. Suna was still your only friend and it seemed all your classmates knew each other since junior high leaving no room for you to shoot through the ranks. The bell rang interrupting your thoughts and your teacher dismissed your class to lunch.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After a boring lunch period your next class felt like it dragged on. So far your dream to take over high school seemed more and more impossible to achieve. Maybe if you joined the right club some magic might just happen. The big question now was which club would you join. You were a woman of many talents but none great enough to make you the star of a club. Cooking club would give you the chance to perfect your recipes but cooking wasn't something you enjoyed to do. Maybe one of the sports clubs? Definitely not. Was there anything else to do?

Before long the school day ended and it was time to either head to your club's first meeting or go home. You turned to ask Suna if he wanted to stop at the convenience store before going home until you saw him loosening his tie. Right the volleyball club had its first meeting today so you'd have to go home alone today.

"Don't look so disappointed. I'll save all my homework for you to do." Suna said looking at you.

"Whatever Rintaro! What do I have to be disappointed about?!" you huffed and picked up your bag to leave.

"Don't get lost on the way home." Suna chuckled and watched you leave before leaving for the gym.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Stupid Rin. I got lost one time. And what the hell would I be disappointed about? If anything he should be disappointed he won't have company to walk home with later today. I should go to bed before he gets home too." You grumbled while trying to find the school's gate. "Maybe it's in the other direction. Man this school is huge."

Up ahead you saw a guy with brown hair going in the opposite direction. Maybe he knows the way out of this school.

"Excuse me? Do you know which way the gate is?"

The boy stopped and at looked at you funny. "Keep going straight and you'll see it."

"Thank you." you bowed and continued going in the direction he told you. After taking ten steps you stopped and gaped at who was in front of you. The exact same guy was walking towards you again. You looked behind you quickly but the guy from before had disappeared already. Was it a daydream or did you finally lose it?

"Something wrong?" The guy stopped in front of you. "Are you lost or something?"

"I'm sorry but didn't you just tell me how to find the gate less than a minute ago?" you asked.

The guy in front of you looked confused until a look of understanding crossed his face. "I doubt it was me but keep going straight and you'll find the gate."

You thanked the guy once again at least you think it's the second time and finally made it to the gate to leave for the day.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* The next day in class you remembered the run in you had after school the previous day and turned to ask Suna about it.

"Hey Rin this may sound crazy but I got directions from the guy twice yesterday."

Suna pouted trying to figure out what you were talking about. "You asked the guy to repeat himself?"

"No he helped me then I walked away and all of a sudden he was in front of me again and gave me directions again." you explained.

"So he chased you? Wow the year just began and you already got a guy to fall for you. Nice work (y/n)-chan. What do you plan to do with this new found information?" Suna asked with amusement in his voice.

"You are the worst human to walk this planet I swear. I'm serious. Maybe I accidentally walked in on someone's prank or something. I hope it wasn't recorded." you huffed.

Suna shrugged and checked his phone for new notifications, "Who knows. Maybe that was your ticket to popularity you were looking for. Did you pick a club yet or are you gonna let our homeroom teacher do that?"

"I don't wanna think about clubs right now. I can't think of one I wanna join. Help me find one. Please?" you put on your best puppy eyes and begged. Maybe for once he'll take mercy on you.

"Why should I? Just join the music club. You did it in Jr. high. I'm sure you can survive three more years." Suna said not looking at you.

"I would prefer if I didn't have to go through all of that again. I expected music club to be about music not how much spit I could clean out of a tuba." you shuddered remembering the unspeakable things you went through in music club.

"Don't do this to me (n/n). The stories were the highlight of my day. You gotta do it again for the fate of mankind." Suna gave you the saddest look he could produce before he laughed at how ridiculous he thought he looked. "Anime joke. I don't know what to tell you princess. I haven't picked a club since we left elementary. Why don't you see if one of the sports clubs needs a manager."

"Rin you're a genius! Does the volleyball club need a manger? I promise I won't screw up."

Suna stared at you with a deadpan expression and sighed. "Remember when I went to visit family one summer break and asked you to watch Bubbles? I came back and we all attended a fishy funeral that same day. Or when I asked you to pick up Asami because I couldn't and I came home to my parents yelling at me because she called them crying cause nii-san forgot her? I could go on but I think you get the picture. I don't trust your promises anymore."

"Yeah but Bubbles was a special case. Who knew he'd eat until he burst if I put all the food in the tank? He was suppose to eat it little by little. And I apologized to you and your that entire year and you guys forgave me. Bottom line is I was young and dumb, now I'm a high school student and I've learned a lot in my fifteen years of life. Just talk to the coach and see what he says. I could probably really help you guys."

Suna sighed for the umpteenth time and ran a hand through his bangs. "It's not really the coaches I'm worried about. I met some of our upperclassmen and some of the third years are kinda intense."

You frowned at his tone and tried to think of what they could've done to him. "i'm sure they're not as bad as you're making them sound. Maybe you need to look at them from a different angle."

"I doubt it. There were two first years that made me question my sanity. If they weren't fighting they played really well together. There was one other first year that could already do jump serves. The entire team is pretty good. Looks like it's gonna be an interesting year for volleyball. I hope I get to play in some official matches." As the last sentence left his lips Suna's eyes widened and he turned to look at you so quickly you almost thought he'd get whiplash. "You didn't hear that."

"Oh that's what the problem is. I'm sure you'll get to play in some matches and if you don't then there's no way the team is going to nationals." you smiled at him.

Before Suna could respond the bell rang signaling lunch was finished.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*

At the end of the day you followed Suna to the gym.

"Remember it's not a guarantee. We don't have a manager and Coach Oomi does what you would do." Suna reminded you when you were almost at the gym. "Talk to coach Kurosu he's the head coach and old enough to be our father so if you ware him down enough you might just get the position."

"Alright. I can definitely do this." You sounded more confident than you felt but there was no turning back now.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hello sorry it took so long for this part to be uploaded but it's here now. Hopefully you enjoyed this and the next chapter comes out sooner than this one did. Until then don't hesitate to let me know what you think or if you just wanna say hi I don't bite I promise.

#inarizaki #inarizaki x reader #suna rintaro #inarizaki manager #haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader

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otomegema · 3 years

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title: Convergence Theory, ch. 2 pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader summary: You are a lesser family member of the Gojo clan, so far removed you don’t even carry the name, but you carry the Limitless ability and thus the potential to be a bride to the future head of the clan— a fact you patently reject at fifteen. Twelve years later you are a second grade sorcerer struggling to obtain first grade status when the object of your deepest objections offers you a deal. rating: mature tropes: fake dating/engagement, rivals to lovers, slow romance Link: Archive of Our Own

It had been a logical move to allow Gojo to take down your number, entering it into his contacts with an obscene amount of heart and wishing star emojis by the brief glance you caught over his shoulder. It looked like he was already banking on your acceptance of the deal, but when you parted, your to-go sushi in a small plastic bag, you hadn’t expected to hear from him until tomorrow evening at the latest.

Or maybe even never.

But now, back in the hotel you were being comped for while in Tokyo, you wished silently that you’d never given that man your cell phone number.

Honey

Baby

Future-pretend-love-of-my-life

Have you made a decision?

He wasn’t human. It was barely 6am, did he wake up this early for lessons every day? You groaned, nearly swatting the phone off the nightstand in the dark.

You shot back a fast reply.

-oh I’m sorry

-I’m still recovering from getting electrocuted the other day

-Some asshat led a curse to me

You rolled over, managing to get at least another decent half hour of sleep in before the phone chimed again, lighting up the darkened hotel room.

\(★ω★)/

YOUR asshat

Should you choose to accept this mission

You threw off your covers, forcing yourself up to sit against the stack of pillows behind you as you tapped out a reply.

-My pretend asshat

-Mother will be so proud

The dots of his reply began immediately.

So is that a yes?

You sighed, rolling your eyes to yourself.

-Day isn’t over -Hasn’t even started tyvm

The dots began. Stopped. Began and stopped again, this time not reappearing. You tossed your phone onto the bed and teetered up and over to the coffee maker. The pot was finishing brewing by the time your phone chimed again.

You’re so slow.

The addition of punctuation and the sudden lack of emoji seemed almost like a warning flare that Gojo’s patience was waning. But you hardly knew the man and really, what did you care? A favor for a favor was what he offered. You didn’t owe him anything.

I have other options too.

His text continued and for a moment you frowned, wondering if his intention was to have that sound like a threat. You felt heat rising in your throat— he didn’t want to play that game.

So no pressure. Genuinely.

Oh. Good. That was better. You felt the tension uncoil as fast as it had grown.

Tho I AM your only hope for advancement <3

You could have thrown the phone right through the wall. Your thumbs worked rapidly, shooting out your reply in no time.

-Ah yes, your finest quality

A quick appearance of dots.

My special grade ranking? (･ω<)☆

You smirked.

-Humility

You’re no fun.

Text me when you are done being boring.

This was probably the most you had ever spoken to Gojo, despite having seen him on and off from a distance for the better half of your life. He was hard to miss. Every event at the main house would have him and his immediate family at the forefront. No one ever stopped talking about Gojo Satoru and his accomplishments and his strength and his skill as a sorcerer.

It was nauseating, having to pretend to nod and smile like it was all some great blessing just to orbit near him. It was bad enough he read like a sun to your abilities, as if he needed to be made to think he was anymore of the center of the universe.

Your palm itched. The desire to tap back a response now, a firm denial, very strong. But not stronger than your excitement at the possibility of being a first grade sorcerer. It was everything you had wanted. Prestige, recognition, tougher missions and the pay and rewards that came with them.

You were no weakling. Sure the telemetry technique took you out of commission, but it was hardly your greatest feat. You had finally been able to manifest the cursed technique lapse, blue. Granted, it was a one off and exhausted you so fully afterwards that you nearly fainted on the spot… but your tolerance was getting better. The precision of your manipulation of your cursed energy would never be on par with Gojo, but you could, some day, maybe even manage to shoot the technique off twice.

Reversal Red was next to impossible. And Hollow Technique? Truly impossible. The Six Eyes was needed to even attempt it. Most of your practice had been devoted to perfecting your long distance teleportation skills, fine tuning your telemetry technique and working on establishing your domain. That one was easier. The Unlimited Void crushed your opponent beneath an overload of sensory information, information you could easily channel and tap into with your own unique skills as a Limitless user.

But like all things, you were only second best. And barely. It was a joke. Comparing yourself to Gojo. He was on a level you could never achieve— unless.

You grabbed your phone, hastily dialing the new number and wincing at the loud, cheerful greeting from the other line.

“Good morning, moon of my soul, tenderest heart, darling—!“

“I haven’t even said yes yet, you monster.”

“Ah! A name of my very own? Be still my trembling heart!”

“I wish to make an amendment to the agreement.”

There was a lengthy pause. You could practically hear the slow spread of that sly smile. Content as the cat who caught the canary.

He knew he was about to win.

“Let’s hear it.”

“If you are putting my name forward for first grade, that means you have someone else in mind to be the second backer and someone in mind for me to shadow on missions and train with, yeah?

“I do.” Gojo said, his tone surprisingly serious.

“Have them put my name forward instead. I want to shadow you.”

Gojo laughed, a short mirthless thing, “What makes you think I have the time?”

“You have enough time to play pretend, I’d think any fiancé would leap at the chance to be with his lovely wife-to-be and keep her safe.”

Gojo hummed.

“Why me?”

This was an oddly familiar conversation.

“Purely selfish reasons. You are the best Limitless user. I am a Limitless user. I want you to teach me.”

“You aren’t on my level.” He said, no malice in his words, just simple facts.

“Then teach me what I can handle.”

There was another pause.

“I’m not gonna go easy on you just because you’re my girl.”

The bare utterance of the endearment sent a shiver up your arms and not an entirely pleasant one either. His girl. God, how would you even begin to explain this fake engagement to your parents? Who knew the depth of your jealousy and bitterness over Gojo since you were— what? Five? Younger?

“Since I am just your ‘pretend’ girl, I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“Your funeral, babe.” Gojo said, “But I’m glad we resolved this early! Because we are having dinner. Reservations are made, I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something pretty!”

Your words caught in your throat, stuttering across your tongue and unable to force out before the line cut off and he was gone.

You pressed the edge of your phone to your temple, already feeling a headache coming on. Something pretty? Shit.

-Something pretty? -Too vague. I have no idea what I’m supposed to wear.

A dress! Something for the evening. A Line.

V Neck def

Show off what puberty gave ya (＾〃＾)

Chiffon with ruffle lace

And grey-blue

-Why?

To match my eyes <3

-Where in the world do you expect me to find that specific dress in the next few hours

Downstairs with hotel staff I had it dropped off <3 <3 <3

-That’s creepy

(つω`｡) </3 </3

-Enough with the hearts -How much? I’ll pay you back

It is a gift <3

-How’d you even know my size

A gentleman never reveals his secrets

┐(‘～` )┌

You sighed and set aside your phone to call down to the front desk. Sure enough, a few minutes later someone brought up a large white box, tied with a grey-blue ribbon. You set the package on the small counter in your room’s kitchen and opened the lid, brushing aside soft tissue paper.

The dress was ridiculously soft, made of fine, nearly translucent layers of chiffon. It was a lovely color, the sight making you suddenly think of the feeling in the air before a thunderstorm, the smell of rain. The ribbon matched.

You looked for a price tag and found none, but folded away at the bottom of the box was a hand written receipt. You paled at the figure displayed on it.

-Gojo, I can’t possibly accept this.

Don’t be stupid. No one would believe I was serious about a woman unless I was positively spoiling her rotten. s’not like it broke the bank!

-Forget the first-grade rec

-Pay my bills

Too late! Negotiations are closed :)

-So what the hell am I doing at this dinner?

Eating Duh and being seen with yours truly easy peasy right?

You sipped your coffee, keeping the mug well away from the dress. It was certainly nicer than anything you had ever owned in— well. Ever. It was hard to argue that there were clearly going to be some additional perks to this arrangement you hadn’t previously thought of.

Plus we gotta go over some ground rules

-Thought you said negotiations were closed

-This mean we can revisit my bills?

g2g

Students need me!

Ttyl babe

The ease in which that man showered you so soon with endearments was nauseating. Had he ever even had a girlfriend before? Or just those usual moon-eyed women who fawned and petted him?

And now everyone was gonna think you were one of those girls. You drank your coffee faster, relishing in the way it burned down your throat and overpowered the bad taste in your mouth.

“First-grade… first-grade. Remember the first-grade.”

And training. You’d squeeze every possible benefit from this arrangement out that you could. Sorcerers worked in teams, but at the end of the day, it was every man and woman for themselves.

Let them think what they want when you were seen tonight. You would come out on top.

***

The day passed quickly and you found yourself standing in front of the hotel mirror, twisting back and forth to get a feel for the movement of the dress— and half practicing staying upright in the heels that had arrived not even a moment later.

They were high enough to be appealing, but low enough to keep you from falling over on your face. Gojo had texted an explanation that he figured you were out of practice in wearing anything other than sneakers and combat boots and to consider them training wheels.

You’d wanted, once again, to punch him in the face.

The kind of girl he liked was a stilettos kinda girl, you guessed, huffing to yourself as you sat down and twirled one of your ankles, stretching the muscle. Even the low heels were not entirely comfortable, but you’d manage.

Checking your makeup one last time, you picked up your own worn purse and slung it over your shoulder. Women who wore these kind of dresses and came in on the arm’s of other men and women like Gojo never had anything more than the smallest clutch— but you weren’t those women.

You made your way down to the lobby and were surprised to find a chauffeur waiting outside with a very very sleek European car of some kind. You weren’t great about those kinds of things, only noting the seats were made with soft black leather and there was even a divider built in like in a limo to give the passengers privacy.

The chauffeur ushered you into the empty car and you sat back with a sigh as silently he delivered you to the next destination. You had, in some small place, hoped Gojo would already be present.

Why he felt the need for such spectacle was beyond you, but maybe this was what was expected of a clan family son when he courted a young woman. It felt— weird. Nice, but weird. The drive was not overly long, the car coming to stop.

You knew this restaurant. Some fancy French-Japanese fusion place that charged a hundred dollars for a single plate with a broiled pear covered in wasabi or some weird shit. Already you felt your stomach churning with anxiety and encroaching regret.

This was gonna suck.

This was gonna suck so bad.

The chauffeur opened the door and you barely managed not to wobble on the pavement. Feeling stilted and exposed as other guests and couples regarded you with open curiosity and veiled judgment.

Clearly they were used to seeing the same people come and go from this restaurant and you were not one of them.

You clutched your bag tighter to your arm, hand reaching inside instinctively to find your phone and text Gojo you were out. This was over. Find someone else— when your surname was shouted from the door.

All eyes turned as if in sync to Gojo, wearing simple trousers and a white shirt tucked in. He didn’t even have a tie or a jacket, his dark glasses obscuring his eyes even as he looked right at you.

A few people tsked their disapproval, but they may as well have been ghosts for all the attention Gojo paid them. When you didn’t immediately make your way over to him, Gojo shoved his hands into his pockets and strode over to meet you.

He grinned, the lowering of his chin and the slow rise back up an obvious indicator he was sizing you up and didn’t care if you knew.

He whistled.

“Ow, ow!”

“Shut it— you know this dress could cover my rent for half a year?! And these shoes! I could buy a used car with this ensemble.”

“You even drive?”

“Not the point.”

He laughed again, loud and careless.

“Figured since you were dawdling you might need an arm to lean on.” Gojo said, offering your his elbow without removing his hands from his pockets, “Or perhaps…”

He feigned a gasp, “Are you feeling shy?”

“I’m leaving.” you deadpanned, managing half a turn before his hand was on your waist, turning you back. He took your hand, the feeling of his palm on your side still burned into your skin as he hooked your arm in his own.

You allowed it, leaning on him only a little. He looked pleased, smugly so, as he led you inside and to a table that was already set for two.

There was a wine glass sitting by your own plate. The one by Gojo’s was turned upside down and set to the side… a can of soda sitting, bright and out of place, in its spot.

“… where did you even get that.”

“Vending machine.” Gojo said simply and even kicked your chair out a little for you to take a seat. How flattering.

“Wine is for you, if you want it. Figured it might help take the edge off.”

You rolled your eyes, not bothering to wait for the server to return and simply tipping the bottle of red into your own glass.

“What about you?”

“I don’t drink.” He said, cracking the tab on his soda with a loud pop. Several eyes filtered your way, whispers behind hands and napkins as Gojo all but drained the can in one gulp.

“So— ground rules?” you said, unfolding a cloth napkin and settling it in a half folded triangle across your lap the way you saw other women doing.

“Straight in, huh? Alright. Terms.” Gojo lifted one finger, “As already discussed, you and I will be ‘courting’— dating. Whatever the fuck. I’ll take care of arranging the dates, you show up, act sufficiently smitten and in about a year give or take, we break up.”

Gojo lifted a second finger, “Two. In exchange, I have two first grade sorcerers who will back your promotion. And, as requested—“ Gojo’s voice dropped a fraction, almost grumpily, “—you’ll come with me on my missions for your first semi-grade probation.”

“Now ground rules. At any point either of us wants out, it’s done. No questions asked. But don’t think that means you get to ditch and just keep that first grade appointment. I’ll make sure you end up right back at a grade two.”

You sipped your wine, giving your mouth something to do than form some very choice words at that moment. Gojo noticed, his smile almost a snarl, but the expression quickly vanished. You had a funny feeling trying to hoodwink or swindle him would end very poorly for anyone.

“And when you develop feelings for me—“

“If.” You amended quickly, but Gojo ignored you.

“—when you develop feelings for me. You have to tell me and again, the engagement is over. You can keep your rank. No harm no foul. I can hardly blame you for falling for me.” Gojo said with a wistful sigh. You were grateful for the arrival of the first course, forcing you both to fall silent for a moment until they departed.

You had no idea what was on the plate. Some kind of salad? It was hardly a mouthful. Gojo didn’t even touch his silverware and feeling less than impressed with the cuisine, you didn’t either.

You drank your wine.

“Barring sickness or injury you are required to appear for every date I set. Including the ones where you have to meet other members of the main family.”

You frowned, but didn’t object.

“Wait— what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Is the engagement off when you develop feelings for me?” You said lightly, trying to play off your smile as wistful.

Gojo scoffed, his reaction almost enough to hurt your feelings… just a little bit.

“Non-issue. I don’t do feelings.”

“God, you sound like a fuck boy.” The words came out before you could stop yourself, the last syllable off your tongue right at the moment the server had returned to reclaim your plates. An eyebrow was raised and you hid your face down with a flustered cough.

By the time you looked back up, you got the joy of seeing Gojo staring at you from over his glasses, a broad and deeply amused grin on his face.

“Not non-issue. If I get the feelings rule you get the feelings rule. End discussion.”

Gojo shrugged, again not touching the newest course which was, to your extreme annoyance, some kind of grilled pear.

“You should slow down.” He warned in a sing song voice as you poured another glass.

“I’m not a baby— okay. So we got terms, we got ground rules. Anything else?”

“You can’t refuse my gifts.”

Your eyes narrowed sharply and he simply smiled and hummed with a shrug.

“It’s for appearances! Oh. Speaking of appearances—“ Gojo sat up, fishing something from his back pocket and sitting it on the table. You stared at the simple black box, fearing a vein might burst in your forehead at any moment.

“What is that.” You stated more than asked.

“Open it.” Gojo said, his voice light and encouraging as he nudged the box closer, “Come on, open it. Open it. You know you wanna, sweetie, light of my life, fire of my lo—“

You snatched the box up if only to stop him from finishing that sentence.

You swallowed hard, the sounds of the room fading out as you flipped open the box and found, sitting upon a small satin pillow— a… key?

You lifted it from the box, noting it even had a little custom keychain made to look like a white cat with a tiny blindfold.

“It’s to my apartment!” Gojo announced with a giddy laugh, clasping his hands together in a way that was entirely un-adult like.

“… I have my own place. Thank you.”

“In Kyoto. This is here, in Tokyo. Where you will need to stay for this all to work, remember?”

“Where will you stay?” You asked dryly, vaguely hoping his answer would be something other than what it was no doubt going to be.

“Very funny. You’ll have your own room—if you want it.”

“Why—“ your voice nearly broke and you had to take a moment to clear it, “Why uh— why wouldn’t I be wanting my own room?”

“Feelings are off limits, naturally. But if you want to take me up again on that offer from back in the day…”

The surge of cursed energy that rippled off of you was so strong Gojo nearly toppled backwards, his laugh gaining a somewhat nervous lift to it if only for just a moment.

“I’ll have my own room. My own locked room.” You bit out, feeling your face flushing hot and hating every second Gojo seemed to be enjoying your utter mortification, “Unless that is a problem.”

“Nope. Not at all. Probably for the best ultimately, I’ve been told I have a bad habit of dickmatizing folks.”

“… I’m sorry, you what.”

“Dickmatizing! Ya know. Like hypnotizing but with—“

“I got it!” You groaned, pressing your face into your hand. When did it get so damn hot in here? You snatched up your wine glass and finished off the contents, feeling even hotter.

“Is that all?”

“Unless anything comes to your mind, then yep.” Gojo finished, ignoring yet another course. You were almost tempted. The dish was some kind of meat, but the sauce drenched over it smelt sharply of something bitter and sour at the same time. You stomach recoiled at the thought and yet rumbled in protest to its growing hunger.

“So what do you think?”

“You’re disgusting?” you said flatly.

“I meant about the deal.”

You glowered openly at him. It was going to take a lot of practice to turn that deprecating expression you felt naturally pull unto your face at his sight into something loving and tender… but for first-grade ranking? For lessons on your Limitless? Fuck. Fuck you’d do it.

You poured the remainder of the bottle into your glass and polished it off in one shot.

“I accept.”

Gojo clapped his hands together, “Excellent! Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Huh?” You barely managed to get the questioning sound out before Gojo was up and out of his chair. You scrambled up, head rushing with the wine and the weirdness of this entire conversation. By the time you managed to catch up with him, he snaked out his arm and wrapped it around your waist, pulling you flush and warm against his side.

You about threw him across the room, but your attempts at a grapple were thwarted by the sudden thrumming of the familiar Neutral Limitless ability, stalling your moments to such a small speed you felt suddenly frozen.

The impulse to toss him passed and instead you let him escort you outside where the car was still waiting.

“Take us to the place, ya know the one.” Gojo said to the driver and in a surprising show of gallantry, actually held the door open for you to get in first.

“And open the back window. If she throws up, I’d rather it be on the pavement.”

You elbowed him in the chest— accidentally of course.

***

The car drive was a bit longer, taking you away from the glitz and glamor of this side of Tokyo and to what looked arguably as one of the most hole-in-the-wall noodle joints you had ever seen. The street kitchen was small, the counter open outside with a few bar stools. The smells of teriyaki and spices and cooking oils were heavy in the air and made your mouth water.

Gojo perched on one of the stools and you came to sit alongside him, watching as he ripped open a set of chopsticks and rubbed the splinters off.

He ordered quickly—yakisoba and yakitori. Along with several packages of mochi they kept behind the counter in the same kinda plastic bags you’d find at a convenience store.

Gojo had been right— you should have slowed down. The world had a light haze to it… a slight tilting. His hand on your back felt massive and overly warm as he guided you back to sitting straight.

“Eat, ya lush.” He ordered, piling noodles and chicken unto a smaller empty plate for you from his own, “C’mon.”

Gojo popped one of the mochi bags and dumped the sticky sweet confection right on top of your yakisoba. You grimaced, picking the sweet off and trying to wipe some of the sauce from it before you took a generous bite.

The food was greasy and delicious and abundant and cheap and your mouth was in heaven. Even having not used your Limitless since yesterday, every taste still felt heightened. Maybe it was the way your cursed powers tried to compensate from the wine, but everything somehow was more delicious.

You attempted to snag another piece of yakitori from Gojo’s plate, only to have your chopsticks blocked with a clack.

“Ah ah ah— hands off.”

“What’s yours is mine, right?” You chided, only to be dodged again in a movement faster than your eyes could perceive. Did he just use his Limitless to counter you? Feeling emboldened, you activated your own, the faint pulse of the energy so close together giving you the sort of deflecting feeling one experiences when holding two sides of the same magnet near together.

Repelling, shifting. Trying to shove the energy into a way that the two forces would collide rather than deflect.

You were concentrating fully. The minuscule movements invisible to even your eyes, but the feeling was there. A sort of blindsight where you didn’t need the Six Eyes to tell you what was happening— but it would have definitely helped. You flicked a glance up and lost your control, your chopsticks shooting away and nearly cracking one in two.

Gojo chuckled. It was the expression on his face that had distracted you. His eyelids were half dropped, his smile soft as he readied himself to deflect you again. Your energy was no match for his… but it matched. It was made of the same stuff. Controlled the same way. He could see, with the sharp clarity of his Six Eyes, every tiny precise movement you made with your cursed energy. A mirror of his own abilities in miniature.

He was playing with you. And all the sudden you felt as if a small knot in your chest had shaken free, the coil coming undone.

Was there anyone else on this Earth you could do such a thing with?

Feeling strange and suddenly shy, you drew your energy back in and refocused on eating from your own plate, grumbling at your loss.

A second later, Gojo’s chopsticks moved over your plate, dropping another helping of noodles in.

A small concession. A victory in it's own right, even if it had not won the yakitori.

“Sober up, will ya? But don’t eat too fast. I’m not cleaning up vomit, no way, no how.”

“You’re always so vulgar.” you murmured, speaking around a mouthful of noodles and mochi. Gojo turned and stuck his tongue out at you. A confirmation or a reprisal, you couldn’t be sure.

But regardless, it did something to you he had never managed to do before.

It made you laugh.

#gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x oc #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujustu kaisen #help ive fallen into gojo brain rot and cant get up

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hello-everyfandom · 4 years

Text

“I’m doing this for you!”

Warnings: Mentions of death and war

Pairing: Sirius Black x PotterSister!Reader

Words: 2.2k

Summary: James forbids his reader from going on an undercover mission for his sister

(More angst for you all!)

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s not up to you, James,” you argued.

“Like hell it is! You’re my little sister, and I forbid it.”

“James, perhaps if you’ve for once decided not to speak out of your arsehole, then we could continue. But I must insist, that this decision was not, and is not yours to make, entirely so.”

From where you sat, your older brother leaned against the kitchen counter. His arm crossed against his body and the other against his chin in frustration. The walls of his hidden away home were quiet as the Potter twins separated into the kitchen to speak amongst themselves as siblings.

He squinted his eyes, cleaning his glasses on the bottom of his cotton shirt before replying.“And if not mine, then whose decision?”

“It’s my own. It’s my decision.”

“You cannot! It’s... it’s not even debatable.”

“James,” you said sternly, “this is happening.”

James looked at his sister, only younger by several minutes, and yet still saw you as a child.“Don’t you understand it is dangerous? More dangerous than you could ever understand?” he wanted to take you by the shoulders and shake you vigorously.

“As if I were even slightly unaware of the dangers of this,” you said sarcastically.

“And yet you are still stupid enough to agree to it?” James slipped his glasses back on with shaky fingers.

“Stupid? You’ve always been overprotective, but now this is just bordering abusive.” you lightly joked, hoping to see a smile reach across his face to mirror yours. Your smile dropped when you noticed his grave expression, pale to the skin.

“James-”

“I’m delighted you can joke about it, the idea of dying a grizzly, cruel death.

”You groaned at his overdramatic stature, “You’re overreacting.”

“Am I? Y/N, you seem to be underreacting. This, this mission, this undercover assignment is mental, it’s practically a death wish.”

“I’m a skilled witch, I know what I’m doing.”

“I’m not arguing you’re not phenomenal at duels, but this is much different then Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Y/N.”

You thought back to your conversation with Dumbledore. He had admitted to a close group of the Order that they were in dire need of Death Eater intel. Most of the people he had told refused considering the danger it’d put themselves and their family, however, he turned to you, the youngest Potter to take up the responsibility of joining the inside ranks of Lord Voldemort. You agreed quickly, understanding the current losing position of the Order. It was telling James that was more difficult than ever.

“Do you not understand?” James asked sharply.

“Of course I do, James. But, it’s my responsibility.”

“It’s selfish, is what it is.”

“What!?” you exclaimed.

“You’re willing to risk your life, for what? What about us? Your family?”

“I’m doing this for you!” you shouted angrily. The door creaked open slightly, showing Lily’s figure holding tiny baby Harry in her arms.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, I’m putting Harry to bed and thought he would want to say goodnight to his favorite aunt.” You stood to meet her, gathering your nephew in your arms. “Is everything alright?” she looked worriedly to her husband and to her sister in law.

“Yes.”

“No.” the two of you said at the same time.

“I’m sorry, Prune, your father seems to be more of a prick today than usual,” you cooed to Harry who seemed to grow every day. You gave your nephew the nickname Prune after his birth when you noticed how wrinkled he was, like a dried prune fruit.You held Harry close, reminding yourself why this mission was of extreme importance. You were doing it to create a world for Harry to live in, a world that was safe from prejudice and violence. James whispered a soft goodnight and kissed his forehead, handing Harry back to his mother. She glanced between the Potter twins.

“Sirius and I will be in the living room,” you nodded in response as the kitchen door shut behind her.

“James, please.”

“I just don��t understand. I don’t understand why you would agree to this?”

“That’s the problem without a key or an answer. You wouldn’t understand, even if you were me, James, you’d never understand.”

James bit his lip and narrowed his eyes, “Explain it to me then, because it is rather unfathomable to understand why you’d go through such great lengths to ensure your own death in the unfortunate and probable circumstance that anyone finds out you’re a spy.”

“Fine then. For Harry.”

“Harry?” he asked confused, “What do you mean?”

“I’m doing this for Harry. You wouldn’t understand because he is your son, it is your job to stay here, in your home with your wife and protect your family here. It is my job to go out and protect your family from out here.” You said after taking a deep breath, “And, if I die, then at least I die trying to protect my own blood, my nephew. And that’s as good as any reason there is.”

“Y/N...”

“Don’t you see? It is not up to me, or you, it is about Harry. It is about winning the war. It’s about ensuring his safety, you know what the prophecy says about his birth! Sacrifices come in all shapes and forms, James. The entirety of this secret home is a sacrifice in itself. I just wish you could understand.”

“Right, well. What about us?” James asked firmly, “What about us? What happens if you die? What about us? Me? Harry? Sirius?”

“I expect you’ll understand the reasoning behind my death, then.”

“But I won’t! All I’ll even comprehend is the fact that my baby sister is dead and it’d be her own fault!”

“It’s not confirmed I actually will die, have you already picked out my casket then?” you said sarcastically once again making James roll his eyes in complete frustration.

“Yes, well, it may as well be in writing.”

You looked to the ceiling as if searching for guidance in this conversation. “If the roles were reversed if I had just had a child with Sirius, would you stay behind closed doors during this mission? Or would you go?”

“Yes, but that’s different-”

“How?!”

“Because I can’t lose you too!” James snapped making your heart drop. Just barely a year ago, your parents had passed away due to nasty Dragon Pox. Though it seemed to hit you harder, losing your parents, but James? He always placed himself as the protector, the brother, and he had never fully expressed his sadness but rather tended to your broken cries. He’d much rather focus on his friends and his growing son than the ache of losing his parents, but the idea of losing his sister? He could barely process the idea without being in utter agony.

“James...”“

Y/N, Dumbledore can find someone else to take your place. Stay here, we can set up the living room for you. I can’t lose my sister too.”

You swallowed back a lump in your throat and encouraged your tears to burrow back in your eyes in “I can’t do that. I leave tomorrow morning before dawn.”

“Y/N...” James nearly cried.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“I’ll come with you.”

“You can’t do that, James. Not with Harry and Lily. Not with the target on your back. You know that.”

“But what if you fail?”

“What if I succeed?”

James swallowed and hurried to wipe his tears of worry, “You’ll come back?”

“I’ll try my hardest to.”

“I mean it, Y/N. You come back or I swear I’ll put dung bombs in your bed again.”

You sent him a sad smile, “I’ll try, James.”

James pushed himself off of the counter and entrapped you in a brotherly hug. He placed his chin on the top of your head, already missing his twin more than anything.

“Did you remember to pack panties?” he joked in a high pitched voice making you snort. That was something your mother used to ask before every family trip they took in the summer up to northern England. It was nice to hear it once again, maybe for the last time.

“I love you,” you said seriously.

“I love you too, now. Well. Go kick ass and make the Potters proud.”

You sent James a grateful smile before exiting to the living room. You passed Lily who gave you a knowing look and entered the kitchen, likely to convene with her husband. Sirius sat facing away from you, looking deep into the embers of the fireplace.

“Sirius?”

“I can’t believe you’re leaving.”

“Not you too!” you laughed,

“‘ve just convinced James now ‘ve got to convince you? Seems like you lot have already planned my funeral and everything.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t say funeral. You’re not going to die.”

“I hope not.” you sat on the arm rest where Sirius sat. Playing with the hair on the back of his neck, he shuddered under your touch.

“As much as I hate to disagree with James, I do understand.” Sirius huffed lightly.

“It’s a duty that we signed up for when joining the Order. And now, with Lord Voldemort and the whispers of a traitor in our ranks?”

“I know.” Sirius turned, holding your soft hand in his and placing his other on your thigh. “Will you at least promise me one thing?”

“Anything.”

“Will you marry me when you come back?”

You beamed through wet tears, breathing deeply, “I will marry you if I come back.”

“No,” you stopped, Sirius looked at you with a firm look, “When you come back, you will marry me.”

“When I come back, I will marry you.” You repeated before placing a loving kiss on Sirius’ lips. He brushed your tears away and kissed your cheeks and then your lips. He whispered words of love and courage to you.

That night was spent in front of the fire in the Potter home. There was a comfortable silence that settled into the bones and veins of each and every one of you, neither words were spoken but only small murmurs. And when the morning arose, you placed a confident smile on your lips and hugged your loved ones goodbye, giving Harry a gentle squeeze on his fat newborn arm. As you apparated away, James and Sirius both let out a heavy sigh.

“She’ll be alright,” Lily assured, rubbing James’ back.“I think so,” Sirius clenched his jaw, already missing you immensely.

As days, weeks, and months passed, you were barely able to send letters to Dumbledore nevertheless to Sirius. But, when they did receive letters, they were short and written in a hurry.

“All okay, don’t worry. Love you.”

“Easier said than done, missing you.”

“Awful people. Awful acceptance.”

“Dark mark. Love you always.”

It was only until Dumbledore told the Order that you had successfully infiltrated the Death Eaters in London. You had received classified information and had relayed it to Dumbledore meaning your homecoming would be within the next few weeks. James felt rejoiced in the idea of his sister coming home and nearly bounced across the walls. Lily noticed her husband was nearly going pale with worry each and every day you were gone, but the minute he heard of your future return, and excited redness returned and she sighed in relief. Sirius, with James’ help, purchased a ring they thought you’d rather enjoy cementing the engagement beyond just words. Sirius was nervous but mostly excited to be able to safely hold you in his arms without his horrifying imagination placing you in a dungeon being tortured somewhere. The day of your arrival, Sirius and James rocked back on their heels anxiously, constantly looking towards the fireplace for a floo.

“How about I put the kettle on, yeah? I’m sure she won’t be arriving till later this afternoon,” Lily bit back the nervousness and frightened feeling she had felt. Past five in the evening, nearly time for supper, James was already writing a letter to Dumbledore asking for sister’s return. He moved to the kitchen to open the window and place the letter in his owl’s mouth. His ears perked up at the noise of the floo explosion going off and raced to the living room.

“Blimey, thought you’d never get here!” He looked around the room to see his wife with her hand on her mouth in shock and his best friend on his knees on the floor. He shifted to look at Dumbledore who had just floo’d in.

“What’s going on? Where’s my sister?”He cleared his throat and sighed with a heavy frown. Upon hearing the news, James thought he’d nearly pass out. Maybe he did. Because he couldn’t remember sitting down on the living room couch. Sirius shook vigorously, the feeling of sudden grief and sorrowful stricken emotions that took over. Dumbledore repeated himself again. You were coming home, nearly two blocks away from the Order headquarters and more than a few blocks from the Potter home, when you were ambushed. Sirius found himself needing to throw up, but swallowed his bile. Death Eaters, who were earlier informed by a traitor that you were working for the Order, took you, tortured you, and killed you. Nothing was left but the broken and beaten body that was dropped off at the steps of headquarters. You were so close, you were so close to being home, to being safe.

#sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black imagines #marauders #marauders imagine #james potter #james potter imagine #james potter sister #james potter imagines #marauders imagines #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #harry potter masterlist

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abarbaricyalp · 3 years

Photo

@sambuckylibrary

SamBucky Halloween Prompt 5: Mausoleum

Sam meets Bucky in a mausoleum in Brooklyn (This fic is set in Brooklyn because I could not make up a reason for Bucky to be in Louisiana despite the fact that I really very badly wanted it set in Louisiana. Bucky is also slightly younger because of fic reasons.)

Rated G: Discussions of death and loss (It’s set in a mausoleum, use discretion) (AO3 link in the notes)

Title from “Little Ghost” by The White Stripes, highly encourage you to listen to the song

One I’m Most Scared Of

Sam hated funerals. He hated that his father wanted him around for them. No other seventeen year old was surrounded by so much death and mourning.

“Sam, you have a gift,” his father said. “You put others at ease just by your presence.”

Sam thought everyone else should invest in a therapist and not a high schooler.

Petulantly, he kicked his heels back against a stone bench as he stared at the walls of crypts and cremains spots. Behind him, the funeral party milled and offered condolences to the bereaved, which actually seemed like everyone in the party. Sometimes, a funeral party seemed less bereaved than relieved at these things. Sam remembered the first time he heard a man’s daughter immediately plan lunch with a group of friends without a waver to her voice or a tear on her cheek. He vowed he’d never be the kind of person that had a funeral like that.

If he even had a funeral. Putting himself in the ground in whatever clothes he died in and then becoming a tree without telling anyone was becoming a nicer and nicer option.

So, he listened to the sniffling without turning around and thought about what kind of tree he’d become. He’d already done his duties of rubbing a wife’s arm, hugging kids, tickling grandkids, listening to the same three stories a dozen times. His father couldn’t expect anything else from him. So he wasn’t thrilled when someone his age sat down beside him.

The guy was handsome in a traditional, classical sort of way. Not as boring as the rich white guys who went to Sam’s school. His hair was side parted and only long enough to make an impressive arch on his head instead of laying in his face. He had a square jaw that was a little comical and his nose was a little fucked up in a kind of endearing way. The way Sam’s best friend looked after getting beaned in the face by a wayward baseball. Like most people who came through the mausoleum, he was sad.

There was no other word for it. Sam had tried to be poetic about his time in the crypts, but there was only so much the clinical-ness of bereaved and the dramatic-ness of tortured or sobbing or anguished could do. And they were rarely entirely true. Sad was just the word for people staring at remains of someone they once loved. Sometimes the simple explanation was the most appropriate. The rest of death and grief was already so complicated. It was easier to just feel sad.

The guy was too old to be a grandkid but too young to be a kid, unless the deceased and his wife had gotten freaky in their elder age. Sam hadn’t noticed him in his previous passes of the party or from the service, where he always sat in the back and made it a game to memorize as many shades of black or ridiculous hair styles as possible.

In fact, the boy wasn’t even wearing black. He was wearing a dark brown jacket, adorned with gold accents and pins. In fact… Sam was pretty certain it was an old military dress uniform.

“Uh...are you just visiting?” Sam ventured when the guy didn’t even bother to glance over.

The guy’s mouth quirked to one side faintly. “Yeah, you could say that. That one,” he said, gesturing to an entombment with a gravemarker that read James Buchanan Barnes March 10, 1922 - February 5, 1942. Son, Brother, Friend, Hero.

“Oh,” Sam breathed and understood the weird military uniform. “Are you related to him? You do kinda look like him.”

The guy turned finally to look at Sam and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, you could say that. I’m Bucky.”

“Oh, jeez, you were named after him too.”

The guy--Bucky 2, apparently--cocked his head in a half nod. “I’m actually waiting on someone. Do you think they’ll be here much longer?” he asked, jerking his chin over to the party.

“Well, these things don’t really have a limit to how long people can be here,” Sam pointed out. “But most people get the point when they start sealing the tomb and all. Uh, this thing you’re waiting for, is it about him? Like, some kind of memorial service?”

It was neither February nor March, so Sam couldn’t imagine why there would be a memorial service for Barnes now. It had been a while since Sam’s father had done a service in Brooklyn and he’d kind of forgotten the cult status Barnes and, to a much greater extent, Rogers had in this town.

“Nah, I’m just waiting on a friend,” Bucky said.

“Well…” Sam settled back against the stone bench. “I’ll stand in for a while.”

“You wanna be my friend? Should I be worried. I think horror movies start off like this.”

“Name one horror movie that starts off in a mausoleum.”

“Murder by the Clock. Mummy’s Tomb. All the vampire movies.”

“Dracula doesn’t live in a mausoleum,” Sam argued lightly. “And I’ve never even heard of those other movies.”

“That’s ‘cause you don’t watch classics.”

“Uh-huh. Or you were just scraping the bottom of the barrel.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and knocked his shoulder against Sam’s. “Did you know…” He gestured back to the waning funeral party.

Sam shook his head. “No. My dad’s the pastor. He did the service. He likes me to be here for moral support.”

“Hell, I don’t think my parents trusted my morals as far as they could throw me,” Bucky snorted.

Sam noted the past tense but knew better than to push for information, especially in a mausoleum during a funeral of all places. “Are you a student around here?” he asked instead.

“Can’t you tell?” Bucky answered as he popped the lapels of his jacket. “I’m a soldier.”

“Right. A soldier who’s home, spending his time in mausoleums in front of his great-great uncle or something.”

“I could be a great-great grandkid. I heard he got around.”

“I heard that was all manufactured propaganda to sell a story.”

“I read it in a book.”

“And I read about time travel and aliens in a book.”

Bucky shrugged. “There are weirder things out there.”

“Right, in a world of super soldiers and Nazis with no faces,” Sam agreed drily.

“You’ll see,” Bucky assured. “Aliens and time travel are both gonna be all anyone talks about soon.”

“Y’know, I didn’t think a guy dressing up as his great-great grandpa-uncle to meet someone at his burial site would be so into sci-fi too.”

“Multitudes and all that. You know, there were half a dozen sci-fi books in his bag when his belongings were recovered.”

“I’ve heard that,” Sam said. Only because it’d been a point in the Oscar-Bait movie a few years ago. “He’d read to Rogers when he was sick.”

Bucky looked a little wistful and then nodded.”I’ve heard that too.”

“Do you ever feel pressure to be like him? Or be somethin’ you’re not, just ‘cause someone looked at your little baby face and named you after a legend?”

That wry, sad grin came back and Bucky shook his head. “Nah. Not really. Do you, though? I mean, obviously not him. But someone.”

Sam traced out the letters of the name of someone who died in 1985. A L E X A N D E R. He nodded. “Feels like everyone needs me to be someone and I let myself play that part until people stopped noticing it was a part.”

“What’s the part?” Bucky asked as he leaned back on his hands.

“I dunno. Someone who-- Well, I mean… Maybe it’s not a full part. Maybe I’m just upset that people only want me to have one kind of personality trait. I mean, everyone knows I’m kind and I’m good with words and I care about people. And I really do want to be that guy. But when I want to be that guy, y’know? Not all the time. Sometimes I want to cry and scream and rage too. Sometimes I want to be quiet for a little while and not help someone else. Just for a few hours.”

Bucky nodded and stared at the rows of internments before them. “Y’know. I’m sure people would understand that if you told them. If you said, ‘I can’t do this right now. Please let me be quiet.’”

“I know that,” Sam said softly. He tangled his fingers together in his lap. “Maybe I’m mostly angry at myself for not being able to say something like that. I’m the guy who helps. If I don’t do that, if I beg a day off, then who am I? What am I bringing to the table?”

Bucky scooted closer and put a hand on Sam’s knees. It sent a jolt through Sam’s body and he worked very hard on not jerking his gaze up to Bucky’s face. “Sam, you just said you have other personality traits, other feelings, other hobbies that aren’t hanging out in a mausoleum. That’s what you bring to the table on the days you can’t be there for everyone else.”

Sam nodded and reached up to rub two fingers under his eye. He wasn’t at full tears yet, but he also didn’t want to get any closer. “Wait, did I tell you my name?” he asked suddenly.

Bucky lifted an eyebrow again. “You must’ve. Or someone else said it earlier. The point is, you’re still you. And you bring smarts and humor and a good head around, even when you aren’t offering free therapy or a crying shoulder. And, Sam, listen, even when you don’t want to be any of that, you’re still kind. I’ve only been sitting here for a few minutes and you’ve been kind the whole time, even when you weren’t trying. It’s not a part you’re playing. Just be who you are and ask for your time when you need it. If people reflect even a quarter of the love you put out there back at you, no one will ever begrudge you some quiet.”

Sam swallowed thickly and leaned against Bucky’s shoulder heavily. Bucky moved his hand from Sam’s knee to wrap his arm around his ribs instead. “You really think I’m funny and smart?” Sam asked eventually.

“You started spouting off propaganda theories and joking about where vampires technically live. Yeah, you’re something else, man,” Bucky laughed. “And I think you’re beautiful, which people always appreciate in people they hang around with.”

Sam rolled his eyes and ignored the last comment, thankful that his skin was dark enough to hide his blush and Bucky couldn’t see the swooping of his stomach. “Well, if you think that’s impressive, I’ve got a whole list of things I think are propaganda.”

“I’d love to hear all about it some other time.”

“Is your friend here?” Sam asked, sitting back a little and glancing around.

Bucky’s eyes cast around the mausoleum briefly too. “No. I just don’t feel like listening to any propaganda tonight,” he joked.

Sam jostled his elbow into Bucky’s rib and leaned back against his side. “I can’t remember the last time I actually talked to someone in one of these things. Everything’s always so surface level here. ‘Sorry for your loss’ ‘He was a good man’ ‘Of course we’ll come by the benefit.’ None of it means anything.”

“Well, I wasn’t part of the funeral, so maybe that was a plus. I’m just some guy. Hanging out in a mausoleum.”

“Ah, you’re the vampire,” Sam said with a grin. “Maybe I should get a stake in that casket.”

“There’s no body in it,” Bucky reminded him. “They never found Rogers’ or Barnes’ body.”

“Right, right. The train and plane.”

“It’s just for show,” Bucky said. He reached out to trace his fingers along Barnes’ last name and then held his palm against the stone for a second longer.

Sam put his hand on Bucky’s knee and said quickly, like ripping a bandaid off, “Do you want to get lunch or something? With me? Now, or later. I’m not picky. And then maybe again?”

Bucky turned blue eyes back to Sam and he really did look just like all those old pictures. That same sad smile came to his mouth. “Yeah, I really, really do. Maybe later,” he said and leaned over to kiss Sam’s cheek softly.

Sam’s eyes fluttered shut and his heart kicked up so rapidly in his chest it punched the air out of his ribs.

When he managed to open his eyes again, Bucky was gone.

#sambuckyhalloween2021 #sambucky #sambucky fanfic #sambucky fanfiction #sam wilson #bucky barnes #the falcon and the winter soldier #the falcon #the winter soldier #captain america #writing #bingo #sambucky halloween

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thewritingstar · 3 years

Text

The Sun Sets With You

Pairing: Blossutch

Fandom: Powerpuff Girls

Rating: T

Word count: 6k

Warnings: Major Character Death.

Note: I am so excited to finish this fic! Thank you so much to @creativecilla for commissioning time and time again. She asked for a sad and angsty fic so I hope I delivered! (She also asked for a happy fic so dont worry that's coming soon)

Don't worry there will be a little bonus after this so don't come for my throat too hard.

Anyways, I hope that you enjoy this because I had the time of my life writing it while crying.

Thanks for reading <3

(the italicized is flashbacks just in case ya confused :)

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

“Your love is like a sunset, the longer I wait, it slowly fades into the sea, making a beautiful distraction, As loneliness and despair creep from behind like the shadow of the night.” -Albion Gremory

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

The gate waits patiently for her to cross. It's black and shiny as if it were polished just for her. She has been here for almost an hour and yet she hasn't moved an inch. The bouquet of flowers she spent just as long picking out are starting to get annoyed by her lack of movement and although they don’t have a voice or emotions, she can tell they are growing weary too.

She doesn’t understand. Why couldn’t she simply walk forward and make this easy? She was a trained assassin, a spy at the very core where nothing could challenge her except for this field of grass. Grass that is bright green and thriving yet underneath its healthy roots, is a minefield of bodies. It's odd to think about. The care and water used to make sure that the green is at its brightest and the stone looks nice but in reality, it won’t matter.

Nothing matters anymore.

Her grip tightens on the poor flowers. A frail red ribbon holds them together instead of being wrapped in her ginger hair where it belongs. The last time she wore it was the day...it's been a while.

The cemetery has a familiar feel to it. She’s been here before. She has been here many times and has even memorized the grounds. However, this time is much more...intimate. A much more personal experience.

It was never personal because in her line of work, this was normal and happened often. You would come into the office and hear about the poor sucker that got shot, stabbed or blown to bits, grab a hopefully fresh cup of coffee and make sure that you don’t end up the same as them. It was all a part of the job to join the unavoidable circle of life.

Before it was just people whose identities changed day in and day out to avoid this particular outcome. To avoid becoming worm food and having fresh flowers at the bottom of your name. Death never meant anything to her but an end we all have to face. It never meant to stop and think about your life because she didn’t have one to live.

There was no glory waiting for her back home as she finished another mission. There was no dream to achieve because she plagued those of her mind years ago. Warmth and desire from others could not be tolerated. It was dangerous to have anyone close to you but hurt even more when they were gone.

Her dreams had been swept into the night and burned like a fallen star. They were meant for rare quiet days where she could close her eyes and have a glimpse of another chance at life and then it would be over and she couldn’t allow anyone to hold her back. But just as there are dreams, nightmares will surface too.

This was a nightmare only for her eyes. It was common for members of their work to come and pay respects if they got time but for this, she asked that she would be the first. And only then was anyone else allowed.

The months that ate away at her aching heart caused her to be the opposite. She said she had gone, said her dues and the rest followed. Her lies now corrupted her normal life, if you could even call it normal.

So she became the last person and perhaps that's for the best. Even in death, she keeps him waiting. But unlike the other times, he couldn’t leave or say anything about it. The silence of the coffin was enough for her to know that she might get the last words like always but she doesn’t want them.

She would rather keep her words to herself, her mouth stapled shut than utter the last words. She also knew that he would rather listen to her all day than have a moment of silence.

So here she is. A little black dress that poofs out gently at the bottom just above her knees. It was the same dress she had worn on their mission in Italy years ago. It had ended up on the hotel bathroom floor much sooner than expected, however this time the smell of sandalwood and pine had been washed out.

She feels like a housewife ready to see her lost husband coming back from the war in the form of a corpse. The only difference is her vision won’t include the golden bands. Her thumb grazes her ring finger feeling nothing but bare skin and it pains her to think that she was so close. So close to a dream.

She inhales and exhales. Her ability to control her emotions is unlike anyone else. If she chooses to be a stone wall, then nothing will make her crumble. For years she had seen bloodshed and violence. Encountered dangerous people and never once had a hard time sleeping.

Steps take her closer and she feels herself start to decay brick by brick.

Every breath comes out colder and slower and she doesn’t have to look to know she's right in front of it because all the oxygen surrounding her has left and replaced with a frosted void she's grown used to over these past few months.

“Hello.” Her voice is firm and polite.

Formal. She’s too formal and she can practically feel him rolling in his grave to tell her to die it down. Die it down. She hums at that thought and complies with the request that wasn’t even asked but she knows him.

Her feet slip out of her heels, the ones he had bought randomly. The ones she had danced in as he spun her slowly. Her toes feel the dew on the grass. She hates the feeling, her exposed skin starts to itch and irritate her but that just reminds her of her beating heart. So she forces herself to rest on her knees but keeps her eyes shut. Bravery was never something she lacked.

But being brave with her vulnerable emotions had never come easy.

“Just open them.” She scolds herself. No one is around but she feels like the entire world is staring at her.

This isn't work.

This isn’t a mission.

This is him.

Slowly her eyes flutter open to reveal the truth she tried to conceal. The wall inside of her has fallen. There's a suffocating way about this all. She's a woman of logic, a see it before believe it kind-of-person. It's a crumbling mess that turns her into ruins.

And that's when it hits her.

Like the fall of Rome, there are no survivors. There is no happy ending here. Everything leads to Rome...everything leads to heartbreak eventually.

Tears overwhelm everything else. Blossom Utonium has cried for a fallen coworker but never once had she had to grieve and take in the burden of her heart growing dark and heavy.

Her fingers clench the soil. She didn’t want to cry. Didn’t want to sob, not at the risk of seeming weak, but to actually force herself to come to terms with it. To see it written in stone as literal as it comes.

Butch Jojo is dead.

There’s no other way to put it. No soft angle to come at. No lessening the blow because she was there and saw it with her own eyes. No one had to tell her because she relieved it every time her eyes closed.

How was she supposed to go on? He was the piece of her puzzle that fit so neatly and perfectly. She didn’t realize that the picture became indecipherable the moment he was removed. She clawed at that table trying to put back all the pieces. Trying to figure out where they all go but she's left with segments that don’t seem to fit any longer.

He was her sun and moon, the day and night and every other cliche slapped onto an overpriced Hallmark card. He was it all, and now he is gone. Gone too soon and she barely had him in the first place.

The gravestone itself is simple. It's the only one on the lot that isn't decorated by a three foot high statue or a giant cross. It's as basic as they come yet the man it was for was far from it. There was no luxury of filling the coffin with a body. So every bit of him was taken physically and metaphorically from her.

His name is in an elegant cursive and his birth name. Something most people didn’t know. Usually spies and assassins change up their name to make their identity untraceable. She had known him as many different names, but Butch was the only one who she cared about. The only one to ever make her feel like herself.

Her fingers hover above the engraving before setting on the coldness and tracing it with the tip of her index finger. It takes her breath away like an old candle finally burning out.

She wonders if a cruel joke is being played on her as she stares at the curls of the cursive. It was the same font she had chosen for their makeshift wedding invitations the moment she realized that he was the one. Of course he would have had comic sans or some heavy metal font on his tombstone if he was given the chance just to spite everything and everyone.

She's sure that this was already made far before his death. In fact, she's convinced that everyone already has a grave with their name stored somewhere in the back for fast and easy access. Hers is probably waiting and collecting dust.

“Hi.” She utters, less formal than the first time and that felt like ages ago. “For the first time, I’m speechless.” She confesses. “I’m not quite sure what to say.”

For days she sat underneath her flickering desk light writing a speech for a funeral that no one would attend.

The words never came into place even though she deemed herself a thoughtful writer. But what do you say when the person who gave you a reason to speak is gone? Was there anything worth uttering when she couldn’t bring herself to do it?

But she wrote. She wrote everything she had felt and ended with a flood of pages on her desk. Pens with tired ink cartridges littered her desk and endless chicken scratched papers were tossed away. It needed to be thoughtful and inviting but in reality, it just needed to be the words she never said.

The moment she finished writing them, she threw them into a box to never see the light of day. But when she finally had the courage to come and pay her respects, she became drawn to them. Her mind fought with her hands to take them even if she decided to keep them in her purse.

Her purse opens and she takes out a few pages. The ones that made her heart ache the most and that are decorated with stains of dried tears. She clears her throat. “The first time I met you, I thought nothing of it. It was in front of the coffee maker at work, you had just joined our firm and you walked by, glanced at me and then you were gone into the other room. That was it. That's what we were meant to be. A simple meeting of the eyes and then we don’t interact again.”

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The coffee drips way too slow, she thinks. A state of the art facility full of lasers, guns and cars and they couldn’t be bothered to get something just slightly better. The mug finishes filling just in time for her patience to run out. She grabs it and turns to look out towards the rows of cubicles that make it seem like a simple office.

Instead of a bored coworker looking tired at a computer, she's met with green eyes and an emotionless face. For a second she saw his lips turn into a smirk. It's quick. A match striking the box with a flame igniting on impact. And then it’s dropped in water and out just as fast. He's gone by the time she blinks next and even though it was nothing, those eyes fueled a fire she wasn’t sure she had.

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“But then I kept seeing more and more of you.”

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“You clean up nice.” Blossom turned to see a guy. She recognized him from last week, a new transfer who she only caught a glance at. He was in a highly expensive tux and was adjusting the equally priced watch on his wrist.

“I assume you must be my new partner.” She said as she mentally analyzed him slowly. Slicked black hair, looks as if he goes to the gym quite often, hands looks steady for a firearm. Green. Forest green eyes.

He smiled. “Must be.”

“You can call me Amanda.” Her fake name suited her fine as she checked the time. “I hope that you read over the files of our mission.”

“I tend to skim and wing it.” He winked and that irked her. “Matts fine for the evening.”

Blossom, or Amanda for now, kept her eyes from rolling and walked to him and wrapped her arm around his. “You might be my husband for this mission but if you fuck up, you better be thankful this isn’t legally bounded.” She finished with a flutter of her eyelashes and a smile before pulling him along.

She didn’t get too far before he pulled her back and her bright pink eyes met deep green ones closely. “I take my job very seriously. But I wouldn’t dream of making you mad at me. But on the other hand, I admire strong women.”

She didn’t know why she didn’t smack him in the face. Usually every partner who has tried to flirt or mess with her learned the hard way that is a no no. Yet, even after moments of knowing him, there was something genuine about him that she couldn’t quite understand but became interested in.

“Glad to see we are on the same page Matt.”

“Of course Amanda.” Butch replied and held out his hand. “After you.”

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The trees nearby moved in the breeze without a care in the world. They had nothing to care for except for their leaves changing in the fall and losing them in the winter. But leaves always came back, they always blossomed and started a new life and were the same tree no matter how many times the seasons passed.

She wondered if those trees ever felt heartbreak or if it was easier to lose something when you know it will come back to you with time. She envied those trees. Envied the way that they can continue their lives just growing and flourishing and it felt like her leaves were turning to dust as she was being cut down.

From her purse she pulled out a thermos and two plastic cups. She nestled one into the ground as she poured the wine into the cup and then one into hers.

“I never cared for this brand of wine before I met you.” She smiled softly and took a sip. “Never cared for a lot of things. Yet this was your favorite and everytime we had a mission, I could always find you relaxing with a glass. I guess it became an acquired taste over time. You became my taste.”

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“Care for a glass?” He asked her as she sat in front of the fireplace.

Due to them working together for more than a year, the agency decided that personal rooms weren’t necessary and if anyone were to see them leave together and follow, it would fit with their stories.

Blossom looked up from the book she just pulled out. A dissatisfying glare focused on the bottle in his hand. “No thanks, that stuff is garbage.”

Butch, or well, Sebastian for the evening, scoffed. “Garbage?” He exclaimed dramatically. “This is some of the finest wine in the world.”

“I’ve had better.”

“It's from Italy!”

“I prefer local or even cheap box wine to that.” Blossom scanned her book.

Butch only huffed again but still proceeded to pour two glasses and joined her on the floor.

“I said I didn’t want any.”

“I think you just haven’t had it with the right company.” He smirked and offered her the glass.

She rolled her eyes and took the glass, her book forgotten now. Blossom brought the glass to her lips, took a sip and tried her best to hold back a grimace. “It's fine.”

He only shook his head and drank his own glass, the small smile on his lips never leaving. “Butch.”

She turned the glass in her hand then glanced at him. “What?”

“Butch. That's my name, my real name.”

Her heart started beating quicker. “Why are you telling me this? You shouldn’t be.”

It was a common understanding. You might know the face of your partner or colleagues but a name and identity was off the table. The only thing anyone needed to track down someone was a name. And the moment it's out there, you can start counting your days.

Butch shurgged and downed the rest of his wine. “Not sure. Never told anyone before. Well anyone who I didn't know beforehand. But there's something about you. I don’t think you fully trust me. I get it of course. I don’t trust people at all.”

“So why tell me?” She questioned.

His eyes met hers. Seriousness washed across his face and any hint of amusement was gone. “I have no one in my life who knows me as Butch anymore. Only myself and my thoughts. And after years in this shit business-you’re the only partner I’ve had that I trust with my life.”

Her fingers tighten around the stem of the glass. Her poor heart is beating much faster; she's sure he can hear it. She’s never had a partner like him. Never met a person who she blindly trusted like this.

“Blossom.” She blurts out. “My name is Blossom.”

And that smirk returns and his eyes soften. She's seen him kill a man before and yet he looks so incredibly soft and honest.

“That's a pretty unique name.”

“My father told me it was because of cherry blossom trees.” She smiles at the memory. She reaches and takes the brown contact from her eyes. Her main defying feature that no one but the higher ups knew about.

Her eyelashes flutter as she places them in the contacts case. She looks back at Butch and prepares for the intergation look.

It never comes.

Instead he's looking at her as if she's the most interesting thing in the world. Pastel pink eyes greet his own and he's taken back and tries to keep these emotions down.

“Its weird I know-

“You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met.” He interrupts. “And I swear I’m not drunk.

That flicker resurfaced. The match struck the box but the flame was held much longer this time. Her reaction surprised the both of them as she laughed and her smile reached her eyes, something they haven’t done naturally in years.

She controlled her laugh and hummed bringing the glass to her lips and taking another sip. It wasn’t as bad as the first. “And you are very-”

“Charming? Irresistible?”

“Interesting.” She finished.

The bottle poured more wine into his glass and he tapped it to hers. “I’ll take it for now.” He winked.

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Her glass is empty now. She pours the glass for him into the soil, hoping to give him one last taste of what he loved.

“Over the years I forgot myself, you have to.” Blossom tells him. “I forgot my passions and hobbies. The simple pleasures of life were taken from me when I joined this path.”

The books on her shelf at home had collected dust over the years. The pages stuck as the days passed but only recently did she find herself opening them, even to just a random page and basking in the tiny shred of warmth it gave her.

“I felt those pleasures rise with you. Even buying a simple candle because you said you liked the scent brought me a joy I hadn’t noticed was missing. I was missing everything in life because I didn’t have a light to guide me.”

She bites her lips hoping to stop another sob. How many tears can a person shed in a short amount of time? When do they stop and allow the body to rest?

“That first time you kissed me.” Her voice cracks. “That's when I started believing that life could be more than what we were conditioned to do.”

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Her feet ached. Her heels were in her hands and she was tired from another successful work day. After six months of locating and sniffing out an underground drug market, they finally caught the group of men.

She glanced at her shoes and dress, irritated that the blood ruined another perfectly good outfit. She wanted to just get into her room, take a bath and pass out on her bed and to not be distrubed for at least seventy two hours.

She got to her hotel door and started to search for her key.

“Oh shit.” She grumbled. Her purse was nowhere in sight.

“Here.”

Blossom turned to see Butch holding the desginer bag.

A sigh of relief left her lips as she took it and fished out the key card. He leaned against the wall, clearly tired and wanting to rest like her. Two years they had been partners. The longest partnership she’s had and she wasn’t complaining. Usually they shared a room on missions but they had separate rooms this time.

“Tired?” She glanced at him.

“No, I'm fully awake.” He said sarcastically. “I feel like I got hit by a freight train.”

“I’m sure those guys thought they did too when you punched them.” Her door clicked open but she didn’t move.

“Oh please, you did most of the heavy lifting. I mean who takes down a giant dude with a high kick in heels.” He was practically beaming with pride from the memory. “Badass stuff Bloss.”

She was sure there was a blush on her cheeks. Shaking those thoughts from her head she smiled and opened the door. “Goodnight Butch.”

“Night.”

…

“Isn’t this the part where you walk into your room?” He raises a bow that is answering the silent question she asked.

She straightens her back. “Shouldn’t you be walking to yours?”

He moves closer to her. Brushing the hair on her shoulders off and there's a buzz throughout her as his fingers graze her shoulders.

He's closer now. Their lips only inches apart and although her body is killing her and aching, she can’t help but let her mind wander.

“I prefer the view right here.” He says in almost a whisper that makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand. “And possibly even the taste.”

His lips press against hers. They have kissed many times in front of people on missions but it's never been like this. Never a sign that everything she had been feeling, wanting could be hers for the taking.

It's not fast and heated. It's slow as if he's testing out the waters that he can glady swim in. It's a sign that they know they shouldn’t be doing this but for once, she's playing by a different set of rules.

They break apart. The kiss wasn’t very long but the sparks linger and scorch through her body. She's afraid to look at him now. Afraid that rejection and everything she had told herself not to want, can’t be hers. The ground should just swallow her whole now.

She feels a hand softly touch her cheek and she looks up at him. This look on his face, she can't describe it. She can see the gears turning in his head, wondering if this was a mistake just as she thought.

But rejection never comes. He doesn’t pull or push away.

Instead his lips turn slightly up. “I know we fight for the greater good, but I’m starting to think I have a different purpose.”

“What?” She questions.

“You.”

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She could have sworn it's only been a few minutes but the sky’s blue had morphed into a dusty pink. A wonderful sunset that she is surprised she can still find beauty in. She knows she’ll have to leave soon. She is afraid that when she does, she might not come back.

One of the final happy moments with him was weeks before his death. Five years they had known each other and it was all washed down the drain.

Her head turns towards the sky as she basks in the sunset. “I hope that wherever you are there are still skies like these.”

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Sunsets in Hawaii were much better in person than any photo could capture.

“Another successful mission.” Blossom giggles as she takes a sip of her mai tai. Her feet are swaying above the water and the breeze flows through her hair. She hasn’t remembered being this peaceful but she could get used to it.

“Yeah.” Butch says as he downs his drink.

Five years she's known him. Every action and mannerism he's done is burned in her memory. It's the most priceless information she has, the most important because it's all hers.

He seems calm, she admits. But something is on his mind. He's not thriving in the glory of another mission or running around crazy and jumping into the ocean like the days before. He seems to be in deep thought. Something she's not quite sure she likes.

The horizon catches her eyes. “The sky is pretty.” She adds.

“Runaway with me.”

The movement of the waves stops. The breeze halts and her eyes widen.

“What?” She turns towards him. “Runaway?”

He nods. “Runaway from this place and all its madness. We could get married, travel the world, anything you want.” He took her hand. “I don’t care where we go. I just want to be with you.”

“With me?” She's practically speechless.

Butch cracks a smile. “Only you. Imagine this.” He scoots closer to her and wraps his arm around her shoulder. “A house on private property, hell maybe even a beachfront. You have your own little library and I’ll even get you a nice espresso machine. A garden with all the flowers you could imagine and even a baby grand piano since I know how much you love to play.”

The images flood her mind. “That sounds lovely.”

“And you wanna know the best part?” He asks.

She nods her head. “Tell me.”

“I would get to wake up each morning with you in my arms.” He smirks and kisses her softly.

“That would be the best part.” She hums against his lips. Her stomach then drops. “But we can’t.”

“Three good reasons.”

She tried to think. How could she leave the agency she's been in since she was a kid? How could she throw everything away? These feelings she had were all muddled into a mess that she didn’t know how to get out of. That vision he told her sounded like a dream.

That's what this was. A dream. Something she wasn’t allowed to have. But she wanted it.

Butch sighed. “I guess it's easier for me cause I’m selfish.” He smiled softly at her and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Whatever choice you make, as long as I can still be by your side, is fine by me.”

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Blossom looks at the notes in her hands then back to the stone.

“I’m sorry Butch.” She cries and crumples them. Tears overwhelm her once again but she doesn’t wipe them or try to stop it. She is a dam that's been holding it all for too long. Holding her emotions for years and she was tired.

“Everyone told me to come here to get closure, but I don't want that. I want to feel the emptiness and shallowness. I want to cry myself to sleep and wish I could hold you again. It's torturous and cruel to think like that but it means that it was real. And that it was mine. This-” She beats her fingers against her chest, against her heart. “This is yours.”

“I am sorry Butch. I vowed to never let my heart act over my head. And that is something I regret deeply. You were right. You always have been. You wanted me without hesitation and I’m sorry I was guarded. But I swear when I was with you I wasn’t.”

The laughter and joy he brought her. She felt like she was breathing for the first time around him and even in the most serious situations there was still an element of peace.

“I had hoped that I would never have to say this. Never had to face this reality because it's too painful. I tried to deny it all, even though I watched it happen. Maybe if I had never let myself be charmed by you, I could avoid all these feelings but we both know that you were just so-’ She bites a laugh. “Irresistible.”

Her voice got louder as her sobs grew. “Every single moment was worth it. Your eyes and your smile. The way you knew what I was thinking even though no one else could ever know. I treated it like our job but the truth is, I wanted you to figure me out so I could finally tell myself it's okay to be happy. That's what you were Butch. My happiness.”

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This can’t be happening, she thought. Never in her entire career had she been kidnapped and captured. She was careful and guarded but they got the best of them this time.

The gag in her mouth was doing its job and her wrists were bound behind her back. The cold chill ran up her spine as she watched the men drag him in front of her. He was a few feet away and his face was covered in blood and bruises.

“Only one of you makes it out alive.” The man said.

She tried to pull against the restraints but felt the cool metal touch the back of her head.

“No moving sweetheart.” She heard behind her.

She watched as they removed Butch’s gag and he choked on the air before his hair was pulled and he was forced to look at her.

Those dark green eyes met with frightened brown but he knew that below the color was a brilliance of magenta that he adored.

He should be scared and terrified. And he was. But looking at her even in this state, he felt a sense of happiness wash over him. Everything he never thought he could have was right there in front of him.

Tears fell from her eyes as she watched the man stab him in the stomach. The knife plunged into his flesh and Butch let out a horrifc cry as she screamed into the gag.

“Dying words buddy?” The man laughed as he pulled out a gun and held it up to head.

Even through the pain shooting through his body, he looked at her with tears in his eyes.

His lips turned into a smile, even with blood coating his teeth. “Blossom-” He coughed.

No.

Please No!

She wanted to scream and tell him that she takes it all back. She wanted her dress and the ring. She wanted their own house and a piano where she could play for him.

Everything. She wanted everything.

She wanted him.

“I love you.” He says.

BAM!

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Her breath catches in her throat as she sees it. The blood and the life leaving his eyes. It replays and she tries to stop the memory.

“Could you ever forgive me?” She sobs. “Forgive me for not telling you?”

Her hand presses against the gravestone. She's not sure what she's hoping for but it's cold.

“You said it moments before your death and I couldn’t even let you die with that. Yet through that you smiled at me. You fucking smiled as death was taking you faster than I could realize because you knew. I couldn’t say it. No matter how much I wanted to tell you, I was afraid that the moment I did, this would happen. I wasn’t prepared to lose you. I wasn’t ready to face a life where I would spend every waking moment wondering if waking up next to you was truly real or a dream.”

Anger rises in her. Anger at the world and the men who killed him. Angry at the agency who turned the other eye when he died. There was nothing for her there anymore. She realized it way too late that she was robbed of everything from this life. Robbed of having him because she was afraid.

“I don't get it. How did you make me want that so bad? How you took my heart and made it beat faster than ever before. You told me to be selfish so here it is. I want you. I want you back and alive so that I can go and buy that white dress. I want everything you said.”

The anger bubbling shifts. It lingers but she takes a deep breath. It won’t help her to be angry or to bring him back. That sorrow takes its hold over her again. It's sad but calming as she tries to reason with herself that he is gone. She knows closure won’t come but she's okay with that.

“But that's not the reality anymore. I can’t change the past but I won’t change the future either. I am deeply and madly in love with you Butch. You gave me a glimpse of what a normal and fulfilling life could be and I thank you for that. Thank you for giving me slices of happiness and making me feel like I was worth loving.”

She reaches into her purse one last time and pulls out a letter and a box. “I resigned and I bought myself a ring.” She opens it and slips on the silver band with a small opal. “It's silly I know, not even a wedding ring. I hope you don’t mind. I stole one of the gems from your watch to make it.” She cries.

“They took all your stuff you know.” Her hands quiver as she stares at her ring. “They took every part of you like it was nothing, like you didn’t exist at all. The watch was all I could get.”

The sun is now setting and the breeze picks up. She's not cold anymore, and can't feel anything.

“They’ll kill me, I'm sure of it. That's what happens when you leave. And when they do, I better see you on the other side. A place where we can watch the sunset and have our little home. A place where this emptiness inside me can be whole again. I just want a place where I can love you.”

The glasses and letters go back into her purse. The flowers lay with her ribbon at the base as she stands and dusts off her dress.

She finally wipes her tears and forces a wonderful soft smile. “You were the most charming and wonderful man I have ever had the honor of working with. But most importantly, you were proof that dreams could come true.”

She touches the stone one last time. Feels the coolness but it's not as frightening. She's not afraid anymore. Blossom takes a step back and her eyes dance over his name one last time. She slips on her heels and grabs her purse.

“Goodbye my love.” She says and makes her way across the grass to the black gate.

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I hope you enjoyed!

#blossutch #blossom x butch #ppg fic #angst #blossutch fic #thewritingstar

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letsperaltiago · 4 years

Text

right next to the right one

Nothing special but here is a small, 100% fluff moment from very early Peraltiago. I imagined it taking place somewhere in between ‘New Captain’ and ‘The funeral’. Enjoy 💕

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It’s their first night together – or, more like, the first night they go to bed together without ripping each other’s clothes off in the heat and heaviness caused by four drinks.

They’re at Amy’s place this time. Jake is nervously fiddling around her bedroom trying to get ready for bed without interrupting or getting in the way of whatever punctual night routine Amy Santiago must have. They did just have their first date a few days ago, and maybe there are a lot of sides to her that he hasn’t met yet; although it doesn’t take a genius to know that surely Amy has some kind of step-by-step pattern she walks through before heading to bed.

Or that’s what he thinks. Suddenly she reemerges from the bathroom, only five minutes after first leaving the bedroom, and looks completely calm and ready for bed. Not freaked out because she’s running behind schedule or missing steps. No kind of ritual seems to be playing out and Jake has to admit to himself: he’s slightly confused.

“That was fast?” Jake quizzes from where he’s standing by the foot of her bed still dressed like he’s about to leave and Amy frowns. Both because of the statement, which sounds more like a question, but also because she thought he too would be ready for bed by now.

“You sound confused? I just removed my makeup and brushed my teeth – it doesn’t take that long.” She cocks her eyebrows telling him that no, not all women spend an hour in the bathroom… Jake feels bad for questioning her, and all women out there, but is quickly interrupted by her picking up on him being far from ready for bed.

“But why are you still dressed? Get in bed, silly!” She chuckles and gets into bed on what he assumes is her usual side. He secretly hopes that one day the other side will become his. Too soon, he thinks and shakes it off. One step at a time.

Jake contemplates whether or not he should explain himself but quickly figures that it doesn’t matter. Her lack of strict routine just tells him that she’s relaxed in her own home, around him, and that he likes - a lot. Also, Amy looks really cute in nothing but an oversized NYPD-shirt and panties.

“Oh, yeah sorry. Just didn’t know where to put my stuff and I didn’t want to like…” he shuffles nervously to the free side of the bed, probably looking stupid, and he hates that he’s so nervous. By no means does he want her to notice; maybe think she’s the one making him nervous. Actually he just likes her so stupid much that he’d rather stand there and look stupid than mess up her room or do something else that’ll give him away; do something that’ll let her know he isn’t the one for her. “… I didn’t want to Jake up your room.”

She’s just gotten under the covers, sitting against the headboard with her current book in her lap, but seems to forget about it and suddenly freeze on the spot with her eyes on him. Not in an accusing way or with an expression that lets him know he needs to leave; rather a look of warmth and appreciation… Maybe even a hint of amusement. Then she crawls across the bed to his side and stands on her knees.

“Jake…” she grabs him by the hoodie and pulls him in so that he stands as close to her as the edge of the bed will allow. Everything she says comes out with a special warmth radiating from her lips and eyes, something he’s only ever seen in her. “I appreciate the thought, but… You’ve already Jake’d up my life so a little Jake’ing up my bedroom won’t hurt me. Okay?”

The way the words fall from her lips, full of calmness and serenity, has him pacified without delay. The soft peck to his lips radiates a welcoming feeling Jake can’t deny. Confidence slowly seeps back into him, and he finally feels as if he can answer her searching, soft brown eyes.

“Okay,” he’s finally able to let down his shoulders, his overall guard, and return her smile with a matching radiation of serenity and calmness.

It’s so stupid how much he likes her, he thinks. It partially scares him although never enough to chase him away. Before he even has the time to realize it, as if it’s second nature to him, he rids himself of his clothes. Few minutes later his outfit is, somewhat, neatly hanging on a chair nearby. He smiles sheepishly and Amy chuckles, nodding in approval: perhaps he’s not too bad at this after all, he thinks and falls into Amy Santiago’s bed.

Everything is so brand new to the both of them yet quickly falls into a rhythm that feels normal: everything from Amy reading her book by his side to the way the Jake’s late night cartoon’s flicker in the background without bothering her.

Amy feels it too. The normality of the new them. For the past few days they’ve been together, Amy’s already wondered many times: how? She puts down her book and lies down on her side to get a better look at his side profile.

She can’t tell if the cartoons that deserve credit for calming him down, causing him to zone out of reality, but Amy enjoys this side of Jake. The Jake that is just… there. With her.

She wonders, after going through what they both went through to get to each other, how she got so lucky? Suddenly, very out of nowhere, she finds herself fully focused on the mand beside her and something feels just a tad different. All night she’d felt so nonchalant, so easy going about him being around, that it didn’t occur to her just how lucky she is and now she can’t stop wondering, over and over, how? How is he here after all their ups and down, exes, friend zones and whatnot?

“Hey.”

It falls out of her before she can comprehend it or try to stop it, and as soon as his head calmly turns to look at her Amy knows she has to carry through with this. The shifting colorful light from the TV casts a warm shadow on the side of his face that is turned away from it, and Amy halts for a second taking in the sight in front of her. The man by her side is so gently, so easily tuned in to her and the flickering lights enhances all of her favorite facial features. Features she can kiss now, whether she believes it or not, and features she gets to run her hands and fingers along if she wishes to.

“Hey,” he answers with a soft smile inviting her to speak her mind, because of all people, Amy Santiago alwayshas an agenda. Jake knows.

In contrast to how ready she felt just seconds ago, she all of the sudden, now that the first word is out and the attention is on her, feels so shy. Probably has furiously blushing cheeks too. Knowing Jake, he’s probably already noticed.

“What’s up?” he tries.

Amy considers not speaking her mind, instead just joke it off like they often do. Most of the time that’s a fine solution… But this moment, for some reason, feels more important. Like it’s not supposed to be brushed off. Amy genuinely has some things on her mind.

“I just,” she cuts herself off nervously biting down on her bottom lip. “I just can’t believe we’re here… Like, together.”

If her blush wasn’t very evident before then it definitely is now, and she has to look away from him just to keep calm. His eyes, especially with the soft look he has right now, all of the sudden seems so overwhelming. In the good way. The scary way too. Just a year ago she would’ve never believed anyone telling her that Jake Peralta would come to make her feel this way.

“I know.” Jake chuckles and Amy dares to look back at him. He’s looking straight ahead again but this time not at the TV, she can tell. He looks deep in thought, smiling, and Amy feels less scared. If the man of a thousand issues is smiling at the thought of them (she hopes) then everything is probably alright.

“Like even after everything that’s come between us, constantly demotivating the process like… wrong timing, being undercover, Sophia, Teddy…” she trails off realizing just how many odds have been against them for the past two years or so.

He slowly nods in agreement still staring into air with a small smile on his face as if he’s seeing something she isn’t.

“Yeah… To me, the whole thing with Teddy was never that demotivating though. On the contrary.”

Amy’s eyebrows dip into a confused frown.

“Really.” Jake finally turns his head to look at her and the flickering lights make him look that more handsome, like in a movie scene, all over again. She loves when he looks at her, even if it’s just been a few days. If Jake was the last person to ever look at her, just like he is right now, she would die happy. Somehow it feels like he’s done it for longer – maybe he has and she just hasn’t noticed?

“This is going to sound super dumb, but every time I saw you with him I was bummed out, yes, but it also made me even more sure: I wanted to be the one to be with you. I wanted all the small moments he got with you… Like siting at Shaw’s making you smile and laugh while drinking beer; competing with you about dumb stuff that only we care about and everyone rolls their eyes at us; picking you up from work – even though we literally sit across from each other, I now realize as I’m saying it out loud.”

They both chuckle in unison but on the inside they both feel their hearts burst with joy at this small confession. Silence, a comfortable one, takes over. Amy sees his face switch to the one he always put on when he’s being serious and genuine. Her heart skips yet another beat.

”I guess I kinda always knew I wanted be where he was standing, you know? Next to you. Holding your hand even, if I was really lucky.” He chuckles but so softly that Amy can tell he’s still being serious.

Amy nods, entranced, and if it wasn’t for what said next then the moment definitely would’ve been a fully and completely soft moment - alike nothing she’d ever witnessed Jake Peralta in before. The man beside her is nervously fiddling with his fingers and she can tell Jake has crossed some emotional boundaries with this confession tonight. Which is also why she doesn’t comment on it when he flees the intensity of the romantic moment with a joking remark.

“And if that isn’t motivation for ya then I don’t know what is.” His voice switches to the goofy tone he speaks in most of the time and soft Jake slowly fades away, into fun Jake with his still tall walls up. Although Amy knows he means every word he’s just said. That is enough for her; enough to keep her cheeks blushing and lips in the shape of a moved smile. Enough to keep her around for what feels like will be a long time.

“Well…” she scoots over to his side of the bed and pulls his head down to press a playful kiss to his cheek, like a schoolgirl would to her crush, and it’s Jake’s turn to blush. She pulls back but stays close, turns his head with her hand bringing them nose to nose. She’s still blushing but she doesn’t care. He can see her colors - all of them.

“Here you are, Peralta. And it feels so much better having you here.”

#peraltiago #jake and amy #jake x amy #amy santiago #jake peralta #peralta #sanitago #fluff #b99 #brooklyn nine-nine #Brooklyn nine nine #fanfic #oneshot #fanfiction

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polaroid15 · 4 years

Text

Where you invest your love, you invest your life

Summary: Turns out, even the most broken things can be mended. Or, following tragedy, Tony and Peter learn how to be a family.

Read on Ao3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/28391286

----

Tony receives the call at 11:15 on a Wednesday.

It’s from Peter. A silly picture of the kid pops up on Tony’s screen and just like clockwork it pulls him away from the project in his hands. It’s unusual for Peter to call this late and a slight ripple of worry plants a seed in the pit of his stomach. Trying to ignore it, he answers quickly.

“Hey underoos. Homework troubles?”

For a long moment, there’s only silence. So long, that Tony is up from his seat and reaching for his suit before his brain fully processes what he’s doing. His mind races as it sorts through the millions of possible precarious situations the Parker boy has landed himself in this time. Kidnapping? Bleeding out? Concussion?

“Pete?”

Usually when Peter calls, the kid talks his ear off, youthful enthusiasm getting the best of him even in his stickiest situations. Literally.

Tonight is different.

“T-tony.”

A sudden chill enters Tony’s veins and he freezes where he stands. “Hey, kiddo. Is something wrong?”

A strange sound, half laugh half sob, travels through the phone and sticks a knife into Tony’s heart. The noise breaks off into short, laboured breaths. “C-can, can you help me?”

“Yes. Yes I’m coming right now,” Tony assures as the suit closes around him. “I’m on my way. Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Okay, good. But I’ll be the judge of that. Just stay on the line, spider-kid.”

He’s in the air for eleven minutes. After a while Peter doesn’t respond no matter how many questions Tony asks, but true to his promise, he doesn’t hang up the phone.

He finds Peter sitting on the end of a crane 260 feet up in the air.

The height is dizzying, but Peter looks unfazed. He’s still as death, feet dangling loosely above millions of shining lights. His head is bowed. Tony can’t see his face.

“Peter?” Tony flies in front of the kid. He can see Peter in his entirety now, and for a reason Tony can’t explain, tears spring up and sting at his eyes. If his suit didn’t have more common sense then he did, he would have dropped right out of the sky.

Peter is covered in blood. It’s caked on his hands, travelling halfway up his forearms and staining some stupid pun on his tshirt. It’s under his nails and smeared on his face.

He’s not in his suit.

“Kid-” Tony gapes breathlessly as Peter stares up at him blankly. His young face is red and blotchy, and from the city lights stretched far down below Tony can see his cheeks are streaked with tears. “You said you weren’t hurt!”

At this, Peter’s bottom lip trembles violently and he bites it until it bleeds. There’s something clenched so tightly in Peter’s bloodstained hand that his knuckles are white.

“Pete, you’re scaring me. You gotta tell me what’s wrong.”

Perhaps despite himself, a sharp sob escapes Peter’s mouth. He hunches over himself and Tony catches him at his shoulders. “Tell me where you’re hurt.”

“It’s not my blood.”

Peter’s voice is empty and cold. Tony lifts open his faceplate and stares deeply into Peter’s eyes, but somewhere there’s a disconnect. Slowly, Peter uncurls his fingers from the object he’s been so desperately holding and Tony breaks their eye contact to look.

Amongst the red, a flash of gold and translucent glass. A pair of glasses. They belong to May.

All the air leaves Tony’s chest in one fatal blow. The noise from the city and the cold from their height disappears in an instant. All he can see is Peter’s face, something deep and foreign filling Tony’s chest like a flash flood.

“Oh. Peter-”

Tony isn’t sure who initiates it, but in the next second they’re hugging fiercely. Peter grips him so tightly that if he weren’t wearing his armour he’d be broken. Peter is shaking against him, and only after a second can he decipher through the sudden static in his ears that Peter is sobbing.

He’s not sure how long they stay there. An eternity, maybe. It doesn’t matter.

They’re family now.

---

The first few days are really hard.

Peter lays in bed but he doesn’t sleep. He barely eats. He stares sightlessly and cries. He never lets go of May’s glasses.

After the funeral, it gets better. Peter leaves his room and sits at the table and smiles, even if it doesn’t reach his eyes. He watches movies with Tony but he doesn’t laugh at the jokes. He walks like a zombie and bumps into things and shakes like a leaf but always affirms he’s okay.

Around four in the morning each night, Peter wakes up screaming.

It becomes a twisted ritual. Tony sets his alarm for 3:55. He stares up at the dark ceiling and prays it doesn’t happen, but it always does. He races to Peter’s room and holds him tightly to prevent the boy from hurting himself and coaches him again and again how to breathe. Tony wipes away tears and talks until his voice is raw.

Three full days go by and Peter doesn’t wake up screaming. Tony thinks it’s getting better, that the cycle might be broken. Then he finds Peter slumped against a cabinet in the kitchen and finds out he hasn’t slept at all in the last 72 hours, reduced to nothing short of delirious, shaky, and panicked. They agree to a light sedative and Peter regains the color in his face twelve hours later.

Eventually, Peter agrees to talk to some professionals. It helps, but Tony still sets his alarm. Each night he stares up at his dark ceiling, hears nothing, and falls back asleep.

One night Peter drops a glass in the kitchen and bursts into tears. Tony helps him clean up the mess. Peter doesn’t talk for the rest of the night. The next morning, he asks if Tony wants him to leave. Tony says that he wants nothing more than for Peter to stay.

He does.

It’s a long road ahead of them, but they’re in it together.

---

It’s been two months and seventeen days.

Tony stands at the stove, stifling a yawn as he pokes at the eggs on the pan in front of him with a lazy half interest. His eyelids drop.

“Tony?”

Jumping, Tony jerks back from the pan and yells when he sees his eggs in smoke. He slides the pan away from the heat and wafts his hand over the wreckage, swearing like a sailor.

There’s a soft laugh, and Tony counts it as a win. Peter is looking over at him incredulously with his backpack slung haphazardly on the edge of his shoulder. “Nice eggs.”

For a minute, Tony just blinks at the statement. “Excuse me?”

“I said nice eggs,” Peter repeats, slowing down his words dramatically, still smiling.

“Hey, cut the sass kiddo. These were for you.”

Peter shakes his head, backing away from the charred remains. “Uh, spiders don’t eat eggs Mr. Stark. Strictly off limits.”

Tony throws down the spatula in defeat. “You had eggs yesterday!”

Still smirking, Peter shakes his head and continues his backpedal towards the door. “Gonna be late for school. Better get going-”

“Nope. No. You’re not skipping breakfast, kid.” Tony looks around the kitchen aimlessly before closing his hand around a peanut butter protein bar and throwing it at Peter’s still retreating form. The boy catches it easily, and stares at it with raised eyebrows.

“What?”

Peter opens his mouth, closes it, and then simply nods in appreciation. There’s an odd expression on the kid’s face that he can’t exactly pinpoint. Before Tony can psychoanalyze too much farther, Peter tucks the bar into the mesh pocket of his backpack and leaves with a warm thanks. Tony watches him go.

He throws away the eggs.

---

Later that night Tony wakes up in the lab to FRIDAY’S soft alert. There’s a paper sticking to his cheek and he rips it off hastily and rises on unsteady legs, heading up towards Peter’s room. He finds the kid sitting on the edge of his bed, eyes unfocused and blood in his hair.

For a minute, Tony just stands in the doorway. Peter is quiet. There’s an odd tension in the room, built up from weeks of Peter coming home hurt. He’s reckless now. It shows in his scars.

“Hey T’ny.” Peter attempts a smile but it stretches the deep cut in his lip and it bleeds. Tony walks over and it feels like his feet are trapped in cement. The mattress bends as he sits beside the young hero.

“What happened?”

Peter wipes the blood off his chin. “Nothing. The usual.”

“Stop with the bullshit. You never got beat up this badly before-” Tony breaks off in a choke. He doesn’t look Peter in the eyes.

“Before what?” Peter’s voice is sharp, daring Tony to say what he already knows. “I’m fine. Occupational hazard and all that.”

Something snaps. Tony looks up at Peter and when their eyes connect, Peter flinches. “Screw that. You and I both know damn well you’re getting roughed up like this on purpose. It stops now. Do you understand?”

Fire races in Peter’s eyes and he crosses his arms across his chest like a goddamn five year old. “No. Look, I’ll be fine in the morning! It’s not my fault you wait for me to come home every night like my d-” Peter breaks off, the word dying on his tongue as Tony feels his stomach plummet. Not waiting for Tony’s reaction, Peter pushes himself unsteadily from the bed to limp towards the bathroom. “I’m getting in the shower. Stop worrying about me.”

The door closes and the lingering worry in Tony’s chest sits heavy. He hears Peter crying through the running water. He sits and sits and waits.

---

The meeting had been long and exceptionally boring. Now, Tony is rewarded with an annoying ache in the base of his skull and a sharp pain behind his eyes. He walks into the kitchen and sees Happy and Peter sitting across from each other at the table playing checkers. Happy is winning. By a lot.

Tony opens the fridge then closes it. He looks swiftly at the clock and frowns. “Hey it’s only 1:00. What are you doing home from school?”

Peter flinches and hangs his head low as if to hide behind Happy. The glass of orange juice in his hand shifts. “Would you believe me if I said it was an early weekend?”

“No. It’s Tuesday.”

Peter sighs. He moves a checker but Happy doesn’t reciprocate, looking at Tony with wide eyes. Something’s up.

“Look,” Peter continues in exasperation. “It’s not a big deal. I just wasn’t feeling that good and they made me come home okay?”

Tony studies the boy, taking in his thinning frame and the dark shadows under his eyes. Call it his new paternal instincts, but it just doesn’t sit right. “Why didn’t they call me? I’m your emergency contact.”

“You were in a meeting. I told them to call Happy.”

“It doesn’t matter Peter. You know I would’ve come-”

“I had it handled boss,” Happy interjects, raising his eyebrows significantly. There’s still something they’re not telling him. Something dark flickers in the pit of his stomach and the pain in his head increases until he has to dig his nails into the skin on his palm to distract himself.

“Well, what’s wrong? Do you need Cho?”

“N-no,” Peter stutters. He swirls his juice and doesn’t look at him. “I’m fine. Just was a little nauseous.”

“He fainted in biology.”

Peter jerks at Happy’s words, spilling his juice on the checkerboard. He looks up at Tony timidly and if Tony didn’t have such a bad goddamn headache already, he would’ve been yelling.

“What? Why?”

“Happy!” The betrayal in Peter’s voice is evident. Tony sees the boy’s chest rising and falling rapidly as he pushes himself to his feet.

Of course, the kid’s Parker pride prohibits him from speaking. Happy does it for him. “Didn’t eat enough. Blood sugar dropped and so did he.”

Tony’s expression must extend past anger because Peter's deep breaths are audible now. He stumbles away from the table and races out of the room on shaking legs, leaving their unfinished game behind.

Tony and Happy stand in an uncomfortable silence, letting him go. After a beat, Happy breaks it. “He just didn’t want to disappoint you.”

A flash of anger rips through his chest like an arrow, but it fades just as fast. “Jesus. Never.” At Happy’s questioning look, he adds “I’m just so goddamn worried about him.”

Happy hums in agreement, looking somber. May’s death had been hard on him, too. On all of them. “He’s been through a lot. Give him time.”

“I just don’t know how to help him Hap.”

Happy shuffles over to him and places a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. You are.”

---

A couple more weeks pass. Peter fills out again. He smiles more. He doesn’t miss school and he aces all his tests. Tony thinks they’re approaching a new normal.

As usual, he’s wrong.

It’s late and Tony walks past the kid’s door, noticing a light shining out through the cracks between the frames. Curious more than anything, he stops and knocks softly. When there’s no answer, he pushes it open and steps inside.

Peter is slumped over his desk and snoring softly. His right hand is resting against the dark wood and holding a vibrant red marker, as if he’d fallen asleep writing. Tony inches forward with bare feet, trying to justify his snooping on his journey across the room. It’s unsuccessful, and when his eyes reach what Peter’s been working on his breath catches in his chest and stays there.

Dozens of papers and news articles stretch out under the kid’s sleeping form. All the headlines are the same, tunneling back to May’s murder. Words like tragic, orphan, and suspect jump out in the sea of swirling black and grey. The group that had jumped Peter and May that night were never found. No leads had come up since. By the looks of it, Peter has been turning over every stone.

His heart aches. He lets it be.

Before he leaves he grabs a blanket off Peter’s bed and wraps it over the boy’s shoulders. He shifts in his sleep, but his eyes stay closed.

Tony tosses and turns the rest of the night.

---

Another week comes and goes. Tony doesn’t bring up the news articles. He should.

Peter brings Ned over for a movie. Tony is nearby and hears them as they laugh. When the movie ends, they talk in hushed tones and then Tony can hear it when they cry, too. Ned stays the night and eats Tony’s burnt eggs with a smile the next morning. The two boys share a complicated handshake as Ned leaves, and Peter spends the rest of the day in his room.

Hours pass. Happy helps him make spaghetti for dinner. They scoop it into three heaping bowls.

“FRI, tell Peter dinner’s ready.”

“Mr. Parker is not in the tower.”

Tony freezes in the middle of pulling out cutlery. He notices Happy studying him out of the corner of his eye.

“Well where is he?”

There’s a short pause. “He is currently at Queen’s cemetery.”

Tony drops the cutlery back in the drawer and flinches at the sound it makes. His throat tightens. “Oh. Is- is he okay?”

A longer pause. “Mr. Parker is experiencing acute signs of distress. He also has multiple contusions, two broken ribs, and a stab wound in his lower abdomen.”

Happy chokes and Tony’s vision tilts. “What? FRIDAY what the hell? Why didn’t you tell me.”

The AI’s mechanical voice rings out with innocence. “Mr. Parker asked me not to. Though painful, none of his injuries are life threatening.”

“Asked you to-” Tony breathes in deeply through his nose, holds it tight in his chest, and releases it slowly. Within three minutes he’s in a suit and Happy follows him on the ground. The journey is a blur, the stars above covered in dark clouds. When Tony touches the ground he falls out of the suit into the chill and stands still.

Peter is sitting in the dirt. He has a hand pressed into his side and another curled around the grass. In front of him lie four tombstones, each one sharing his name.

Heart breaking further with each step, Tony walks until he stands beside the boy. If he notices Tony, he doesn’t acknowledge it, and Tony sits down cross legged beside him. For a long time neither of them speaks. Tony stares at the headstones until the words are burned into his eyelids.

Peter shakes and it makes him cry out. Tony can see his hands, how they’re stained in red just like the night May had died. Except this time, the blood is his own. Upon closer inspection Tony can see tears on Peter’s face. He wonders how long he’s been crying.

Being cautious, Tony shifts closer to the boy’s side and pulls him into a half hug, helping Peter apply pressure to the sluggishly bleeding wound in the process. Peter blinks at the gesture, stiffening at first, then loses his resolve and melts against his mentor.

“I found them,” Peter reveals, voice light and airy.

Tony tries not to move. He leans his cheek into Peter’s hair. “Found who?”

“The guys who killed May. They call themselves the Vipers. I tracked them down but when it came down to it I froze. I just couldn’t-” Peter pauses to catch his breath. “They stabbed me just like they stabbed her. It was so hard to move and it felt like I was drowning. They- they got away.”

Tony feels his bottom lip quiver dangerously and he swallows down the tightness in his throat. When he speaks, his words are fractured like broken glass. “You should’ve told me, kiddo. I would’ve helped you.”

Peter sighs as if it had been the answer he had been expecting. He straightens up and only barely catches himself when he loses his balance and lists to the side. Through half lidded eyes, he studies each grave and another tear drips off his chin.

“I just can’t believe they’re all gone,” he whispers, voice haggard. “I’m- I’m the only one left. God. I’ve been sitting here for hours trying to figure it out. Did- did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Tony says immediately, tightening his grip on the boy. He tries to keep his voice steady. “You’ve done nothing wrong Peter, I promise you. Okay?”

“What if something bad happens again? If it’s you or Happy or Pepper or Ned. I would never be able to forgive myself.”

“Hey,” Tony says softly. He sacrifices the pressure of his hands on Peter’s wound to turn his face towards him, leaving two red fingerprints on his jaw. “Nothing bad’s going to happen, Pete. I promise. We’re all okay.”

“Ben used- used to tell me that with great power comes g-great responsibility. What if I’m just not good enough?”

“You are good enough, you hear me? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to this goddamn world. Sometimes bad things just happen. It’s what we do with the aftermath that matters. You hear me?”

Peter’s eyes well with tears. Before he can respond, gravel crunches behind them and twin beams of light fall onto them, casting their shadows across the cemetery. Happy practically leaps out of the car, eyes wide and spiked with concern. Together, he and Tony help Peter to his feet.

Once he’s vertical the last bit of color in his face drains away and his eyes roll up in his head. Tony swears and Happy yells. They catch him easily and fit him snugly into the backseat, head on Tony’s lap.

The young hero drifts back to consciousness by the time they get back to the Tower, but he can barely walk. They manage to make their way up to medbay and Peter checks out again when they give him stitches. Thirty minutes after Tony finishes knotting the string, Peter blinks awake and tells him he’s okay, though it doesn’t convince either of them. Together they walk to Peter’s room and he collapses into bed and is asleep again within seconds. Tony drags his feet to his own and falls against the covers, rubbing tears out of his eyes with the heels of his hands.

He’s not sure when he falls asleep, but a sliver of light makes him open his eyes. Fighting through his confusion, Tony squints against the pale glow in his doorway and sees Peter standing hesitantly in between the hall and his room, gripping at his banadaged abdomen tightly.

“Peter?” Tony props himself on his elbows. “Is your side hurting?”

For a moment, Tony thinks the boy will turn and leave, but he shakes his head slowly and stays. He’s shifting his weight between his feet like he’s nervous, and won’t look Tony in the eyes.

“Nightmare?”

This time, Peter doesn’t nod or shake his head. Instead, he shrugs.

Tony shifts over and pats the space beside him. “C’mere kid.”

Expression shifting into something Tony can’t read, Peter shuffles into the room and crawls in beside Tony. Even in the dark Tony can see the tension drain away from Peter’s body and it makes his chest warm.

Tony closes his eyes. “Goodnight kiddo.”

He freezes as he feels Peter’s body press against his own. The boy is curled up against his side. “G’night Tony.”

When the kid’s breathing evens out, Tony relaxes too. He drops his hand into Peter’s hair and smiles genuinely for the first time in weeks. In this moment of silence, Tony feels a sudden rush of clarity. A spark rushes through his whole body so suddenly that he can feel electricity in his toes. Tears spring into his eyes. He doesn’t know why he didn’t see it sooner.

They’re family, after all.

He’s going to ask Peter if he would like to be adopted.

---

It all goes south on a Tuesday. Peter has just come home from school and Tony is scribbling down equations in his phone for a new spidey-suit prototype. In the background, the news is on, but it’s distant static.

“Hey underoos. How was school?”

“It was fine.” Peter slings off his backpack and walks to the fridge. His eyes brighten when it opens. “Woah! Did Happy make punch?”

Distracted, Tony pauses his equation and looks up. “Yeah. Lots of sugar. Not that you need it.”

“Awesome.” Peter busies himself in pouring himself a glass as Tony watches. Tonight’s the night. After dinner, Tony is going to pop the big question. Pepper is even flying in from Chicago to be there with him.

“-r. Stark?”

Tony snaps out of his daze. “What?”

“I asked if you wanted a glass?”

Slightly embarrassed, Tony crosses his leg and looks away. “No thanks webs. All for you.”

Peter’s response gets cut short as the segment on tv switches over to breaking news. A small woman with dark hair sits solemnly behind a desk, a video of police lights and gunshots going off behind her. “We have just received news that the malicious group known as the Vipers has infiltrated Union Bank in Midtown. There are no reported casualties, but thirteen hostages have been taken-”

Tony jumps at the sound of shattered glass. Peter’s eyes are glued to the screen, hands shaking and socks becoming stained with punch. After a moment he recovers. He doesn’t acknowledge the mess.

“Holy crap.”

Before Tony can stop him, Peter is sprinting for his room. Tony swears colorfully and follows, making a stop in his own room along the way. He pulls open a dusty drawer in his closet and takes what’s inside, heart beating impossibly fast.

When he gets to Peter’s room, he’s breathless. The kid is already in his suit, mask halfway up to his face.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Peter stares incredulously. “What do you mean?”

“You are not going after them!”

The order falls on deaf ears and Peter tries to step past him. Feeling increasingly numb, Tony blocks the door.

“Tony! I need to do this!”

“No way! Last time you tried you got stabbed! They’ll kill you.”

“THEY. KILLED. MAY!” Peter’s voice is loud and raw. Both of them have tears in their eyes. Peter is breathing heavily, face flushed red with emotion. Tony doesn’t budge.

“Move.”

“No.”

“Tony MOVE!”

“I can’t.”

“I don’t want to hurt you!”

Tony takes a deep breath. “Me neither.”

Before Peter can react, Tony pulls a set of handcuffs out of his jacket and clasps one of the ends around Peter’s wrist. Using his shock against him, Tony drags Peter along by the other cuff and secures it tightly around the metal of his bed frame. The click makes them both flinch.

“Wha- Tony?” Peter jerks on the metal, eyes widening when it doesn’t give. “Vibranium?”

Slowly, Tony backs himself towards the door. The apology is on his lips, but it stays there. “Don’t pull on it. It’ll hurt you.”

Peter looks angrier than Tony has ever seen him in his life. He tries to run at Tony and cries out when the cuff does its job, snapping him back against the bed frame. He tugs harder, fire burning in his eyes. “Let me go!”

“I’ll be right back.” Tony is almost out. Peter’s face is streaked with tears.

“Don’t leave me here! TONY!”

“I- I’m sorry.”

He closes the door behind him and pretends not to hear Peter’s screams.

---

When he arrives at the scene the police part like the red sea to let him through. He pushes through the crowd and through his numb haze, hears cheering. It makes his stomach twist into knots.

He wishes he was doing this for the right reason.

Following FRIDAY’s advice, Tony blasts through the wall in the north-east corner of the building. Three Vipers are laying at his feet before the smoke clears. Bullets rip at his armor and Tony sends a blast that knocks two more off their feet. Within seconds, all the Vipers are horizontal.

“Where are the hostages FRI?”

Tony follows the AI’s directions to a back room. His entrance is coupled with gasps and some sobs of relief. One woman in particular with red hair and glasses holds Tony’s attention for a beat too long and he feels a physical pain. Pushing it to the side, Tony helps an old man with silver hair and a bow tie to his feet and supports him through the ruin.

Paramedics meet them at the doors. Tony watches solemnly as the red haired woman races down the steps, falling into the arms of a young boy no older than ten.

“Iron Man.”

Tony turns. One of the Vipers he had blasted has staggered to his feet, leaning heavily against the teller’s counter and holding a small silver pistol to the side of a blonde woman’s head. There’s dark blood on the better half of his face and when he smiles, all his teeth are stained red.

“Get out of the suit.”

Grinding his teeth together tightly, Tony doesn’t move. Hatred burns underneath his skin like fire. “Don’t be stupid, jackass. Let her go.”

“Get out of the suit,” the man’s repeats as he pushes the pistol farther into the woman's head. She whimpers and squeezes her eyes shut. “I’ll count to three, hm? One. Two-”

“Jesus. Fine.” Tony steps out into the bank, the sound of his feet hitting the floor casting echoes up towards the vaulted ceilings. Police begin to fill the room behind him, guns raised at the Viper. “Now let her go.”

“Only if the cops leave with her.”

Sighing deeply, Tony spares a glance behind him and the woman whimpers again. Slowly, he nods. “Okay.”

Gasping as she’s released, the woman crumples to the floor and just barely catches herself on her hands and knees. She scrabbles away towards the line of officers. Tony doesn’t watch her go.

The Viper’s gun shifts focus to Tony. It’s a straight shot through to his forehead. “I thought the Avengers didn’t handle crap like this.”

“What do you want?”

“I’m leaving. You’re coming with me. When it’s safe, I’ll make sure your death is quick.”

“How considerate.”

The man loses his smile. His eyes are cold. “Don’t play around with me Stark.” He steps forward until Tony can smell his cologne. It makes his nose burn. The Viper pushes the mouth of his gun into Tony’s forehead. The steel makes him shiver. He thinks of Peter. “Records show that I can be a little bit reckless.”

“Wait!”

Tony closes his eyes and swears, stomach dropping all the way down to his toes. The Viper whips his head at the new voice, smiling again. “Well, well. Spider-Man. Back for another round I see. Didn’t have enough the first time?”

Peter’s hands are raised in surrender. From one of his wrists hangs the cuff Tony had placed on him, the other end still snapped shut. He must’ve broken through the bedframe. “D-don’t shoot. Take me instead.”

Tony can feel the pressure on his forehead slacken, even if just a little. The Viper is intrigued. “No offense spider, but Stark here is worth a lot more than you.”

Peter takes a defiant step forward. “He’s a lot mouthier, too. I promise I’ll do everything you say. Just- just don’t shoot him. Please.”

“Why do you care so much?”

Peter swallows visibly. His eyes dart to Tony’s and for one blessed second, they connect, a thousand unspoken passing between them like an invisible channel.

An apology.

The Viper looks between them, changing tactics. “On second thought, it doesn’t matter. Take off the mask.”

“Don’t listen to him webs.”

“Take off the damn mask now, or Stark gets a bullet.”

It doesn’t take any more convincing. In the next second, Peter’s wide brown eyes appear and Tony’s knees go weak. There’s a flash of recognition on the Viper’s face. “Wait. I know you.”

“We’ve met before,” Peter says bravely. “You killed my Aunt.”

The Viper smiles. “Ah yes. Redhead, right? Too bad I let you live. You’re not treating my gift very well.”

“She meant everything to me.”

Tony’s mouth is dry. “Kid-”

Peter’s hands are shaking as he raises his arm. All the oxygen in the room seems to vanish. “Now it’s your turn.”

Time is a strange thing.

Peter fires off a web and it seems to cut through the air in slow motion. It hits the Viper in the face, throwing him off balance, and Tony feels the gun leave his head entirely. As soon as the pressure leaves, Peter is suddenly beside him, hands on his chest and pushing him hard while kicking out at the Viper simultaneously. Tony hears the shot ring out as they fall.

Then everything speeds up.

The Viper is on the floor, eyes closed. Tony expects to see a ring of blood around him, but it never comes.

He looks at Peter.

“Christ. God. No.”

Peter is laying flat on his back and grasping weakly at his side. When Tony falls to his knees beside the young hero he feels warm liquid soak through the material of his suit and tries his best through his mounting panic to hold the kid together underneath him. It’ll take hours to scrub the blood out from under his fingernails.

“P-peter.”

After months, Peter’s smile finally reaches his eyes. His lips are stained with crimson. “‘M okay.”

“We’re going to get you out of here okay?” He grabs Peter’s hand and holds onto it tightly. The handcuff dangling on his wrist is stained with crimson. The restraint he put there. The image burns into his brain and makes him sick.

“This is what happened to Ben,” Peter’s voice is barely a whisper. A tear falls out of the corner of the kid’s eye, followed by another. “But ‘m not scared.”

“Paramedics!” Tony fights against the tightness in his chest. “Peter, open your eyes.”

For once, the boy listens. “It d’sn’ hurt.”

“Kiddo-”

“‘M glad you’re ‘kay.” With fading strength, Peter squeezes Tony’s hand. It says what he can’t anymore. “You’re my last family.”

“Peter no. I can’t lose you. I refuse. Pepper’s on her way. We were going to ask to adopt you tonight Pete. Christ. You can’t-” He breaks off with a shaky breath. The puddle beneath them grows wider. “Help! Please!”

He doesn’t know if Peter hears him. He blinks slowly once, twice, then nothing. Tony refuses to believe it’s goodbye.

Finally, the doors burst open. A team reaches them and pulls Peter out of his arms. He doesn’t hear how they react to seeing Spider-Man’s face. The static is too loud in his ears for anything. As they rush him on a stretcher, Tony grabs the paramedic closest to him by the sleeve, spotting it with crimson. “Save him.”

The woman looks at him with a hard, calculating gaze. Her eyes are brown like Peter’s. “We’ll do all we can.”

Someone helps him up and supports him. When they go outside, the sun blinds him. He can feel his pulse behind his eyes. Distantly, he feels himself helped into the back of the ambulance. They’re halfway to the hospital before he realizes the ambulance is moving.

Tony doesn’t pray often.

He prays now.

---

It’s beeping that wakes him up. Always the beeping.

Another stupid machine, another hospital room. Puffy eyes and salty sleeves and a dull headache that pulses in time with the ache in his heart.

Tony doesn’t need to open his eyes to know that Peter is still asleep. Apart from the beeping, the room is quiet as death. He feels the soft medbay sheets under his cheek and realizes he’d fallen asleep over Peter like the freaking leaning tower of Pisa.

His muscles strain and pop as he moves to sit up and sit back into his chair. His legs are numb and his throat is dry. He tries for a moment not to look at Peter, scared what the sight of the recovering boy will do to his heart.

Eventually, he can’t prevent it any longer.

Peter looks, for lack of a better word, dead. His face is ghostly, his entire body lax and hooked to various tubes and machines feeding him air and the drugs keeping him alive. He looks small, so incredibly small. Impossibly so. Tony feels his chest tighten like a rapidly deflating balloon, stealing away his oxygen. He thinks of what Peter had looked like slumped in front of four matching tombstones, broken in more ways than one. He thinks of the way Peter had looked at him at the bank, a look that had the very real possibility of being his last.

You’re my last family, he had said.

Family.

Tony’s more sure of it now than ever before.

“Wake up Pete,” he whispers, voice wavering.

“Wake up.”

----

Two days later, Peter does.

Tony isn’t even there when it happens. He’s in the shower, scrubbing at his hands. They’re pink and raw, though no matter how many bubbles he goes through, he still feels Peter’s blood against his fingers.

He barely hears the knock at the bathroom door.

“Tony?”

It’s Pepper. Tony looks away from his hands, snapping out of his daze. He can barely breathe through the thick steam. How long had he been in here?

“Pep?” His heart is beating fast. “What’s wrong?”

There’s a short silence and Tony grips onto the wall for support, knees weak. His mind cycles through a million possibilities. God, he should’ve never left the kid’s side-

“He’s awake Tones. Peter’s awake.”

This time, Tony does almost fall. He shoots his hand out to twist off the water. “W-what?”

“He’s awake,” Pepper repeats, her voice inflated with happiness. “He’s asking for you.”

Tony’s world spins as he stumbles out of the shower, throwing on clothes that stick to his wet skin. Pepper is waiting for him on the other side of the door, eyes widening when she sees him. “Tony, there’s still soap in your hair-”

“It’s fine,” he says immediately. “Peter-”

“He’s going to be okay,” Pepper assures. “Cho is looking him over as we speak.”

“Going to be okay?”

“Yes-”

“Oh God.” Tony pulls her forward by the back of her neck and wraps her in a tight hug. She returns it warmly.

“Go.”

Tony falls away from the embrace and races towards the door. Later, he would deny that he ran. But now, well, nothing else quite matters.

Cho is scribbling on a clipboard when Tony swings into the room, breathing hard and dripping water from his hair. She’s laughing at something and looks up when Tony appears under the doorframe. “Hello Tony.”

“H-hi.”

“Before you ask, he’s doing great. A star patient as usual. Should be up and out of here in no time.”

Tony sags slightly, eyes stinging. Cho steps aside, revealing Peter behind her. He’s slumped against his pillow, eyes half mast but open all the same. Their eyes meet and Peter smiles, the tube under his nose lifting. “H-hey.”

“Pete.”

Cho must take it as her cue to leave. She leans down to squeeze Peter’s hand before walking past Tony and out of the room, patting him kindly on the shoulder as she does so.

Peter looks better, but not good. His lips are chapped and he looks like he’d just spent the past week fighting off a particularly bad bout of the flu, hair mussed and clothes wrinkled. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“What?” No matter how badly he wants to sprint over the kid, he feels rooted where he stands in the room’s entrance. Everything feels distant and quiet.

“I’m sorry,” Peter says again softly.

“No,” Tony rebuttals. He takes one step forward, then two. “I should be the one apologizing. I handcuffed you to your room.”

Peter chuckles. It must hurt, because he winces. “Yeah, not your best moment.”

“You could say that.”

“But,” Peter says, “it was to protect me.”

“Just like you pushing me out of the way of that bullet was to protect me,” Tony says.

Peter shifts against the pillows, eyes reddening. “I just, after May-”

Another step, one left, one right.

“I know.”

“I couldn’t lose you. I- I can’t lose you.”

“Well, the feeling’s mutual.”

Tony is at the kid’s side. He sits against the edge of the mattress, raw hands clutched tightly in his lap.

“I remember something from before I passed out,” Peter says carefully. He’s staring at the wall. “Something you said.”

Pulse jumping, Tony nods. The cocktail of anxiety and relief has left him lightheaded. “We- we had this big thing planned out. But I guess I ruined the surprise.” He pauses and the entire universe seems to slow. “Pep and I want to adopt you Pete. I know it’s soon, but you know if, if you want- we’d love nothing more in the world.”

Something fills the room like electricity. Tony feels his mind short circuit as tears leak out of Peter’s eyes. “You’re sure?”

“Yes Pete. More than anything.”

The next moment, their hugging. Tony feels tears of his own spill over onto his face as he clutches onto the kid with all his might. “I’ll take that as a yes?”

“Yeah,” Peter breathes. “Yes.”

And just like that, Tony’s orbit completes itself. It’s something he hadn’t known he’d needed so badly until now. Peter. The kid. His kid. Their son.

“Tony?”

“Y-yeah kiddo?”

“You have bubbles in your hair.”

Tony chokes on a laugh and holds the boy tighter. “Shut up and let me enjoy the moment.”

He can’t see the kid’s face, but he knows he’s smiling.

For now, for today, they’re alright.

They’re family.

#my fic #irondad #irondad fic #peter parker #tony stark #spider-man #hurt/comfort #found family #mcu #spiderson #tony & peter #writing #dealing with grief #peter parker whump #hope ya'll enjoy

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arrowofcarnations · 4 years

Text

Hold on to Me - An O’Knutzy YSAMS au

Based on a discord conversation about what would happen if O’Knutzy were dropped in the "Your Stars Are My Stars" universe. Planning on writing three parts for this; here is part one.

YSAMS was written by the incomparable Hazel @lumosinlove. Finn, Logan and Leo were created by her and appear in two of her wonderful fics, "Sweater Weather" and "Coast to Coast." This is just a little love letter to her brilliant characters and stories, and to the incredible SW/C2C fandom, who inspired this fic with their collective genius. I hope you guys enjoy it!

Finn met the gaze of his opponent across the rickety folding table, raised an eyebrow, and leaned back in his chair with a self-satisfied smirk. “Go fish.”

“You gonna make that joke every time we play cards?” Logan said with an eye roll, leaning forward to drop a handful of the ketchup packets they were using as makeshift poker chips onto the pile between them. His dog tags caught the sunlight streaming in through the open tent, making Finn squint. “Come on, put up or shut up.”

“You want this crusty-ass ketchup that bad, huh?” Finn teased, grinning widely now. He took a good, long look at his hand—long enough that it was obvious he wasn’t actually considering the cards at all—before pushing his share of single-serving Heinz to the middle of the table and staring Logan down, a challenge in his eyes. All in.

Logan raised his eyebrows and shook his head once in disbelief. “Your funeral, Harzy.” He laid his cards out; Finn watched as he turned over the four, six, seven, ten, and king of spades.

Finn blew out a long breath, stretching the moment out just a little before showing his hand. “I don’t know,” he said, turning over his cards with a flourish. “That’s pretty good, but…”

He watched Logan’s expression morph from quietly pleased to confused to indignant. “You have nothing.”

“Yep.”

“Then why’d you go all in?”

“I felt good about it. My lucky number was in there.”

Finn bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from full-on beaming as Logan let out a frustrated groan, getting up from the table and tossing a ketchup packet at him. “You’re fucking annoying, you know that?” Logan said. “You never play for real.”

“Aw, come on, Tremzy,” Finn said as the plastic bounced off his cropped hair and onto his lap. “I thought you were bluffing!”

Logan made his way to Finn’s cot, stretching out on his back with his hands behind his head. “Bullshit,” he muttered. He closed his eyes after a few seconds, seeming to settle in. He’d been doing this since they were at basic together a year ago, falling asleep on a dime during their breaks. More often than not, he chose to do it in Finn’s bed. It made Finn’s stomach flip every single time.

Finn thought he might actually be napping now, but Logan’s voice suddenly cut through the quiet of the tent. “You just like pissing me off.”

That pulled another smile out of Finn, and he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth as he sat on the floor, his back pressed against the cot’s foldable frame. “You do make it fun,” he said. He heard Logan shift behind him before Logan playfully swatted the back of his head. There was a fire constantly simmering just under Logan’s skin; it made it easy to get a rise out of him, and Finn was always doing that, stoking the flames. Anyone who didn’t understand why had clearly never seen how hot Logan was when he got a little—or a lot—worked up. Finn was sure of that.

He’d expected the halfhearted clip to the head; what he hadn’t anticipated was for Logan’s hand to stay put, for him to push his fingers through Finn’s hair once, from nape to crown and back down again. Finn’s breath hitched and his heart sped up as he tried to keep still, not wanting to spook Logan.

“You gonna grow this back out once we’re home?” Logan murmured, flexing his fingers again and letting his blunt nails drag across Finn’s scalp. He did it idly, almost as if he didn’t realize he was doing it at all, but there was something warm and promising in his low voice that knocked Finn off-kilter.

“Maybe,” Finn managed. Logan’s fingers felt incredible, gentle and electric all at once. He wanted to close his eyes and lean into the touch. He wanted to turn around and kiss Logan until they were both dizzy with it.

They were quiet for a moment, and Finn did let his eyes slip shut, imagining what this would be like back home. Sitting on the floor of his East Village apartment, Logan sprawled on his bed, carding a hand through his hair. He was half-lost in it when Logan said, voice quiet, “You should.”

Finn blinked his eyes open. “I should what?”

“Let it grow out.”

“Why?”

“It looks good when it’s longer.” Logan’s hand stilled, then fell away. “Girls will like it.”

The words felt like a bucket of ice water over Finn’s head. Instead of brushing it off like he usually did, though, he turned his head to look at Logan. “Lo.”

They’d been dancing around it for over a year, and Finn was tired of the charade. Logan must have heard it in his voice, because he didn’t say ‘what,’ didn’t play dumb or deny anything. He just looked at Finn for a good, long moment and sighed. “Sorry.” He turned his hand over on the edge of the mattress, palm up. Finn looked from it to Logan’s face before covering it with his own. Logan’s hand was warm against his, broad and tan like the rest of him. “Sorry, I don’t...I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?” Finn pushed, voice soft but insistent. Please don’t shut down, he begged silently. Please talk to me.

He watched as Logan’s jaw worked, his mouth set in a frown and his brow creased with worry. He sat up suddenly and looked away, and Finn thought that was the end of it, disappointment like a weight on his shoulders. But then he realized Logan hadn’t let go of his hand; he tightened his grip around it, tugging until Finn was getting up to sit on the edge of the bed facing him. It broke Finn’s heart a little, seeing Logan so clearly conflicted. It hurt every time Logan put a wall up between them, but he was sure his feelings weren’t completely one-sided now, which left more room for sympathy. He didn’t know why this was so much harder for Logan than it was for him, but it was, and Finn couldn’t be angry at him for it.

He wasn’t sure Logan would answer him, but after opening and closing his mouth a few times, he finally met Finn’s eyes and said, “I don’t know how to...let myself.”

Despite the ache he felt for Logan at that, Finn also felt like smiling, because he’d said it. Not all of it, but enough that Finn stopped holding himself back. He shifted until he was knelt between Logan’s legs, holding Logan’s face in both his hands. His heart pounded with how much he’d wanted this boy since the moment they met. “Then let me,” he said, brushing a thumb across Logan’s cheek. His hands shook with anticipation, but his voice was sure and his eyes were steady on Logan’s. “I know how. Let me, okay?”

The worry smoothed out of Logan’s face, and he looked up at Finn pleadingly, eyes open, heart open. Finn loved him so much his throat was tight with it. “Okay,” Logan whispered. “Please, Harz.”

Kissing Logan like this was better than any of the guilty, rushed, after-dark fumbling they’d done before. They gave themselves over to it completely, eyes closed, Finn’s hands cupping Logan’s jaw and Logan’s hands pushing up under Finn’s tee, palms splayed over the warm skin of his back. Finn couldn’t remember a single kiss that held a candle to this, not with anyone. Logan’s hands urged him closer and Finn went willingly, gripping Logan’s hair and crowding in until they were chest to chest.

“Lo,” Finn gasped when they finally broke for air, ducking his head to kiss a heated trail along Logan’s jaw to the shell of his ear. “God, baby,” he breathed, nipping the skin there. Logan whined—at the hint of teeth or the endearment, Finn didn’t know which—and flattened himself against the thin mattress, pulling Finn down with him.

They stopped for a moment, breathing hard and staring at each other, Logan’s thighs pressed solidly against Finn’s flanks and his head boxed in between Finn’s forearms. Logan’s lips were slick and bitten-red and when he smiled up at Finn, wide and relieved and a bit dazed, Finn heard a low, soft noise work its way out of his throat of its own accord.

Logan’s hands stroked up the length of Finn’s back, then slid back down to settle on his hips. Finn could feel them shaking slightly against his skin. “Hi,” Logan said, which had them both laughing, releasing some pent-up nervous energy. Finn pressed his forehead briefly against Logan’s. “Hi,” he replied, wondering if he’d ever stop smiling now that he knew how it felt to hold Logan like this, kiss him. Now that he knew he could. “Hey, kiss me again.”

Logan was licking his way into Finn’s mouth when the sound of a throat being cleared made them freeze. Their heads snapped toward the front of the tent, where Leo was standing and staring at them, blue eyes wide and jaw slack.

"Oh."

To be continued...

#lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast #o'knutzy #my fic

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spaceskam · 4 years

Note

83. “Stay there. I’m coming to get you.” Malex, please and thank you.

from this prompt list ❤️️ also, warning, it gets a little NSFW for some reason

ao3

Micahel woke up in the middle of the night to his phone ringing. His phone never rang.

He reached for it, more annoyed than concerned, and squinted as it threatened to blind him. It was a random number. He almost ignored it, but something about it grabbed his attention. What would it hurt if he answered and it was a wrong number?

“Hello?” he asked, fighting a yawn.

“Oh, thank God, please tell me you're in Roswell," a voice he'd recognize anywhere whispered into the phone. Michael sat up, his heart already thudding in his chest.

"Alex?" he asked cautiously, scared to be wrong.

"Yeah," he whispered, "Are you in Roswell?"

"Yeah, where are you?"

"Outskirts of Roswell, that military bar between Roswell and the base? They dragged me here and... and I don't wanna be here," Alex whispered, laughing dryly, "Currently hiding in the bathroom."

Michael swallowed, "Stay there, I'm coming to get you."

Alex sighed of relief, "Thank you."

Michael hadn't heard from Alex in over a year, before he even got a phone. He wasn't sure how he even had his number or how long he'd been so close or why he'd waited. None of it mattered though and he jumped into his truck.

He sped there and found himself in the parking lot in 15 minutes. He stared at the building that was packed with soldiers and sailors and he knew he probably shouldn't walk in there. He wasn't in the mood for that kind of attention. Besides, he was in torn up sweats and an even more torn up t-shirt and barefoot. With a little bit of hesitation, he pulled out his phone and called the number that had called him. Alex picked up on the first ring.

"Hey," he said eagerly. Michael still wasn't convinced this wasn't a joke.

"I'm here."

"Give me a couple seconds."

And Michael did. Things still didn't feel real even as Alex came speed-walking out of the bar. Michael held his breath, waiting to wake up. He didn't and Alex got in the passenger seat.

"Hi," Alex said, smiling despite how utterly exhausted he looked. He smelled like secondhand smoke and cheap cologne, but he looked like Alex. He leaned in a little, but he stopped himself and bit his bottom lip. "Drive, please?"

Michael didn't speak and simply obeyed. He got to the edge of the parking lot and looked both ways before going to turn left. However, Alex quickly put his hand on his arm and told him to go right.

"Why? Where are we going?" Michael asked after taking a right. Alex's hand slid up from his arm up to his shoulder and squeezed gently.

"Take a left at the stop sign," Alex said instead of an answer.

"Okay."

Michael listened to his directions and Alex fiddled with his hair, tucking it behind his ear a few times before cupping the back of his neck. It took twenty minutes before they started driving down a long, unlit, unpaved pathway that was surrounded by trees and extremely easy to miss if you weren't looking for it. It felt like a horror movie and that paired with his complete misunderstanding on how Alex was here, he'd completely accepted that this was a really weird dream. Whatever happened, happened.

They eventually rolled to a stop outside a dark, slightly run down cabin. Michael had no recognition of it. Alex took a deep, shaky breath before stepping out of the truck. Michael waited a few seconds before following.

He stepped up to the dark porch and Alex was standing in front of the door, his key in the lock but he didn't turn it. Alex looked over at him and he licked his lips. And then he licked Michael's.

Without much of a warning, Alex's hand was on the back of his neck again and he was kissing him without any hesitation. Michael kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm. This dream felt really fucking real and Michael had missed him too much to ask questions.

The kisses seemed to give Alex strength and he broke the kiss to turn the key, his other hand still on Michael's neck to keep him close. The door creaked open, old and ominous and Alex pulled him inside.

The cabin was underused and a little dusty, but it felt homey. The head of a buck was mounted on the wall and the decorations were all either bones or memorabilia, all of it dull and earth toned. Despite the cold of the night, it was warm and welcoming. Or maybe that was just Alex.

Alex kicked the door shut and looked around for a second before throwing his jacket on the ground and reaching for the hem of Michael's shirt. Michael went with it, kissing him and stripping him until they were both completely bare as they made their way towards the couch.

Alex pushed him down onto the hard, underused couch that was probably from the 70s, and he climbed into his lap. Michael pulled him close, breathing him in and touching him wherever he could. His skin was so warm. Michael didn't want to wake up.

"I miss you," Michael whispered against his lips. Alex nodded, leading his head to his neck. He cradled his face there, letting Michael kiss his neck sloppily as he took the time to spit into the palm of his hand.

Michael wasn't quite sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't Alex taking himself himself in his hand like he did. He swallowed hard as Alex bowed his head, his lips against his ear as he took shallow breaths and made nearly inaudible moans. Michael pressed his hands against his ass, tugging him until they were chest to chest and he could feel Alex's hand moving between them.

"Alex," he breathed, "I can do that."

"You sure? You were taking too long."

"Thought you liked slow."

"Shh, we'll go slow next time."

Michael wasn't sure there was a next time. He was going to wake up after this. He wanted to make it last. But Alex wanted him now and, honestly, that was nice too.

He covered Alex's hand with his own, slowing the pace he set and kissing his jaw. Alex's bicep tensed against Michael's head, holding him closer as he moaned quietly. Michael moved his hips just a little, desperate for some friction of his own, yet entirely willing to wait. He was completely satisfied with Alex in his hand.

And they stayed like that for a little while until Alex finished. Then Alex followed that by dragging his hand down the mess he made on Michael's stomach and grabbing him which was... a lot.

He finished quickly after that which seemed to be Alex's goal from the way he could feel his smile against his jaw through his heavy breaths. Michael caught his breath and wrapped his arms around him, holding him close and refusing to let go.

Alex eventually laid down and Michael laid on top of him, his arms still around him with his head on his chest. Alex played with his hair and pressed kisses to his forehead every once in awhile. They were probably plastered together and Michael genuinely didn't want it any other way. He didn't want to wake up.

"Jim Valenti died," Alex whispered, so soft that Michael didn't even react. He just breathed.

"I'm sorry," he said. He didn't really know what kind of relation Alex had to the Sheriff, but he said the information like there was a reason for saying it.

"I'm okay," Alex whispered. Michael nodded. "I got off for the funeral. Couldn't make myself go."

"Oh," Michael said. He tried to lift his head to see if Alex was actually okay, but Alex held him down and he didn't fight it.

"It's okay. He didn't expect me to go," Alex said, breathing in deep, "I never liked them when I was little."

Was it weird that after six years of loving him, that was the first time he'd heard anything about when he was little?

"Gave me this cabin, though," Alex breathed. Oh. They had sex in Alex's cabin. Alex's house. Butterflies that couldn't read the room bloomed in his stomach.

"It's nice," Michael said. Alex laughed softly, grabbing a fistful of his hair and carefully tilting his head back to give him a kiss. Michael kissed back and made a noise in protest as they ended shortly after they started. Alex's nose nuzzled into the top of his head in response.

"I have both keys," Alex told him, "Won't have to stay with my dad or in a hotel when I get vacation time." Or with you, he didn't say. Michael swallowed harshly.

"Oh."

"C'mere," Alex urged, pulling him back into another kiss. This one didn't end like the one before, this dragged out for the rest of the night. He fell asleep kissing him.

Michael expected to wake up in his bed, expected to wake up hating his brain for its cruelty. Instead, he woke up alone on that hard couch. He wasn't as gross as he could've been since someone had cleaned him up and there was an itchy blanket covering him. But he was still alone.

"Alex?" he called, foolishly hopeful that if that wasn't a dream, then he'd get a morning with him. But he didn't. The house was quiet and, as far as Michael could tell, empty. It left him with a hollow feeling.

He wanted to stay and see if Alex was going to come back, but he had work and he wasn't quiet sure where he even was. Even though it was real, it was still a fucking fever dream. Part of him hated Alex for that, but a much bigger part loved him even more than he had twenty-four hours prior. That always happened when he got a chance meeting with that man. He spent the next week trying to stop thinking about him.

It took him two weeks to realize he'd left the cabin with one more key than he arrived with.

#malex #malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin #my fic #rnm fic #prompts #westsideroyalty #verse: just one normal night

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hayerickson4 · 4 years

Text

Gray Arisen

Prompt: Hermione tells George she is pregnant with Fred’s child.

****

It was Sunday morning and the Burrow was full of food as well as family. Hermione was running late and by the time she arrived; George was leaned up against an oak tree out in the front yard.

Hermione swallowed nervously as she approached him. Ever since Fred's funeral everyone noticed how reclusive George had become.

"Mum is crying," He said casually, because this had become the new normal for the Weasley family. Hermione's brows furrowed together but she bit her tongue because she didn't want to push him. "Um she accidentally called me Fred," he explained and Hermione felt like the wind had been knocked out of her.

"I'm late," She confessed to him unable to look him in the eyes when she said it.

"Well," He said as his pale skin reflected brightly from the sun. "I don't think brunch will be ready any time soon." He gave her a soft squeeze on her shoulder as reassurance that it was going to be okay. Molly would not be mad at her.

"No," She said as she bit her bottom lip nervously. "George, I am late."

His eyes widen when she repeated it again for him but slower this time.

"Wow," He said speechless. "Um congrats?" he sounded unsure if she was happy about the news or not. "But why are you telling me this?" the question she knew she would have to answer.

"Because," She paused as she reached for his hands and placed them in her's. "He is not here and I know you are not him…but besides this baby-you're all I have left of him,"

He surprised her when he laughed out loud as he let go of her hands. It was a deep belly laugh too. She thought he would have reacted differently especially after finding out she was carrying the child of his dead brother. His twin.

"Blimey Freddie," George said softly. "you're not even here anymore and yet you still win our wagers,"

Hermione normally would have been furious to learn she was a bet between The Twins, but now with Fred gone it felt like he was still there with them. He was probably laughing his arse off knowing George lost the bet, because it would mean the younger twin would have to pay up and usually there was a consequence for losing the bet.

"They're worried about you," Hermione said gently. Everyone was concerned about George's wellbeing and even though they all were grieving…it was different for him.

"Yeah I know," He said as he pulled some grass out of the ground. "but I wish they wouldn't treat me like I'm a glass vase…" he paused for a moment taking a deep breath. "like I'm going to break at any moment," he paused again waiting for her to take in the words. He needed someone to understand how it felt. "like today when mum called me, Fred. For a second it was if nothing had changed…that he was still here, but then she started crying and I felt guilty for being a constant reminder of the son she lost." His voice now wavered, but he didn't cry.

"I'm sorry," she said as she reached out for his hand and gave it a little squeeze.

"So you and Freddie," He winked at her and gave her a little nudge. "Uh when did that happen?"

Hermione felt her cheeks burn as she blushed thinking back to the night she spent with Fred. "Bill and Fleur's wedding," she confessed. "when your mum sent me to the joke shop to get Fred,"

George laughed again. "I should've known," he said cryptically which caused Hermione to raise an eyebrow at him so he could explain. "uh Fred had volunteered me to help with decorating and I never understood why until now-"

Hermione interrupted him, "He knew your mum would send me to get him," she said putting the pieces together. "Because I was the most responsible one out of all the other kids, but I never knew he concocted a plan-"

George interrupted her, "Like I said he was fond of you," he smiled at her as he remembered how he used to tease his twin about his crush on the curly haired witch. "And I suppose he knew that might have been the last chance he would get to make a move,"

"I never knew he fancied me," she let out a sigh, because she wished she had known how much she meant to him.

"Ever since your fourth year," He explained. "and he would have made a move sooner, but he saw how Ron looked at you and he couldn't hurt his younger brother."

Fred teased Ron a lot but everyone knew he cared a lot about his younger siblings. He would have done anything to make his younger siblings happy even if it meant missing a chance with a girl he loved, because he never wanted to hurt his brother.

This time it was her who laughed. "Oh Ron would have been hurt if he knew all the things-"

"Oi, that was my brother!" He interrupted her as he playfully hit her arm. "I don't want to hear about his sex life,"

"Sorry," she said flushed from embarrassment.

"You made him so happy," He said as his mind remembered the memory of watching Fred and Hermione run into the wedding late, and how his brother had the biggest grin on his face. "and I know he would've been over the moon to hear the news of you carrying his child-"

She interrupted him, "He would have been the best father,"

He nodded his head in agreement, because they both knew how caring and loving Fred was. He would be the doting father who would do anything for their child. He would also get into a lot of trouble for helping their child pull pranks on an unexpected Hermione.

She often dreamt about scenarios on how they would have worked as parents. She would have been the disciplinarian of course, because Fred wouldn't have been able to keep himself being serious without laughing now and then. She pictured him doting on their "daughter" with love filled in his blue eyes. She pictured him teaching their "son" how to play Quidditch at a young age in hopes someday he would play on the Gryffindor team. It was wonderful to dream about him as if he were still alive, because life without him had become so gray.

"Yeah he would have," said George breaking the silence. "But he would have been awful at naming your child," his lips curved up in a smile and they both laughed.

"Yes, I imagine he would've wanted Bob for a girl," She shot him a raised eyebrow to see if she was right and he confirmed she was by laughing.

They both laughed for a few more minutes at the thought of Fred arguing how great a name Bob would be for a girl. Happy tears trailed down their faces.

"I haven't laughed like this in so long," George said as he reached out for hand again seeking comfort. "Thank you, Hermione."

"Thank you," She said as she gave his hand a light squeeze. "Because for a brief moment it was like he was alive again, and you gave me hope that I can do this. I can raise this miracle baby all on my own-"

He interrupted her, "I want to help you," he said. "with raising your child, because I may have lost half of myself when Fred died…but this is a chance to have a small part of him back,"

Tears filled her eyes, "Of course," she said smiling at him. "I would love for you to help." She said because she knew if Fred was still alive that George would be around them, always. He would be the best uncle helping their child get into trouble but also the best friend to Hermione for keeping her sane.

"Do you know if you are having a boy or a girl?" He asked her curious if she had casted a spell to learn the sex of the baby.

"No," She confessed to him.

"Do you want to find out?" He said as he took his wand out of his back pocket.

She nodded her head yes and with a flick of his wand pointed directly at her stomach they both eagerly waited to find out the sex. Blue smoke swirled around her tummy.

"Looks like Freddie left you with one more gift," he said to her as tears fell down his face. He had a feeling the baby would be a boy, because of how many brothers they had in their family. A part of his twin would live on not only through himself, but through a baby boy. This also felt like a gift for him, because he wouldn't be alone.

They sat in silence for a moment before George asked the age of question, "Have you thought of a name yet?"

She shook her head no.

"Still got time I suppose," George said.

Fred had given her a son. His last parting gift to her. The world around her had become so gray when the war ended and his death was final when they buried him in the ground. Now she was carrying his son inside of her and for the first time the world didn't feel so dark. A spark of hope had been ignited inside of her.

"Breakfast is ready!" A shrill voice rang through the air.

"We should go in," said George as he stood up and offered his hand to Hermione. "Don't want her to come out here and hex us for being late." He winked at her.

Hermione took his hand and he pulled her up to her feet.

"Grayson," She said to him as they walked towards the home.

"Pardon?" He asked confused.

"His name," She quickly explained. "I have decided to name him, Grayson because through all the grayness of war, he had given me a son."

George smiled at her, "I quite like the name," He confessed because he felt the same way about the unborn child.

Life without Fred would always be gray, but a small sliver of hope of sunshine was on the arisen because soon a baby boy would be born. He would no longer be the only piece of his twin left.

"I guess I should pay up," He said with a mischievous look on his face. Hermione's brows furrowed together confused. "The bet," He said reminding her of the wager he had with Fred.

"Oh yes," She said with a smile on her face. She had missed this side of George.

As they stepped into the house everyone sat with mouths hung open. Hermione turned to look at George whose hair had turned a lime green. It clashed horribly with his pale freckled skin. Suddenly the room burst out into laughter. Hermione and George made their way to table and sat down next to each other.

"What happened to you?" Bill asked curiously as he pointed to George's hair.

"Lost a bet," He said with a shrug.

"What bet?" Ron asked with his mouth full of food.

"You wouldn't want to know," He said as he nudged Hermione slightly. "Ronniekins,"

It was the best Sunday breakfast they had in a long time. They all were laughing and carrying on conversations as if nothing had changed.

The only reminder was an empty seat on the other side of George.

#fremione #fred x hermione #hermione and george #fanfic #post dh

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