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rebelwrites · 8 months

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Fifteen: So What Happened Last Night?

Charles Leclerc x Nova Teller (OC)

Till the wheels fall off Masterlist

Small town meets the fast lane. What happens when two souls meet? Will it end in happiness or will they both crash and burn?

As always reblogs and feedback is highly appreciated ❤️ if you want tagging in future parts let me know ❤️

Resting my phone against my chest I found myself blankly staring up at the ceiling willing my body to go back to sleep. The sun was starting to creep into the room through the cracks in the blinds, the soft orange glow bounced off the walls, running my hand over my face. I finally admitted there was no way I was going to get back to a peaceful slumber, not when I had spent the best part of the last year waking up at the crack of dawn.

Feeling my phone vibrate against my body, I harshly rubbed my eyes as I tried to move but I quickly found I was being pinned down to the soft mattress by Charles’ arm draped across my torso. I couldn’t help but cock my brow at the screen of my phone once I had finally grabbed it. Jax’s name shone bright in the low light of the room.

Why was my brother texting me at five in the morning?

05:01 - whatever you do Squirt please don’t look at social media

Well, that was like telling me not to press a big red button, it was just going to make me want to do it even more. Swiping the conversation off my screen I automatically opened Instagram, the moment the feed loaded my heart sank into my stomach making me wish I had listened to my older brother for once.

My eyes went wide at the picture that was staring back at me but what caused tears to slide down my cheeks were the comments.

I knew people could be mean online but never I had the hate directed at me, I couldn’t stop the tears as I slowly locked my phone before gently prying Charles arm off my torso allowing me to escape the cloud like bed. The next five minutes were a blur as I grabbed Charles’ hoodie he was wearing last night, pulling it over my body letting the smell of his aftershave flood my senses providing me a small amount of comfort.

Sneaking out onto the balcony I placed a cigarette between my lips as I sunk down onto the outdoor sofa, I wanted to scream. I knew I should have put the phone away but I couldn’t help but continue scrolling through the comments. My head was spinning as the tears rolled freely down my cheeks, the more I read the words of random strangers on the internet the more my insecurities ate me alive.

She looks like a troll!!

What does Charles see in her? She’s the size of a whale.

Where are the supermodels he usually dates?

Look at those love handles, it’s making me feel sick.

Waking up to the bed being empty caused Charles' heart to sink, he let his arm move over to where Nova had been sleeping only to find the sheets were cold meaning she had left a while ago. Panic flooded his veins as he desperately went over everything that happened last night trying to pinpoint why he was waking up alone, however he was drawing blank.

He couldn’t find a single reason.

Everything about last night was perfect, listening to the sweet voice of the girl that had captured his heart and falling asleep with her wrapped in his arms. Running his hand over his face, he rolled out of bed, feeling the softness of the rug under his feet. As he was reaching for his phone he noticed the balcony door was open slightly.

For a moment he dropped his gaze to the screen of his phone just as a text came through from his brother.

07:31 - BRO YOU NEED TO CALL MAMAN ASAP

07:33 - APPELEZ-MOI MAINTENANT (CALL ME NOW)

07:34 - WAKE UP FUCKFACE!!!!

Confusion washed over Charles as he knitted his brows together at the messages, the sound of Nova’s soft cries caused him to lock his phone, he didn’t care he was wearing nothing but his boxers, he needed to see why she was crying.

The moment he saw Nova sat with her knees pulled to her chest, he felt his stomach twist into a knot. His movements were smooth as he quietly made his way over to the girl that had flipped his world upside down.

“Sunshine,” Charles whispered, placing his phone on the table before he crouched down resting his hand on Nova’s knee, “what's with all these tears?” he asked softly. Nova stayed silent, pulling her hands away from her face looking up at Charles. His heart broke as he took in how blood shot her piercing green eyes were. Reaching up he softly ran his thumb over her cheeks wiping away the tears that dampened her skin, “Parlez-moi Talk to me,” Nova sighed heavily as she passed Charles her phone, which was still open on the instagram post.

Charles couldn’t believe what he was reading, anger bubbled inside of him. There were only a few people that knew about their whereabouts and the only way they would have gotten to picture was if they were there, meaning it had to be someone from the yacht staff. However the thing that was upsetting him the most were the harsh words people were commenting about a girl they didn’t even know.

“Come here babygirl,” he hummed, placing the phone onto the small table before wrapping his arms around Nova, “they don’t know what they are talking about. You are beautiful, smart, brave and one of the best women I know.”

“But-”

“No buts,” he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to the top of Nova’s head, “all the people that are commenting about you are jealous, because I want to be with you and not them,” before he could say another word his ringtone started echoing around the two of them. He turned his gaze to the screen seeing his mother’s face staring back at him, “I need to answer that,” he said softly, “you ready to meet my Maman?”

“What if she doesn’t like me?” Nova whimpered, roughly wiping her eyes with the sleeves of Charles’ hoodie she was wearing.

“Sunshine, Maman is going to love you.”

Jax watched intently as the red Ferrari gracefully pulled into the bar's car park, with bated breath he watched Nova through the passenger window, he couldn’t quite see if she had tear stained cheeks from where he was standing.

Some of the comments made his blood boil, making him want to track down every single person, putting a 9mm hole in their heads. That thought alone scared him slightly, he wasn’t the same person he was when he was a teen, he didn’t carry all of the time now but when it came down to Nova he would go on a killing spree, without batting an eyelid just to protect her.

The moment he saw the post and the horrendous comments Charles’ fans were saying his stomach twisted into a tight knot knowing how much this would tear her up. He had spent many years consoling his baby sister when her insecurities and demons in her mind became too much to bear.

A small smile appeared on his face as he watched Charles climb out of the driver’s seat, jogging around the front of the vehicle before opening the passenger door helping Nova out of the car. It was a breath of fresh air to see her with someone that wasn’t a complete douchebag.

Surprisingly Nova stepped out of the car with a bright smile on her face, it had been a while since he had seen his sister with a smile that actually reached her piercing green eyes. He had never seen his little sister so happy, he just hoped that this wasn’t just a fling between her and Charles and they could make the long distance work.

Running his hand through his perfectly kept blonde hair smirking as Charles and Nova walked hand in hand up to the building. It was as if they were in their own protective bubble, like the recent social media post didn’t exist. He just prayed that she had actually done what he had told her for once and kept off the internet.

He knew his sister didn’t come home the previous night meaning he was ready to go into fully annoying big brother mode teasing her about her whereabouts, although there was no need to ask where she was, he already knew she spent the night with Charles. “Soooooooo,” Jax whistled, placing a cigarette between his lips before extending his arm out to Nova offering her one which she quickly took with a nod, “what happened last night?” his tone was playful as he nudged Nova’s arm with his elbow.

“Like I’m gonna tell you,” Nova hummed, pausing to take a long drag of the smoke, “but we do need to talk about Juice, that boy’s had too many fuckin’ chances.”

Before Jax could speak Elenor came running over linking her tiny hand with Charles’, giggling loudly as she pulled him into the bar. Jax wrapped his arm around Nova’s shoulders pulling her into his side. He took a deep breath before asking his next question, normally he could read Nova like an open book but not today, “I need to tell you something.”

“Yea, I know,” Nova said with no emotion in her voice, “I kinda looked this morning.”

Jax let out a heavy sigh, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, “are you okay?”

“Meh, Char helped calm me down this morning, he helps keep the demons away,” Nova said quietly looking down at her trainers, “I knew there was a chance this could get out but I didn’t expect it to be so quick, ya know,” she sighed, resting her head on her brother’s shoulder.

“Are you together now then?” Jax asked.

“I think so,” Nova nodded.

“You think so? Surely it is a yes or no answer.”

“We haven’t really spoken about it, guess we are just seeing where it goes. At the end of the day he will be leaving town in a couple of weeks so I don't wanna get my hopes up,” she said, Jax didn’t miss the hint of sadness in her tone as she mentioned about Charles leaving.

“Even I can see that boy loves you,” Jax whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of Nova’s head, “don’t focus on him leaving town, just focus on the time you have with him. Life is short squirt, don't let an opportunity to fall in love slip through your fingers.”

The sound of his daughter’s giggles coming from inside the bar made his heart swell, not only was Charles good with his sister but Elenor adored him, although he find himself starting to feel jealous that his babygirl wanted to spend her time with the Monegasque driver rather than her daddy.

Pushing the jealous thoughts from his mind, he pressed another kiss against Nova’s temple before speaking. “So you wanted to speak about Juice? What's he done now?”

Nova placed another cigarette between her lips, taking a step back from Jax, looking up at him through her lashes as she fumbled with the zippo. “It would be easier to tell you what he hasn’t done,” she growled through the filter of the smoke,“the jerk is a waste of air.”

Jax cocked his brow, knowing that if he wanted to keep his balls intact he knew not to interrupt his sister when she was going off on a rant.

“I warned him, I fucking warned him if he screwed up once more then he is gone,” she spat, leaning against the brickwork of the building, taking a long inhale of the cigarette, “I went back to Charles’ room at the Lodge and the place was a fucking sty.”

“Leclerc’s room?”

“No dummy, the lobby of the Lodge,” Nova hummed, narrowing her eyes across the parking lot. Jax watched as she snarled to the person backing their bike into a parking spot. “Oh and he was no where to be fucking seen, probaly too busy at that stupid fucking weed shop.”

Jax let out a heavy sigh, running his hand across his face, “okay, leave him to me,” he nodded, pushing himself off the wall moving so he was blocking Nova’s view of Juice. “Now, what you are going to do is take a deep breath, forget about Juice and go spend some time with that man of yours.”

Nova scoffed at Jax, “Ce n'est pas mon homme, face de cul. He's not my man, assface,” she said, rolling her eyes, as he took the half smoked cigarette from between her fingers.

“You know I hate it when you speak French to me,” he huffed, like a toddler as he watched his sister crouch down grabbing one of the crates of beer piled by the doorway before slipping into the building.

Jax couldn’t believe it was only a couple of months ago where he had a similar conversation with Juice. But this was it, there wasn’t going to be any more chances. The Lodge meant alot to the club and his family so to hear that it was being turned into a dumping ground, severely pissed him off.

The only sound that was echoing around the empty lot was the crunch of the gravel under Juice’s boots. Jax tossed the cigarette in the metal bucket by the door as he narrowed his eyes at the Puerto Rican.

“Kitchen, now!”

@withmyteeth @chibsytelford @stillbreathin @danzer8705 @keyweegirlie @dragon-of-winterfell @ohthemisssery @a-distantdreamer @sgkophie @angywritesstuff @enchantedbytomandhenry @scribbuluswrites @dangerouspursepeachbear @buendiabebeta @ferrarifwendvale @theplobnrgone @charlesleclercje @queenslife @panicforspec @justme2042 @liv67 @derpinathebrave @clcspeonies @pleasantducktimetravel @raaaaabzzz @mehrmonga @sbgal @fangirl-lb @pitconfirmbutton @oslokij @tall-tanned-tattoo @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @pumpkin-spice-hate @talicat713 @band--psycho @little-diable @i-love-scott-mccall @fourthwallhateclub @theysayitscrazy @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @meteora-fc @beeroses @darklydeliciousdesires @the-jer-bear @extraneousred @youflickedtooharddamnit @babypink224221

#charles leclerc #Charles Leclerc x reader #Charles Leclerc x oc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x oc #f1 imagine #sons of anarchy #jax teller #jax teller x reader #jax teller imagine #sons of anarchy imagine

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inkesmind · 3 years

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genos with a pregnant s/o headcanons!

reader: afab (assigned female at birth)

requested: yes by anonymous

warnings + genre: fluff

a/n: me listening to baby making jams while making this LMAO

✎ | the moment the words fell from your lips that you were pregnant, genos almost literally malfunctioned.

“you’re pregnant? as in, there’s a child in your womb?” he asked dumbfoundedly

✎ | you replied nod with a smile on your face.

✎ | genos is definitely excited, but it may not look like it at times. most of the time, he’s freaking out, bombarding himself with questions like:

“would i really be a great father?”

“what if my child doesn’t like me?”

✎ | please assure him he’s going to be just fine especially because both of you are working together

✎ | one of the first thing he does is tell saitama about your new child, but makes sure that the news doesn’t get out. if anyone has to know, it’s going to be saitama and no one else.

✎ | he knew being a hero came with a heavy burden, so he wanted to make sure you and your unborn child were as safe as possible

✎ | genos is extremely caring and helpful during your pregnancy, stopping at nothing to make sure your pregnancy goes smoothly.

✎ | having weird pregnancy cravings in the middle of the night? genos will literally whip it up in the kitchen or grab what you need from the corner store

✎ | having body aches and need a massage? he’s on it! genos buys all your favorite ointments and gives the the best massages you’ve ever had.

✎ | he takes you on the most relaxing walks; they’re always like mini dates

✎ | genos definitely asks saitama about being father, despite saitama not having his own child, he thinks his teacher knows everything

✎ | also asks dr. kuseno about it too!

✎ | but in his alone time, genos takes the times to buy and read different books on pregnancy and being a parent, reading articles and blogs online, and confiding in you about his doubts

✎ | the day you asked if he wants feel your growing belly, he froze. he was a bit confused on what to do but did i regardless

“genos, the baby’s kicking! come here and feel it!” you beamed. genos turned towards you and slowly walked towards you. “don’t be scared, just put your hands on my stomach.” you smiled giving genos a sense of relief.

he bent down near the edge of the couch you were sitting on and gently placed his cold metal hands on your exposed belly. just slightly, he could feel the light kicks from your child. genos had never looked so soft.

✎ | in all honesty idk if genos can still feel with his hands

✎ | regardless, feeling his child kicking only fulfilled his fantasy of finally having a family of his own

✎ | the closer your due date came, the more stressed genos got. he was finally going to be able to see his first born child

✎ | shopping for baby outfits and furniture for the nursery with you definitely helped soothe his mind

✎ | genos prepared himself as much as he could before you went into labor, but nothing could prepare him for the birth of his child

✎ | the time from when your water broke to him squeezing your hand while on the hospital bed was a blur for him. it all happened so fast

✎ | genos was nonetheless supportive through it all though. he might’ve even been more anxious than you, but made sure not to let it get to him as it was a precious moment for all of you

✎ | he squeezed your hand while you giving birth, trying his best to find the right words to say to you. it was hard, but he knew more than anything that you needed him the most right now

✎ | the moment he laid his eyes on his crying child, genos had many indescribable feelings. all he knew was that he felt instant happiness.

✎ | was definitely worried about holding his child for the first time. they were so small and fragile, he didn’t want to accidentally hurt them.

✎ | you were just as blissed out as he was and reassured him that nothing he would do would hurt his child. his nerves calmed from your kind words and decided to hold his child.

✎ | you held your child in your arms while genos calmed himself down. you looked over to him before gently handing over your child to him

✎ | you could tell genos was already in love with your new born child with the way he held them. his touch was extremely delicate. but nothing could prepare him for this, nothing at all.

✎ | you watched in silence with a smile on your face as tears fell down genos face.

#genos x reader #genos #one punch man #opm #genos headcanons #opm x reader #one punch man x reader #one punch man headcanons #[‎‏➤]#[❖]

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

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Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (chapter 10 - FINALE)

series masterlist

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind. you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 6k

warnings: implied smut, angst, fluff, romcom tropes, lots of swearing, pregnancy mention/minor breeding kink

note: click the asterisk for a hyperlink to a translation when the time comes

Six months later...

“It’s good!” she beamed, setting down the last chunk of pages and taking off her reading glasses. “Oh man, that ending hurt, but it’s really, really good!”

You leaned back into the plush chair and sighed with relief. “You think so?”

“It’s best-seller material,” she assured. “With some editing, of course. God, I can’t believe you were sitting on this for so long.”

“What are the biggest changes you want to make?” you asked.

“Well, I’m thinking we’ll cut the romantic subplot,” she mentioned in passing, like it was no big deal. “It’s distracting.

“Distracing?” you repeated. “Nia, it’s the story. It’s a romance.”

“I thought it was a thriller,” she frowned.

“A romance disguised as a thriller,” you corrected.

“Listen, I get what you mean, but I didn’t get this—” she tapped the nameplate on her desk: ‘NIA BROWN, HEAD PUBLISHER’ in shiny letters— “for nothing. I know what I’m talking about, and I know what your readers want. Violence, gore, drama!”

“It has all that!” you defended. “But it’s all there to talk about the real love he finds in her!”

“What do you mean ‘real love’?” she pressed flatly.

“I mean…” you pondered. “I mean love where you feel like a version of yourself that you actually like. Love where you feel unjudged, no precedents or caveats or back-up plans. Love that fucking hurts because you never wanted to rely on anything or anybody. Love that lives in silence because you don’t even need words.”

She furrowed her brow. “That… sounds nice, I guess, but I don’t think anybody really has that. Everybody needs a back-up plan. Everybody needs words— a writer should know that.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” you groaned, your face falling into your hands. “I’m so fucking stupid. Jesus Christ, I’m a moron.”

“What? What’s going on?”

“I had that! I had that, and I let it go! I’m the dumbest bitch on the fucking face of the Earth.”

“Don’t say that,” she soothed, but you were already standing up.

“No, I need to find him,” you decided as you grabbed your coat and briefcase. “I need to go back and try to fix this. I love him, I’ve never— I didn’t know I could love like that, I didn’t know I could be loved like that… oh my god, I need to find him. It isn’t over.”

“It isn’t over?” she repeated incredulously. “You said Michael signed the papers!”

“It’s not Michael,” you rolled your eyes as you stormed out of the office. “It was never Michael.”

You ran into the first telephone box you could find, slamming the door shut as you searched your purse for the business card that probably wasn't even in there.

After a moment, you gasped with delight when you pulled it from a very bottom pocket and began punching in the number as fast as possible with shivering hands, long-distance charges be damned.

“Hello?” the confused voice on the other end answered.

“Mrs. Alberti, hi— does Sebastian still work for you?” you asked hastily.

“No, dear," she sighed, apparently recognizing you by just your voice (and likely your request), "he quit recently, and moved away.”

“Moved?" you repeated with a wrinkled brow. "Where?!”

“I assume back home, sweetheart; to Bucharest.”

“Shit,” you sighed. “Shit!”

“Are you having your ‘run through the airport’ moment, sweetheart?” she realized.

“Yes, I think so— do you have his address?”

“Well, no, but I’ll see what I can find.”

You waited rather impatiently as she shuffled through papers in the background, mumbling to herself as she apparently searched for information that could help you.

“All I’ve got is the address of a previous employer… a carpenter,” she finally explained, breaking the silence. “It was his only reference when he came to work here," she explained.

"Wow, you really did just hire him for his looks," you blurted out.

"He was desperate for work, that boy had nowhere else to go,” she defended.

“Right, well, I guess if that’s my only lead then I’ve gotta go for it,” you decided. “Thank you, Mrs. Alberti.”

“I told you to call me when that book was a hit. Did it happen yet?” she piped up.

“It’s not published yet,” you explained. “It needs some more work… but I think it’s almost ready.”

“I think so, too, dear.”

Learn Romanian in 10 Weeks! A practical language guide.

Week 1, Day 1: Greetings

Hello Salut

Goodbye La revedere

Thank you Mulțumesc

You’re welcome Cu plăcere

Good morning Bună dimineata

Good afternoon Bună ziua

Good evening Bună seara

Good night Noapte bună

You brushed your hair back out of your face with a sigh, turning the page as you mumbled the phrases to yourself. Broken Hungarian and your high school education in Latin were not getting you as far with this as you had been hoping.

How are you? Ce mai faci

I love you Te iubesc

“Te iubesc, te iubesc, te iubesc,” you repeated over and over in a whisper.

Each day you had a new routine: practice Romanian for an hour, check flight prices online (or call the airline), research what you knew about Sebastian and the address Mrs. Alberti had given you, and then get back to practicing Romanian again.

Oh, and occasionally you worked on the edits Nia wanted for your manuscript. You were focusing on the minor changes— grammar errors, rearranging sentences— and putting off her big request for the removal and replacement of the romantic aspects. More than ever, they seemed like the most important thing the book had to offer.

You had a small apartment, just a place to sleep and shower really; much too small to fit everything you’d already taken from Michael’s house (you know, the one that used to be your house) along with what he’d shipped to you that you forgot before. He included a letter in the package as well. You threw it out, unopened.

Truthfully, you never really fully unpacked. As much as you realized you probably should, in order to really feel like you had a real home, you couldn’t bring yourself to empty your suitcases when you knew you’d be packing them again any day now.

You also realized how outrageous this all was. Ignoring the unlikelihood of even finding him in the first place, Sebastian probably wouldn’t want anything to do with you after you broke his heart, left, and then randomly tracked him down after over half a year. But to be totally transparent, you weren’t really doing this to get him back, necessarily. You knew that was probably never going to happen. You were doing this because you needed to try. You needed to go there, and get hurt, and come back knowing you did everything you could: you’d never be able to live with yourself if you did anything less than that.

You couldn’t start your new life until you had put everything else to bed. And if that meant being 100%, painfully certain that you and Sebastian could never be together, then that was just how it needed to be.

After two weeks of looking, there still weren’t any reasonable flights to Bucharest, so you booked another trip by train, figuring you could use the three day trip to brush up on the key Romanian phrases you were going to need as well as prepare your speech.

Yes, your plan was a speech. You didn’t have a back-up plan. You didn’t even have a return ticket back to London yet.

A passage by Yeats came to mind; But I, being poor, have only my dreams. I have spread my dreams under your feet. Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.

In all your life, you’d never understood before why someone would want to only have their dreams. But now, here you were… and yes, it felt terrifying and vulnerable and uncomfortably naked, but it felt pretty damn good, too.

With a sigh, you scribbled out the last sentence you’d written, tossing the trash paper aside. You looked up out the window at the scenery flying by in a blur, worried that if you didn’t look out from the train every once in a while you’d get motion sickness.

The sun was beginning to set already, the green of hills and trees tinted orange. You only indulged in it for a moment, though, before getting back to this god-forsaken speech you were deadset on finishing before you arrived in Bucharest tomorrow. At first, you’d figured the translating would be the most difficult part… but writing in English wasn’t exactly a piece of cake, either. You had so much to say, and suddenly so few words for any of it.

You’d probably done more editing on this than any of your novels combined; the crumpled up pages spilling out of your wastebasket were proof enough of that.

“And I’m a fucking writer!” you groaned aloud, to no one in particular. “How is anybody else supposed to be able to do this, if I can’t?”

Other people aren’t as emotionally constipated as you, the voice of your inner critic reminded you plainly, making you roll your eyes at yourself.

A rap at your door made you sit up straighter and turn around. A stewardess slid open the frosted glass slightly to give you a friendly smile. “Is everything alright, ma’am?”

Your brows furrowed at the sound of her accent. “Is that a Romanian accent?” you asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” she nodded.

“So you’re fluent in Romanian and English,” you concluded.

“And Portuguese, yes ma’am,” she agreed.

“Could you come in here for a moment and help me translate something?”

She seemed slightly confused at the request but stepped forward, sliding the door most of the way shut behind her. Leaning beside you on the desk, she picked up your handwritten letter and blinked her wide, brown eyes a few times. You felt slightly embarrassed knowing she was reading such intimate thoughts, but that was how it felt the first time someone read anything you wrote so you were pretty much used to it by now.

“I usually ask the passengers what brings them to Bucharest,” she mumbled after a moment. “This is the most interesting thing so far. Am I reading this correctly, that you intend to confess your love to someone you met—” she scanned the page quickly— “during a vacation in Hungary?”

“Yup,” you smiled awkwardly, popping the ‘p’ at the end of the word.

“And he doesn’t speak English?” she assumed; you nodded. “And… you don’t speak Romanian?”

You nodded again, and she breathed in and out quickly, sitting beside you as she stared at the letter.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” she explained.

“Sorry for sucking you into the entropic vortex that is my life,” you chuckled.

“I don’t mean to pry,” she sighed, setting the letter down, and you laughed a little internally at the idea that she was worried about prying when she just read the most personal piece of writing you’d ever put to the page, “but do you think this is… enough? I mean, to build a relationship on?”

You just gave her a shrug. “I have no idea. But, you know, I spent my whole life worrying about stuff like that. I dated my husband for seven years before we got married, because I wanted to be sure. I was initially interested in him because he was successful and ambitious, and it made me feel like this was a really secure relationship that I could rely on. I double majored in English and Computer Science because I wanted a more stable career to fall back on in case being a writer didn’t work out, and even though it did, I’ve spent most of my career publishing what I thought people wanted to read instead of what I wanted to write, so I’d have a better shot at a good paycheck. I grew up thinking the best thing I could ever have was security. And now I’m divorced, watching my royalties shrink every month, more insecure in every way than I’ve ever been, and I’m realizing that the choices I made didn’t give me what I wanted. I gave up so much in the name of safety, and I let the one good thing I’d ever found go, so I could go back to being the same person I always was. I’m ready to settle again, if this doesn’t work… I’m ready to accept that this is just the way life goes, and be thankful that I got a taste of the kind of stuff I thought only existed in the sort of books I’d read but never write.”

She swallowed as she looked at you, and you felt your eyes water as you stared out the window towards the dimming scenery one more time, smiling at the sight of a distant village, a church with a steeple, vineyards and farms. Someone’s whole life is in that little town, you imagined, and they’re just watching your train go by like they see every other day.

“Sebastian gave me more security than I’d ever had before, even though the whole thing was such a ridiculous little whirlwind, and nothing like I ever imagined my life could be. But he made me want to be honest and raw and write sappy letters like the one you just read. He doesn’t have any money, at least as far as I know, and I haven’t known him for seven years, and on paper it makes no sense… but you would understand if you knew him. If you felt that joy that he radiates, if you saw him live his simple little life like it’s the best thing in the world. You would understand if you knew how much I needed this. You would understand if you had been just as miserable being who I’ve been for so long, and finally had a chance to be somebody you think you were maybe meant to be the whole time. So, if I never see him again, I hope I just get to thank him.”

You waited for her to say something, but furrowed your brow at the long moment of silence, looking back from the window finally and finding her staring at you with a tear running down her cheek. When you met her gaze, she quickly wiped it away with a sniffle and looked down at your desk again. “Let’s get to translating, shall we?” she announced with a half-smile.

You noticed the way the other passengers looked at you as everyone was in line to deboard from the train car; you stuck out like a sore thumb, since everybody else was carrying heavy luggage and all you had was a backpack.

In your defense, you really had no idea how to pack for a trip where you knew neither the duration nor the true final destination. So, it was mainly filled with your essentials, a few clothes for any kind of weather, and enough leu to buy anything else you needed along the way.

The stewardess was waving goodbye to everyone as they shuffled out into the train station, occasionally stopping to shake a hand or give directions to nearby destinations. When you were just about to pass by, though, she pulled you into a tight hug.

“Good luck,” she whispered, holding you just a moment too long before pulling back and giving you an encouraging look. “If he doesn’t take you back, feel free to blame my translation… because if he knows what’s in your heart, I know he’ll say yes.”

“Yeah, that’s the hard part isn’t it?” you laughed weakly. “Thank you for your help. I guess if I come back alone for the return trip tonight, you’ll know how bad it went.”

“Then I hope I don’t see you again,” she winked.

It being a major train station and all, cabs were waiting around every corner so it was pretty easy to grab one and give them the address you already had written down for this exact purpose.

“This is pretty far,” the driver explained, “on the edge of town. Not a tourist spot.”

“Good, because I’m not a tourist,” you nodded, already only giving him half your attention as you pulled out the translated speech to practice.

“And you can afford this?” he pressed. You sighed and dug through your bag, pulling out a haphazard stack of bills and handing them through the plastic partition.

“Is this enough?” you asked, and he didn’t answer, just taking the money and starting the car as you smiled and leaned back in your seat.

As much as you had tried to convince yourself to not get your hopes up, the butterflies in your stomach felt more like whole birds at this point, demanding to break free as you practiced the words hand-written on the page over and over again, committing it all to memory.

“What are you reading?” the cab driver asked after several minutes.

“Oh, nothing,” you mumbled, “sorry if I’m bothering you, you can turn on the radio.”

“No, it’s not bothering me, but what you are saying… it’s very odd. It sounds like something from a play, or movie,” he explained.

“Um, it’s not,” you replied, a little embarrassed. “But does it sound like it’s from a good movie? Like, if you heard a character say this to another character, would you think they should get together?”

“I… don’t know,” he answered, sounding confused. “I mean, it depends on what happened, right? How they met, how well they get along…”

So, you told him the whole story, as succinctly as possible (which is not very succinct at all). By the end, he was actually giving commentary as you spoke.

“Why the hell did you leave?” he interjected, clearly irritated with you. “You loved him!”

“Yeah, well, sometimes love isn’t enough! I loved my husband too, and look how that turned out,” you defended.

“But that’s different. That was love for all the wrong reasons.”

“I promise, it felt very real at the time,” you shrugged.

“And now?” he countered. “You realize that this man— Sebastian, right?— is real.”

“I hope I’m right this time,” you offered. “But even if I am, he may not agree.”

The driver scoffed, taking a hand off the wheel to wave dismissively. “If he’s anything like you said, then he will still be completely in love with you. After all, you still feel the same way after all this time apart, don’t you?”

“If anything, I love him more every day,” you admitted, your heart beating quickly just to say it aloud.

“You know, when I met my wife, she was engaged to another man. He was rich, good-looking, and he wasn’t even a bad guy unlike this husband you describe. He was a good man, but he wasn’t right for her. They were… content together, but she wasn’t truly happy. Every night I would come to her window and beg her to marry me, because I knew that she knew we were meant for each other, but she was scared because her family wouldn’t approve and she would be a poor man’s wife.”

“How did you convince her to marry you instead?” you asked eagerly, sucked into the story already.

“I didn’t. On the day of the wedding, some people told me to go and break it up but I didn’t. I thought it would be wrong, to try to ruin her happiness and take it for myself by making a scene at the wedding. I realized she was her own woman and if she wanted to choose him, I had to let her. I had locked myself in my house, not wanting to see anyone that day, and she appeared at my door. I didn’t need to convince her because she knew the truth in her heart, and called off the wedding herself.”

“Wow,” you smiled.

“She was still in her dress!” he recalled with a hearty laugh. “She looked like an angel. We were married just a few days later. And next month will be thirty years,” he added as he lifted his left hand to show the golden band on his finger.

“Thirty years, that’s… a long time,” you sighed.

“It wasn’t always easy,” he admitted. “But it was always worth it.”

Just as you wondered what you could possibly say to that, you felt the car slow down to a stop.

“This is the address you gave me, this is it,” he explained, pointing out his passenger-side window. You leaned up against the glass and gasped in dawning fear as you saw the storefront dark and empty inside.

“No, nonono,” you whispered rapidly to yourself as you swung open the door and hopped out, pressing your face against the glass to try to get a look inside and finding what was undeniably a closed carpentry business. There was a note on the door, taped on the inside of the glass, and you knew enough Romanian to know it said something about a vacation and three months.

“Shit!” you yelped, holding your face in your hands, wondering if your journey had come to an end before it really began.

“Are you alright?” the driver asked, rolling down his window to speak to you.

“This was my only lead, I don’t have his real address,” you explained. “He used to work here, I thought maybe someone would know him…”

He sighed, giving you a sympathetic look. “Get back in, we can search nearby. You came too far to give in yet.”

But getting back in the car felt like giving in, too, which you realized as you looked back at the note taped to the carpenter's door. This was the closest you'd gotten, and it felt wasteful to leave with nothing.

Just as you were ready to hop in the passenger seat and start searching aimlessly through suburban Bucharest, or maybe look around for a Romanian yellow pages, you heard a noise from behind you, across the street; a laugh. His laugh. But it couldn’t be because it was too good to be true… and yet you found yourself whipping your head around and hoping beyond all reason that it was Sebastian.

Across the street was a restaurant, with a large patio where patrons were dining and chatting as they sat at wrought iron tables, and your eyes searched the crowd for any signs of him.

And then your gaze landed on a head of thick brunette hair, red and gold highlights so obvious now when the sunlight hit it this way. Broad shoulders wrapped in a white button-up shirt. He was facing away from you but he was looking to the side so you could see his face; he was smiling, laughing at something someone had said. And it was his smile that you recognized; it was like everything else faded away, and in that moment you thought maybe you could almost be happy with just this, just seeing him be happy even if it had nothing to do with you.

“Sebastian,” you called out to him, but he didn’t react. “Sebastian!”

His whole body turned, his eyes met yours, and you couldn't help but let the tears well in your eyes as you ran across the road to him.

He looked, understandably, stunned, and you realized he was actually waiting on a table at the moment; he said something to them, apparently excusing himself, and stepped closer to you.

But he stopped walking, not coming any closer, not exactly dragging you into his arms like you might've preferred, but with a breath to try to soothe your racing mind, you summoned your memories of the practiced letter and began. *

“Când am venit în Ungaria…” you started slowly, doing your best to remember the words and hoping your pronunciation wasn’t too awful, “nu căutam dragoste. Căutam spațiu, claritate și poate o idee de carte de un milion de dolari. În schimb, am găsit tot ce am căutat toată viața mea…”

You did your best to bite back tears, especially when his expression was nearly unreadable and you had no idea how well this was going.

“Ești tu, Sebastian, bineînțeles că ești tu,” you sighed, laughing slightly. “Ai fost acolo pentru mine când nici nu știam ce vreau de la nimeni. Ai fost prietenul meu fără să spui vreodată un cuvânt - cel puțin nu un cuvânt pe care l-am înțeles. M-ai iubit și nu știam ce să fac cu asta, pentru că uitasem cu mult timp în urmă cum se simțea să fii iubit. Și ce simțeai să iubești cu adevărat pe cineva. Dar te iubesc. Și am fost prost să te las să pleci, atât de neconceput de prost. Vreau să fim noi, Sebastian. Lasă-mă să te iubesc, mai dă-mi o șansă și îți promit că nu te voi mai lăsa să pleci niciodată.

The first thing he said was your name, and just the way he said it made you fall in love with him all over again.

“I… I dream that you would come back,” he shakily replied. “But now I cannot believe. You are my dream.”

Tears were openly flowing at this point and you wanted to run into his arms, but you tried to stay calm and hear him out. He stepped closer, almost hesitant, like you would run away if he got too close too fast.

“I love you, very much that I am sure I am insane person,” he explained with a grin, and you giggled. “We will live anywhere, do anything you would like— be my wife.”

You gasped as he pulled you into him, gripping your arms tightly as his desperation became apparent.

“Marry me?” he asked softly.

“Da,” you nodded, “yes, of course, anything—”

He kissed you suddenly, but gently, and it said more than any words in any language could.

It was a small wedding, in the Hungarian countryside by the lake. You could remember diving into that lake for lost pages of your manuscript; you could remember looking out over the water and dreaming of this moment you were living right now, thinking it was impossible.

He didn’t have much family, but they welcomed you with open arms.

Your family, well, they were too busy with planning another wedding, for your ex-husband and your ex-sister. A few of them sent cards but the rest were suspiciously quiet. You honestly didn’t even notice… you had a new family to attend to, anyhow. And it wasn’t like you didn’t have any guests, since you were able to track down and invite a stewardess named Maria, and a cab driver named Andrei and his wife, Paola.

Sebastian’s cousins weaved flowers into your hair and his grandmother tailored her dress to fit you like a glove. A picture of his parents was hung nearby in tribute; he told you they would’ve wanted to see him get married but that he felt, in some way, they were able to even if they had passed away quite some time ago.

You realized you’d never seen him in anything even mildly formal before; in fact, the suit he wore was rather casual, all things considered, but he looked so painfully cute in it. Sometimes you thought he actually looked a bit out of place wearing a shirt, though, especially one that was buttoned up all the way.

Luckily, the shirt was halfway unbuttoned about ten minutes into the reception.

Mrs. Alberti cooked a massive dinner for everyone, and even grew the flowers that you carried down the cobblestone aisle.

And wow, can Romanians drink. You had to be careful not to try to keep up with them, because if you had you would’ve been blacked out halfway into the night and the last thing you wanted was to forget even a moment of this.

As the night started to wind down to a close, you and your new husband retired to the lakehouse, running up the stairs and finding them as creaky as always.

He wrapped his arms around you in the hall and kissed you eagerly as you stumbled back into the bedroom, tripping over the doorway and falling onto the bed together.

It felt so right to have his weight on top of you, to feel his smile against your lips, to wrap your arms around his neck.

“This room,” he mumbled into the kiss. “Do you remember first time?”

“Yes,” you nodded, “da, I remember, how could I forget?”

He grinned and moved his lips down to your neck. "I thought of you every day… I love you,” he whispered.

“Te iubesc,” you whispered back.

It was almost like the first time in so many ways: passionate, yet oddly hesitant as you rediscovered each other. It was comfortable, though… you couldn’t think of any other person you felt so comfortable with, somebody who finally got you out of your own head and who made you want to experience everything life had to offer.

You were sure you’d never gone so long without worrying about something in all your life.

“My wife,” he whispered against your skin. “This is all I had wanted… from seeing you in very beginning.”

“You��re all I ever wanted,” you sighed in return, “ești tot ce mi-am dorit vreodată, Sebastian.”

Life with Sebastian was beautifully simple. You spent most of the day writing, usually, while he built furniture to sell and occasionally gardened with his spare time. You could always tell how busy you’d been with a new novel lately by how perfectly groomed the hydrangea bushes were.

You’d told him once that you’d come to Hungary looking for a million-dollar book idea. A Killer in Disguise performed alright, but not anywhere near that. The Language of Love, on the other hand, was definitely a million-dollar idea… about eleven times over. Sebastian didn’t seem to worry too much about how much money you made, though; he was just proud to say that he was the inspiration for your hit novel. You secretly suspected that he was more proud of your work reaching enough international notoriety to be translated into Romanian.

His English still needed some work, but you found it endearing. He was determined to get better and spent at least a half-hour each day practicing, but you hoped he wouldn’t get too perfect because you would miss the silly little mistakes he made. At least you could be sure he’d keep the accent forever… damn, that accent; and he knew exactly what it did to you, too.

In fact, you were crossing through the hall in your robe one evening when your husband’s voice stopped you.

“Darling wife,” you heard Sebastian call from the bedroom in a playful sing-song.

“What is it, Seba?” you asked with a smirk.

“Come in here, please…”

You opened the bedroom door to find most of the room covered in rose petals: most of all the bed, which was surrounded by candles, and topped with a shirtless (as per usual) Sebastian, laid on his side seductively with a long-stemmed rose (one you recognized from his very own garden) between his teeth.

“What are you doing?” you laughed. “Is this some sort of special occasion I’ve forgotten?”

You were already searching your mind for what it could be, but your two-year anniversary had passed a few months ago already and since it was spring it couldn’t be the anniversary of when you first met since that was late in the summer.

“Iss not quite a thpecial occathion yeth,” he answered before taking the rose from his mouth so he actually made sense. “I was considering it could be a special occasion, when we’re done…”

You smirked and climbed over the candles and into bed with him, taking the opportunity to run your hands over his chest. “And what occasion would that be?”

“A year from now, it could be the anniversary of when our child was conceived,” he answered.

Your breath caught in your throat, your voice reduced to a whisper of surprise. “Seba—”

“If you’re not ready, I will be understand,” he instantly added, stern yet soft. “Only if you want this, I just thought that maybe—”

You silenced him with a kiss, lacing your fingers into his hair and letting him roll you onto your back. He pulled back just enough to let you answer, but your noses were still bumping into each other and you smiled.

“I’m ready, Sebastian. More than ready,” you whispered.

He grinned and kissed you again, deeper and slower as he held your face with one hand and gripped your waist with the other. As his lips trailed down to your neck, you were interrupted with one pressing thought.

“Can I ask you something?”

He popped up and looked down at you with a smile. “Sure!”

“Why are you wearing ratty old jeans?” you laughed.

“Hey, these worked on you the first time,” he defended.

You gasped. “You don’t mean those are the jeans—”

“Yes,” he nodded, “the jeans that I had been wearing when I was working on Mrs. Alberti’s cottage. And, truly, when I was finding an excuse to work outside your window.”

“Wait,” you sat up, “did you actually work outside my window on purpose?”

He laughed, hanging his head quickly before looking back at you again with a sparkle in his eye. “You are very smart, my love, except for those times when you are— how do you say? Oblivious.”

You chuckled, unfortunately very aware that he was right.

“Didn’t you ever wonder why I was building a window frame, nearly a dozen metres away from the window it was for?”

You thought for a moment before dropping your face into your hands and laughing. “No, I didn’t notice that. I was too busy giving you a thorough eye-fuck,” you recalled.

“Yes, because I was not wearing a shirt and this distracted you,” he pondered, sounding suddenly like a scientist explaining a theorem or something. “See, that’s the beauty of wearing the jeans and no shirt. The body distracts you while the jeans seduce you.”

“How about you take the jeans off and put that body on me, capisce?” you pleaded; not that you didn’t love his humor or anything, but maybe his funny bone wasn’t exactly the bone you were interested in at the moment.

He grinned devilishly and suddenly pulled your legs apart, settling his body between them as he kissed your neck again, nipping at your jawline and ear. “You’re being impatient, dragă,” he purred. “You want to have my baby that badly?”

You whined involuntarily, arching your back as his hands roamed your body and finally began to untie your robe and push the silk out of the way. “Yes, Sebastian, please—”

“Let’s just say, theoretically, I wanted to have more than one? Would you have another of my children?” he asked softly as he reached up and palmed at your breasts, teasing your nipples which were already much too hard and sensitive for how little he’d touched you. The rough denim rubbing against the inside of your thighs was oddly arousing— maybe it was the sensation itself, or maybe it was just that this was almost like the first thing you imagined when you saw Sebastian all those years ago.

“Yes,” you moaned out your answer, “yes, you know I’d do anything for you.”

“What if I wanted a big family?” he pressed. “Really big? Like, Catholic big?”

“We can have our own fuckin’ Brady Bunch, Seb, I just need you right now,” you begged, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him into a hot and desperate kiss.

He decided to wait until afterwards to ask what a ‘Brady Bunch’ was. You decided to wait until afterwards to ask when he’d learned how to use the word ‘theoretically’.

sfarsit; the end

#sebastian stan x reader

493 notes · View notes

flowesona · 4 years

Text

Wicker Man - yandere! jungkook x reader

so my child @babeejk wanted a y! sugar daddy jungkook, and i live for nothing if not to fulfil her jungkook obsession so here we are.

word count: 2.1k

pairing: y! jungkook x gn! reader

Most people (Y/N)’s age would spend their Friday night partying, hanging out with friends, trying new things. But (Y/N) was spending the best days of their life entertaining a young, rich CEO who would no doubt dump them for a new pretty face in a few years.

Jungkook was a sweet gentleman. Always made payments on time, and usually never pushed the boundaries. But there were instances where his hands crept a little too far for (Y/N)’s liking, or his grip on (Y/N)’s arm got a little too tight in the presence of his friends.

He was peaceful enough that Friday night, having ordered takeout for the two of them and put on a movie. Clearly, he needed the company of (Y/N) more than their body as most of their previous sugar daddies had coveted.

With (Y/N) placing their plate down onto the coffee table and relaxing into his arms to watch the movie, it was almost like they were dating. Jungkook didn’t dare push this idea often, happy to stick to the simple domesticity they had as if they were already in love and nothing needed to be said.

He pressed a kiss on the back of (Y/N)’s neck, enjoying the fleeting feeling of his lips on their skin.

“You seem tired, baby. Want to go to bed?” The film was reaching its climax, but (Y/N)’s eyes were barely able to stay open.

“Mmmmm.” They replied, not protesting as he lifted them like a bride and carried them into his room to rest on his king sized bed.

(Y/N) had allowed a gentle smile to settle on their lips, their eyes having drifted closed. Jungkook settled himself beside them, feeling equally as at peace.

“I wish every night could be like this.” He mused allowed. “Would you like that, baby?”

(Y/N) was only his for two nights a week - Fridays and Saturdays, wherein he would often have them stay for the night.

“Mmmmm.” (Y/N) gave an ambiguous grumble as he hooked his arms around their chest to spoon them.

“Really? I can’t wait, baby. I love you, so much.”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

The morning after, (Y/N) woke up to an empty bed. Unusual, considering that Jungkook loved to wake up beside them and talk in the morning. Brushing that aside they stood up and padded out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

Jungkook was seated at the counter, glasses perched on his nose and his laptop in front of him next to a steaming cup of hot water (allegedly, it had health benefits but (Y/N) had never understood it).

“Good morning, baby.” Jungkook had a bright smile, beckoning them to join him at the counter. (Y/N) followed his instructions, hopping onto the stool beside him and leaning on his shoulder in a move they knew he adored.

“I’ve been working hard for you this morning, baby. You know, I want to get this done as soon as possible so we can be together.”

“That’s good.” (Y/N) hummed in reply.

“How do you feel about the moving company getting there at two today? That’ll give us time to have lunch on the way.” Jungkook ran his hand down their arm, soothing them as he noticed how they tensed up.

“What?”

“So you can move in, baby. Of course, you don’t have to bring everything here and I’ll be more than happy to buy anything extra you need-”

“Wait, wait, wait a second.” (Y/N) breathed out slowly. “Moving in?”

“We talked about it last night. You agreed, didn’t you?” (Y/N) scrunched up their nose, trying to recall the conversation but drawing a blank.

“No, I never agreed to that. And I never would. It’d break the terms of our contract.”

Jungkook had such a sincere look of hurt in his eyes that it tugged at (Y/N)’s heartstrings.

“We don’t need that contract, baby. We just need each other. You know I’ll give you anything you want, right?”

“And what I want… no, what I need… is for some space. This is just my part time hustle, I still have college and a life outside of this. I want to keep it to two days a week, otherwise it’ll blur the lines between you as a sugar daddy and you as a boyfriend.” (Y/N) tried not to let their irritation show as they spoke.

“Fuck the lines, (Y/N)! We don’t need any of those labels, I just want you to be mine as much as I am yours!” Their companion’s grip on their arm had grown tighter to the point that his nails started to draw blood. Realising this, (Y/N) pried his hand away and stood up.

“I’m sorry if I’d misled you. But I’m not looking for that kind of relationship with you, I’m just looking for strictly business. If this doesn’t work, maybe we should end this.”

Jungkook stared at them incredulously.

“Well…” He bit his lip, deep in thought. “Fine. Life will go on, I guess. I’ll call up the moving company and cancel it. Let’s not end this beautiful thing we have over a silly argument.”

(Y/N) nodded, although they had a horrible feeling in their stomach that it was not the end of the conversation, and Jungkook would stop at nothing to get his way.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

(Y/N) had chosen to make Thursday a ‘me’ day. They cooked themselves breakfast and lunch, did some online shopping and applied a face mask. They had zero intentions of visiting anyone else, when all they wanted to do was de-stress from life.

As they were lighting a candle and listening to some Beethoven, a shrill alarm rang out.

‘Huh. They don’t normally hold the drill today.’ (Y/N) shrugged, waiting for it to cease. However, it didn’t stop.

After a few minutes, (Y/N) grabbed their phone and stepped outside, only to see people hurrying down the stairs.

“Hurry! Fire!” One of her neighbours yelled, jogging past them.

Their eyes widened, but sure enough they could see smoke curling throughout the air and they knew they had no time to lose. Leaving their apartment with only their phone in hand, (Y/N) followed their neighbours down the stairs and out of the building, standing on the pavement as they watched the flames licking at the building and smoke billowing out of the open windows. Soon enough there were fire engines on the scene and ambulances to deal with the people who’d inhaled too much smoke.

(Y/N) found themselves sitting on the pavement, numb with shock. To think everything they owned was going up in the flames was terrifying, even as they saw the firefighters doing everything to minimise the damage.

“(Y/N)! Baby!” Their state of shock was broken by someone yelling their name, and suddenly they were pulled into a tight hug.

“Baby, thank god you’re okay. I don’t know what I would’ve done if something happened to you.”

“Jungkook?” (Y/N) instantly recognised the voice. “What- How-”

“I was in the area when I heard about what happened. I came as quickly as I could.” Jungkook pressed a kiss to (Y/N)’s forehead.

“You need to rest. Come back to my place, okay?”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

(Y/N) had ended up staying there far longer than intended. Their apartment had been completely wrecked by the fire, since it had started on their floor. Every possession of theirs, gone so quickly, although of course Jungkook insisted on replacing whatever they wanted.

Jungkook seemed to be very much content with their prolonged stay. In fact, he’d been working from home for the first few days to make sure they were settled in and not feeling too lonely. (Y/N) would sit with him in his home office, since they didn’t really have much else to do, and scroll on their phone until he inevitably called them over to cuddle with him.

The young man had become progressively bolder with his skinship, never holding back from pressing kisses to their neck or holding them a bit too tightly to his crotch. They hadn’t done ‘it’ yet, but with how he was acting it was only a matter of time.

They were just sitting together, (Y/N) scrolling through instagram and Jungkook answering some emails when the desk phone rang. Jungkook reached around them to answer it, holding it to his ear for a few seconds before putting it back down.

“Your nintendo switch has just been delivered. I need to go down to the lobby and sign for it. Are you okay waiting here for a few minutes?” Jungkook pouted, as (Y/N) nodded in reply.

He pressed a kiss to their cheek before standing up.

“Don’t miss me too much, baby.” He smiled before leaving.

(Y/N) let out a breath they didn’t realise they’d been holding in whilst he was there. But now, they were bored as ever.

A chime rang out, and (Y/N) found their attention drawn to Jungkook’s phone, sitting there innocently. They reached over and picked it up, only seeing a text from his mother asking about dinner plans next week. But they noted how he’d changed his lockscreen to a picture of them, from a few nights ago when they’d accompanied him to a formal event and he’d asked one of his colleagues to take a picture of them together.

(Y/N) suddenly had something to do. They set about trying to unlock Jungkook’s phone, first trying their fingerprint and face ID but to no avail. Then, realising that he had a numeral password they tried typing in a few dates - his birthday, his parent’s anniversary. Then, out of sheer boredom and with only one attempt they tried their own birthday only for them to be granted access to his lockscreen.

‘Jeez, he needs to get a life if he’s that whipped for me.’ They sighed, as they scrolled through his phone. Nothing was particularly out of the ordinary, until they checked the photo gallery, to be met with tons of pictures of them. Screenshots from social media, snaps from their ‘dates’, selfies with them fast asleep in his arms. It was enough to make (Y/N) shudder with fright.

Another message popped up.

‘I need the other half of the payment, sir, or I will be contacting the police.’

(Y/N) clicked on it, expecting business talk only to be met with something else entirely. Fear settled in their stomach as they scrolled up through the messages.

‘(Y/N) has been evacuated outside, doesn’t seem to have been hurt.’

‘Someone’s called emergency services, but the fire should spread far enough that (Y/N)’s apartment will be damaged.’

‘I’ve started it, it’s spreading quickly.’

It didn’t take a genius to realise what had happened.

(Y/N) dropped Jungkook’s phone on the floor in shock, standing up immediately. They’d walked right into his arms without hesitation, they’d played into his plan perfectly. Jungkook always got what he wanted, no matter the cost.

‘I have to get out of here.’

(Y/N) started for the door, only stopping to tuck their phone into their pocket. They were just by the entrance to the penthouse when they heard talking outside.

They knew they had to hide, but it was too late.

Jungkook burst through the door, accompanied by a stern faced delivery driver carrying a large box. This was subsequently placed by the door and he made a swift exit, avoiding (Y/N)’s existence the entire time.

“Ah, baby I missed you. Here, come and see what I bought for you.” Jungkook beckoned to them, but one look at their face told him he’d read their mood entirely wrong.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He cooed as he approached them. “Tell me, and I’ll fix it for you.”

“Get the hell away from me.” (Y/N) snapped. Jungkook froze. “I know what you did. What the hell is wrong with you? I could’ve died in that fire?”

His face became stern.

“I would never have allowed that to happen. I just wanted to give you a little push to move in with me, that’s all.”

“You’re insane!”

“And you’re too stubborn to progress our relationship!” Jungkook bit back. “Can’t you see how hard I try to make you happy? Is that not enough for you to love me?”

“I never want to see you again.” (Y/N) huffed, trying to show past him only to be caught in his iron grip.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

(Y/N) struggled, but Jungkook’s determination was stronger than their body weight.

“Maybe I am crazy, baby. And you know what that means?” He leant in close, so (Y/N) could feel the warmth of his breath. “You never know what I’m going to do next. So don’t try me unless you want to get burnt.”

#yandere bts #yandere jungkook #yandere kpop #kpop yandere #bts yandere #yandere jungkook x reader #yandere jeon jeongguk #yandere jeongguk x reader #yandere jeon jungkook x reader #yandere x reader #yandere oneshot

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givemethatgold · 3 years

Text

Fix’er Upper - Part 13

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem! Reader Warnings: Talk of parent death Length: 2.1k words Notes: Okay bitches here we go. I’ve got 3 kids doing online schooling, a desk chair that just broke while I was halfway through typing this out, a raging headache, and couldn’t be fucked to edit. I love you al, thank you for sticking with me and this little brain baby of mine. My guidance counselor from high school can suck my dick, “You’re not a creative writer, Cher, you should considering taking Home Ec as an elective instead” I digress....

Series Masterlist

"No." You glared at him and squeezed his hand harder, "You're doing that thing again.

Frankie's head whipped over to stare at you, shocked by your assertive tone.

"You're pulling away. You're stressed, out of your depth, don't know how to deal with it and so you're pulling away again-"

"You don't understand," Frankie interrupted you, shaking his head and trying to pull his hands out of your grasp. This only served to strengthen your resolve, and your grip on him.

"No." You declare again, trying to stay calm and have a mature conversation despite the tension and running emotions. "You told me to give you time to get your thoughts straight and vocalized. I can't do that if I'm not here to hear them. I can't understand your predicament if I leave. So," You moved so you're sitting cross-legged in front of him, making eye contact in an effort to show him he had your full attention. "Why don't you tell me what that phone call was about so we can start figuring it out, together."

The situation was more complex than you ever could have imagined. Frankie's ex-wife, Karla, had died. Her car had been hit by a drunk driver. Annie, thank the gods, hadn't been in the car at the time. Before she'd died at the hospital, Karla had managed to say a few words to the paramedics. At the time they didn't make sense, however, the paramedic had taken the time to write the words down and included the scrap of paper with the patient's chart. This evidence, as it turned out, had been monumental during the resulting legal battle for Annie, all of which took place without Frankie even being notified.

Child services, lawyers, extended family, and even doctors had been involved in the court proceedings. All arguing over the future of the six-year-old girl. All believing that they knew what was best for her, most believing that she should live with them, some having the gall to pretend that they weren't aware of the sizable life insurance payout she was about to receive.

Eight words. Eight simple, beautiful words whispered through the broken, bloody lips of a woman who knew she was about to die. A young girl's future was being held in suspense, and as fate would have it, a wise and sentimental judge was overseeing her case. Eight words were all it took to convince him that Annie's mother knew what was best for her own child.

"Francisco Morales. Trust with her, he's ready now."

From the time Frankie had received the phone call from Karla's family lawyer, the two of you had two days to prepare for Annie's arrival. Frankie worked his magic and erected a wall across the bedroom portion of his loft, allowing for the little girl to have some privacy but not feel like she was being closed in.

He had fretted for a least twenty five minutes over colour swatches at Hank’s Hardware before coming to the conclusion that he should leave it white and have Annie chose her room colours once she had settled in. He bought himself a new couch, as well, that would convert into a bed and serve as his bedroom for the time being.

The conversation you never had a chance to have with him was still in the back of your mind, but you understood that moving in together as a couple was hard enough. Moving in together with a kid neither of you knew, whose life had just been turned upside down against her will, would be catastrophic. Instead, you focused on being as much of a rock for Frankie as you could.

You made a trip to the city and bought girls bedding, some stuffed animals, and a few little decorations to help Annie feel like the new space was special for her. You also thought to pick up comfort food that a kid might crave, knowing that when you were six the best way to your heart was chocolate. Just before you left the city, a sign caught your attention and had you swerving to change lanes, normally you'd feel slightly bad about your obnoxious driving but today you just waved your middle finger at the rear window in a mock salute.

The flower shop had so many bouquets and you had no idea what kind of flowers the little girl might like. You also had the morbid realization that bouquets might remind her of all the flowers she surely saw at Karla's funeral. Just as you began to second guess yourself, a stand near the back caught your eye and made you smile.

The day of her arrival came quicker than you felt prepared for, never mind how Frankie must be feeling. He hadn't had too much time to worry about how having his daughter would change his life, but once the two of you were standing in his driveway doing nothing but waiting, the nerves had finally settled in. You could see deep, calming breaths he was taking as they condensed into little clouds in the freezing air.

Grabbing his clenched fist, you felt his fingers relax enough to allow your gloved ones to slide through them.

"It's going to be weird for everyone, she's probably nervous too." You weren't sure if the words were reassuring or not but nervous talking seemed to be your forte so you ran with it. "I mean, she's probably sad that she's leaving everything and everyone she's always known, excited about moving to a new place, then feeling bad that she's feeling another emotion besides grief. It can be hard to juggle loss and hope. Just show her how much you love her and be honest about why you couldn't be with her before. Kids are smart and are aware of way more than adults give them credit for."

A few moments later a black sedan slowly crept up the driveway. You wanted to stay, to meet the little girl but had the feeling that Annie and Frankie were going to need time to figure out their relationship without another person in the mix. Suddenly having a new parent was going to be hard enough on the little girl, you were afraid that she might see you as trying to replace her mom and push you away.

Rubbing Frankie's back for one last show of reassurance, you kissed his shoulder then took a few steps back. You figured this was the best way to be there to support him but also staying in the background for the time being. Before the car could fully come to a stop, the rear door was flying open and, in a blur of movement, a little body was flying out of it towards Frankie. You know how people will say that there are times in their lives where important moments fly by so fast they barely have time to enjoy them? Well, this wasn't one of them.

As Annie barreled her way towards Frankie, you saw in slow motion how his handsome face went from being creased with worry, to eyebrow raised shock, to breaking out in a teary smile. He had just begun to crouch down and open his arms in anticipation of holding his little girl when instead she ran right past him and locked herself in one of the sheds.

Time continued to move in slow motion, making it all the more heartbreaking watching your boyfriend's face crumple, the tears of joy turn to tears of pain as he recovered from his initial excitement and realized that his child didn't want to see him.

Tiny, muffled sobs broke the moment and brought time, and the horrible situation, back into focus. The Child Protective Services worker who had accompanied Annie from California was calling apologies to Frankie while running after the little girl, trying not to slip in the snow in her hurry.

You wanted to go to him, to lend him some form of comfort, but you were also aware that some types of grief don't appreciate witnesses. Deciding to stick around and be helpful in the background, you made your way into the loft and started making coffee and sandwiches, foreseeing a longer stay for the caseworker than initially thought.

Nearly forty minutes had passed before you emerged again with food and drinks on a tray and the two adults were still talking to Annie through the cracks in the door. She had stubbornly refused to come out, demanding that she be returned to her home at once and that she hated snow.

Once you had set down the tray and cleared the snow off a picnic table, Frankie thanked you with a kiss to your temple and introduced you to Sharon after he convinced her to take a break from the negotiations. Sharon, who had been with Annie since the day of the accident, began filling Frankie in on what had happened to his daughter in the past month between sips of coffee. He was given a folder with notes from child psychologists, doctors, a letter from her maternal grandparents, and a journal Sharon had kept that described the ways Annie had been processing her grief.

While they talked, you decided to walk over and sit next to the door of the shed, laying a wool blanket down to protect your butt from the cold. You had no idea what to say to the girl but you figured she might like to be reassured she wasn't alone. Settling down, you dug into your own sandwich and hummed quietly to yourself.

You nearly choked on your next bite when you heard a soft voice singing along with the tune you'd chosen.

"Lavender blue, dilly dilly. Rosemary Green, if you are king dilly dilly, I'll be your queen."

After you'd repeated the song twice more, you stopped the tune and said softly,

"I've never heard those lyrics before, they're different from how I learned them."

A long pause followed, making you worry that you'd offended the child back into silence.

"How do you sing it?" Came the sweetest little voice, made all the more adorable with the barest hint of a lisp.

"We always sang, 'Lavender green', for one. Which never made any sense to me so I really like how you did it-"

"Yeah, cause lavender is another name for purple," she interrupted you with a matter-of-fact tone, "saying it's green is just weird!"

"Hmmm, it might be different," you conceded, seeing the opportunity for a lesson. "But either way you sing it, it's still a really pretty song, isn't it? Things can be different but it doesn't mean one is only good and one is only bad. Each version just had different good things."

Annie went silent again but this time you didn't worry about it, you knew she was thinking about what you said and needed time to apply it to what was happening right now. You eventually heard the shifting of metal and the creak of wood and had to will yourself to sit still and calm. The way you had let her approach you had worked so far, jumping up out of excitement could possibly erase all the progress you'd made so far.

Your patience was rewarded when Annie stepped out of the shed and lowered herself so that she was sitting on the blanket right next to you. Turning your head just enough to see her in your peripheral, you noticed how dull her eyes looked. Her hair was a mess and her skin looked pale for a kid who had been living under California's sun.

"My mommy is dead."

The way it was stated as a fact, with very little emotion, broke your heart. She was so little, so young, and so unable to fully grasp what kind of future had been ripped away from her.

"I know, I'm sorry that that happened to your mom."

"That man is my daddy." She was pointing at Frankie now, who was still engrossed in his conversation with Sharon.

"He's a pretty lucky guy to have you."

"That's the lady who has been taking care of me, she's been nice."

You were a bit out of your comfort zone with the conversation but there was no way in hell you were going drop it so you cautiously trudged on. Maybe verbalizing relationships and titles was helping her process?

"I'm very happy to hear that you've been staying with someone nice. Your dad is a really nice person, too, ya know? You should see the nice bedroom he's set up for you! I even helped him bake you an apple pie. Do you like apples? Or pie?" Her eyes went wide and a spark of happiness suddenly lit her face, making her appear more childlike than before.

"Is this an apple farm?" She practically squealed. “Like in My Little Pony?!”

Her outburst had finally drawn the attention of the other two adults, who were now only realizing that Annie had exited the shed. Frankie's heart skipped a beat at the sight of his two girls, beaming at each other. The twinge of jealousy from knowing that it had been you to draw her out was quickly squashed by how proud of you he was. He had been a little worried, although he hadn't voiced it, that his kid wouldn't take kindly to having a woman around but those fears were obviously for naught.

Part Fourteen

#Frankie Morales x fem!Reader #Frankie Morales x f!reader #Francisco Morales x fem!reader #Francisco Morales x f!reader #Frankie Catfish Morales x fem!reader #Frankie Catfish Morales x f!reader #fix'er upper #Frankie Morales #Frankie Morales fanfiction

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extasiswings · 3 years

Text

In my defense, I really didn’t have more ideas, but @elisela was yelling at me for last night’s finale-spec fic and said “What’s next, Christopher’s POV?” and...well. Anyway, more finale-spec.

Christopher Diaz knows that his dad has a dangerous job.

He notices when his dad comes home from work with scratches or little burns and goes for the first aid kit, he’s stayed awake before at least once because Carla got a call that his dad needed to spend the night in the hospital for “observation” after getting hurt on a shift.

Buck got his leg crushed by a ladder truck. Christopher knows that wasn’t supposed to happen, isn’t something that’s likely to happen again—but it did. And maybe that wouldn’t happen again, but something else could.

Cars crash. Earthquakes can make buildings collapse.

Tsunamis hit.

So. Christopher knows his dad has a dangerous job.

The day his mom died, he was in school, sitting in science class when an aide from the office came in and whispered something to the teacher, then to Carla. They all looked at him, but wouldn’t meet his eyes. That was how he knew something was wrong.

Today, it’s an online school day. And he’s in English class. Carla said she would watch him since she’s visiting—she’s in the kitchen making lunch.

The phone rings. Carla answers.

Christopher hears her gasp. Something shatters.

He knows—at least, he’s pretty sure he knows. His throat gets tight as he turns the camera off the classroom zoom and walks over to the kitchen doorway. Carla is still on the phone, listening. Her face is ashen, but she tries to smile when she catches sight of him—it doesn’t work.

“Don’t come in, sweetheart, there’s glass,” she says gently.

“Is that dad?” Christopher asks.

Carla’s lips press together for a moment before she sighs.

“It’s Buck.”

Buck. Which means something’s wrong, something happened, because Buck is working, he wouldn’t be calling in the middle of a shift unless—

His pulse is too fast, his body flushing uncomfortably the way it gets sometimes when he’s about to cry, but he doesn’t want to cry, he wants to know—

“What happened to dad?”

“Buck?” Carla asks into the phone. She waits for a response, then carefully steps around the shards on the floor to hand Christopher her phone. “He knows more than me, baby. I’ll let him tell you.”

Christopher swallows around the lump in his throat as he presses the phone to his ear.

“Buck?”

“Hey, buddy.” It is Buck, but his voice sounds off—strained and a little choked like he’s sick or—

Or like he’s been crying.

“Buck, where’s dad?”

Buck clears his throat. “He’s in the hospital,” he replies. “He’s, um—he’s in surgery.”

“What happened?”

There’s a pause that stretches on long enough that Chris wonders if he should repeat himself. But finally, Buck exhales shakily.

“Do you remember what your dad told you about how he got that medal of his?” Buck asks.

Christopher nods as he chews on his lip.

“He said he got hurt trying to save someone. He got shot.”

“That’s right. Well, this was—it wasn’t exactly like that, but it was a little. He was trying to save someone and—and someone else didn’t like that, so he hurt your dad. And now the doctors are working on him.”

Christopher chews his lip some more as he takes that in.

His dad would tell him it’s okay to be scared. That he can cry if he wants to or yell or have a breakdown. But he doesn’t want to do any of that, he just wants—

He just wants his dad. He needs his dad. He can’t—

“Last time,” Christopher manages, “last time, he was fine. He got shot, but he was fine. So—so he’s with the doctors, but he’ll be fine this time, too. Right?”

A sound comes over the line, a little muffled like he wasn’t supposed to hear it. It’s nothing like anything he’s ever heard from Buck before—small and hurt and broken—and that’s what scares him. Because Buck is the strongest person he knows after his dad. And he also knows—even if nobody has said it—that Buck loves his dad. So for Buck to sound like that—

“The doctors are doing everything they can,” Buck replies. “But we won’t know anything for a few more hours.”

Buck doesn’t lie to him. Buck doesn’t make promises he can’t keep.

Which means—which means his dad might not be fine.

Christopher sniffs and rubs at his nose. This time, when his eyes blur, he lets the tears spill over.

“Buck?” He asks. “Do you—do you have to stay at the hospital?”

“...I—I guess not. Not technically.”

Christopher swallows hard again. “Can you come home? Here. I don’t—I don’t like the hospital.”

Another long pause. Another muffled sound.

“Okay,” Buck agrees finally. “Okay, yeah. I’ll—I’ll come home. And we can wait together.”

“I love you,” Christopher says. Because it feels important. It feels like Buck should know.

“I love you, too, kid. And so does your dad. I’ll be there soon. Pass me back to Carla?”

The glass is cleaned up when Christopher goes back to the kitchen. He hands back the phone.

Maybe half an hour later, Buck’s key turns in the lock. He barely even says hello before he’s hugging Christopher so tightly he can barely breathe. But Chris doesn’t mind. He hugs him right back.

And they wait together.

#chapel writes #911 fic #christopher diaz #finale speculation #I'm fully aware I'm going to hell but also we've been deprived of eddie and christopher and the three of them together #so I'm just gonna sit here and feel some things about eddie getting shot

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arctickat2400 · 3 years

Text

Shock & Fear <> Dom Toretto & Luke Hobbs

* Note #1: When I say “dads”, it means that my mom in the story had two husbands at different times. She married Dom and had me, then they got divorced; she found Luke, they got married, then she died. I am very close to both of them in the story. They’ve had their differences in the past, Dom and Luke, but after my mom's death, they overcame those to give me a better life. They became best friends. All three of them live together so neither dad has to be apart from me. Sorry, this fic might be a tad bit confusing when it comes to Dom and Luke. Everything should be explained in the story.

* Note #2: I replaced all the “dads” with their names so it’s not confusing for y’all. In my version which I write on Google Docs, I have them as “dad” with their names in parentheses so I know who I’m talking about.

* Note #3: Based on a dream I had (Early Morning of August 18, 2021) made into a story. No joke, Dom, Luke, and Letty were in my dream, it was great, except for the weird dude in my car.

* * *

Driving to our beach house, I look and see my dads working in the shed on Dom's Dodge Charger… again. Him, Tej, Roman, Letty, and Brian went racing again, and of course, he wrecked it again. I wasn’t surprised, it happens a lot. Doesn’t mean I’m any less concerned everytime it happens.

It made me happy, though, seeing them working together, laughing and having a good time. It didn’t used to be this way. Once mom and Dom had me, I was about 8 when they got divorced. I’m glad they lasted that long, but I hate that they didn’t last. But once Dom found out mom married Luke, the universe granted him a second chance. Dom found Letty and dad had never been happier than with her.

Naturally, my dads had their differences in the beginning. But, once mom died, they overcame those differences to make it easier on me. That was almost 10 years ago. Now, at 19 and living with the best dads and the best family I could ask for, it’s not a bad life. Living by the beach, taking online courses, going out with friends, Dom teaching me how to race, which has become my favorite thing ever.

I pull into the driveway, walking over to my dads, exchanging greeting smiles.

“Hey, baby,” Dom says as I walk over to give him a hug, receiving a kiss on my head. “Hey, sweetheart,” Luke adds as he gives me a hug with a kiss on the head as well.

“How long have y’all been working?” I used to live in the south, so the slang and accent sorta stuck.

“Couple of hours. Thought we’d take a break and grab a beer.” Dom commented, leaning forward against his car.

“Speaking of, I know you just got back, but do you mind going out to pick up a few things while we finish up here?” Luke requested hesitantly.

“Yeah, sure. Just text me what you need and I’ll be back soon.” I give my dad's both kisses on the cheek before walking back to my truck after watching them walk inside the house. I fiddle around through my backpack looking for my keys when I get a text from Dad, the grocery list.

I finally find my keys in the mess that’s in my backpack, but as my eye catches something, no, someone, I drop them. I don’t recognize them, never seen them before. He’s walking on the other side of the road, but it seems like he’s changed his mind about where he’s going and he starts to cross the road. I’m curious, but also scared. It looked like he was coming towards me. I pick up my keys and struggle to unlock the door in fear once I see the gun in his waistband. The guy walks faster as I open my door, jumping in. I fumble trying to get my key into the ignition before thinking about locking the car first, but I was too late. The guy opened the door, jumped in next to me and slammed the door, making me flinch.

“Um… sir, I think you have the wrong car,” I said, taking a chance, surprised my voice could create any words.

“Just drive,” He yelled. I immediately started the car, backing out of the driveway and driving towards the grocery store. He didn’t tell me where he wanted to go, but I did as he said and drove, afraid to say anything else in fear of being yelled at again, or worse.

Only a short way left to the grocery store, suddenly, the guy told me to turn around and head back to the house (Don’t ask me why; it’s just what happened).

Everything was a blur and somehow, we were already in the house. Walking around inside, a knife held to my neck, he brought me out the back door and towards the shed where my dads should be. I didn’t see them anywhere; however, when I looked back at the sudden loss of pressure against my neck, they both stood there across from me, the guy on the ground; dead or just unconscious, I’m not sure.

I ran to Luke, rushing into his embrace as his arms wound safely around me. He held me for what seemed like a long time, but I didn’t mind. I never wanted to leave this safety and comfort. I pulled away soon after and rushed to Dom, his arms wrapping around me, his hand laid on my head, holding me against his chest.

“It all happened so fast,” I cried, everything around me a blur of tears.

“Shh… baby, it’s okay.” Dom told me, brushing his fingers through my hair. “You’re here, we’ve got you.”

I pull away once again and look to see Luke shoving the guy into the back of his LAPV.

“I’ll be right back, sweetheart. I’m gonna take him in and be right back in time for everyone to get here,” Luke mentioned, holding my face in his hands, stroking my cheeks comfortingly.

“But, I didn’t get the groceries,” I was so shaken up that I started crying again over not getting the groceries. Every Friday, we have a cook-out and all our friends and family come and hang out.

“Baby girl, it’s okay. I got it. Stay with your dad and I will be right back. Take it easy.” He placed a kiss on my forehead as he hopped into his car and drove off. Dom took me into his arms and led me inside. He grabbed me some water, checked me over for any injuries and settled us outside on the porch overlooking the ocean.

Time Skip

I walked around outside, seeing all our friends and family, even some of their family. There were so many people, it was all so chaotic. Everyone was talking, catching up. Every now and then my dads would check on me, even if it was just a glance in my direction, just making sure I’m okay.

Suddenly, there was a weird tingling feeling in my throat and my eyes started to sting. My breathing went shallow and next thing I know, I’m falling, hitting the ground, and everything goes black.

I hear my name being called. “Y/N!” Luke calls. I barely open my eyes as I see him and Dom rushing towards me.

“Y/N, baby, can you hear me?” Dom asks, distressed. I feel myself being picked up and I open my heavy eyes once more to see Luke carrying me in his arms, laying me down on a porch chair.

The doctor of the family just said I was in shock and that I needed to rest. So, my dads carried me upstairs, laying me down in bed, covering me in my favorite blanket, and kissing my head. Dom stayed with me while Luke went down to tell everyone what's going on before coming back up to stay with me as well.

After today, they didn’t want to leave me. I didn’t want them to leave me either. Everywhere they were, I was. If they were working in the shed or the office or kitchen or on the porch, I’d be with them, working on my classes or drawing or reading or doing whatever it is I like to do. If I wanted to go down to the beach, they’d come with me. That family bond we always have just got stronger, making me feel safer than ever when I’m with them.

#fast family #fast and furious #dominic toretto #luke hobbs #letty ortiz #tej parker #brian spilner #roman pearce #dom x daughter #luke x daughter

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dinsrose · 4 years

Text

Vurel Ner Cyar’ika

Hi everyone! This is my first Din Djarin one shot. This probably has horrible grammar so please look over any grammar or misplaced words. Fem/Reader and Din.

Warnings: Smut, Slight Language, I think that is all the warnings?

This is a fluffy one shot that turns smutty because I am filthy. There is some Mandoa in this, so use the Mandoa dictionary online if you need help. A little story about Din and female reader “getting cozy in the cockpit”

Read here on Archive of Our Own https://archiveofourown.org/works/29884965

Hyperspace is so beautiful. You have concluded that your favorite sight in the whole galaxy is the reflection of the stars on Mando’s helmet. You could watch it for hours and hours. The beautiful, twinkling streaks as they flash upon the shiny beskar armor. There have been many times you have fallen asleep to the sight of it. It is just so…calming. Hyperspace is also wonderful because of the peace and quiet it creates. You have never experienced anything else in your life creating this type of quiet. Everything around you seems to go still, and lull you to a peaceful, humming sensation.

You must be staring for too long this time. Suddenly, you hear, “What are you looking at?” in a deep, modulated voice.

Oh no, he caught me. You think to yourself as you snap out of your trance. “I was just- “, you stutter. “I was- “, you go quiet as you hear a light chuckle come from under that damn mask. The most beautiful sound you have ever heard. You start to giggle back because of the pure ecstasy his laugh has created inside you.

“Gar cuyir copikala”. Mando says with a slight chuckle. He pushes a few buttons on the Crest dashboard and swivels his chair around to face you.

“You know I don’t understand you. What does that mean?”

“If I wanted you to know, I would tell you.”

“How do I know you aren’t cursing me out or something?”

“I would never, Cyar’ika” he says with sincerity in his voice.

You spend a few moments in silence just taking each other in. Well, you know you are taking him in. Who knows what he is thinking under there. He is so unreadable sometimes. It makes it exceedingly difficult to read a person when you can never see their face. This does not stop you from being head over heels in love with him, though. There is just something about him that has always mesmerized you.

“How about I teach you?” he suddenly says.

“What? Teach me what?” you question.

“How to fly the Crest. You have wanted to for months now.” He says while placing his hands together in his lap. He starts to fidget with his hands, you’ve noticed in the months you have been with him that this is a nervous habit he holds.

“Yeah, I have, but now that you offer it, I’m a little scared.” You say as you look back at him. He stares back at you without saying anything. It starts to make you a little uneasy. Was that rude? “I mean…I just don’t want to crash your ship…Mando.” You say as you try to backpedal your last sentence.

He seems to consider it for a minute before finally settling on something to say. “I trust you.” He continues looking at you waiting for a response. He...trusts you? That small statement alone is enough to make you melt in your seat.

“O-Okay…sure.” You say with hesitation. Mando stands up and swings his hands down pointing towards the pilot seat. You stand up hesitantly and take a few steps toward the seat. As you sit down in the seat, you can still feel the warmth of his body lingering there on the leather. You swivel the chair around facing the windshield and slowly put your hands up onto the steering bar. Suddenly a pair of leathered hands come down over yours. They push your hands back from the steering bar. You shudder at the contact.

“No, Y/N, that is not the first thing you do when taking off in a ship.” He says as his hands stay over yours.

“If I am ever to learn to trust you with flying my ship, you need to know how to do it from start to finish.” he continues.

His whole body is right behind the seat…painstakingly close. He is big enough that his arms are coming around either side of you to hold your hands in place. It makes you nervous. Your breath hitches in your throat and you try to remember how to breathe.

“You first want to check all the systems. Make sure they are running.” He waits a moment before continuing…hands still on yours. “you would start by flipping these switches up in this order. This gets the engines going”. He slowly starts to raise your right hand with his. Is he trying to make you hyperventilate ? He places your hand on the small switches just to the right of you. “Left engine. Right engine. Thrusters…”

His voice turns into a blur after that. All you can seem to focus on is the feeling of his warm, strong hands on yours. How badly you wish he did not have those leather gloves on. How badly you want to feel his skin. You would never disrespect his creed, but damn , you just really want to touch his skin.

That is why you almost lose it when you notice he is starting to trail up your arm with his hands. Not in a way he needs to. Not in any way that is necessary to show you something about flying this ship. It is too slow, too soft. He has not even made it to your elbow before you take in a loud, quivering breath.

He yanks back so quickly you almost whimper from the absence of his touch. “I-I’m sorry…I thought…I- “he starts stuttering as you whip the pilot seat around to face him. You also notice his hands come together to do that cute fidgety thing he does when he is nervous.

“No! It...it’s ok. You didn’t...do anything wrong.” you exclaim. You realize you probably sounded desperate with how fast you shot that sentence back at him, but you didn’t care. The Mandalorian you have been in love with for months was just trailing his fingertips across your skin. You felt like you were floating in hyperspace somewhere.

Having a surge of bravery shoot through you, you grab his hands and place them back on your arms. You both go quiet for what seems like an eternity, waiting for one or the other to make the first move. You start to think he is never going to react when suddenly; he starts to slowly move his hands even farther up your arms. You sit, frozen in your spot, afraid to lose his touch again. You notice his breath starts to pick up under his helmet.

His hands slowly make their way all the way up to your shoulders. He really takes his time letting them sit there a minute, like he is afraid of what he is about to do. He starts to move again, dragging his fingers up your neck and around to your cheeks. He cups your left cheek with his right hand and holds it there a second. You push your cheek into his palm and close your eyes. You cannot believe this is happening, whatever this is. “Mando” you breathe out in a small sigh.

“Din” he says quietly.

“What?” your eyes flutter open. “What did you say?”

“My name is Din. Call me Din” he says. His thumb starts to slowly caress your cheek as he holds his hand there.

You are overcome with some emotion you have never felt. He just told you his name, his real name! Din…it suits him. It is so simple, yet so beautiful. “Din” you test the word out on your tongue. “I like that. Thank you.” You say as you start to smile.

This moment right here, you want to live in it forever. His thumb caressing your cheek, you flooded with an emotion you can only describe as pure ecstasy, stars you have got it bad. You look at him in the visor, trying to focus on where you think his eyes would be, and get another surge of bravery. Maybe you are so giddy with whatever emotion it is you are feeling that you have lost your mind. You don’t care, though. All you want right now is to feel his skin.

“Take off your gloves, Din.” you say quietly. He seems to consider this for a moment. His thumb stops caressing your cheek as he stands there with the request dangling in the air between you. Finally, he gently pulls his hand back from your face. He brings his other hand up to grab the fingertips of his glove.

He pulls his glove off while never moving his helmet away from your face. The glove drops to the floor with a thud as he moves his hand back to your face. He hesitates right in front of your cheek before slowly connecting his hand with your flesh. You both let out a slow shudder as he makes impact. Stars , his hands are more perfect than you could have ever imagined. How can something be so strong and so soft at the same time?

He starts caressing your cheek again with his thumb. After a minute of this, you turn your head into his palm and gently press your lips against his thumb. You plant small, soft kisses down the length of his thumb to the palm of his hand. He lets out a staggering breath as he freezes. You continue to plant small, soft kisses all over his hand.

“Ner cyar’ika” he says in a sigh. He pulls his hand back right as you are starting to plant a kiss on his wrist. “My beautiful, Y/N” he says as he pulls off his other glove. He stops for a minute like he is considering his next words carefully.

“I want to kiss you, Y/N” he starts to bend his knees as he lowers to your level. His helmet stops right in front of your face. Your heart starts to beat rapidly in your chest. Is this really happening? Is the Mandalorian you have been in love with for months now asking to kiss you?

“I want to kiss you, but you can’t see my face…so I would have to blindfold you. Would that be okay?” He says. Your mouth goes dry. All the thoughts in your head seem to drain from your body. All you can seem to focus on is how close his body is to yours, and the word yes echoing in your brain. You want more than anything for him to kiss you. Blindfolded or not, you would give anything to taste those lips.

You shake your head quickly trying not to seem as desperate for him as you feel. He wastes no time standing up and walking to the other side of the cockpit. He rips a piece of fabric from the curtain hanging above the doorway. He quickly walks back over and wastes no time bringing the cloth up to the front of your face. He wraps the cloth over your eyes and wraps it around to the back of your head, tying a secure knot. You gulp as you suddenly become extremely nervous. Stars .

You sit there waiting for a painstakingly long time before two bare hands grab yours. Your hands are slowly being brought up to touch the sharp base of cold beskar. His helmet . You get a grip on the base and hold your hands there a moment before you realize what he is wanting you to do. He wants you to take it off. You hesitate for a moment before continuing.

“Din, are you...are you sure this is okay?” you ask hesitantly. “I don’t want to do anything that will...you know...break your creed or...something.”

You are at a loss for words. You want to take off his helmet, but you also respect him. Stars, you have never wanted anything more in your life. Now that he is offering up the opportunity, though, it makes you a little hesitant.

“I’m sure,” he answers. “I... want to kiss you.” he adds with emphasis.

That is all it takes for any hesitation you have to leave your mind. You start to slowly lift on the beskar as your heart starts picking up. You pull until you feel the tension give way, which means it is completely off his head.

You realize how vulnerable he is in this moment. How you could easily lift your blindfold and destroy his whole world. Of course, you wouldn’t, but the realization hits you like a ton of bricks. He is putting a gun in your hands and trusting you not to pull the trigger. The thought almost makes you melt. Does he really trust you this much? You lower the helmet down until it is safely on the floor.

You reach back up wanting to touch his face. At least you can memorize him with your hands. As soon as your hands touch flesh, you hear the most heart shattering intake of breath come from his lips. Touch . He has never experienced it. You start to feel around. You feel the rough patch of a slightly grown out beard as your hands travel around his jaw. You move your fingers up until they touch an extremely soft pair of lips, and right above them, a mustache. Of course he has a cute little mustache.

You notice how shaky his breath has become as you are doing some exploring. You move your hands even farther up. You make your way over his nose, and bring your fingertips up gently over his eyes. You can feel how long his eyelashes are as you hold your fingers there for a moment. You keep traveling up until your fingers become tangled in soft, thick, wavy hair. You can feel the soft curls as you move all the way across his head to the base of his neck. What color is his hair? You bet it’s brown. Seems so fitting for him.

As if he cannot stand another minute, you feel him move closer. Suddenly, you feel a hot breath slightly blowing against your lips. You stop breathing when you realize how close he is. Something soft and warm slightly brushes against your upper lip, only for a fleeting moment, and then disappears as quickly as it came. His lips. Before you can form a thought, his lips crash back onto yours and you cannot help but release a small sigh into his mouth. Stars , his lips are so soft, and why does he taste so good. His tongue brushes against your bottom lip asking for entry and you open your mouth slightly to let him gain entrance. He can do whatever he wants.

Suddenly the kiss becomes desperate. You both start grabbing at each other and getting as close as you possibly can to each other. He lets out a soft moan into your mouth and you almost lose it. He runs his hands up the back of your head and grabs a handful of hair, pulling your head back slightly. His lips leave yours and travel to your chin. He plants a small kiss on your chin before making his way to your throat. The kisses on your throat are not gentle as he moves his lips to the bottom of your neck. He stops so quickly you almost whine from the absence of his mouth on your skin. Why did you stop?!

“Y/N, I want to…I-I want to touch you” he says while breathing heavily. You notice how smooth and unmodulated his voice is. The sound distracts you so much you forget he was asking your permission to- “Y/N?” he asks.

“Yes…please” you say without any hesitation. He wastes no time grabbing at the bottom of your shirt and pulling up in one swift motion yanking it off your body. You feel the cold air hit your chest. He draws in a quick, sharp breath as he takes in the sight of your naked chest.

“Mesh’la” he breathes out. “Gar cuyir mesh’la”

You have no idea what he is saying, but you love when he speaks to you like this. You start to become self-conscious when you realize he can see you in all your naked glory, but you cannot see him. This damn blindfold. You are suddenly very aware of all the little things that make you feel bad about yourself; the little tummy roll you have at the bottom of your stomach, the weird way your boobs hang down, the little red eczema bumps on your belly. Before you can think you are starting to cover your body with your hands. Suddenly, a pair of hands are grabbing at your wrists and holding your hands steady.

“Don’t hide yourself, sweet girl. Not from me,” he starts. “You are the most beautiful thing in the entire galaxy to me. I want to see you. All of you. Every little perfection and imperfection. It is all perfect to me. Never be embarrassed of yourself, cyar’ika.” You feel his lips connect with one of your wrists and they slowly start making their way up your arm. “So…damn…perfect.” you hear him say between kisses. “Perfect girl, never seen something so…beautiful.” As he reaches your shoulders.

You almost melt in your seat. Nobody has ever made you feel so…so perfect. Din already has his hands at the waistband of your pants before you can think another thought. In one slow motion, he tugs your pants down slowly with one hand, while lifting you up with the other.

Thank Maker for my small frame. He pulls your pants down to your ankles taking your underwear with them. Din stops for a moment and you realize he is probably looking at your fully naked body.

You hear him make a sound through gritted teeth that almost sends you over the edge. You also notice how much heat is starting to radiate from your warmth…and how wet you are. Both of you are breathing very heavily. Both caught up in the heat of the moment.

Suddenly before you can do anything at all, a pair of hands are grabbing at your hips hard. He yanks you from your upright position in the pilot seat and pulls you down. He pulls you down until you are almost laying down in the seat with your center pushed up at the edge of the seat on full display.

“Din what are you-oh… fu-fuck ” you breathe out when you feel a warm tongue press gently against your folds. You let out whine and throw your head back. You have never felt something so good in your life. He starts to let his tongue explore every inch of your center. You let out small, whimpered moans as you struggle to keep yourself from moving too much. He slowly slides his tongue up until he lands right on that perfect spot.

“Din…please…right there” you breathe out. He does exactly as you say. He starts to work his tongue around on your sweet spot as you spiral into bliss. Right when you think it cannot get any better, you feel his finger touch your entrance. You gasp and jerk so hard he puts his other hand on top of you and holds your body down to prevent further movement. He slides his finger into your entrance while keeping his tongue right there.

“Holy… FUCK ” you breathe out as you throw your head back. He starts to slowly pump his finger in and out of you while moving his tongue against your aching center. You start to feel a raging heat building up in your lower stomach. It starts building up so much pressure you think you are about to black out, when suddenly, he stops.

You hear some shuffling around and start to wonder what he is doing. You are about to ask before you suddenly feel something hard and warm rub up against your thigh. Oh. His cock. You feel him put both hands on either side of your head as he leans in close to you.

“Are you…okay?” he breathes out. “I mean…do you want me to stop? Is this okay?” he says out of breath. He pauses waiting on you to answer.

“Yes…I don’t want you to stop” you reply. You realize you probably sound desperate, but you don’t care. All you want is to feel him inside you. Before you can form another single thought, you feel him line up at your entrance. You feel him slowly start to push into you. You let out a loud moan from the sensation. He is so thick . It feels like he is ripping you open…but it feels so good. You must have been too loud when you moaned because he brings one of his hands up and holds it over your mouth to silence you.

“Don’t wake up the kid.” He growls. Since you can’t make eye contact because you are blindfolded, and you can’t respond now because his massive hand is covering your mouth, you do the only thing you can…you nod. He starts moving inside you at a slow pace, so slow it almost kills you. You cannot make any response except reach your hands up and twist them into his damp hair. He lets out a grunt in response and starts picking up his pace.

“You like this, sweet girl? You like me fucking you in my seat…in my ship?” His words almost send you over the edge. The pressure in your stomach is almost unbearable. The inability to do anything but lay there and take his cock while he is ripping you open is honestly the best feeling you have ever experienced. “So perfect…my beautiful girl.” He praises as you lay there. He pounds into you until finally…you are almost there…building…building...and finally… it rips through you harder than anything you have ever experienced. You scream into his hand as the pleasure waves over you.

“That’s it beautiful…just…nyagh…just like that” he says in the most soothing voice. He continues pounding into you as you come down from your high. He removes his hand from your mouth and stops moving for a second.

You get a surge of bravery and take the opportunity to sit up in the chair. You don’t know why, but you want to be the reason he comes undone. You want to cause his orgasm, not him using your body to get there.

You grab him by his shoulders and stand up. You start to spin him around and sit him back in the chair. Before he can even process what you are doing, you climb up onto his lap and position yourself on top of him.

“Fuck, cyar’ika” he breathes out.

You slowly lower yourself back down onto him and you both let out a gasp. Why is he so fucking thick? You start riding him at a good pace and the pleasure takes you over once again. He reaches his hands up and cups them around your breasts as you continue to move on him.

“Beautiful girl…just like that. So fucking perfect. You feel so good.” You start to pick up a faster pace as he takes his hands from your breasts and wraps them around your back. He pulls you against him and buries his head into your neck. He kisses at your throat roughly as you start to feel that pressure fill your stomach again. He sucks at the delicate skin so hard you know there will be marks.

He slides a hand up the back of your head and into your hair. He yanks a handful of hair hard. He forces your head back to get better access to your throat. “Now everyone will know whose girl you are” he breathes into your neck as he continues sucking.

You start to get sloppy with your pace as you feel your orgasm about to rock through you again. Din must notice. “That’s it…cum for me sweet girl.” And that is what sends you over the edge for a second time. You start to let out a scream and Din clamps a hand over your mouth once again to silence you. You ride out your high, slowing down as you start to become weak. You slump forward onto him and wrap your arm around his neck with his cock still inside of you.

Din suddenly picks you up and starts to move forward. You wrap your legs around his waist not wanting to fall. Your back is suddenly slamming into a cold, metal wall. Din pushes you against the wall as hard as he can and instantly slams his cock back inside you. You bite down onto his neck to keep from screaming. He starts pounding into you with no mercy. He is absolutely destroying you and there is nothing you can do about it. Your feet are still around his waist and he is pounding into you with your back pushed against a wall.

“Stars, you feel so good ” he gasps. “Pretty little thing…you like this?” he asks, but you can’t speak. You can’t do anything. You are too overwhelmed by how good he feels. He starts to get a little sloppy and you notice the layer of sweat that has accumulated on his body. “Where…where do you want it?” he spits out. “Hurry”.

“Inside me…safe” that is all you can manage to squeak out. He keeps pounding…pounding… pounding…until finally, he grunts and spits out your name with a growl. You can feel him emptying himself inside you as he starts to slow down his thrusts. He continues to make the most beautiful sound you have ever heard him make as he rides out his own high. He holds you there against the wall for a few minutes while the sound of his and your heavy breathing fill the cockpit of the Crest.

Finally, he moves. He leans his head down and gently bites on your chin. Not a long bite, a soft, playful nibble…before bringing his lips up to yours and giving you a long, soft kiss. He pulls back from the wall still holding you up and starts to walk towards the ladder. You have no idea how he is able to do this, but he holds you against his body with one hand and climbs down the ladder with the other. When you reach the bottom, you think he is going to drop you when he lets go of you for a split second. Your feet touch the floor only for a second before he is swooping you up in his arms bridal style. You are still blindfolded, so you don’t have a clue what he is doing. You feel him stop for a second and hear him turn the shower on. Oh.

He stands there for a second letting the water warm up before he is setting you down slowly in front of the shower.

“I think it’s warm enough for you. I will shut the door on my way out. Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yes…I- “you stop before you say something you regret. You want to tell him how much you care about him. How much you have cared about him since the moment you met him. You want to reach out and touch his face again. Just one more time before he slips back into that helmet for who knows how long.

“I know.” He says. He reaches up and puts both his hands on either side of your face. He pulls you close to him until your foreheads are touching. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum” says softly while planting a kiss on the tip of your nose. “Vurel Ner Cyar’ika” he says softly.

You do not know what he is saying, but deep down you know that he is expressing his feelings for you. You know…that this is the beginning of your forever.

Picture of Y/N and Din 😉 drawn by @pascal-istheway

#din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #din djarin fluff

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css1992 · 4 years

Note

I absolutely love all of your stories and was hoping to give you a prompt! I haven’t seen you write Tony or Peter as superheroes, but I would love a story where the team goes on a mission that goes wrong and they think Peter is dead. A few months pass, and Spider-Man pops up in a different color costume next to a big baddie (Quentin? Rumlow? Whoever it is def has a crush or Peter lmao). If you can’t write the prompt, no worries.❤️

(...)

“Thank you so much for taking my prompt omgggg! To answer your question, Spider-Man pops up as a baddie, and he works with/for another baddie”

You’re too sweet and kind, my dear, thank you so much! I’m so sorry this took so long, something happened in my personal life and I was too heartbroken for love stories for a while there hahaha Everything’s fine now. I hope you’re still out there to read this and I really hope you enjoy it! <3

[*]

This takes place a few years after Civil War. A few details were changed – Peter was recruited at 18, while attending MIT; Endgame never happened, they defeated Thanos in Titan; Tony and Pepper never got back together after their break-up somewhere between IM3 and CACW.

TW: Mentions of blood, alcoholism, grief and death. I guess that’s it, let me know if you find anything else triggering!

[*]

“It’s him.” Tony stood there paralyzed, staring at the hologram projected from Nat’s phone, heart pounding, ears ringing. “It’s him,” he repeated, running his hands through his hair, trying to get a hold of himself, trying to make sense of what was happening, of what he was seeing. It was too surreal – impossible! – he had to be hallucinating. Right? Maybe dreaming? Had he drunk himself into a stupor again? Had he finally gone mad?

It was a regular day, Tony had been down in the lab for an unknown number of hours when Friday announced Steve, Nat and Bruce were at the door, which was unusual. Usually, they’d visit one at a time, an unspoken agreement not to overwhelm the engineer, but that particular day they all marched into his house saying that he needed to see something. He was too exhausted to tell them to fuck off, so he just poured himself a drink and shrugged, gesturing towards the living room.

Nat proceeded to project a video from her StarkPhone and what he saw took away the ground from beneath his feet. He tried to sit down, but he didn’t make it to the couch, his legs were not responding, he fell on his butt in the middle of the living room. The blood felt like ice in his veins, his throat was closing up, his eyes were burning and his hands were shaking so fucking badly. He was boneless and petrified all of a sudden, as he watched him swing from building to building on his webs, a black and white blur.

Peter.

He felt Steve and Bruce on either side of him, trying to help him up, but he didn’t take his eyes off of the projection. It was him. My Peter, you’re back, you came back to me, you’re okay, you’re alive–

“Tony, it’s not him.” Steve’s voice brought him back to the real world, and he looked around. Natasha and Bruce both stared at him with worry in their eyes, like they agreed with Steve.

“What, are you fucking insane? Of course it’s him!” His voice was firm, angry, even though his hand was shaking when he pointed at the hologram, to the short video that kept replaying on a loop.

“Tony, he robbed a bank. He put civilians at risk. How could you think this is Peter? Are you insane? Don’t you know him? Look, we had to show you this because it’s going to be all over the news soon and whoever this is, they’re trying to tarnish Peter’s memory and we can’t allow it, but this – this isn’t him, Tony. I’m sorry.”

The older man stopped for a second, taking a deep breath. Was he going insane? Was he seeing things, was his mind playing tricks on him again? It wouldn’t be the first time in the last few months. He focused on the images. The bank’s alarm was sounding loudly, as people started running wildly out the front door. Seconds later, someone wearing a cape and a – helmet? Fish bowl? – on their head walked out, then finally him.

Not him, Steve said, but how could it be anyone else, when Tony could clearly see it was Peter gracefully swinging around on the webs. Not him, Steve said, but how could it not be him when Tony recognized every inch of his body? The long neck, the narrow, yet strong shoulders, thin waist, round ass, strong thighs, small feet, long hands and thin, wiry arms. How could it not be him when Tony could recognize the way he moved, the way he leaped and landed effortlessly, the grace with which he swung back and forth?

“It’s him, Steve.” Even as the words left his mouth, his eyes were fixed on the boy in the video. The suit looked a lot like the one Tony made for him, but it was slightly different. Black, instead of blue. White, instead of red. But it was him. Alive and breathing. “It’s Peter, I know it is.”

***

It was supposed to be an easy mission. Even though it called for every Avenger in town, it was just a security measure, Steve told them. They intercepted a terrorist group communicating online, planning a coordinated attack on Stark Tower, the Avengers Compound and Times Square. They were professionals, but only human. They thought they’d be enough: Captain America, Black Widow, Iron Man, Spiderman, Winter Soldier and even the Hulk as a safety net.

In a way, they were sufficient. They were able to avoid the attack and arrest almost every single one of the terrorists that weren’t killed during the mission. But the cost was high – way too fucking high.

Peter.

Tony knew what happened the exact moment when it did. He knew there was no saving him when he opened his lips and tried to call out his name and instead of words, blood came out. Thick, dark blood. He saw the life leaving his eyes when he looked at him one last time, eyelids drooping and then closing. There was no saving him, Tony knew that, and yet he tried. He flew as fast as the suit would allow him, even though he had no idea what he would have done if he had reached him in time. Which he didn’t.

Peter disappeared before his eyes, along with the man who had put a knife through his heart. And not just any knife, not any metal would have been able to pierce the suit. It had to be vibranium. Whoever that man was, he knew that, maybe he had Peter in mind all along. The only thing Tony remembered about him were his wide, blue eyes. Cold and wild. The sadistic smile when he heard Tony’s wail of despair. Tony thought he knew him somehow, but couldn’t be sure.

They just disappeared. One second, they were there, right within his reach, the next, they were gone. He’d lost him. The person he’d sworn to protect at all costs, at the cost of his own damned life, but he was useless the moment Peter needed him the most. Gone. Disappeared before his eyes, Tony couldn’t even bring his body home.

He remembered crumbling to the ground, broken and unbelieving, staring at the empty space where Peter once stood.

“Tony...” Steve crouched down next to him, looking pained and devastated, and the older man broke down.

“I lost the kid, Steve. I lost him.”

He didn’t remember a lot of that day, he’d passed out drunk in his room for the first time in ten years, woke up hours later in the med bay with Steve, Rhodey and Pepper speaking in hushed voices. He didn’t care what they were saying, because the first thought he had when he opened his eyes was that he’d lost the love of his life. His Peter.

***

“Boss, I was able to acquire the footage from the bank’s security cameras.” Friday’s voice brought him back to the present and they all jumped up, all eyes turning to the huge screen facing the couch.

“Good girl, play it,” he answered quickly, taking a seat because he knew he would need it.

It started with a normal day in a bank, people walking around, standing in line, talking to each other, nothing out of the ordinary. Then the guy they’d seen leaving the bank in the other video – Fish-bowl-guy – appeared out of nowhere, levitating above the patrons, slowly floating down.

“My fellow citizens, do not fret, I mean you no harm.” Of course, New Yorkers wouldn’t take his word for it, not after everything they had gone through over the course of the last decade. People started screaming and running, trying to get to the exit, but Peter stood there by the door. When they tried to push through him, he webbed some of them to the walls and the others froze, slowly stepping away from him. “This will all be over soon, I promise.”

Fish-bowl-guy demanded the tellers filled bags with money from their drawers as Peter guarded the exit. He didn’t say anything and it was driving Tony crazy, because he was dying to hear him. Both because he wanted Friday to run the audio through a voice recognition software to prove once and for all that it was him, but also because for six months he hadn’t been able to even look at pictures of Peter, let alone hear his voicemails or watch his silly videos. And he had several of them, the younger man sent him at least a video a day – his daily vlogs, he called them – even if they were just in different rooms.

But Peter didn’t say anything, he just stood by the door as Fish-bowl-guy talked to the patrons.

“I know we seem like the bad guys right now, but I promise you, we’re not. We’re the heroes here, really,” He started, overlooking the tellers as they filled the bags with cash. “We’re here to take the city back from those who took it from us. You know what I’m talking about, right?” The man looked at the patrons as if he was expecting an answer, but no one said a word. “Tony Stark and his little army. He took over his daddy’s empire, now he thinks he can just take anything and claim as his own. He’s done it to this city, even if some people haven’t realized it yet. We’re his hostages. He built himself an army and they control this city, the country, even! They fake threats and then come to ‘save us’, they destroy our homes, they kill our loved ones, they don’t care about collateral damage! Some of us have lost everything, because of Tony fucking Stark and his minions. But it will all be over soon, I promise you. I will set you free.”

He took the twelve bags full of money that the tellers placed on the counter and gestured for Peter to come closer and the young man webbed his way to him, until he was standing by his side. That was the moment people started running out of the bank, the moment they saw from another point of view in the other video. As they watched people leaving, Fish-bowl-guy placed an arm around Peter’s shoulders, pulling him close in a very friendly way, it made Tony’s blood boil and his heart sink.

“You’re doing great, honey. You’re doing the right thing. Come on, now.” He stroked his shoulder softly then walked outside, followed closely by Peter and then the video was over.

The room was silent for a few seconds after that as they tried to understand what they’d just seen. Tony didn’t want to read too much into it, Peter was clearly not in his right mind if he was robbing a bank, but still – the guy called him honey. He was… comforting him. And Peter let him.

“We have to find him.” Tony quickly ordered Friday to do a thorough search on the web, check surveillance cameras all over New York, police database, anything that could give them a clue on where they might have escaped to – or where they had come from. The news said they were followed by the police for a few blocks, then they simply disappeared before their eyes. It brought back terrible memories.

“Yes, we do, but not for the reasons you want, Tony.” Bruce frowned, coming to stand next to his friend. “You have to agree this – it’s just not possible. Peter is dead, he would never –“

“Then where’s his body, Bruce? Huh? Can any of you answer me that?” He looked around the room and they all avoided his gaze, as if worried they’d break him if they dared to say what they thought. “He disappeared. Right before my eyes, Bruce. Friday couldn’t connect to Karen, we have no idea what could have happened after that.”

“Tony, his heart was pierced.” It was Natasha’s turn to try. Tony could see it was hard for her too, she had a soft spot for Peter, from the very first time Tony recruited him, when he was still an eighteen year-old kid. “He couldn’t possibly –“

“He was enhanced!” He yelled, annoyed they were all so ready to discard the possibility that the person in the video could be Peter when it very clearly was. “Is! He is enhanced! I was never able to measure just how far his healing factor went, Friday could only estimate with the amount of information we had at the time, but clearly–“

“Tony, listen–“

“No, you listen! You listen to me, okay? That’s my fiance! I’m telling you this, that is the man I love, the man I sworn to protect and then abandoned for six fucking months assuming he was dead, when I didn’t even try to look for him! I just fucking drank my days away when I could be looking for him and now he needs my fucking help! So you can either help me find him, or you can fuck the fuck off, ok?” He was breathless by the time he was done, and they all looked at him like he’d gone insane for good.

“What do you suppose happened?” Steve asked quietly, and Tony frowned. “What do you think could have happened in these past few months that would turn Peter into that?” He pointed at the screen. “If he was alive this whole time, why not look for you?”

“I don’t know, Steve, we’ll have to ask him.” Truth was, Tony was terrified of the answers to those questions. He couldn’t think about it at that moment, he had to find him first. “What happened to Barnes? You of all people –“ He didn’t need to finish the sentence, couldn’t. He sighed and Steve flinched, eyes growing wide as the familiarity of the situation seemed to dawn on him. “Do you think you could’ve mistaken him for someone else? Ever?” Tony’s eyes were burning, but he didn’t shed a tear, he didn’t have time for tears. He needed to find him.

Steve was stunned silent after that, watching Tony with huge, watery eyes.

“Tony, we just don’t want you to get hurt,” Bruce intervened again, approaching him carefully. “We don’t want you to go through the pain of losing him again in case...”

“It’s doesn’t get any worse than this, Bruce,” Tony sighed, because he knew that nothing could hurt more than the thought that he’d failed Peter. That he didn’t try to look for him. That Peter had been held captive by a fucking terrorist organization for six months because he was too drunk to get out of bed and fucking try to look for him. Because he just lost hope and never thought Peter might be out there, waiting for him to come, to save him. “There’s nowhere else to go but up, from where I’m standing.”

Nobody said anything else after that, but later that day he got a message from Steve saying they would find Peter.

***

He was in the hospital for three days after Peter’s death. He was a fifty-year-old man with a shitty heart, after all. He was sedated for most of it, whenever he woke up he was so out of his mind with grief that they put him right back to sleep. When he was finally able to go home, he insisted he was left alone, but to calm Pepper and Rhodey down, he activated Friday’s babysitter protocol. It was Peter’s creation. It would let them know if Tony wasn’t eating well, or if he harmed himself in any way. If he tried to deactivate it, it would notify them immediately.

So he was left alone, at least most of the time. He spent his days in the lab, drinking, working, crying, thinking. The memories came and went unsolicited, specially when Tony was too out of it to control them. Suddenly, he’d be back in the boy’s dorm room in Boston, looking at that ridiculous onesie that he hid in a box of books under his bed, watching him stutter as he tried to explain it was just a cosplay.

“A cosplay of some dude who does stunts on Youtube?” Tony raised a brow, amused, and Peter’s face grew red as he scrunched up his nose and frowned in annoyance.

“He’s not some dude doing stunts, he – he’s helping people!” He argued, taking the “suit” back from Tony’s hands and stuffing it under his tiny bed, before sitting on top of it.

“Sure, if you consider doing back flips for the camera helping people, then Spider-boy is doing great,” Tony shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets nonchalantly, only to watch him grow even more irritated.

“Man! Spider-man! And I don’t just do back flips, I– He...” He stuttered and Tony took pity on him. His expression softened and he sat next to him on the bed, feeling the tension coming in waves from him as he muttered a quiet “fuck” under his breath.

“Peter, I know. I know. Okay?” He clasped a hand on his shoulder and the young man looked at him with huge, round eyes. Scared. Unsure. “I’ve been watching you for years. Your secret is safe with me. I’m not here to expose you.”

“Then why are you here?” He raised a brow and Tony took a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts.

“I kinda picked up a fight with Captain America about signing some papers and then he met this friend who was supposed to be dead, like, eighty years ago, but is somehow alive and possibly a mass murderer? Now I need all the help I can get to fix it.” He winced and watched the boy’s face for his reaction, but he just raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

There was silence for a few seconds as Peter looked around the room, then back at Tony.

“So when do we leave?”

That was the thing about Peter. He trusted Tony blindingly, he never asked too many questions before jumping headfirst into whatever the older man proposed him. No matter how crazy, how inconsequential, how inappropriate. So he wasn’t too surprised when the boy said yes when he asked him out.

They had just arrived at the compound after Strange teleported them back from Titan, they hadn’t even showered yet, they were both covered in bruises and blood, but he looked at Peter and couldn’t help but think he could have lost him. They could have died, and he would have died without knowing the answer to the question that had been sitting at the back of his throat for months by then, which was–

“Yes,” Peter nodded, a faint blush taking over his dirty and bruised cheeks, and Tony blinked a few times.

“Don’t you want to think about that for a minute?” He asked, tilting his head to the side, and Peter frowned.

“Um, no? Why?”

“Because you’re twenty and I’m twenty-seven years your senior, kid.” It was terrifying to say that out loud. Peter was twenty. Tony was forty-seven. Twenty-seven years separated them. Tony was full grown man when Peter was swimming around in his father’s testicles.

“You just asked me out, you can’t call me kid anymore, I’m sure that’s written in some rulebook somewhere.” Even though he was still blushing, he found it in himself to be sassy and annoying. Tony rolled his eyes playfully.

“Fair enough. So, should I call you later?” He pointed over his shoulder, signaling that he was going to his quarters to shower and rest for a few hours. Peter frowned.

“For what?”

“For your answer? About that date?” Peter just looked at him like he’d asked the most stupid question ever.

“I just said yes.” He said, raising an eyebrow, and Tony sighed.

“I thought we agreed you’d think harder about it.”

“Uh, no, you just chickened out for a second there, but my answer is still yes.” He shrugged with a playful smile on his lips and Tony gawked at him.

“I didn’t chic – ugh, you’re such a brat.”

“I’m sure brat is off-limits, too.” He winked, walking away towards his quarters.

Tony worried about their relationship – as did everyone else, specially their close friends and May. Peter was so young and, to make matters worse, he sort of worked for Tony. Ever since Germany, the older man paid him a hefty salary for being a part of the team – he was always on call, after all, and always trained at the compound whenever he was in New York.

But as it turned out, his worry was unnecessary. Although young, Peter was mature beyond his years and acted more like an adult than Tony did most of the time – they sort of met in the middle. As for the power imbalance, it actually felt like Peter was in control more often than not. It was subtle, though, Tony only noticed because Rhodey pointed it out once.

“That kid’s got you wrapped around his little finger.” He laughed into his beer bottle as he watched Peter walking away. Tony blinked, having a sip of the tea the younger man had just brought him. Peter was dead set on getting him on a healthier diet and tea was somehow involved. The young man insisted it would help with his sleeping schedule, so Tony just agreed, even though he thought most teas tasted like dirty water. “If he says jump, you ask how high.” Tony was going to argue, but then stopped himself. He tried to think of the last time he’d said no to Peter, the last time he’d denied him anything, but not a single memory came to mind. “I’m not judging, it’s a good look on you. Whipped boyfriend.”

Tony noticed, then, that he was. Whipped, that is. Peter was always telling him what to do – gently, of course, and always with his best interests at heart. And he listened, because, as it soon became apparent, Peter was usually right about most things. Tony was more practical, he was in charge in the lab, what with decades of experience over him, as well as in the battlefield, for the same reason. But when it came to their personal lives, Peter called the shots. And it was fine. It was good. He felt loved and cared for like never before and he loved it. He loved Peter.

But he’d lost him.

And he couldn’t help but feeling guilty. It was his fault, had to be. He was in charge out there. He was supposed to look out for him in the field, he was supposed to keep him safe, bring him home alive and well, but he couldn’t even bring his fucking body back. He had nothing left of him but terrifying memories of cold, dead eyes and bloody lips trying to call out his name.

Days and weeks and months went by, but he barely noticed, barely left the tower anymore. He was vaguely aware of people coming and going – Pepper, to check on him from time to time; Rhodey, trying to get him out of the lab; Steve, with constant reports on what the Avengers were doing, as if he cared; Bruce, with excuses about projects he was working on; and Nat, for unclear reasons. They never asked him to suit up, though, not for anything. Not in a Tom Ford three-piece, not in Mark L. They just let him be. Which was good, it felt good to be forgotten up there in the workshop, which used to be their favorite place in the world.

Over those three years they’d been together, Tony had taken Peter everywhere – and he meant everywhere. A boy who had barely left Queens before he met Tony got to see so may different cities, so many different countries, even if just for one night sometimes, just for dinner, before they had to get back to their hectic lives.

But they always went back to their favorite place, Tony’s workshop, filled with so many memories it sometimes felt like it was haunted by their ghosts. Both of them. Because some part of Tony must have died with him and sometimes, when he got distracted, he saw them. Specially on the floor by the couch, that was too tiny for the two of them and Tony kept saying he was going to buy a bigger one, but for some reason he never did and they always ended up on the fluffy rug on the floor.

“You feel amazing,” Tony whispered as his fingers enveloped Peter’s hips, pulling him down lower, and the younger man moaned quietly and smiled as the words left Tony’s lips. He leaned forwards to kiss him as rocked his hips in a slow, lazy pace. “You are perfect, my love.”

“If you keep feeding my praise kink like that, I’m not gonna last two minutes here.” He laughed quietly against the older man’s lips, who sighed when he felt the boy’s muscles tightening around him.

“I won’t complain too much about it.” He tightened his grip on Peter’s hips when he sat back up and started moving up and down in a way he knew would drive the engineer insane. “You’re gonna kill this old man someday, I swear.”

“I really hope not, I kinda like him a little.”

And their ghosts giggled together and disappeared into thin air, like dust in the wind, and only a half-dead Tony remained with a glass of whiskey in hand, staring at the rug on the floor.

***

Friday was monitoring the press and the internet for any sign of Peter, but there was none to be found. For the first couple of days, Tony was restless, but hopeful. Peter had been missing for six months, there hadn’t been any sign of him for all of that time, so the fact that he appeared out of the blue that day meant that something had changed. He was sure he would show up again at any second.

As days went by, though, his hope started to dwindle. He grew desperate by the hour thinking that he would have to go another six months without seeing Peter, perhaps even longer – perhaps he’d never see him again. Sometimes he wondered if he was wrong, if that wasn’t even Peter in the video, if maybe he was really dead after all, but whenever he watched the video again he was sure of it. It was him.

So he couldn’t help but think that he had to be locked up somewhere. It brought back terrifying memories of those three months he spent in that cave in Afghanistan and how he never really recovered from that – he still had nightmares about it, twelve years later. Peter had been gone for six months, seventeen days, four hours and thirty-three minutes. And counting.

He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, the only thing he could think about was Peter, and the cave, and Barnes’s sessions with BARF, and Hydra’s brainwashing methods. He drove himself mad with all the possibilities of what could have happened to Peter – what might be happening right at that second as he waited for answers.

He’d been awake for almost sixty-two hours straight when it happened.

“I think you should see this, boss.” Friday’s voice interrupted the loud music and Tony frowned as he raised his eyes from his latest project – a new suit for Peter, one so sophisticated and impenetrable, not even vibranium could pierce through it. Friday wasn’t supposed to interrupt him unless the world was ending or she had news about Peter, Tony was very specific about that, so, yeah, he was a little freaked out when he heard her voice.

She showed him footage of Stark Tower’s security cameras, Tony’s heart almost stopped when he saw the boy sneaking in through a window, along with Fish-bowl-guy.

“He’s here.” He whispered to himself, unable to move for a second. His first instinct was to run to him, but he couldn’t be irresponsible, there were lots of people in the building, he couldn’t predict what could happen, so he had to take a few precautions. “Friday, where’s Pepper?”

“Miss Potts is not in the building, she’s caught in traffic a few miles away, boss.” Tony nodded to himself, taking a deep breath, then he started moving.

“Evacuate the building immediately, but don’t cause a panic, I don’t want them to know I know they’re here. Call Pepper, tell her to stay away. Where are they headed?” As he barked out orders, he watched Peter climb into the vents.

“They seem to be heading to the mainframe, boss.”

“Revoke Peter’s access to the systems,” Tony rushed to the elevator, the mainframe was situated right below his penthouse, it took up the whole floor and there was no way in or out other than the elevators and the air vents.

“Done, boss.”

Tony’s heart was beating wildly in his chest, filled with mixed feelings. He was going to see Peter for the first time in six months, after he literally rose from the dead – he’d gone to his funeral, for Christ’s sake – but it wouldn’t be a heartwarming reunion. He knew Peter wasn’t himself. Something had happened to him and he wasn’t okay, he was worried about what might happen, but the anxiety to see him again in person after so long was stronger than anything else.

He activated Mark L and when the door to the elevator opened, the room was quiet. It was huge, the light was low and blueish, there were at list seventeen rows of processors from one end of the room to the other, and Tony knew that at the very back, in a corner, there was a computer. He walked down the aisles quietly until he saw them. Peter had his back to him, but there was no mistaking the line of his shoulders, his neck, the way he stood, his quick fingers flying over the keyboard.

“Peter...” It came out as a sigh, but it was loud enough for both of them to hear and turn to him. For the first time, Fish-bowl-guy had his helmet off and Tony could see his face – the same face that took Peter away from him months earlier. “You!” He stalked towards them, but Peter webbed his feet together. Tony could easily break it, but stopped in his tracks, he didn’t want it to escalate to a fight. “What are you doing, Pete?”

“How dare you talk to him, Stark! After everything you’ve done?” Those eyes were so familiar, but he couldn’t place them. Tony frowned, taking a step closer, breaking the webs around his ankles.

“What– Pete –”

“You revoked my access?” Peter asked, exasperated and nervous when the computer announced his access was denied. That voice. That sweet, honey-like voice...

“So it is you.” Tony took yet another step closer, reaching out to him, but Peter got into a fighting stance.

“Why did you have to do that?” To Tony’s surprise, his voice trembled, like he was actually hurt by that. His heart broke in a million pieces. “You used to love me, you said–“ He shook his head, taking a deep breath. “You leave me no choice.”

“Peter, please–“ Before he could say anything else, the younger man leaped at him and almost managed to rip the faceplate off his face as he sat on his shoulders and started pulling it, but Tony was able to grab him and throw him away, but not far enough to hurt him. He stumbled a few feet and got right back up. “Pete, what are you doing, just stop!”

“No! You stop, Tony, please! How could you–“ He came at him again, and Tony flew out of the his way, but was caught by his web around his ankle. Peter swung him and threw him to the floor, but Tony quickly got up. “Please, Tony, you –“

“Don’t talk to him, Pete, he’s gonna try to manipulate you! We have to kill him, there’s no other choice!” Fish-bowl-guy was typing furiously at the keyboard, but Friday was keeping Tony updated. He was good, definitely above average, but he probably wouldn’t be able to hack into his systems. “Once we’re done, we can’t let him live, Peter.”

“What the fuck is he talking about! Kid, it’s me, it’s me, what are you doing?” Tony tried to reach Peter again, but he shot webs at him, trying to tie his arms to his torso, which was useless. The engineer knew Peter was going easy on him, he was almost as strong as Mark L and if the suit he was wearing was anything like the one Tony made for him, it had an instant kill mode. Still, he kept trying to bind him, not hurt him.

“I can’t let you release Extremis to the public! Please, I’m begging you, let me help you, we can–“ Fish-bowl-guy grabbed Peter’s arm, pulling him away and shaking him.

“Peter, stop fucking around! He’s dangerous!”

“Don’t fucking touch him!“ Tony had had it with him, he charged his repulsors and was going to aim right at his head, but for a short while, the room went dark, then when the lights came back up, only Peter was there. He had his mask off and, for a moment, Tony was free to breath. For the first time in months, he could fill his lungs up with air because his beautiful face was right there in front of him, within reach. Alive, healthy.

And staring at him with hatred.

“You’re disgusting, Tony. How could you do that to me? You groomed me, you sick fuck, I was just a boy, you molested me!” He started walking towards him and Tony blinked in shock.

“What?”

“You’re a good for nothing piece of shit, you left me for dead months ago, didn’t even come looking for me, I bet you found some younger ass to fuck, didn’t you? You old perv.” Tony took a few steps back, heart beating loudly in his ears. He’d never seen such hate in his eyes in all those years they were together.

“Pete...”

“You came after me because you couldn’t find someone your own age who would put up with your crap, right? The drinking, the nightmares, the fucking panic attacks, I was so fucking done with it! All of it!” He couldn’t believe his ears, Peter – he would never talk to him like that. Right? Or was that how he felt the whole time? “Give me access to EDITH, Tony.” He demanded and Tony frowned. EDITH was an AI that gave its users access to Stark Industries's global satellite network along with an arsenal of missiles and drones. It was only supposed to be used in case of Tony’s death, Peter knew that. “If you want to redeem yourself, you’ll do it, and I might forgive you.”

“Boss, I think you should see something,” Before Tony could answer, Friday activated the suit’s thermal imaging and Tony frowned. Peter was not standing in front of him. In fact, he was nowhere to be found and there was nobody where he stood just seconds ago. First, he panicked, thinking he had disappeared again, but it just took him five seconds to realize what was going on.

“Where is this hologram coming from, Fri?” Friday deactivated the thermal imaging and Tony was shocked by how realistic the Peter staring back at him was. So realistic that only one person in the whole world could have made it: himself.

“There are five drones projecting images in the room, sir.”

“Take them out.”

In seconds, five tiny missiles were launched from his suit and the drones fell to the floor, lifeless, and suddenly the whole room changed. It was still the same setting, but it somehow looked more real then, and of course, Peter had disappeared.

“Tony? Tony, where did you go?! What – what happened?” He heard Peter’s voice on the other end of the room and he rushed to get there.

Peter was curled up in a corner, looking scared and desperate as he looked around him in confusion. The other guy was kneeling next to him, trying to comfort him again.

“Pete, whatever he showed you, whatever you saw, it wasn’t real. He’s using BARF!” He tried to approach the young man, but his eyes were wild as he shook his head. He pushed the other guy away but kept crawling backwards, away from Tony as well.

“Stay away from me, please, don’t come any closer. I-I don’t wanna hurt you, please, Tony, please...” He was still looking around like he didn’t expect to still be there.

“Why do you always have to ruin every-fucking-thing, Stark? Why do you have to stand in the fucking way of every single thing that I do?” Fish-bowl-guy got up and started marching towards him, furious.

“I have no fucking idea who you are, you fucking weirdo.” Tony aimed his repulsors at him and the guy stopped, laughing incredulously.

“You hav – you motherfucker! You think you’re a God, don’t you? Above everything and everyone, literally wrapped in wealth and technology you’re unfit to wield. Like the holographic system I designed. A revolutionary breakthrough with limitless applications, that you turned into a self therapy machine and renamed it BARF! My life’s work, Stark, and you renamed it BARF! I told you it was a mistake, that my technology could change the world and then you fired me. You said I was… unstable. Ring any bells?”

It clicked, then. The crazy, wild eyes, the hand gestures, the insane world domination plans.

“Beck.” No wonder Tony had forgot about him, the guy was brilliant, but completely insane. He helped develop the technology behind BARF, but once he started talking about weaponizing it, Tony decided to let him go. “I didn’t steal it, it belonged to me, it was my idea, I made you head of the project because I thought you could see it through, but your ideas for what it could be used for were clearly unhealthy and a fucking threat to the world. So, yeah, not sorry for firing your ass, I was clearly right. What even is your endgame here, Beck? What do you want?”

“These days, you can be the smartest guy in the room, the most qualified, and no one cares. Unless you’re flying around with a cape or shooting lasers from your hands, no one will even listen. Well, now I’ve got a cape. And lasers. With my technology and with EDITH, I will be the greatest hero on Earth!” He spread his arms and laughed like the madman he was, and Tony frowned.

“Yeah? Where are your lasers now?” The guy looked at him like he had just realized he had nothing. Peter was curled in a corner, too confused to act, his drones lay limp on the floor, and he had no way out of the room. “Better luck next time, asshole.” Tony wanted to kill him, he did, but he controlled himself and just knocked him over the head. He fell heavily to the floor and Tony turned to Peter, who was still looking at him like the whole world had been turned upside down. “Peter, baby, c’mon, it’s me, it’s Tony,” He tried to approach him, but he shook his head violently.

“S-stand back!” He panted, eyes flicking between Tony and the guy on the floor. “What’s happening, I don’t understand, I don’t… We were… Outside and you…You killed people, how…”

“It’s fine, it’s gonna be fine, I promise, just trust me, I will take care of you, I’ll take care of everything, I –“

“Stay away from me!” Peter got up and run towards the elevator, Tony had no choice other than shoot him with the tranquilizer he used on Bruce when he hulked out at the wrong time. He rushed to catch him before he hit the ground and carefully cradled him in his arms.

Finally, in his arms. Warm and alive, solid and breathing.

“I’m so sorry, Peter. For everything. I’ll make it up to you.”

***

Tony startled awake when he heard screaming. His heart almost jumped out of his chest and he was on his feet in a matter of seconds the minute he registered it was Peter’s voice. He was distressed, possibly hurt, so he flew to his side, but was quickly pushed away by nurses and doctors that rushed into the room and Tony remembered the last 24 hours, where they were and why.

“Tony! Tony!” Peter called as he gasped for air, and that was more than enough for the older man to force his away back to him, grabbing his shaking hand.

“I’m here, baby, I’m here, are you okay?” He asked in a rush looking into his wild, scared eyes, and the kid just looked back at him for a few minutes, blinking several times, before he nodded slowly.

“Are you – are you real?” He rubbed his forehead, panting, and Dr. Cho approached him to run a few tests. Peter had been out for a whole day after the Hulk-sized dose of tranquilizer Tony shot him with, even with his fast metabolism.

“I am. Do you feel that?” He brushed his thumbs across his cheeks and Peter closed his eyes, sighing and nodding slowly. Tony took his hands and pressed them to his own face, down his scratchy cheeks that hadn’t seen a razor in weeks, and Peter smiled. “It’s me, I’m here now, it’s over.” Tony explained to him as doctor Cho checked his blood pressure and his pulse, asked him a few questions, then once she was satisfied, she nodded.

“You’re okay, Peter. You just need a lot of rest, ok? Most of your wounds from the fight have already healed, but I’m going to keep you here overnight just to be sure, then you can go right home, ok?” He nodded and she smiled. “Welcome back.”

She left the room and silence took over for a second, but they still looked at each other, as if afraid that if the looked away the other would disappear. Nat had interrogated Beck and figured out his plan. The terrorist attack was an ambush, it was his goal to kidnap Peter all along, he knew he was the only person, besides Tony, who had access to EDITH.

He made them see Peter’s death as he kidnapped him with an illusion of Tony. He was holding Peter in a warehouse in Queens and the sad thing was, he didn’t even need anything to contain him. He kept him there with illusions. Peter thought he was at Stark Tower the whole tome, living with Tony as if nothing had changed.

Well, with a few changes. Beck’s Tony was slowly going mad, called himself Superior Iron man and planned to take over humanity by spreading a virus called Extremis 3.0. When Peter refused to help him, he was turned into a hostage. Peter was “Tony’s hostage” for months before Beck “rescued him” – by keeping him in the same warehouse, with different illusions. He managed to make him believe the Avengers were in on Tony’s plan and they had to stop them. The bank robbery was necessary to weaponize the few drones he was able to build after he left Stark Industries.

“How… How are you feeling, Pete?” He braced himself for the answer, because he knew it would be nothing short of horrible and he knew that whatever happened to him was his fault. The younger man bit his lower lip, frowned, and shook his head slightly.

“Confused. Scared.” He confessed, tearing up, but he kept holding Tony’s hand tightly. “Not sure if any of this is even real. If you are real.”

Tony could see that he meant it when he looked into his eyes. He was terrified. The older man took a deep breath and sat beside him on the bed.

“Do you remember our trip to Brazil?” He placed Peter’s hand on his own face again, kissing its palm. Peter nodded with a small smile. “Remember our last night there, on the hotel suite’s balcony? We had been together for, what, two, three months at the time? Remember what I said to you?” A tear ran down his cheek when he whispered yes. “I’m gonna marry you someday, kid.” Tony whispered back, joining their foreheads.

“And I said you couldn’t call me kid when you were making marriage plans.” Peter laughed wetly between tears, leaning up to place a gentle kiss on Tony’s lips, sighing in relief. “I should have known that could have never been you…” Peter’s hand slid from Tony’s cheek, to his shoulder, down his arm, until it reached the little cuts on his hands, the rough pads of his fingers. Peter took a deep breath, closing his eyes. “How long?”

Peter didn’t have to ask the whole question, Tony heard it, and he squeezed his hand.

“Six months.” He winced when Peter’s eyes grew large as saucers.

“Fuck... Fuck! Tony – I feel so stupid… I should have known, I should have fucking –“

“Hey, hey, don’t, don’t you dare blame yourself, you hear me? He fooled us all, Pete. The reason why I didn’t come looking for you before was because... For six months, I thought you dead.” He cradled his face in his hands and Peter gasped.

“Oh, God, Tony.”

“I saw you die, Pete,” He whispered, lowering his head so Peter didn’t have to see his tears. “I saw you die before my eyes. And I – I believed it, too. I never went after you, kid. I’m so sorry, I could have saved you, but I–“ before he could finish, he felt the boy’s fingers under his chin, lifting his head, and he was met with an equally wet face staring back at him.

“I’m here, now. And so are you. We’ll get through this together, okay?”

“Pete...”

There were no more comforting words to say other than his name. The name he hadn’t dared to say for so many months. He knew they had a long way to go, he could predict the sleepless nights, the nightmares, the anxiety attacks, the absolute terror of thinking of ever losing him again. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but they were going to do it together, they would heal together and relearn how to recognize each other blindly once again. One step at a time.

#starker #canon-compliant #sorta #cssprompts

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kittybellestark · 4 years

Text

Straightening Things Out

Part 2

Hey everyone so this is going to be a two part fic, tumblr told me I hit my limit soooo.

This is the long awaiting MayxSkip with Bi!Peter fic I’ve been talking about, idk how long a 2nd part will take but I already have a bit written, which is super nice. Uh, yeah, this is heavy stuff, so prepare your hearts, bc mine hurts

TW: homophobia, depression, self harm, homophobic slurs, eating disorder (?), abuse, sexual assault, thoughts of suicide, questioning sexuality, alcohol

He’s not sure how he got here.

Well, he knows, but he just doesn’t understand it.

A year ago Peter was trying to get May with Happy. It seemed logical and safe. May wanted to get back into the dating pool, and while Peter was hesitant about the idea of May being with anyone other than Ben, he felt like Happy could be a good person for her to be with. That was safe, controlled even.

Pushing for May to be with Happy seemed like the right step. Supporting May in her decision to start seeing people again also make sense. Now, Peter regrets it. He should have told her no. That he wasn’t ready or comfortable with that.

He doesn’t understand why he’s in the bathroom cleaning up his own blood. He didn’t even go out as Spider-Man. Peter hates May’s new boyfriend.

Skip wasn’t safe. He wasn’t very kind either. And there was just something about him bothered Peter. And yet when Peter tried to talk to May about it, the complaints weren’t heard or taken seriously.

May doesn’t understand that Skip is a danger, and Peter can’t really talk to people about this.

Six months ago…

“Hey Happy.” Peter smiles jumping into the black ‘inconspicuous’ Audi.

“Hi Pete.”

After a few minutes of talking the conversation finally turns.

“How’s your aunt.”

Peter snorts, rolling his eyes. “She thinks she’s doing great. Still with Skip, he lives with us now. May isn’t very happy that Skip and I aren’t getting along too well though. She thinks that I have a problem with seeing her with other men, amongst other things.”

“Sounds like you don’t like him. I didn’t even think that was possible, you’re like a lab.” Happy chuckled.

“I resent that. I don’t like a lot of people who I don’t need to disclose to you. I was just expecting her to get with someone else, someone who was less I don’t know, just less.”

“You and me both kid. You and me both.”

Five and a half months ago…

Peter and May were making dinner together, the radio was playing softly and Skip was sitting in the dining room, beer in hand, listening to Peter and May’s conversation.

“How was school, baby?” May asked.

Peter hums as he chops some carrots. “There’s a new transfer at school. From Tennessee, he even lives with Mr. Stark.”

May pauses mixing the stir fry they were attempting to make. She smiles at Peter an eyebrow raised, waving the spatula at him.

“Is he cute?” She asked in a song-song voice.

Peter rolls his eyes with a smile. He sticks out his tongue, flicking some water at May. Skip watches with a smirk on his face.

“Yeah, yeah he’s really cute. Blond hair, blue eyes, southern charm and he’s so smart too. And tall. May, he’s also like muscular too, his arms? He used to work in a mechanic shop where he grew up, he could probably bench press me without breaking a sweat.”

“Sounds like you have a crush!” May squealed pulling Peter into a hug.

“You have a crush on a man? Are you gay?” Skip huffed with a laugh.

“Bisexual, actually.” Peter deadpanned. “Is that a problem?”

“No, no, not at all. Just surprised.” Skip laughed.

Five months ago...

May was at work, it was just Peter and Skip at home. Peter was in his room, the door was closed over, and Skip in the living room watching a sports game and drinking some beer.

While this wasn’t the most common occurrence, it wasn’t necessarily uncommon either. Peter would stay in his room and do homework or play some sort of online video game with Ned, Harley and MJ, typically Minecraft but sometimes they chose something else. Skip would watch sports or the news, but never a reliable source, always the Daily Bugle or Fox News.

Today was supposed to be like every other time. Peter was supposed to be in his room and Skip in the living room. But then Skip was in his room with him. Peter felt uneasy. It just didn’t sit right with him having the older man in his room.

“I think we need to talk, Pete.” Skip said sitting on Peter’s bed, while Peter stayed sitting at his desk.

“Sure, what about?” Peter tried to sound pleasant and kind, doing this for May.

“Well, I’ve been trying to broach this subject with you gently, but May and I have spoken about how we can cure you.”

Skip had the decency to look somber. His shoulders hunched forward, frowning. His eyes held remorse and regret. It only seemed to enrage Peter.

“Cure me? As far as I was concerned I was perfectly healthy.” Peter couldn’t help but snort.

“Of your sin, Peter. You like men, and we know that we have to cure you of it.”

It felt like all of the air had been taken out of his lungs. His heart stopped and the world blurred for a moment before Peter shook himself out of it. He pushed himself up out of his chair trying to back himself up, away from Skip. This wasn’t right. This was really wrong.

“May accepts me. She said so. She’s always supported me and accepted that I’m bi.”

“She didn’t know how to tell you she didn’t. She was crying quite a bit. May just didn’t know how to tell you. So she asked me to help fix you.”

Skip got up from the bed, walking over to Peter, trapping Peter in. Skip put an arm on each side of Peter’s body, resting his hands on the wall behind Peter. Peter felt trapped, his eyes wide as he looked around unsure of what he could do. May and Skip thought he was sick.

“She can’t-“ Peter cried, tears coming to his eyes. He didn’t want to accept it. This couldn’t be happening.

Skip put a hand on his shoulder.

“She does, Einstein, but it’s okay because I’ll fix you.”

Peter sat at their usual lunch table, Ned next to him, MJ, kiddie-corner to him and Harley across from him. His leg was bouncing as they all ate, but he couldn’t do more then push his food around his tray.

“There’s nothing wrong with me being bisexual right? Like, I’m still normal, I’m not sick or anything for liking more than just women right?”

It used to be old-hat for MJ and Ned to have to reassure Peter that being bisexual is okay. It was just last year that Peter finally started to feel secure in his sexuality and not question whether he was normal or not. It just always felt like Peter was faking his attraction to other genders.

The group became silent with shock. None of them were prepared for Peter to have any insecurities about his sexuality, and it certainly wasn’t something that Harley was there to witness. It had been such a long time since he voiced this doubt. Ned and MJ gave each other looks, while Harley sat there starring at Peter slack-jawed.

“Sorry. I’ve just been in my own head recently. Bisexuality is valid and so am I. I know, I’m sorry, I just- what if I’ve been lying to myself this whole time? I’m sorry, I know I’m being silly.”

There was another moment of silence before Harley grabbed Peter’s hand.

“It’s not silly to question you’re own sexuality, Peter. Being bisexual is hard because people always try to invalidate you and tell you to just choose. It’s okay to be confused. Prefaces change from day to day and it is so confusing sometimes. We’re your people, we’re here for you no matter how you identify.” Harley smiled, something sad and soft.

Four and a half months ago...

Peter was trying to sleep. It wasn’t coming easily anymore. Skip and May were in the next room over. He should be able to sleep. But nothing felt right. Everything was always off, never normal, almost safe. It didn’t feel good.

There was the sound of footsteps in the hall before Peter’s door opened and closed. Peter tried to pretend to sleep, but the footsteps came closer to him then Skip’s hand was on his shoulder.

“Hey Einstein. I’ve got something for you.” Skip whispered, getting Peter’s eyes to open.

Peter pushed himself up and into the top corner of his bed, knees drawn to his chest. He really hated Skip. Hated his deep voice and pointy chin and crooked nose. He hated Skip’s receding hairline and beer belly. Peter hated Skip and everything about him. But mostly Peter hated that Skip and May knew there was something wrong with him.

Skip dropped some razors onto the bed. All loose and brand new. Peter looked at Skip like he was crazy. It was too late at night to register this.

“May and I were talking again. Anytime you have a sinful thought, any homosexual thoughts or desires just give yourself a cut. Obviously don’t do it in front of anyone other than me, but this should help bleed the faggot out of you.”

Peter gasped, eyes wide and shaking his head. He didn’t want to do this. Cutting himself was not something Peter ever wanted to start doing again. He got away from it, he recovered, and now the blades are being provided to him. Peter is being expected to cut this time.

“I can’t do that. Anything but that Skip, please.”

Peter didn’t realize the tears that were pouring down his face, or how hard it was to breath. If it wasn’t for Skip wiping the tears from Peter’s face, he probably wouldn’t have noticed.

“Hey, no, no it’s okay, Einstein, it’s not as bad as it seems okay, look,” Skip took Peter’s wrist slicing it a few times, just enough to bring up blood up before handing the razor to Peter, “See? Nice and easy. Now I’m not going to leave until I see you try okay?”

Peter nodded, bringing the razor down on his skin and breathing a sigh of release as he broke his own skin.

Tony dropped food in front of Peter, two burgers and fries, before sitting down beside him. They were finally watching a movie after spending time in the lab and now Harley would be joining them too.

“Kid, we’ve talked about your eating habits. You need to eat more than a regular person. I don’t like seeing you lose weight this fast. I just like to see you happy and healthy.”

Peter knew he should say something. The razor in his pocket wasn’t normal and he should tell Tony. And his need to cut every time he thought about Harley, or the need to cut when he realized he was playing into Skips hands. But Peter didn’t want to lose his little therapeutic treatment again. He could do better at hiding it this time, especially with his healing factor now. Peter could keep this.

It’s his little secret with Skip. Peter could keep it safe. It made him feel better, and that’s what everyone wants, right?

“Oh yeah, sorry, I’ve just had a smaller appetite recently, I’ll do better, promise.” Peter nodded with a smile.

At that moment Harley walked into the room, giving Peter a crooked smile, a blush painted across his cheeks.

Peter would have to cut later, for thinking about Harley like that, and for doing what Skip told him and also for scarring Tony. Peter deserved this.

Four months ago…

Peter and Skip were alone together again.

It seemed to become more common now. Or maybe Peter was just getting used to having Skip try and cure him. He hated himself for wanting it to work. Peter just didn’t like himself much anymore.

“Einstein,” Skip slurred, “are you still a faggot?”

Peter flushed with shame, nodding. Peter really hated Skip for making him feel like this. For feeling shame for being bisexual and wishing he were straight. Peter hated himself a lot. He just wanted to be better.

“Shame, thought I’d have you straightened out by now. May is going to be disappointed to know you’re still a homo. I’ll have to start getting more aggressive with your treatments.”

Peter shook his head. He was already so tired, and he just wanted to feel safe in his home. He just needed to do what Skip and May wanted and then they’ll like him. All Peter needed to do was be straight, no matter what. He’s doing the right thing.

“How much more?” Peter’s voice cracked.

“As much as it takes to turn you straight.” Skip smiled.

He now gripped Peter’s face in both hands, thumbs on his cheeks. Skip used the hold he had on Peter to bring him towards the bathroom doorframe- the only metal frame in the house.

Peter didn’t fight. He was doing this for May. May wants him straight and wants Skip to do it. Peter scratched at his legs, where most of the cuts were, hoping that would convince Skip from stopping whatever he was doing. But it didn’t, of course it didn’t. Why would it convince Skip, when he’s only doing what’s best for better?

With his hold on Peter’s head, Skip jerked Peter’s head into the doorframe, with enough force to make Peter forget how to stand. Peter was only being held up by Skip's grip on his head when Skip lifted up his knee, forcing it into Peter’s stomach.

Peter groaned with the impact and Skip let him go and Peter fell to the ground. He barely managed to catch himself, resting his forehead on the cool floor. There was barely a moment before an on slate of kicks were delivered to Peter.

“No,” Peter sobbed, “stop, please, stop, stop, you’re hurting me.”

It was another few moments before Skip stopped kicking him with a huff. Skip sat down on the ground, putting a hand on Peter’s shoulder to comfort the boy. Peter continued to sob, barely able to support his own weight to get himself sitting.

“Einstein, I just want you to know that I don’t like doing this. I don’t want to do this, but May and I agreed that I have to do this. I’m sorry Einstein, but it’s for your own good.”

Skip pulled Peter onto his lap, rubbing Peter’s back to bring him some comfort. Peter relaxed into Skip’s hold when he realized that there wasn’t going to be more pain. They sat there for a while before Skip finally stood up, as Peter’s sobs were finally ending, bringing Peter to his room and tucking Peter into bed.

“Peter I’m worried about you.” MJ said after Academic Decathlon practice.

Peter was wide eyed, holding his book bag in front of him, using it as a shield. His clothing that used to only be a little bit large on him, now swallowed him completely, his cheekbones were sharper and anytime his sweater moved a little bit, his collar bone was revealed to be protruding from his chest. Peter flinched at people who moved too fast and his skin was pale with dark bags under his eyes.

“I’m okay MJ.” Peter smiled, but his eyes were still empty.

“Are you cutting again? You’re acting like you used too. I don’t like seeing you lose your spark.”

MJ moved forward, grabbing Peter’s hands in her own. His hands were cold against hers and shaking slightly. Her head tilted just a bit as she searched for answers on Peter’s face.

“I’m not- no, I moved past that.” Peter lied.

He couldn’t tell her. He needed to cut. He needed the freedom it gave him, the relief. It was one of the only things he had anymore that he still enjoyed. By telling MJ, Peter would lose his sanity. Everything would be okay as long as he had a razor on him, as long as he got to cut his skin open.

But he should tell her. Maybe that would get everything to end. If he just told someone, maybe Skip would stop hurting him. Or maybe they’d push for Skip to continue on with trying to cure him. This was for the best, after all.

“Peter, you’re one of my best friends, okay? So if you were cutting again, hypothetically speaking, know that you can come to me, I won’t tell anyone. Not even May or my parents.”

Peter nodded, looking away from her, hating himself for lying and hating that MJ was trying so hard. It would have been so much easier if he just liked MJ instead of Harley.

“Look, look, MJ, see no cuts,” Peter rolled up his sleeves to show healed skin and no scars, “I promise, I’m just a little stressed out right now, don’t worry about me. I’m just focusing on myself for now, I’ll be okay.”

“Okay, well, when is the last time you ate?”

“Right before practice.”

It felt nice for Peter to actually tell the truth. He was eating almost as much as usual. Typically the same amount unless he had time alone with Skip. Peter was just stressed and sometimes couldn’t keep his food down, but he still ate more than enough. He should be able to keep up his weight, the weight loss just sort of happened.

Three and a half months ago…

May was working the overnight shift again. It was a school night so Peter was at the apartment with Skip instead of the Tower like he would be on weekends.

Peter was finally sleeping, well actually he was passed out from exhaustion, but it was still a sort of sleep, technically. Somewhere between Skip moving in and their ever-more-frequent talks “chats,” Peter started to lose sleep. He would stay awake later, slit his wrists longer, and on top of that the surprise beatings from Skip were really taking an affect on Peter. All except the desired affect.

Peter was still bisexual. He didn’t want to be bisexual anymore. He just wanted to be normal, straight. Liking men was wrong, Peter was wrong. May and Skip just wanted what was best for Peter. And this was what was best. Skip was just helping Peter. He was straightening Peter out. This was just want needed to be done.

Skip stumbled into Peter’s room. He saw that Peter was tucked in under his blankets deep in sleep and Skip couldn’t help but climbing into the bed too. He pulled the teen into his body, breathing in how Peter smells, nuzzling his nose behind Peter’s ear.

Peter woke up trapped in Skips arms. He panicked trying to get out, it was just like The Vulture dropping a building on him again. But this time it wasn’t concrete but instead a man. A man who was supposed to be in love with his aunt.

“Skip.” Peter whined trying to wriggle free.

The older man moaned, moving a hand down to feel Peter’s length.

“I didn’t realize that you’d rub off on me. You’re trying to turn me into a homo. Einstein, you’re rejecting your treatment and trying to change me instead, and I don’t tolerate this very much.”

Peter shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. His whole body shook with nerves, and he thought he was going to vibrate out of his body.

“Skip, I promise I’m taking this seriously. I should be straight, I want to be straight. Just like you Skip, I’m trying really hard to be straight. I promise, I don’t want to be a disappointment to you or May anymore.”

The older man laughed, holding onto Peter tighter. He ground his hips further into the teen, making Peter whine and squirm more trying to break free.

“Einstein,” Skip moaned, “You’re ass, I swear it’s a woman’s. Your such a fairy, Einstein. I could just imagine you as a woman, you’re hair at your shoulders, this great ass and a tight pussy, your tit’s would probably be smaller, barely a handful, but you’d be so cute. Too bad you’re just bent.”

Harley sat across from Peter, cheeks blushed, watching Peter carefully. Peter no longer felt that the freckles painted across Harley’s cheeks and nose were cute, and he no longer felt comforted by being in Harley’s presence. Now Peter only felt dread. There was no more warmth or the feeling of being safe.

Peter wasn’t attracted to Harley. He didn’t want to be with Harley, he was afraid of Harley. What Skip was doing was working. Peter was going straight. He wasn’t going to be bisexual anymore, he was only going to like women now. Peter wasn’t going to be a freak or a fag or a fairy or a homo or bent. Peter was going to be straight. Skip was fixing him.

“Peter are you okay? You’ve been really spacey recently.” Harley asked keeping his voice soft and cautious.

Peter smiled. It didn’t feel natural and probably didn’t look all that genuine, but Peter felt like he should be happy. He was happy that he this meant that May and Skip will not be disappointed in him. Maybe then Skip will like him. Now they can be a family

This is going to fix all of his relationships. People are going to like him better if he’s straight. He’ll only like women and be normal. It’ll solve so many problems for him.

“Yeah, Harls, I think I’m actually really good. Like, for real.”

Peter laughed, not one of his soft, bubbly and contagious laughs, the ones he was known for. Instead it was hallow and empty, self deprecating even. Harley’s eyes widened, suddenly more concerned for Peter than he’d been previously.

“Peter...” Harley sighed.

He reached out to grab Peter’s hand, watching Peter flinch back hard. Harley saw the moment Peter recognized what he did and how he tried to shake himself out of it, but he also saw how Peter moved to stay farther away from him.

“I’m good, Harls, really.” Peter nodded again.

“No, you’re not. There’s something seriously wrong. I’m going to figure it out. I’m going to make sure you’re okay.”

Three months ago…

Peter and Skip were finally alone. May had been on a stretch of day shifts and Peter’s friends were more persistent on having Peter go out with them during evenings. They were even tracking his food intake. The group was becoming obsessive over Peter now. And Peter was sick of it.

But now Peter was home alone with Skip. He could finally tell the man the good news. It’s been well over a week since Peter had and romantic or sexual feelings for another man. There’s only been fear, with any he looked at. Peter didn’t want to be attracted to men. Skip was curing him. May and Skip will finally accept him again.

As soon as May stepped out of the apartment Peter left his bedroom and sat down on the couch beside Skip. The man smiled at the boy, licking his lips before pinning Peter onto the couch. Skip groped at Peter for a moment, before pressing sloppy kisses onto his neck.

“No, stop, Skip I don’t like this.” Peter fought. “I just wanted to tell you that it worked. I don’t- I’m straight. You cured me. It worked. You and May don’t have to be disappointed in me anymore.”

Skip laughed. Loud and boisterous, pressing his weight down onto Peter. His hands moved up and down the teens frame, removing Peter’s clothes. Peter struggled harder, tears pouring down his face, sobbing out pleas to be let go. He tried fighting it, fighting Skip to keep his clothes on.

“You see Einstein, while I’ve made you straight, you’ve made me a fag. So this is going to have to continue, just a little until I no longer view your twink-ass as jailbait.”

Peter sobbed harder, trying to use his elbows to get away. Instead, Skip just pressed a hand into a patch of fresh cuts, forcing Peter’s vision to white out for a moment, that was just long enough to take off Peter’s underwear off.

“Skip, Skip no. No. I’m not. I swear, I didn’t make you like men. I didn’t do it. I’m straight now. You fixed me, I swear. You need to stop. You don’t want to go there. You don’t want this.”

Peter tried begging. He tried pleading, but he couldn’t stop Skip. It was too late. Skip had a plan and he wasn’t going to stop.

“Real funny that you think you know what I want, Einstein. This is for the best though, I promise, I’m doing this for you.”

It was movie night with May. Skip was out meeting up with his old friend was college. So it was just Peter and May. In their living room.

Peter couldn’t sit on the couch. Well, sitting in general wasn’t really working. So Peter just laid down on the ground, and May took the couch.

“Peter, I’m proud of you, you know that?” May finally spoke, halfway through Tangled.

“You are?” Peter didn’t anticipate his voice cracking, but hearing that May was proud of him? It was worth everything.

“Of course, baby. Skip told me that you let him help you, and I’m so proud of you for accepting help. He said that you’re problem was resolved with his help too. I’m so glad you two are getting along.”

Peter heard the words of confirmation that what Skip has been doing is what May also wants. She’s proud of him. She’s happy that Skip fixed him. May is glad that Peter is straight and that Skip turned him. It breaks Peter’s heart to actually hear it from May.

Peter never wanted to do it anyways.

And yet here he is. Having done it for her. He did this for May. To be accepted by May. So that he isn’t a disappointment in her life. And he isn’t happy. He’s not happy with himself, or Skip or May. Peter thought this would make him happy.

Peter wishes he born properly. Born straight. Born not wanting to harm himself. He wishes that the feeling that he needs to die never existed. Peter wishes he could be himself and be loved by his family. It shouldn’t have to be one of the other.

“Thanks.”

He tried not to choke on the acid rising up his throat.

Two and a half months ago…

It doesn’t stop. Skip doesn’t stop. His brain doesn’t stop. The fear didn’t replace the attraction like Peter originally thought. It’s just more confusing now.

Peter just wanted this to end.

Skip wasn’t going to end this.

Tony and Pepper had invited Peter, May and Skip over for dinner. Tony had made loads of his famous lasagna, and Pepper made a spinach dip appetizer and they ordered cheesecake for dessert.

All the adults seemed to be having a conversation together while Harley and Peter talked among themselves.

“I have an announcement.” Skip smiled at May, bringing the attention to himself.

“I asked May to marry me yesterday and she said yes.”

Peter was sure that this would be what killed him. Skip was his life sentence for whatever Peter did wrong. Skip was going to be his step-uncle, his new guardian.

Tony, Pepper and Harley congratulated the couple, and Tony patted Peter’s shoulder. Wine was brought out Peter couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m just, I’m going to the bathroom, I’ll be back.” Peter smiled pushing himself out of his spot.

“Hurry back Einstein, we’re gonna be a family, we have to celebrate together.”

Peter was going to be sick.

He nodded and left the room, shutting himself in the bathroom and throwing up.

This isn’t what he wanted. Skip can’t be there for the rest of his life. This was wrong. Everything about this was wrong.

One month ago…

Peter was sure Skip was going to kill him. Or use him forever.

Peter didn’t like either option.

“I don’t want them to get married.” Peter confessed.

Happy pulled the car over, turning in his seat to see Peter. The kid wasn’t looking very good, he reminded Happy of 2008 era Tony. It wasn’t a very good look on a kid.

“You feel like it’s too soon after Ben? Or is it because of how fast-paced their relationship has been?”

Peter had tried not to think about Ben since Skip moved in. He didn’t want to picture the look of disappointment Ben would give him. Peter didn’t want to think that he is a failure in Ben’s eyes. Ben would believe that Peter brought this onto himself.

‘With great Power Comes Great Responsibility.’

Ben always said that. And yet Peter failed. He gave away his power, and was completely responsible for where he is now. Peter did everything wrong and Ben would know that. He took his uncles advice, his dying words, and ruined them, broke them, tossed them in the trash and set them on fire. Ben would hate this Peter, and Peter knew that like he knew how to breathe.

“Oh, uh, yeah. I just- I don’t think I’m ready for May to be married yet. It just feels like Skip is trying to replace his spot. I don’t want the to get married yet.”

Happy nodded in understanding, trying to give the teen a small smile.

“Pete, no one is ever going to replace Ben. He was your uncle, your guardian, your parent, he raised you. Skip could never live up to that.”

Present day…

There’s blood.

Peter is in the bathroom cleaning up his own blood and he doesn’t understand how he got here.

Well, he knows how. He just doesn’t understand it.

And he doesn’t know where to start cleaning it. Peter doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. This was all horribly wrong.

Peter knew he couldn’t stay here much longer though. Skip had gone back to his own bedroom, after a rough ‘session’ with Peter. And now Peter is alone, and bleeding and he needs to get out.

Peter picks up his phone and makes a call.

“Hey, can you uh, come pick me up, I can’t stay here, I need, uh I need to get out of here.”

“Yeah kid, you got it. I’ll be there in half.”

“Meet me, uh, two blocks up from here actually.”

“You okay, Underoos?”

Peter hung up the phone.

He hoped in the shower hoping the water would get rid of the blood, hoping the soap would wash Skip away. And when that didn’t work Peter put on an oversized sweater and large sweatpants. Peter packed untainted clothing into his book bag and left through his window and down the fire escape, putting his hood up.

This was a mistake.

Leaving was a mistake. Skip was only doing what he thought was- no. No. No. Peter can’t go back.

He won’t live through this. Peter doesn’t want to live through this.

He scratched at his arms as he made it to the spot that Tony was supposed to pick him up.

Peter was going to be sick.

How could he let it get this far? Peter shouldn’t have let this happen. This was all wrong. Why is he relying on Tony to take him away. What if Tony agrees with Skip?

Peter coughed up blood.

New plan.

Go with Tony, make sure his stomach isn’t bleeding, once he’s good, leave. Go fast. Stay away from cameras. Go to Canada. Or Florida. Get out of New York. Go far. Somewhere where May and Skip won’t think he’ll go.

Tony pulls up and Peter hops into the car quickly. Tony doesn’t start driving right away though. Instead he looks at Peter, seeing the fear in the boys eyes, as well the way he is unconsciously scratching his arms.

“What’s happening?”

Peter shakes his head, tears filling his eyes.

“Please, just drive, I can’t be here. Can’t be in the city right now.”

“Is this drugs?” Tony asks as he starts to drive, hoping that Peter won’t leave. “I don’t care if it is, I can get you help.”

“It’s not drugs. It’s probably be easier if it was drugs. Honestly, I wish it was drugs. I can’t go home though, okay? Please don’t tell May.”

“Okay. We can do that for now but I will eventually have to tell her where you are so her and Skip don’t get worried.”

“You can’t” Peter shouted jerking upright and pushing himself further away from Tony. “You can’t. Skip can’t know. He’ll kill me, I swear, he can’t know, I can’t go back.”

Tony nodded, as Peter seemed to fall apart in front of him, hoping that appearing casual while driving will keep Peter talking.

“So we don’t like Skip, alright. Is there a reason why?”

Peter sobbed and Tony was tempted to pull over right then and there, but he knows that scaring Peter would cause him to run, so he needs to keep driving.

“He said he’d help. He did the opposite.”

Tony hummed, bringing them out of the city and towards the compound. Peter was rocking himself slightly, clearly uncomfortable. He started to cough, blood splattering across his arms.

“What the hell, Parker?” Tony said stepping on the gas.

“No Skip, Tony. Promise me, we don’t get him involved even if that means keeping May in the dark. You bring Skip into this then I’m leaving. Okay?”

“Jesus, yeah, okay, promise. We’ll keep him out of this, I got you. No Skip, we don’t want him, I got it Pete.”

Peter nodded, feeling relief wash over him as he was finally in a safe spot. He was out. He was out of that god forsaken apartment. No Skip means he’s safe. Safety means he can finally sleep. So he closed his eyes.

Tag List: DM or send and ask if you would like to be added, if you only want to be tagged in pt2 please make that clear

@peterbeanie @jean-and-diet-coke @dead-inside-pt2 @they-were-cloudsinmycoffee

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jeonggukingdom · 4 years

Text

splinters of love • day XIV [jjk]

pairing ⟶ jeon jeongguk x fem!Reader

summary ⟶ a collection of drabbles (one for each day of April) based on prompts by an online prompts’ generator site. Specifically ⟶ • day XIV ↳ in which Jeongguk is more than ready to finish this mission with you and hopefully never see you again but your heart resides in a quite different place.

genre ⟶ angst

rating ⟶ G

word count ⟶ 1.374 words

warnings ⟶ jeongguk is a bit of an ass in this, oops!

series masterlist ⟶ here (links on mobile may not work, if you’re looking for all the works in this series, you can click on the “!splintersoflove” tag and you’ll find them all there!)

They say that hate is just as strong as love and that the lot, are awfully similar. Maybe it’s because they burn with the same intensity, maybe it’s because you can always see it in someone else’s eyes, easily give it the proper name.

But to you, hate and love look nothing alike and especially when you look inside those dark eyes of his.

His body is warm next to yours, your shoulders almost touching as you crouch down behind the bush, your eyes trained on the bodyguards securing the perimeter.

Your mind should be entirely on the mission but it is not. Instead, your thoughts are full of him and how things have changed so fast in the past few weeks.

You have known Jeon Jeongguk for over a year now, trained together with him like everybody else at the agency and there is no hiding the fact that you could never really stand each other.

In fact, that is precisely why it took over a year for you two to walk on the field together and even that, it only happened because you were the only two available at that time.

It wasn’t easy, to infiltrate with him, to pretend to love each other when needed. The lies came easily out of your mouths but making them believable was another thing altogether.

Still, you had been trained for his and despite all the difficulties, you both proved your worth on the field.

Somewhere down the line, though, all those lies started to feel like truth on the top of your lips. It happened fast, without you even recognizing it and now, you are in too deep to simply will it out of your system.

“I’ll take the left side, you take the right,” his voice is barely above a whisper and it feels warm in your ear and it makes your head spin with thoughts you should not be having, especially not right now.

You don’t trust your voice and so you nod to him, barely making eye contact because you know perfectly well what you’ll find there.

Everyone is taught that fire burns but ice, ice can burn just as intensely and in that dark gaze of his, there’s the entire pole when he looks down to you.

You clear your head, take a deep breath and slip back into your role as an agent. You are good at this, especially when it’s all about concealing and disregard your own emotions.

You are quick and precise and you clear your way with rather ease knowing your partner is doing just the same.

You prepared well for this mission, you know all the details and even though you can’t stand each other—or rather, he can’t stand you—you actually work together really well.

He is strength and you are wisdom, he is braveness and recklessness while you are careful and canny. You compensate each other like two different sides of the same coin, like Yin and Yang.

A loud shot breaks through your thoughts and you whip around your head in time to see Jeongguk standing right there, a body at his feet.

“You’re welcome.” He says, voice on edge as he surpasses you without even sparing you another glance.

“Thank you,” it’s your meek response and you know it falls on deaf ears, that he is not going to look back at you now or ever, for that matter.

The distance between you is physically short yet he feels miles and miles away.

The rest of the mission goes smoothly, you kill your target and evacuate with rather ease and some of the weight on your chest lifts the instant you are back inside the safe walls of your hotel room.

You’ve done this countless of times yet tension always accompanies you on the missions.

“Pack your bags fast, we are leaving.”

You bite your bottom lip at his words to forcefully trap the words inside of you. Silence falls between the two of you but it is not comfortable. It is thick and almost unbearable.

“Did the Agency call?” You ask as you sort out your clothes inside your bag.

“Not yet.”

“Then what’s the rush?” Your voice is small as you risk a glance his way. A very wrong move for your poor heart because he is staring right at you and if looks could kill, you’d be dead right about now.

“Why? You want to keep playing love birds with me a little longer?”

His tongue hits his left cheek as he studies you with his sharp gaze. You have come to learn that this is the sign something venomous is going to escape his mouth soon.

So you shift your gaze, will your hands to still so not to give away what truly lies in your heart and then, you brace yourself.

“Because I can’t wait to get the hell away from you.”

It hurts. And it hurts even more because it didn’t use to.

But this is the real Jeongguk, the one you hated from the very first moment. Not the caring boyfriend, not the one that would smile at you, look your way in fondness, kiss your lips with such tenderness. That was a lie, a lie you stupidly fell for even knowing it was nothing but an act forced by the circumstances.

“Am I really that insufferable?” You utter under your breath as you zip your bag and stand up on your feet, avoiding his eyes with all your might.

You hear him scoff and you grimace. You should already know the answer but still, a part of you wants to hear him say it, make it clear that those stupid feelings blossoming inside your heart have no future and that you should just let go now, while you still can.

“Do you really need me to answer that?” He asks before flinging his back over his shoulder, “I thought we had pretty clear what we think of each other.”

You walk beside him, get inside the car right next to him but the distance seems to be getting bigger and bigger.

You still cannot look me in the eyes so you stare at your own reflection in the glass as the city turns into a distant blur of lights.

“Well what if things have changed?”

Jeongguk laughs, shakes his head and then tilts it to the side as his face morphs into a serious expression again.

“What is all of this, Agent ______?” He asks, voice sharp and full of mirth as if this situation right here is immensely amusing to him, “Are you trying to tell me you developed feelings for me?”

The way he says that word should make you retreat inside yourself, deny it with all your might and leave it at that until you are back at the Agency and can ignore each other down the corridors as per usual.

Instead, you dig your hole deeper.

“What if I am?”

Silence welcomes your words. Minutes tick by and you grow restless, so much so that you have to turn around and look at him, seek an answer inside his eyes if you have to.

His eyebrows are furrowed, his lips in a tight line.

“You’re not going to say anything?”

“Get a grip, Agent ______.” He glances your way and you shrivel under his intense gaze, “Nothing will ever happen between us so get your shit together and move on.”

Is this how being shot to the heart feels like?

His words leave you breathless even though you should have imagined them even without hearing them coming from his mouth.

You shift your gaze away from him, fix it on the road, will your eyes not to water, force your lungs to keep on breathing as if nothing happened, as if he didn’t just reap your heart out, stomped on it and then offered it back to you to move on with.

Silence envelopes you both once more but this time, you do not break it. What you do is close your eyes and tune everything else out.

It’s better this way, you tell yourself. Over and over again until you believe it, until it becomes the truth.

#bangtanscenery #bangtanhq #ficswithluv #jungkook angst #bts angst #jeongguk angst #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #jeongguk x reader #bts scenario #bts ff #bts react #bts imagine #!splintersoflove

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jackarychaoti · 4 years

Text

Threads of Fate (Pt. 5)

- Music -

Each resonating flap of the ebony wings drew Onyx higher and higher into the twisted sky, her struggles furthered when she could hear voices calling out for her. Everything had happened so fast that the sudden altitude change had her nearly sick, her weapons slipped from her fingers from the impact of being grabbed, leaving her to struggle in attempt to free herself. With Atlas Communications working again, all they could hear was the static version of what she could clearly hear below.

“ONYX!!!” Jack roared as a hand reared back to summon a large chunk of ice, knowing if he could hit one of those wings, he could slow the ascending creature down enough to give her time - that was until something sliced right through his own body, the tip of the blade showed itself somewhere in the midst of his stomach. His attention drifted from her to glance down at the blood-soaked weaponry, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and pain. The assassin who had struck him yanked the weapon free but that would only cause a slough of problems for the trio.

“JACKARY!” Talon heaved out, catching the blade that came swinging for him next, the pair finding their own struggles down below. His voice caused Onyx to fully stir and glance down, witnessing the quickly piling Mawsworn that had surrounded the pair below.

She had to get back down and help them.

“Your wings are nice, but damn your breath smells like a rotten butthole!” Writhing in the grip, fingers reached up to ram into the eye sockets of the Mawsworn, giving Onyx not only a firm grasp but a balance to hold on when it began to shrill and try to tear its face from her fingers. “Were you a mindless Hozen during your living life?!” Using the commotion, legs kicked up, swinging back and forth until another solid kick was able to hook the back of her knee above herself and around the creature’s throat, locking its neck between her legs. Out of instinct, legs squeezed, her knee slamming hard enough into the crook of the Mawsworn’s neck to snap it instantly, stealing the very life from the being that was keeping them in the air.

The moment the life slipped away, both Onyx and the Mawsworn started a quick descent towards the ground, picking up speed from the gravitational pull back to the floor of the Maw. Within moments, the sensation of falling was replaced with a sudden stop and a loud cracking noise, followed by a pained, voiceless cry of agony.

The faint noise that escaped Onyx’s lips caused Jack to glance up from his wound he was struggling with, the blurred vision of her fall was clear as the blood splatter staining the ground below. The dragon bolted forward, grabbing the gushing wound as best he could only to drop to his knees and look her over, ears fell back completely for the harsh reality was quickly coming into view.

Onyx glanced to Jack’s face, holding back the tears that she refused to cry in front of him, the adrenaline and shock in her body enough to keep the pain at bay in that initial moment. She had wanted to joke to him that it wasn’t that mad but the way his eyes were wide and horrified indicated that perhaps it was worse than what she was feeling. When her vision began to drift down towards her lower half, she was cut off with a quick ‘Don’t look at it”.

Onyx’s leg was entirely shattered from the fall and her landing, the bones jagged and pointing in various directions as the blood pooled, the visual didn’t even take into account the internal bleeding that was ticking down her time she had left.

She needed a healer or she wasn’t going to make it.

“Jack...” She tried.

“Shh shh-- let me think, okay? J-Just let me think..!”

“WHAT’S GOING ON OVER THERE?!” Talon screamed out again, nearly skidding to a knee from the pressure another Mawsworn barreling down on him; he refused to let it get anywhere near the two. A human shield.

“She needs a fucking healer!” Jack cried out in a panic, looking around for something... anything he could exchange the gift of life for her... to her. Hands flexed, their claw-like nature showing. He wanted to touch her, comfort her but watching her dying and slipping from his grasp when he knew he could save her...

“Do you remember at the Harbor when I healed that no good pirate?” Jack couldn’t recall if Onyx was there but as she took his shaking hand, she could tell Jackary was also struggling to remain awake, his breathing jagged and pained.

“I... don’t recall...”

“Trust me, alright? This... This-- Just trust me...!” Keeping one hand for her to hold onto, his other moved to rest near his heart briefly, further causing his trembling from a pang of anxiety. Last time he had done this, no good had come of it, could he have honestly willed himself to do it again?

“FIREBREATH?!” Talon called again in concern from a true lack of answer that he could hear.

“KEEP THEM OFF HER! I JUST NEED A LITTLE TIME!” Finding purpose in his words, a soft, warm glow slipped from his chest and towards his fingers, causing a set of Druidic runes to illuminate and hover around his hand. Anyone who knew anything about Emerald Dragons knew they could heal but it was at a costly trade. If they could not find energy to transfer into their desired location, they could use their own. With every passing second, Jackary’s own essence poured into Onyx, reversing the damage and fixing the internal damage. The exchange? He began to pale considerably. eyes dulled even in their luminescent hue.

“J-Jack... What are you doing--” Onyx tried to protest, eyes widened further once it became obvious where Jackary was getting his healing ability from. Hands shoved at him, trying to snap him out of the spell until the connection was severed. It would save Jack’s life in that moment but not without the cost of her leg never fully healing correctly.

“Y-Your lives aren’t up f-for debate...” The dragon heaved but with so much of his own life exerted, the hand that had been previously trading his own energy to heal her moved back to try and put pressure on the wound clean through him. “We have to...”

“TALON!” Onyx called out, summoning the Demon Hunter over until the three of them had coiled together, knowing they were outnumbered. In truth, they had realized that they were going to die there and if they could spend their last few minutes blocked by Talon’s wings to get a moment together, perhaps that would suffice.

Jack heaved out a gargled breath, arms wrapped tightly around Onyx and Talon to hug them close to himself, eyes closed tightly, waiting for that last strike to end their lives together. “I’m sorry...I’m so sorry...”

Somewhere, a demon could feel him, he knew it. Jack had to believe he could feel the message almost as if his Dragonsworn had simply breathed it in and let it settle in his heart.

I’m sorry, I love you.

This was to be the end.

When the final blow rained down on the trio, coiling tendrils of blue erupted from all around Jack’s person, the elegant design of a seed enveloped the group, putting them all within a protective layer of something anyone from Ardenweald would have known effortlessly. Mawsworn struck and swung at the seed, trying to crack the barrier but once it disappeared, so had the fallen within it.

“You always did have a knack of getting yourself in trouble...” A soft, sweet voice sounded from the darkness.

When Jack had closed his eyes, he’d been in the barren wastelands of The Maw but when he opened them, the soft lights of Ardenweald glimmered above in a hazy view. Sitting in the Queen’s Conservatory, Ysera watched the three start to come to, all three huddled up together in one of the seed pods. When she was greeted with a confused look, Ysera simply offered Jackary a soft, knowing smile. She was his Aspect, after all, but more importantly she was Mother.

Though Ysera would never explain to Jackary why or how the three of them were pulled from The Maw, she had her inner reasonings. A gift, not to Jackary, but to the boy whom she had hurt, the Dragonsworn who had given everything to get them where they were now. He’d sacrificed so much and now it was time to give back. She was sure that Darnath could feel it, the sensation of Jack taking a breath again, the soft assurance of the Aspect to still a rapidly beating heart.

Atlas Communications was back online, but more importantly, Jackary, Onyx and Talon were safe and back in Ardenweald, if only worse for the wear. It seemed the threads of fate had been plucked and woven together through many designs of stories to rejoin back as one.

But that is a story for another day.

| - @darnath - @talonwildfire - @just-onyx - |

#LOOK I FINISHED IT BEFORE 2020 ENDED #into the maw arc #where in shadowlands is Darnath windere #darnath #jackary #talon #onyx #WHOOOOOO #ysera #tw: blood #TW: broken bones #TW: death

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scavengerbird · 3 years

Text

A Conversation in a Car

“I know it’s cold out, but I like driving with all the windows down now. I get claustrophobic. And I kind of like the cold, actually, and I know it won’t bother you. It gets a little loud on the highway, but I think we’re mostly sticking to backroads anyway. Would this feel less weird if I had a new car, instead of the same sad scrap pile I’ve been making work since I got my license? If something about this made it feel less familiar, less like going back in time?

Oh god, am I rambling? Wow. Let’s start over.

Hey. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Almost five years. I’m sorry about that. I never really meant to leave for good, when I moved out of town. Or, well I guess I did, actually. But I never meant to leave you.

I was serious, you know, when I invited you to come stay with me. I think you thought I was just saying it, but I swear I meant it. My apartment’s small, and it’s got something wrong with the bathroom light that makes the bulb blow out at least once a month, and two of the burners on the stove don’t work, but I mean. Mi shitbox es tu shitbox. We’d lived out of each other’s pockets for so long, before. I really did feel like we could’ve done it again.

But you said no. And that’s okay! You … wanted to stay here. God only knows why. I mean, I can guess, but I really hope I’m wrong, you know? It’s just, I’ve been thinking about it for so long and every time I asked you to come out and visit and you said you were sorry but you couldn’t, you always sounded like you really did regret it. You said there was shit here you had to take care of. And I always thought to myself – what shit? – like, seriously. We both know I was missing you more from the city than anyone in this stupid town would have. And I think Jan could’ve found another waitress for the diner. So, what was here that was so important? I think I never asked because I was afraid of the answer.

It’s him, isn’t it? You stayed for him.

Anyway. I could’ve gotten you a job at the coffee place I worked at when I first moved. Their coffee’s awful, but they have really good muffins. I still go in there all the time for them, so I’m still on good terms with the manager, and they’re always hiring. You could’ve done that until you figured out what you really wanted to do. Or you could’ve done that forever. I wouldn’t have judged you for it.

I think you’d like Tony. My roommate. Ok, actually you guys would probably kind of hate each other, but I think you’d have fun hating each other. You’re both kind of petty like that. And he’s gay, so there wouldn’t have been any of that pressure I know you feel around literally everyone who’s attracted to women, where you’re constantly wondering how bad they want you.

He actually offered to come with me for this, Tony. For emotional support. I turned him down, but it was still nice of him to offer. It was kind of obvious, how anxious I was about coming home. And of course, he knew why I was coming out here. Tony knows all about you, how much you mean to me. I talk about you all the time.

I forgot how empty the roads are, out here. You’d never see a street this quiet in the city, no matter the time of night. I think it should be comforting, but it’s not. It’s unsettling. I feel like there could be a ghost around every corner.

Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.

I don’t understand the point of you staying here for him. It’s not like it was gonna make a difference to him. Nothing makes a difference to him anymore. Like, do you remember when you asked me if I believed in an afterlife? It was only a few days after… well, After. And I said my whole thing about reincarnation and the law of conservation of energy and how I think it makes sense, and you said you thought that if anything happens to us after we die, it’s got nothing to do with what happened to us in this life. You said you thought if death wasn’t just a final ending, then it was, at most, a slate wiped totally clean.

So, it’s not like you thought he was looking down on – or up at? – you. It’s not like you believed there was anything you could do to get him to forgive you. And I know you didn’t believe in any god so it’s not like you were waiting on their forgiveness either. So, whose forgiveness were you looking for? Why did you think you could find it here? Why not just put me out of my misery and come with me?

Sorry. That was a poor choice of words.

You know every single person I’ve met since moving out there has heard all about you. I don’t know how to not talk about you. You are a story I can’t stop telling, a part of every memory I have. You’re the thing I built myself around. A version of my life where I don’t meet you, or you don’t exist, is not a version of my life. It’s version of someone else’s life, because I am not me without you. The shape of myself is the shape of the hole inside you, I am just the thing filling your edges, and without those edges I have no form.

I think I’m losing the plot a little, here. I’m running out of ways to say that I need you.

And maybe I have no right to say any of that shit, when we haven’t actually seen each other in five years. I know the way your face has gotten thinner and the color you dyed your hair from pictures. I don’t know if you still wear the sweet pea spray from Bath & Body Works. You haven’t been a body I could touch in years. You’ve barely even been a voice on the other end of the phone line. I know that for the most part all we’ve had these last few years were words on a tiny screen, sent and read only in the darkest hours of night. And those messages, meaningful as they were, were sporadic. It doesn’t sound like much, like enough of a thing to be a necessity. But there’s a difference between surviving on scraps and starving to death.

Our lives have been clinging to each other by the very tips of their fingers. I know that. But it never felt like a permanent state, to me. I always thought we’d find our ways back to each other. I didn’t call you, but I always knew I could. And now…

Did you stay here to punish yourself? I don’t think you deserved to be punished. I mean, obviously I didn’t think that, or I would have let you turn yourself in when you wanted to.

I can’t figure out whether or not I owe you an apology for stopping you from doing that. I thought I was saving you from yourself, but maybe I wasn’t. But what was I supposed to do? You couldn’t see yourself that night. They’d have locked you up for sure. I mean you were covered in his blood. You were still holding the knife, for God’s sake, just standing in the hall with it in one hand and my phone in the other, absolutely hysterical. Even if I hadn’t wrestled the phone away from you, what would you have said to the operator when you dialed 911? You were completely incoherent.

I can admit now that it might have been a little dramatic of me to smash my own cell phone against the wall when you tried to get it back from me, but all things considered, I think I was holding it together pretty damn well.

I was always good at holding it together. You were the one who was always going off the rails. But I loved that about you, most of the time. Everything was such a huge deal to you. It made life feel bigger than it was.

You made everything exciting, back then. Every petty feud with someone was an all-out war. God, remember when we egged Jenna’s car because she said that dumb thing about how you should try harder in class and stop messing around with guys? What was it? Right, that’s it, she told you if you spent half as much time studying as you did sucking dick then you’d probably get valedictorian. It was stupid, and you knew she only said it because she was jealous about Drew asking you out, and you basically told her that and I don’t even remember exactly what you said but I remember her crying. And then we still had to egg her car, and that still wasn’t enough, because you wanted to slash all her tires but I wouldn’t let you. You always wanted to take things one step too far. I always forgave you though. Every single time.

You know I can’t really remember what happened that night. It’s just kind of a blur. I remember him coming over. My parents were out of town. You weren’t supposed to be there. I mean, we hadn’t planned on it, but you wouldn’t leave when I told you he was coming over and I just let it go. I could tell he was kind of annoyed about it but he wouldn’t say anything. We’d been planning on ‘watching a movie’, but you being there meant we actually had to watch the movie. And then it’s all just flashes: a bottle of vodka, the glow of the TV in the dark room, your head on my shoulder, his hand on my arm, the room spinning – or no, shaking, because I was shaking, or being shaken, my head snapping back and forth, fast.

I know the two of you got into it. Or he and I got into it. Or we all three got into it. But I don’t know what it was about, all the words we said are gone from my memory, totally irretrievable. It’s just those flashes, and then you standing there with the blood and the knife, and him on the floor, so still.

Tony says I need a therapist. I haven’t told him about that night, obviously, but sometimes I say something I think is normal and he gives me this funny-sad look, or little things I don’t mean to talk about slip out. Like that memory gap. I didn’t tell him anything about what I can’t remember, just that there’s something, and sometimes I dream about it. I mean, I kind of had to tell him something, because I still talk in my sleep sometimes and I fell asleep on the couch one day and he heard me saying the word stop over and over. He said that it was creepy as hell, and I have repressed trauma, and gave me the name of some website where you can find shrinks online.

I have not looked for a therapist. Tony brought it up again, before I left to come back here. He said I should consider it for the sake of grief counseling, if nothing else. I told him I had a grief counselor already and his name was Jim Beam and – don’t even say anything, I know that’s terrible, I cringed at myself while I was saying it to him. Tony just shook his head and texted me the link to the stupid website.

I know it’s kind of fucked up that I don’t even fully understand why you killed him, even though I helped you bury his body. I wanted to ask you about it. I almost did, so many times. But I didn’t know how to without making it sound like I was trying to judge you. I didn’t want to bring it up again after the fact, when I knew we were both trying to bury it. There wasn’t any time to ask you anything or try to make sense of it the night it happened.

Do you even remember it that well? After I got you in the shower and turned it on cold you finally stopped crying, but you basically went catatonic. I never told you this, but that honestly freaked me out more than the corpse on my floor. You just sat on the steps, shivering in one of my sweatshirts and watching me try to clean it all up. I had to clap my hands in front of your face to get you to listen when I was asking you to help me get him up off the floor, but I couldn’t have carried him myself. Do you remember that the bedsheet I’d gotten him rolled up in was already soaked through with blood. I didn’t have anything else to wrap him in though.

You didn’t say anything until we were in the garage, and we’d gotten him in the trunk, and I was telling you that we should take him to the marshes, where the ground’s all mud and nothing that sinks down into it is ever coming back up and it’s too wet for anyone to go trekking through for fun, and you cut me off in the middle and just said I’m sorry and God, you sounded so quiet and broken and for the first time in our lives you couldn’t even look me in the eye and I –

I just… I told you to get in the car. I didn’t tell you it would be okay, or that we’d figure it out, or that I forgave you.

I do, by the way. Forgive you, I mean. For all of it, like I said a few minutes ago. I’m sorry I didn’t say it before today. I need you to know that’s the biggest regret I’ll ever have in my life, not telling you I forgave you sooner.

I really did love him, you know. I loved him and you kind of tolerated him for my sake until you didn’t, and then you killed him. You were sorry about it, and I forgave you because the way I loved him has nothing on the way I love you. He was a boy who I would’ve gone to prom with and probably broken up with two months after moving out of here and not seen again until our 10 year high school reunion, if I even bothered to show up for it. It was a moment-in-time kind of love. But you? You’re my forever bitch. I don’t care that every eight-year-old girl in the history of time has pricked her finger and stuck it to some other girl’s pricked finger and sworn to be bestest friends forever ‘til death does them part, when we did that, I fucking meant it, and now I-

I’m gonna need to stop for gas on the way back to my parents’ house. I forgot how far out the marshes are, but we’re almost there, now.

I don’t really know why I thought it would be a good idea to come out here. When I first got in the car, I thought I was gonna head out to the overpass, the one they told me you crashed under. But then I turned left instead of right. I don’t know, I guess I felt like, if any part of you was still around, it wouldn’t be hanging out on the edge of some lonely stretch of highway. I felt like you’d be out here, haunting the thing that never stopped haunting you.

Don’t worry. I’m not crazy enough to go traipsing through the marshes in the dark to hunt down a ghost. I just want to see them, park my car where I parked it that night, at the edge. The last time I really and truly had you all the way with me.

I don’t know now, if I was right about where to find you. I’ve been talking to you this whole time we’ve been driving, and I swear I can feel you here listening. I swear I can hear your voice. Maybe you’re just haunting me.

Oh. There they are. We can’t stay long. I’ve got your funeral in the morning.”

#writing #writers on tumblr #creative writing #short story #sad #fiction

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spookypalace · 4 years

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worship the flame - chapter seven

Jo peaks a look at him once or twice as he’s ordering a list of drinks, she’s certain he catches her as pink lips curve into a smirk. Brown eyes meet for a final time before he steps away, and she wonders—maybe her dry spell would end.

—

Or the one where Jo meets Alex in a bar, during her final year of med school.

(if you would rather read on ao3, you can do here)

Their final week off before the remainder of med-school had gone by in a blur, after the horrific dinner with Lexie’s parents, both Jo and Lexie decided the rest of their week would be low-key. Whilst Steph and Leah had preferred the idea of spending their evenings and mornings in the clubs of Seattle, Jo just really didn’t have the energy or the money to get dressed up and throw money at an overpriced bar. So, the two girls spent most of the time back at their apartment, a few nights at Joe’s. There was once or twice Jo ventured over to Alex’s, but only when Lexie was at Jacksons—the apartment felt lonely without them.

For Jo, what had been surprising, is the new-found friendship that had begun between Jackson and Alex. It almost made her laugh. Since the dinner with Thatcher, the two men had seemingly found that they got on pretty well. In fact, if Alex wasn’t at work or with Jo—he was with Jackson. Popping out to the grocery store and coming back to find them sat on the couch, cold beer in hands and some game of football blaring on the old television, had initially been a shock for her. But now it was a regular occurrence.

Honestly, she hadn’t realized how much of an effect seeing him so comfortable in her space had on her until every time she looked at Alex, she felt her stomach do a somersault and warmth to spread up her neck and across her cheeks. And that was just by gazing at him. Jo found herself looking towards Alex when she knew he was in the room and smiling whenever he did the same or when she heard his laugh. Within less than a handful of days, her feelings for Alex had gone from platonic and purely physical to something a lot more that she was way too hesitant on properly identifying. She was still trying to figure out how the hell this transpired.

How had it happened so fast? In the blink of an eye, it felt like. One moment Jo and Alex are promising they will not have feelings for one another and the next she’s willing her erratic heart to calm the hell down at the mere sight of Alex. It was crazy how feelings for someone snuck up on you and how hard they hit you, and the realization Jo had that she liked Alex as more than just a sex … friend had left her breathless. Although, she’s unsure if it’s the good or bad kind because while Alex had become one of the best guys she knew, he was also unavailable. He’d told her that much at the very beginning. And she had promised it was not a problem. Until it was.

God, Jo felt pathetic.

What was just as bad is now that she was painfully aware of her not-so-platonic feelings for Alex, she found herself subtly and as discreetly as she could manage avoiding any one-on-one time with him—unless they were, of course, having sex. She had grown to love hanging out with Alex, but now she can’t help but be super conscious of how she acted around him and had this fear that she’ll somehow let it slip that she’s attracted to him, and she couldn’t have that. Although it was hard, Alex had been spending an increasing amount of time at her place and with Jackson—just lounging on her couch or in her bed. All plans, unless they didn’t require clothing, now always accompanied Lexie and Jackson, with the odd appearance of Steph and Leah.

“Hey, you wanna go to the movies in a few?” Jo’s shoulders tensed ever so slightly at the sound of Alex’s voice, glancing at him over her shoulder from where she stood by the counter in the kitchen preparing a Nutella sandwich. He was popping his head in from behind the entryway wall, upper half curling into the kitchen as his gaze remained on her. “Jackson and Lexie want to go see that film that you guys were talking about the other day, I know you said you wanted to see it. We can leave now and catch all of the trailers,” he added, after hearing of Jo’s love of wanting to see every preview before the movies.

Oh, God, that sounded a lot like a real double date. Or maybe Jo was just overreacting, as always, but she didn’t want to risk it. Knowing Jackson and Lexie, they’d be wrapped up in each other during the movie leaving Jo and Alex by themselves, and that totally went against her poorly thought-out, dumb plan of keeping a some-what distance from him. Even if she really did want to watch the movie.

“Oh, um,” she blinked, neck tensing at the expectant raise of Alex’s eyebrows. “I would but I’m really tied. I was actually gonna’ take a nap after eating this,” she lied, gesturing to the sandwich as she quickly turned around and put the two pieces of bread together and capped the jar of Nutella.

Alex glanced at her sandwich, eyebrows lowering into a slight frown as a confused chuckle escaped him and he stepped around the wall to lean against it. “Seriously? Lexie said you’ve been dying to see that movie since the trailer came out.”

“Yeah, I’ll just watch it online or something, I still have some studying ...” Jo shrugged nonchalantly her words dying on her lips, dropping the dirty knife in the sink with a clang. “But you have fun.”

“Have fun?” Alex scoffed, a smile tugging at his lips as he shot me a look. “I’m gonna’ be third wheeling with your friends.” When his lower lip jutted out slightly, the action instantly drawing her gaze to his mouth, Jo’s stomach clenched as Alex prodded, “Are you sure you don’t wanna’ come?”

Jo inhaled quietly, pressing her lips together in an apologetic smile as she moved to walk out of the kitchen, having to walk towards Alex since he was right at the entryway. “Sorry, Alex,” she responded, sandwich in hand. “Take one of your roommates.”

When she was right next to him, Alex turned his head to look down at her, eyes light with mirth as he told her, “They’re not nearly as fun as you.”

Oh, fucking hell. Even if he was joking around, that wasn’t helpful at all in Jo’s plan of at least trying to hide her feelings for him. Ignoring the heat rising in her cheeks, Jo quickly said, “Don’t let them hear you say that. Have fun at the movies.”

Instead of waiting for a reply, Jo offered a brief smile before hastily going to her room and shutting the door behind her, letting out a deep slow breath as she dropped herself on the bed. Taking a rather violent bite of her sandwich, Jo felt her shoulders sink in defeat. If the smallest of comments from Alex had her body going into a frenzy and her breath catching, how was she at all going to be successful in keeping her feelings for him at bay? This wasn’t going to be easy.

“You know you’re about as subtle as a neon sign.”

Jo blinked up at Jackson, frowning behind the shield of her book as the boy sat down on the couch next to her, having returned from the movies just ten minutes earlier. Alex had headed off to work and Lexie had hopped into the shower. “Huh?”

Jackson chuckled lowly, “tell me, Jo,” he spoke up once again, bringing his legs up onto the coffee table and resting his arms on the couch arms. “Do you have a thing for Alex?”

“Obviously.”

“Huh?”

“We’re sleeping together.”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

What the hell?

Jo’s jaw loosened at Jackson’s inquiry, eyes widening behind her book and heart jumping into her throat. His eyes were on hers and Jo’s shoulders tensed, taking in a sharp breath as Jackson waited for an answer. But she was too stunned and taken aback to say anything, to confirm or deny, because of course Jackson would sense something is up—he’d been spending a ridiculous amount of time around them both. He may be the quiet one of the four—at least, when he’s sober—but he’s definitely the most observant; he’s always watching people, dissecting them with his eyes and mind and figuring them out like the world’s easiest math equation. Jackson seemed to read people so easily, and Jo should’ve known better than to think she would be able to hide anything from him. She spent half her time wondering how she was keeping this from Lexie.

When she didn’t say anything for a few moments too long, his lips twitched as he shrugged and assured, “It’s okay if you do.”

“No, it’s not,” she blurted, not even bothering to deny anything. All the air expelled from her lungs as Jackson quirked a brow, silently prodding her to continue as she threw the book down and looked ahead. Jo’s eyebrows lowered in a distressed frown. “He’s—I can’t ... he doesn’t want that. I feel like I’m, like, betraying myself or something.”

“Because you didn’t want a boyfriend.” His words were more of a statement than a question, yet Jo nodded anyway as she sat up, crossing her legs and picking at her unpainted nails. Jackson sighed, “you can’t help who you have feelings for, Jo. So what? You didn’t want a boyfriend, but that was before you met the guy.”

“It’s not that—relationships are messy already and then you add me into the situation and I—I mess everything good in my life up.”

“That’s not true,” Jackson instantly retorted matter-of-factly, effectively clamping Jo’s mouth shut as she looked at him almost helplessly. He sighed as he took in the brunette’s expression, shifting so he was sitting face her with his own legs crossed. “You and Lexie have been friends for years, she loves you—trust me, she talks about you like you’re her favorite person. It almost makes me jealous.” Jo smiles, shaking her head with a small laugh, “does this have something to do with … that Jason guy?”

“Maybe,” she countered, tilting her head challengingly. “Everyone said he was such a nice guy, I mean he was charming and funny—no one had a bad word to say about him. But then he’s with me and he turns into someone else, he’s a cheater and manipulative and he—”

“Jo, that has nothing to do with you. That’s him. That’s who he really is, behind the facade.” Jackson cuts her off, frowning.

With a huff, Jo changes the conversation back to Alex, “what if I told Alex I liked him more than that? What if, hypothetically, he liked me back and we wanted to date? I’m not saying that’ll happen, because I very much doubt it, but if it did—who's to say it wouldn’t end in disaster. That we’d end up hating one another when we might be working together in a few months' time.”

Jo saw Jackson’s eyes widen as his eyebrows shot up his forehead, full lips parting in surprise before asking, “that’s what it’s all about, taking risks. It would be nice to see how things panned out before getting yourself into something, but half the fun is doing it for yourself.”

Jo scoffed, raspingly and a bit bitterly. “You just like having another guy around,” she joked afterwards, regretting the way she was treating him in this moment. Jo was just coming to terms with the fact that she was developing feelings for Alex, so the idea of actually being with him was still out there—just a hopeful imagination running wild without having to deal with the consequences of sharing them with anyone. Until now, with Jackson.

Jackson’s gaze returned to her as he leaned closer, deep voice dropping low as he looked at her over his sunglasses. “I get you’re scared,” he told her. “But it’s about you and how you feel, okay? If you like Alex and you want something out of it, let him know. Forget about all the what-ifs for a second—what’s the worst that could happen if you tell Alex you like him?”

Jo blinked, staring at Jackson in slight incredulity, surprised that he was pushing her on this. Honestly, she was kind of glad she had someone she could talk to this about. Jackson would never be her first choice, it would always be Lexie, she’d found recently that he was very easy to talk to; he was quiet, but he always listened and if you were one of the people he opened up to, then something about that made the person feel special. There have been lots of moments since they finally met one another all those weeks ago, some when they were drunk off of wine, where Jackson would let Jo know all of his thoughts and feelings and dreams, and it was a time she welcomed wholeheartedly.

But once his question settled in her mind, Jo let out an unladylike snort and pointed out, “He might not feel the same way and totally reject me.”

Much to her surprise, a smirk curled at Jackson’s lips as he leaned away from her, humming out in a tone that told her he knew more than he was letting on, “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

Jo’s heart thudded against her chest in a particularly hard beat, eyes widening as she stared at his blue-eyes in startlement as her stomach did an anticipated flip-flop. What the hell did that mean? The look on Jackson’s face told her he knew something that he wasn’t revealing, and that sent her curiosity skyrocketing. “What’re you talking about?”

To her chagrin, Jackson merely shrugged as he hopped to his feet, ignoring her protesting exclaims as he smirked and walked towards the bathroom, hearing the shower turn off. “Wha—Jackson! Come back!” she shouted, briefly frozen in her spot on the couch. He wasn’t sure about Alex rejecting her feelings for him? What? “Jackson! Don’t think I’m letting this go!”

When he neared the bathroom door, rich laughter escaping him as he did so, Jo let out a frustrated sigh before throwing herself up off the couch, practically running towards the much taller male as she tried to catch up to him. Even when Jo caught up to him and jumped on his back, sending them both falling around the small hallway with laughter, it did nothing to get Jackson to spill whatever secrets he was holding.

“What the hell is going on?” Lexie shrieked as she threw open the bathroom door, frowning with curiosity down at the pair with a towel wrapped around her slim frame. When all she was met with was laughter, she stepped over the pair and towards her bedroom with a sigh and a smile.

Jo was convinced the best way to torture someone was by telling them they know something but not actually letting them know what that something is, leaving their imagination and thoughts to run rampant with wild curiosity. That’s exactly what Jackson was doing to her since he dropped some sort of hint the other day on her couch, and even when Jo tried to drown him in questions, he didn’t budge on telling her what he meant. But Jackson just smirked and laughed and said nothing. Asshole.

Why did Jackson have to say I wouldn’t be so sure about that when Jo said that Alex wouldn’t feel the same way about her as she did about him? The potential answer to that invited the excited fluttering in her stomach to increase tenfold and heart to pick up its pace, but she wasn’t going to jump to any conclusions without having a solid answer—which Jackson was being ridiculously secretive about. Why say something so vague? Pretty sadistic of him, in Jo’s opinion.

Every time he looked at her, Jo narrowed her eyes at him in a glare lacking any real anger or maliciousness and he merely smirked in response, knowing exactly what he was doing to her. Alex and Lexie had caught the interaction at one point, but Jo quickly looked away and didn’t give them any room to question.

Tonight, after being back in school for a week, the weekend rolled around and Jo was hoping to get her mind off of her raging curiosity by joining everyone in going to a club, for once, that was only a five minute drive from the bar. But since no one was completely dedicated to being a designated driver, they split two Ubers and arrived at the club after pregaming for a bit at the bar—where Jo would have happily stayed but Stephanie had other ideas.

As expected, the club was throbbing with life at this time of night, music playing at a deafening volume as people gathered in the middle to dance to the live DJ, off on the right to lounge on the couches and tables, or to the left where almost the entire side was taken up by the bar. There were people upstairs too, the second floor only making up the perimeter of the room as the back spilled out onto a large back deck with more couches so people could enjoy the outside weather while hearing the music from inside. Since it was on the beach, people were either hanging out on the deck or going towards the beach.

As soon as they got inside, Jo and her friends gravitated towards the bar and she was pressed between Lexie and Steph’s newish boyfriend, Kyle, as Jackson got one of the bartender’s attention and requested a round of shots. The bass of the remixed music thrummed in Jo’s ears as everyone’s chatter mingled altogether, laughter erupted from them all following some remark Leah made trying to convince them on how playing hard to get was the perfect way to bag an older man. It was funnier because he looked so serious talking about it. Jo had to fight turning her gaze over to Alex the entire conversation.

The vodka burned down Jo’s throat once they tossed the glasses back, not even pausing as two more rounds were brought in front of them as they took those as well. As the boys ordered some drinks for themselves, Steph grabbed Jo’s and Lexie’s hands before dragging them towards the center of the room, pulling them in the midst of the dancing crowd so they could move amongst the somewhat sweaty bodies that were already rubbing up against them. But the couple of shots of vodka, plus the few drinks Jo had taken before coming here, were already mixing with her blood and she felt good, so dancing with her friends was exactly what she was going to do. Even though her long hair was loose, her sleeveless bodysuit and shorts didn’t let her feel too hot despite the stuffy atmosphere.

The song was some Migos remix, though everyone was yelling out the lyrics as they moved to the beat and white lights flashed to the rhythm. They must have danced to two more songs before Jo broke away from the crowd and went back to the bar at Steph’s request of getting more drinks. The guys were right where they had left them, backs against the bars and glasses in their hands as they talked and sipped while the three of them shoved themselves between the boys.

“Whoa, whoa, none for us?” Jackson demanded over the music, an amused grin spreading on his lips at the girls after they downed the first round.

Lexie smiled that flirtatious smile she only reserved for Jackson, left hand on her chest as she pulled him towards her and teased, “Only if you join me on the dance floor, babe.”

His grin widened as he pulled her closer, which at this point Jo looked away to reach for another shot glass and downed the green apple flavored liquid. Her throat no longer burned as the drink went down, placing the glass upside down on the wooden bar top. She gestured for the bartender to bring another round, wondering just how wasted she could get by the end of the night.

“You know Alex’s been wanting to dance with you all night,” Jackson’s voice spoke in Jo’s ear, when he returns from the dancefloor, low yet she could hear him clearly despite the loud music. “Avoiding him is just gonna’ make him think you hate him or want to end whatever is going on between you or … something.”

Automatically, Jo’s eyes wandered around to find the brunette, landing on Alex towards the right as he stood leaning against one of the pillars. This wasn’t really his type of music, but he was smiling and chatting away to Kyle, watching them actually enjoy themselves was amusing to Jo. “You know I don’t hate him,” she mumbled, tone dejected and drunkenly slow as she leaned her head against Jackson’s shoulder.

They were sitting on one of the couches on the right side of the room, right under the second-floor landing where people above and around them were dancing and having a good time. Lexie and Steph were lost somewhere in the crowd. “Then tell him that, Jo,” Jackson responded, twirling the glass he held with long fingers as the ice inside clinked around. “Just because you realized you like Alex as more than a friend-with-benefits, doesn’t mean you have to stop acting like his friend, you know? Don’t push him away because you’re scared of the possibility of having more.”

Jo wasn’t nearly as drunk as she’d like to be to be having this conversation, and not for the first time did Jo curse her ability to hold her alcohol well. She didn’t know how many drinks she’s downed so far, but the most she was feeling was a little heaviness in her head and mild sluggishness. She was still painfully aware of every word she said and every thought she processed.

Which is why Jackson’s words were settled in her mind like wet cement; sinking and hardening as she realized he was right. Jo was being dumb by trying to push Alex away just because she was scared—not scared of telling Alex, but scared of finding out how he felt, of feeling like she was betraying Charlotte. Seriously, what kind of friend went after their friend’s ex, knowing they have some unresolved issues with them? But try as she might, Jo couldn’t kill the butterflies that erupted when Alex smiled or relax the quickening of her heart when his eyes met hers. There was no stopping any of that, and it dizzied her how fast her feelings intensified over the past few days.

“How do you know he wants to dance with me?” she found herself asking, hoping her tone was quiet enough for only Jackson to hear, which wasn’t a problem since Alex was a few feet away and the music was deafeningly loud.

“You kidding?” Jackson chortled deeply in mild amusement after taking a sip of his drink, his shaking shoulders causing Jo’s head to move right along with them. “He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you when you were on the dance floor. He was watching your every move. You guys have been doing this thing for quite a few weeks now, so I know, and you know it’s not just lust.”

Jo’s mouth dried at that, feeling the familiar quickening of her heart as her eyes flickered over to Alex. He was talking to Kyle, a grin on his face as they remained shadows of two men due to the pillar they were against, the flashing white lights in the center not reaching them. He was watching her? Oh, my God—he was watching me? What did that mean? Fuck, she sounded like a teenage girl.

As if reading her thoughts, Jackson mused, “You wanna’ know why I said what I said that day after the movies?”

This time her heart jumped in her throat, causing Jo to croak out an instant, “Yes.”

He took a breath, chest expanding as she kept her head against his shoulder, not daring to move until she heard him reply. The music seemed like nothing but background noise, an irritating sound Jo wished she could drown out. Finally, Jackson confessed, “Because he told me, a few days after dinner at Thatcher’s, about how he feels about you.”

His words had Jo immediately lifting her head and leaning away from Jackson, staring at him with widened eyes as she remained frozen where she sat. He merely looked back at her, brown eyes glinting against the light, raising his eyebrows as if to say I said what I said while Jo just sat with an expression of confused shock etched across her face. Alex told Jackson how he feels about her? What does he feel? Also, how does a friendship between two guys develop that fast? Once again, as if reading her thoughts, Jackson smirked and said, “You’re gonna have to find out from him exactly what.”

That snapped Jo out of her incredulity, eyebrows lowering and lips forming a pout as she gripped his arm, shaking it as she whined, “Jackson!”

But the black-haired boy shook his head, smirk widening in delight of withholding information from his friend. “Nope, ask him,” he said, eyes flickering over her shoulder before he jutted his chin. “I’d ask him now, if I were you. Looks like he’s headed out back.”

Jo instantly looked over her shoulder, catching sight of Alex walking away from Ashton and making him way around the crowd towards one of the doors to the back area, and Jo let out a heavy breath at the sight of his broad retreating back. Oh, God—should she ask him? Part of her knew that, judging by Jackson’s expression and words, whatever Alex may have to say would be exactly what she’d want to hear, but the other part of her was terrified of that being true. If Jo told Alex she liked him and he told her he liked her, then what? … would they date? Would that be so horrible?

“Fucking hell, Jo, just go after him,” Jackson groaned pleadingly, making her look back at him with wide eyes as he gestured to the back with his free hand. “Go! Stop overthinking everything and just do it.”

Jo stared at Jackson for a few moments, worry clear on her face as she chewed her lower lip and probably ate off whatever little lipstick she had left. She was overthinking, she knew, but she couldn’t help it. Tipsy or not, Jo had to think this through. Jo knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

But the further and further Alex currently walked away from her, the more rapid Jo’s heart got and increased the desire to run after him. Suddenly she felt completely sober, even if she actually wasn’t, and she quickly said to Jackson, “Don’t tell anyone,” before getting up and following after Alex, not even bothering to wonder if Jackson knew she meant for him not to tell anyone anything about her and Alex. He probably did.

Jo pushed through a bunch of people, muttering out apologies and excuse me’s as she neared the back entryway Alex had disappeared through moments earlier. She was glad she had decided not to wear heels because she probably would’ve tripped over her own feet with how fast she was moving to get to Alex.

It wasn’t hard to spot him when she finally stepped outside, taking in a breath as she welcomed the openness of being outdoors rather than inside the stuffy club as she glanced around, blinking through the mild lethargic heaviness her head felt. It was much more chill out here, people chatting and drinking and lounging on the outdoor patio or walking down the few steps that lead to the beach. Alex was in the front corner, looking out to the beach as the torches that were spread around the porch bannister provided a glowing light to the area.

Jo’s hands weren’t sweaty, but she still rubbed them down her shorts as she began walking over to the tall brunette, ignoring the chill her exposed arms and legs felt as she swallowed nervously, weaving around a few lingering people until she reached him. “Hey,” Jo greeted, sneaking up to his left as her hands gripped the metal railing.

The ice in his glass of vodka on the rocks clinked as he lowered it from his mouth, looking over at her in mild surprise. Alex was leaning forward, arms resting on the railing as his lips curled upwards slightly. “Hey.” He glanced around the area, raising an eyebrow. “Needed a breather?”

“Yeah,” Jo answered with an airy laugh, leaning with her left arm on the railing, body towards Alex yet looking out towards the beach. The sound of the waves was distant over the music, the smell of the salty sea mingling with the alcohol making for a sharp, pungent scent. “Way too stuffy inside—isn’t that why you’re out here?”

A lazy smile curled at the corner of Alex’s lips, shrugging one shoulder as he vaguely answered, “More or less.”

Jo hummed, side against the railing as she folded her arms in attempt to hug herself to shield her body from a particularly chilly breeze that blew against them, her straightened hair flying slightly. Wearing a deep cut, sleeveless bodysuit and shorts wasn’t as good of an idea if she was outside, fighting against the wind. As if sensing her discomfort, Alex glanced over at her, taking in her stance before resting his glass on the railing and pulling back his arms to shrug off the black jacket he was wearing, he held it behind Jo and draped it over her shoulders.

Her gaze flickered up to him, breathing stilled at the newfound proximity as his fingers drifted down to grip the front of the jacket, head bent slightly to look down at Jo thanks to his above average height. He was swaying ever so faintly with the wind as his dark eyes met Jo’s brown, and she knew she had to breathe again but with him looking at her so intensely, the action seemed impossible. But she managed to, inhaling softly as Alex’s familiarly pleasant coconut and aftershave scent engulfed her, a welcome change from the alcohol she had been smelling inside.

Alex didn’t pull away from her, standing close. “Are you sure that’s the only reason you came out here?” he finally asked, deep voice a raspy murmur as he didn’t dare break their gaze. “Because it’s too stuffy inside?”

His words had a meaningful, purposeful tilt into them raising a pointed eyebrow as his fingers remained gripping the jacket to keep her in place. Jo rolled her lower lip into her mouth, unable to break her gaze from Alex’s paralyzing one. The embers of the small fires on the tiki torches danced in his light eyes, golden against them and melting Jo on the spot. She was so focused on his gaze that she barely registered his question and when she did, Jo felt herself swallowing inaudibly in attempt to loosen the tightness in her chest.

Obviously, that wasn’t the only reason she was out here—honestly it wasn’t even a reason. The sole objective was to get to Alex, to talk to him and hopefully muster up the nerve to tell him how she felt, just like Jackson had been urging. Maybe the alcohol she had drank throughout the night would provide for some liquid courage, but the way Alex’s gaze was fixated on Jo had her brain short circuiting and proving it difficult to form words.

“I—No, that’s not—I’m not—” Fucking smooth, Jo. She was stumbling like an idiot over her words because the way Alex was looking at her truly was messing her up, feeling the heat rise up her neck and spread across her cheeks. The sleeves of his jacket were long on her arms, hiding the way her fingers of both hands were picking at her newly yellow painted nails in anxious nerves. Just tell him. Stop freezing yourself with worry over everything else—just tell him. Speak now and worry later.

Apparently, Alex found her stammering amusing as a boyish, lower-lip-biting grin took over his face, showing off his dimples and effectively stealing Jo’s breath. She wondered if Alex knew how handsome he was and how his smile could maybe, possibly end all wars.

He was getting closer, she could feel it, along with the fact that his hands were now sliding up and holding the sides of her neck in a gentle touch, the metals of his rings cool against her heated skin as his fingers slid slightly into her hair. The sounds of people chattering, and music playing was taken over by the thundering of her heart, breath unsteady as barely an inch remained between Alex and Jo, his nose brushing against hers once he leaned in, his own uneven breathing mingling with her own. Was he as nervous, anticipating the next few moments as she was? The ends of some of his curls were tickling Jo’s cheek as Alex surprised her by whispering, “I need you to say it, Jo.”

His gaze was practically impaling her and she found herself glancing down at his lips—pink and soft looking and full—as she swallowed and muttered breathlessly, “Say what?”

The pads of Alex’s thumbs brushed against Jo’s cheekbones. Was the music still playing? Neither of them could hear it, attention solely on each other. His gaze flickered to her lips, mirroring her action. “You know what.”

Jo’s hands, which had been nervously at her sides, finally moved as she lightly fisted the front of his black tee, and she spoke the first three words that popped in her head. “Kiss me, Alex.”

He didn’t have to be told twice because the second those words escaped Jo, Alex leaned towards her and she met him in the middle, eyes shutting at the first touch of his lips against hers. Honest to God, it felt like she was exploding as Alex’s lips moved surprisingly slowly, softly against her own. Suddenly it wasn’t just Jo’s sense of smell that was taken captive by Alex—he had taken over everything. She felt the languid movements of his lips and the tender touch of his hands against her cheeks and in her hair, the taste of vodka welcome only because it was coming from Alex.

It was a slow, sucking kiss that tightened Jo’s grip on his shirt but ended way too quickly with Alex pulling away. But he didn’t put much distance between the two as Jo’s eyes dazedly opened, staring up at him with a parted mouth and slightly widened eyes. Alex’s blue eyes were looking at her; like he was taking in every feature on her face for the first time as his gaze flickered all over, and for a moment Jo felt a bit unsure of herself because of the pure intensity of his staring, which was doing the exact opposite of slowing her heart rate down.

Jo felt light on her feet, the heaviness in her head dissipating after that kiss because, shit, it was everything she could’ve hoped for and more. Alex’s lips were softer than she imagined, the touch of his hands cupping her cheeks gentle and comforting, so much so that she didn’t want him to let go.

Then Alex’s lips curled upwards in a smile that showed off his teeth and dimples and Jo instantly mirrored it an automatic response. Elated gaze once again meeting his, she felt the air rush back into her lungs in time for Alex to press his lips against hers in a kiss of much more fervor, like he was putting every ounce of his feelings into it.

#jolex #jo wilson #alex karev

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