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iamdunn · 3 years

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Sorry for removing this again but the spelling errors drove me insane 😅

Miraculous Follow up: Where’s Your Heart

A Truth & Lies Follow up Fan-Fic

Written By

AJ Dunn

Cat Noir lept from rooftop to rooftop until he slipped between two buildings and sat down in an alleyway not far from the Sien. It had been a long day and night, with two back to back akumatizations. First was his friend Luka who was also his friend Marinette’s boyfriend and a fellow band member. He was always a cool headed guy so what caused him to lose control and start demanding people tell him the truth. He knew it had something to do with Marinette because they ended up chasing him all the way to her bedroom where they finally saved him. He had even struck her parents with his Truth power. What was he trying to figure out?

The second was Kagami, his own girlfriend, and now he was sure that was coming to an end. He felt bad because he should have felt worse for causing their break up, but his feelings for her weren’t that strong. One girl held his heart, Ladybug. Though dating a superhero wasn’t easy, they would never be able to make it work without knowing each other's secret identities. He knew why Kagami was akumatized, but he still wondered about Luka.

He didn’t feel like going home so he transformed to give Plagg a rest and a snack.

“Sorry Plagg, this is the last one.” He said, tossing a tiny chunk of Camembert into the air where the Kwami gulped it down.

“Well, I forgive you, we didn’t get a chance to go home before having to save Kagami.” Plagg was acting a lot more reasonable than normal. “But don’t let it happen again.” He crossed his arms and turned away as he hovered in the air acting offended. Adrien smirked at his friend who cast a half smile back over his shoulder.

“There’s something I need to do before we head home, Plagg.” Adrien said standing up. “Plagg, Claws out.” Plagg zipped through the air merging with the silver ring on Adriens hand causing it to turn black and expose the cat paw print on the round surface piece. Adrien's body began to change, his clothes replaced with his black leather suit and a mask emerged covering his eyes. A simple disguise but it seemed to be rather effective at covering his identity. For a model, it was a breath of fresh air to be able to not be himself but also feel more like himself then ever.

Cat Noir grabbed his staff holding it vertically as he clicked the button on the pawprint and extended the staff thrusting himself into the air where he leapt onto the roof. He made his way down towards the Seine where the Liberty was usually moored. He crouched on the bridge looking around to make sure no one could see him.

“Plagg, claws in.” he said as he sat down. The sound of a stringed instrument played out a sad solo on the bow of the ship. Adrien stood up and walked off the bridge and made his way to the gangplank. He saw Luka sitting alone on the makeshift stage they used for their rehearsals. He didn’t look up as Adrien took his spot at the keyboard and began to play in tune with Luka’s sad melody. They played together in silence as if both were feeling the melancholy of the day reverating in each other's hearts. The tune came to a close and Adrien watched Luka hang his head with silent tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I don’t know what happened today, or why you are feeling this way.” Adrien said, sitting down next to him and hanging his head. “Did it have something to do with Marinette?” He dared ask.

“We broke up.” Luka finally said then began to pick at the guitar strings without any melody behind it. “She can’t tell me the truth.”

“What truth is that?” Adrien asked.

“She is in love with someone else.” Luka sniffled. “I knew she loved him but I thought that I could be patient and wait for her, I underestimated her feelings for him.”

“Who...does she love?” Adrien gulped. He never would have expected that after seeing the two of them at the ice rink. They looked so in love or maybe it was just Luka.

“That is not my secret to tell.” Luka looked up at Adrien and smiled. It was a knowing smile, calm and peaceful yet sorrowful. “But I can tell you he has no idea what he's missing out on.” Adrien remembered his, or Cat Noir’s conversation with Marinette on her balcony that one night when Ladybug had stood him up. Marinette had said she had her heart broken too.

“So, he turned her down?” Adrien asked.

“No, he doesn’t even know she loves him.” Luka looked back down to his guitar and began playing a thumbing tune. “Her heart sounds like this when she’s around him. But her head is like this.” He began playing a chaotic sound.

“Do I know this boy?” Adrien asked but Luka just smiled at him.

“What brings you here, this late Adrien? Did something happen?” Luka played a slow tune feeling the unease in Adrien’s heart.

“I think me and Kagami broke up.” He started. “I’m not sure what I did. But I think it has something to do with the lucky charm Marinette gave me. I lost it after we left here to go to the party.” Adrien knew he couldn’t tell Luka the whole truth, although something inside him made him feel so comfortable that he knew he could tell him, it was the thought of Ladybug that made him keep the secret.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Luka said, still strumming the slow tune.

“Don’t be, I was lying to myself that I could have a relationship with anyone besides the girl I love.” Adrien hung his head.

“What’s stopping you from being with her?” Luka asked

“The same thing that broke you and Marinette up.” he smirked. “She’s in love with someone else.” They both exchanged the same knowing look as Luka set his guitar to the side.

“Do you know who she’s in love with?” Luka asked.

“No, and it’s silly because I don’t know who she is either.” Adrien hung his head again. “She’s Ladybug.” Luka’s face went dim, he tried to imagine what it would be like to be in love with someone who you could never be with in the light of day.

“That is rough.” Luka finally said. “I guess you could ask yourself what is it about her that made you fall in love.” Luka picked up his guitar and began playing a haphazard tune. “Is she a little bit clumsy with a graceful smile?” Adrien smiled remembering their first encounter when she crashed into him. The graceful way she swung through the city and how she flicked his bell.

“Yeah, she is.” Adrien mused. Luka began playing a rock tune.

“Is she tough, standing up against bullies and never backing down?” Adrien remembered the way Ladybug stood atop the Eiffel Tower and fought back against Hawk Moth’s first attack only to promise the people of Paris that they would protect them.

“That is definitely her.” Adrien’s smile brightened. Luka began to play a classical tune.

“Is she always there to lend a hand, to help a friend in need, or just lend an ear or a hug?” Luka asked

“She always seems to know when I need to talk, or when I am not feeling myself. She always takes time to help out an akumatized victim if she has the time.” Adrien beamed. He looked up at Luka, he stopped playing and hung his head.

“Is she sensitive, have you ever seen her at her weakest moments, when all hope seemed lost?” Adrien nodded. “But she still picked herself back up and kept fighting?” Luka added. Adrien agreed with every word Luka had said.

“That’s my lady you just described there.” Adrien straightened his back, squaring his shoulders. “Are you in love with Ladybug too?” Luka laughed.

“I just described Marinette.” Luka smiled at Adrien as a look of shock crossed his mind. He hadn’t thought about it, but Luka was right. “She’s always doing stuff for other people even at the cost of her own happiness.” Luka looked up at the stars, setting his guitar to the side again. Leaning back placing his palms on the box he was sitting one and gazed up longingly as if the source of his love danced among the stars. Adrien watched his face glow in a blissful daze, then copied his actions. The two sat in silence for a while.

“I hope he figures out she loves him soon, and either accepts her love or let’s her down softly.” Luka said softly. “I don’t want her heart to get broken if he doesn't love her, but I will always be here for her.”

“What about you if it turns out he does love her?” Adrien asked, looking at him, his eyes filled with concern but not just for Luka, he was in the same boat literally and metaphorically.

“We’re still young, we have our entire lives ahead of us to discover who we are meant to be and who we are meant to be with.” Luka looked at Adrien lifting his right hand palm up as if offering something precious to the sky. “I may not have met her yet, or maybe, you haven’t.” Luka added.

“And… even if we had, maybe we are too blinded by our current feelings to see her?” Adrien asked.

“Exactly buddy.” Luka pointed to him and winked. “But, you be sure to stop by here anytime Adrien, it’s nice to have a friend in the same boat.” He sat up, holding his arms out jestering the pun that now rocked with the current of the water. They both laughed knowingly.

“I better go, I have school tomorrow.” Adrien said standing and heading for the gang plank.

“Adrien.” Luka called before he stepped off the gangplank. “Where's your heart?” It was an odd question, but he knew what Luka meant.

“Where’s your heart?” he smiled and headed for the stairs to the bridge.

The next day at school Adrien’s attention was on Marinette more than usual. Watching her mannerisms and her speech. She was usually late, and tripped over invisible objects. He watched how she interacted with their friends. She was always such a leader and inspired others around her.

Lunch time came and Adrien made his way to the locker room. Before he could enter the door swung open and Marinette crashed into him. They landed on the floor, Adrien on his back with Marinette belly to belly on top of him. Her face lit up in a glow of red, her mouth stretched into an awkward grin and she struggled to stand back up. As she pulled herself off of him she tripped over his feet and landed,sitting on his lap as he now sat on the floor. Adrien wrapped his arms around her waist holding her side to him and laid his head on her shoulder. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

The smell of the bakery was all over her. Sugar, vanilla, and… passionfruit? He placed a hand on her head.

“Calm down.” He tried to hold his composure wonderin how Luka would handle this situation. He copied what he had seen Luka doing on the boat whenever Marinette went on a crazy klutz marathon. “Take a deep breath and try again.” He lifted his eyes to meet hers. She was frozen in shock. Her face softened and she smiled at him. Letting out a nervous chuckle as she slowly slid off his lap. They stood up together as she composed herself.

“I am so gorry I didn’t mean to fall in love with I mean on you.” Marinette grimaced. Adrien placed a finger on his lips.

“Take a deep breath.” He said. He could see her face relax as she did as he said. She closed her eyes then opened them.

“I am so sorry Adrien, I am madly clumsy.” She chuckled nervously again. Adrien sighed. He could see how Luka could be so in love with her.

“Are you going to come to the barge and watch us practice after school?” Adrien smiled. Marinette went tight, her face grimaced and she began to play with her fingers nervously.

“I uh, I can’t.” She looked down at her fingers. “I have some uh, I have way too much homework to do and I don’t think I will be able to come watch you guys for a while.” She didn’t stumble this time but she also wasn't looking at Adrien. He thought that maybe she was averting her eyes to avoid him seeing the hurt that he heard in her voice.

“If you're that far behind, maybe I should come over and help you.” Adrien offered. Marinette looked flighty as she grimaced.

“No no no, you just uh, you go practice, why spend your free time doing schoolwork.” She smiled awkwardly then stepped to the side slowly as if trying to escape a hungry panther. “Coming Alya.” She said over his shoulder and ran off to catch up with her best friend. Adrien wondered if that was true, or if Marinette was hiding something. He tried to imagine how she was with Luka. he was trying to figure out how he could get the two of them back together, or figure out who this boy was. Even if he couldn’t have the one he loved, maybe at least Luka deserved to be happy.

“Where is your heart Marinette?” Adrien whispered to no one.

“Human emotions are too complicated.” A whisper came from his pocket. “Now cheese, you can always know the right one, just by looking at it, how it smells and how it feels when you hold it.” Plagg’s cheese analogies were usually so corny, but this time, it made more sense. Adrien thought about how it felt holding Marinette so close to him and how good she smelt.

Sitting in class his mind wandered to Tom and Sabine’s bakery. The smell of the pastries and the taste of the macarons Marinette would bring to class. Tom had asked Cat Noir if he ever wanted to retire from being a superhero and learn the trade from him. Plagg would be happy, all the bread he could couple with his cheese. But Marinette smelled specifically of passionfruit, which was his favorite, but how would she know that?

After school he spied his bodyguards’ car in it’s usual parking spot outside of the school. He froze, it wasn’t too late to sneak by him. He saw Marinette and Alya walking towards the sidewalk in the direction of the car. He sighed and headed in the same direction.

“What’s up my dude, you haven’t been acting like yourself today.” Nino said, wrapping an arm around Adriens’ shoulders.

“I heard, uh, someone talking about Marinette.” Adrien dared to breach the topic with his best friend. He was Alya’s boyfriend and so he must know something about Marinette. “They said she was in love with someone, I just assumed it was Luka, but it wasn’t.” he looked up at Nino, “Do you know who she is in love with?” Nino went stiff, removing his arm from his friends shoulders and glanced nervously at Alya.

“Sorry man, I got to go, Alya is waiting.” He ran off without answering. Adrien could tell he knew something.

“Don’t ask a question you're not ready to know the answer to.” A tiny voice came from behind him. He recognized it to be Juleka as he turned around to see her and Rose standing there. Juleka didn’t look happy, infact, she looked angry. Rose looked concerned but not for him, for Juleka. “Maybe you should just walk away, too many people get hurt by people who are too oblivious to see what’s right in front of them.” Juleka never spoke so clearly, something had her very upset.

Adrien looked around, Alya and Nino were still standing near his body guard’s car but Marinette must have already gone home. He snuck past Alya and Nino hoping his body guard hadn’t seen him and headed towards the bakery across the street. He heard a car pull up to the cross walk and beep. He walked up to the window.

“I just wanted to get a snack before going home.” Adrien chuckled, his body guard nodded then snorted a warning. “I’ll be right back.” he ran across the street to the front door to the bakery. Sabine was helping some customers as Tom brought out a tray of fresh hot chocolate croissants.

“It smells great Mr. Dupain.” Adrien said politely. “I’m here to help Marinette with homework.” Tom smiled at him, putting two croissants into a bag then handing it to him.

“She’s upstairs, take these with you, she never accepts snacks from me when you're here.” Tom winked. Adrien remembered the time they were practicing for the Mecha Strike III tournament and Tom had offered so many goodies and pastries to make him salivate for a year. Adrien headed up stairs with the bag. He made his way to the Dupain-Cheng apartment then up the stairs to Marinette's room. He knocked on the trap door to her room. He could hear talking coming from the other side so he slowly slid the door open. Suddenly Plagg escaped his pocket and flew through the ceiling into her room. He pushed the door open and entered her room.

“She’s not here.” Plagg hovered in the middle of the empty room, hands upward in an ‘i don’t know’ pose.

“Plagg you can’t just fly into her room like that, what if she had seen you?” Adrien scolded.

“I was careful.” Plagg smirked.

“Why would you do that anyway?” Adrien asked, looking around her room. He had been her many times but never by himself. It felt awkward.

“I wanted to make sure … you weren’t walking in on her doing something...embarrassing.” Plagg offered. Adrien's face flushed, she might have changed her clothes or written in a diary. Adrien looked around the room, she still had pictures of him everywhere. She had once told him she had them because she loved fashion, but what if she loved him and just didn’t want to admit it.

“Plagg, what if she really is in love with me?” Adrien asked quietly as he looked around the room. “I know I heard voices talking up here.” He noticed the hatch above her bed was open, so he climbed the ladder to her bed. He tried not to step all over her bed as he climbed through the hatch. You almost had to bounce off the bed to get up to the balcony. There was no one there either. Adrien was confused. He dropped back onto her bed and walked over to her desk.

“She said she had so much homework to do, but she left it here on her desk.” Adrien set the bag down then took a pen and wrote a note on it.

‘If you need help with your homework, please call me.’ he drew a cat paw on it then realized what he had done. It was too late to fix it, it was a permanent pen. He grimaced then took one of the croissants and climbed back to the balcony.

“Plagg, Claws out.”

Ladybug was especially anxious as they patrolled the city. He couldn’t understand why she didn’t even stop to take a breath or give a fist bump. She didn’t even chastise him for being late or using flirtatious corny puns. They had gone to watch a movie and she made a huge scene. He thought it must have something to do with the guy she likes because it was a romantic comedy and she ruined it with a rant about how romance is a waste of time.

“Ladybug, can I ask you something?” Cat Noir asked before they went their separate ways. Ladybug looked at him with concern as he hung his head. She nodded to him. “You see, a friend of mine told me that we are still too young to know who we want to be with, but I can’t help how I feel and I know you can’t either. So…” He scratched the back of his neck. “Where... do girls go when they like someone, but they can’t tell them. Who do they talk to?” Ladybug was taken aback. She thought he was going to ask again who she was in love with. Ladybug sighed.

“Most of the time, girls tell their best friends, but sometimes, they keep it a secret from everyone.” She sat down and sulked. Cat Noir sat down next to her.

“How is it so easy for you to say things to me, tell me you love me. We can’t just show up at each other's house for Sunday brunch or play Mega Strike III together when we’re not Ladybug and Cat Noir.” She rested her head in her hands as her elbows dug into her thighs. “I want to have a real boyfriend, not one I have to keep secrets from or that I can only see when I am powered up.” Cat understood now why Ladybug and Cat Noir couldn’t be together.

“And we can’t know our secret identities because…” He didn’t really know why but didn’t want to seem like he was asking again.

“Because, Hawk Moth can use us to hurt each other. Remember when Dark Cupid hit you with his arrow.” How could he forget, it would have been his first kiss ever and with Ladybug none the less but instead it’s a memory he’ll never have, and he had attacked Ladybug. “What if you knew who I was, and Truth asked you, If I hadn’t been there, he would have found out, he almost found out who I AM.” She sobbed “This is bigger than you and me Cat, and maybe we’re not mature enough yet to handle our super hero lives and a relationship with anyone.” She leapt to her feet unhooking her yo-yo.

“It’s best we just focus on our jobs, doing homework and saving Paris.” She swung away before he could stop her.

“Where’s your heart Ladybug.” He whispered to himself.

#miraculous fandom #ladynoir #miraculous chat noir #adrienette #miraculous ladybug #marichat

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between-the-pages6 · 4 years

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Cheer Up, Darling - Johnny Silverhand x Fem V

Hey guys! Back at it again. This is just something I was thinking of while I was listening to the song. I’m a fan of music from this era, so I hope you guys might be too? If not, enjoy goofy, thoughtful boyfriend Johnny.

Song : Just What I Needed - The Cars. Originally released in 1978.

Words : 1264

V drives down the interstate with just about everything on her mind but the kitchen sink. Actually, she'd have to speak to her landlord about her sink. It's been dripping like a son of a bitch lately. Okay, so everything on her mind including the kitchen sink. She stares out into the road and thinks about her imminent death. She thinks of the rocker boy terrorist she has in her head, who has recently decided she's of more use to him alive. As if on cue, he appears in the passenger seat beside her.

For a few minutes, it's quiet. Neither one of them wants to break the silence. "You know what always makes me feel better?" Johnny taps his finger on the radio and looks at her.

Despite being in the mood that she's in, she agrees. Music has always been her release, even before she had a rockstar put in her head. She's just glad he's past wanting her dead.

She turns on the radio, an old CD still in the player of her old car. Johnny makes a face immediately, but doesn't say anything.

I don't mind you coming here,

And wasting all my time

Cause when you're standing oh so near,

I kind of lose my mind

She mutters along with the song, beginning to bop her head. She's always loved the music from this era. The late 1970s and the entire 1980s was the music she grew up on, what really felt like home. Her mood instantly improves, though the sour faced man beside her is growing more impatient with the song by the minute.

"Seriously? This song is a hundred years old" Johnny complains, reaching for the knob. Though she can't make contact with him, she slaps his hand away.

"Leave it. I love this song" She grits her teeth, becoming increasingly annoyed.

"This is complete bullshit. When I said music makes you feel better I meant good music." Johnny grunts, disappearing a moment later. A lone tear slides down her cheek, she wipes it away as if he was still there to see it. She doesn't know where he goes when he leaves her, but she knows she can feel it. She feels his absence, and instead of feeling comforted by it, she begins to feel completely and utterly alone.

She begins to wonder if she will die that way, too.

Skip ahead, to the time just shortly after Johnny gives V his dog tags and his tank top. They're friends now, though sometimes treading on the edges, wanting more.

She slumps down on the couch in the Dev room beside Johnny, who's absentmindedly strumming a tune on the guitar in his arms. He cradles it, holds it gently. She only wishes he could do the same to her.

That seems to be the cause of her problem today, other than the fact she’s dying.

She throws a pillow beside Johnny's leg and lay her head down, stretching out her limbs in the process. She grabs the dog tags around her neck and feels an ache in her heart. Maybe she's always been destined to feel this way. She feels a sob rising in her throat and she can't hold it back. She plunges her face into the pillow and tries to suppress the tears, realizing a moment later it doesn't matter what she does. Johnny knows exactly how she's feeling, and he doesn’t like it. He’d do anything to hear her laugh right now. No matter how drastic.

"Put this on" He gestures towards the weighted blanket that he made her bring to the Dev room the moment they started hanging out here frequently. She thought it to be a rather silly idea, but Johnny says it helps, so she abides. Today, however, she can't get it around her shoulders fast enough. She longs to feel the weight of him holding her, but this and his voice are the next best thing, she supposed. She sees him reaching out toward her and it pains her she can't touch him back.

He strokes her hair lightly and she swears she can almost feel him there, the coolness of his hand against her skin.

"You know what always makes me feel better?" she closes her eyes tighter, trying to feel the vibration of his voice. She wipes her eyes and sits up to look at him.

He begins to play the opening notes to a very familiar song, one that just a few short weeks ago(or has it been longer than that? She feels like she's living an eternity) he absolutely hated. The sensor in the room has picked up on the song and is now playing it in the background while Johnny strums. It's when he opens his mouth to sing when her heart begins to warm.

"I don't mind you coming here,

And wasting all my time,

'Cause when you're standin' oh so near,

I kind of lose my mind"

Johnny spins around the room, strumming the guitar tapping his foot to the beat of the song. She throws the weighted blanket off of her shoulders and stands, beginning to dance ever so shy in front of the rocker. She’s never danced in front of him before, or anyone really. But she feels safe with him, like she could really be herself.

"It's not the perfume that you wear,

It's not the ribbons in your hair,

And I don't mind you comin' here,

And wastin' all my time"

"Johnny Silverhand, did you learn this song just for me?" she teases, feeling the hot blush that creeps up on her cheek as she watches him strut in front of her. She watches the way his tight brown leather pants move on his body and tries to forget about it before Johnny catches on.

"I don't mind you hanging out

And talkin' in your sleep"

Johnny points right at her, a big grin pasted on his face.

"I do not" she protests, biting her lip in a hopeless effort to conceal her own smile.

"It doesn't matter where you've been,

As long as it was deep, yeah”

Johnny thrusts his hips into the air, forcing the innuendo and earning a giggle from her in the process. The very sound of it is music to his ears.

“You always knew to wear it well,

You look so fancy I can tell,

I don't mind you hangin' out

And talkin' in your sleep"

Johnny gets closer to her and pretends he's holding out a mic, extending it to her mouth as the chorus comes on. She belts out into it happily, dancing beside him.

"I guess you're just what I needed,

(Just what I needed)

I needed someone to feed,

I guess you're just what I needed

(Just what I needed)

I needed someone to bleed"

Johnny lets her sing the main chorus as he takes the background pieces, both of them laughing so hard now it's hard to sing properly. The song has turned into a mess. She steps back as Johnny plays out the solo, she dances around the coffee table and tries to watch the way his fingers caress the strings. She feels the tug on her heart, and he must have felt it too, because he gives her a small, understanding nod.

Together, they sing the rest of the song at the top of their lungs, not a care in the world.

Just two souls that happened to get stuck together.

She wouldn't have it any other way, and to his surprise, Johnny wouldn't either.

#cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk 2077 fanfic #johnny silverhand x reader #johnny silverhand #cyberpunk v

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verymuchimmortalcat · 3 years

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Maribat March Day 13: Reverse Robins

ao3

@maribatmarch-2k21

Their Ages:

Damian: 25

Tim: 19

Steph: 18

Cass: 17

Jason:17

Dick: 11

Marinette: 8

Jason had a plan to bring Tim home for the holidays. Tim hadn’t responded to the invitation that Bruce had sent him. It didn’t necessarily shock anyone but Marinette had been really upset. She adored her second eldest brother and on the rare occasion Tim was in the Manor or the cave, he was always accompanied by the eight-year-old who followed behind him chattering on about whatever she had found interesting.

Tim was probably given the same place as Dick had. Though everyone had accepted that if Marinette had a favourite it would be Cass. Which was understandable.

It was funny how Dick had latched onto Damian and Marinette with Tim. The two of them had somehow managed to get attached to the two brothers, whose rare interactions usually ended in arguments.

His plan was simple. Take Marinette with him on patrol and go to one of Tim’s safe houses. Let her use her puppy eyes on him and if that doesn’t work, Jason can probably bribe him with Alfred’s food. Jason’s sure they won’t have to resort to bribery. He’s seen the Damian Wayne give in to her puppy eyes. (Cass had managed to take a video and had sent it to Jon, who sent it to the rest of Damian’s friends. Damian had taken to threatening to stab anyone who brought it up but none of them took him seriously.)

All he had to figure out now, was how to sneak her out on patrol with him. Dick had started his training but Marinette had decided she was going to help Steph and Alfred with comms and whatever little help she could provide around the med bay. It was adorable. But none of that helped with getting her out of the house, even if he picks a day where he’s on solo patrol, Alfred would notice that Marinette was missing.

In the end he tells Alfred he’s taking Marinette to talk to Tim. Alfred agrees, probably because its weird to see the most cheerful person in their house being gloomy. Even Bruce had tried to distract her to help her feel better. Not that it had helped.

He tells Marinette about his plan and she agrees. Tim doesn’t show up in the cave in the days after he tells Marinette of his plan. He seems to be avoiding the family completely in fact. He’s sure Marinette’s noticed too. Marinette gets more and more excited before his next solo patrol. The day he tells her they’re going; she’s practically bouncing in excitement. The whole family notices but doesn’t say anything, glad to have their ray of sunshine back. Jason thinks Cass knows and isn’t saying anything but he isn’t in a hurry to find out. For all he knows Marinette might’ve just told her.

He stays behind in the changing rooms for a while. And once he’s sure everyone’s left and he comes to grab Marinette, he realises Dick is still there. Dick will definitely notice his sister’s disappearance but he might tell Damian if they tell him where they’re going. And if Damian shows up, Marinette’s pleading or not, they weren’t going to achieve anything. Thankfully, Dick heads back up a while later, he must have been tired out by his training.

Jason hands Marinette a domino mask and takes his bike. He knows better than to grapple around Gotham City with a child. Steph just smiles at them as they scurry across the cave. He’s not shocked, if Cass knows than Steph definitely knows. At this point he’s just glad Marinette didn’t tell Dick.

They head to the safehouse Tim had been in the last time. Hopefully, Tim’s there. Jason doubts he’s gone on patrol, since he’s been trying to avoid the rest of them, he’s probably just working on case files.

Tim is there. Jason parks his bike in an alleyway and hands Marinette the mask solvent. She removes the mask soon enough and they go to find Tim. Marinette knocks on the door. Jason behind her, hidden in the shadows. The door opens to reveal Tim with a scowl on his face looking straight ahead, and before he can make out Jason in the shadows, Marinette hugs him, joyfully squealing, “Timtam!”

Tim looks down, bewildered, at the tiny kid that has currently wrapped herself around Tim.

“Marinette? What are you doing here?”

Still clinging on, she continues to speak happily, “Jayjay brought me.”

Looking up Tim spots him immediately, stepping forward, Jason offers him a sheepish grin.

Tim narrows his eyes at him, “why are the two of you here?”

Jason ignores his question and says, “we should head inside, don’t wanna bring attention to ourselves,” gesturing to his costume. And Jason walks into the apartment, steadily ignoring Tim glaring daggers behind him. Marinette has stopped clinging onto Tim and is skipping into the house dragging Tim behind her once he shuts the door.

Marinette goes back to hanging off of Tim like a monkey once he comes to a standstill.

“Mind telling me why the two of you are here?”

“Don’t look at me, Pixie was the one who wanted to talk to you.”

He looks at Marinette, who offers him a blinding grin. Tim melts a little and sits down, Marinette now having settled on his shoulders. He can’t wait to check out the footage from his mask later. This is going to hilarious. Gotham’s scary anti-hero caving under grins from his littlest sibling.

Marinette cuts to the chase, clambering of his shoulders, she sits cross legged on his lap, eyes wide and pouting. Jason stifles his urge to giggle. She looks up at him, and says sounding so sad that Jason wants to wrap her up in blankets and eat chocolate until Alfred scolds them, “Bruce said you’re not coming to the Manor next week.”

“I- what?”

She sniffles, and damn is Jason impressed, “for the holidays, Damian came home yesterday, Jon will be there next week. Cass and Steph are both there, B’s taken the week off from work. You’re the only one not coming.”

He’s still staring at Marinette with wide eyes, and a confused face. But he sounds perfectly collected when he says, “And do the others want me there?”

She gives him an indignant look, “Of course they do, why would they send an invitation if they didn’t want you there?”

“I don’t know,” he says, phrasing it as a question.

“Great, then you’re coming,” she says happily.

“I am?”

Jason almost feels bad for Tim. Almost. He’s not physically hurt, the worst thing from this encounter would be when Jason sends his mask footage to Tim’s friends as revenge for the whole trying to kill him thing. Marinette’s going to develop a reputation of getting grown heroes (or anti-heroes in this case) to cave under smiles before she meets any of them.

Marinette continues cheerfully, “yup. It’ll be so much fun. Alfred promised he’s gonna make everyone’s favourites. Yours included. And then the gifts. Don’t forget to get gifts, by the way.”

“Uh…sure.”

They’ve been out for at least two hours, if they don’t leave now, they might not make it back to the cave before the others do. Before Marinette can start on another tirade, he interrupts her, “We’ve gotta go now, if we don’t wanna be grounded.”

Marinette pouts but she gets up. She hugs Tim one more time and makes him promise that he’ll be there the next week. She skips out of the apartment happier than Jason had seen her all week.

They reach the cave before the others. Marinette informs Alfred and Steph that Tim agreed to come and Alfred ensures her that he’d take care of the necessary arrangements and that he’s glad that she convinced Tim to join them. She casually says, “he thought we didn’t actually want him here, that’s silly. Of course, we want him here.” She misses the sudden pain in Alfred and Stephanie’s expressions

Steph puts a hand on the bouncing Marinette’s shoulder, “maybe you should keep reminding him.”

Marinette looks at her and nods gravely, “ok.” She yawns then and Alfred sends her up to bed. Telling her she’s had a long night. Marinette wishes them all good night and rushes up the stairs.

The next morning Marinette informs the others, that ‘Timtam’ will be joining them and they have to get him a gift. No one provides Bruce with an answer when he asks how she knows, even though Jason’s sure all his siblings know by now.

True to his word Tim shows up the next week. He leaves at the end of the week. But Marinette and Jason now have an established system. It takes Tim, three more times of the same process before he catches on. He’s not immune to it though. So, every time Tim turns away from their “family bonding” Jason takes Marinette to whatever safe house he’s in and Marinette talks him into coming. Eventually they don’t need to do that and Tim just agrees the first time.

Being Dick's sister, she's been performing most of her life, she'd be able to pull off the whole fake tears thing..

#maribatmarch2021 #maribat #bio sibling! au #marinette grayson!au #my writing

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diamcndgirl · 3 years

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have you ever thought to yourself, “hmm, i love one direction and i love waltrp... i wonder what would happen if we gave every taken character a one direction song that reminds me of them??” well, don’t worry because even if it never crossed your mind because it did for me. i’m back once again with another silly little #waltmeme for you with songs by one direction or their solo albums that remind me of your characters. the choices can have something to do with a certain lyric, the title, or just the all around vibe it gives me that makes me think of them. don’t worry everything is under ‘read more’ and in alphabetical order-- or whatever order the taken list is in. p.s. not everyone has a blurb. but i still had a reason for everyone. if you really wanna know why just dm me and i'll give an explanation. love u mean it.

ALEJANDRO DIAZ - STOLE MY HEART / ONE DIRECTION

“you stole my heart with just one look” alejandro, my love, my heart. it’s clear the reason i chose this song is because it talks about having something stolen. but, you and your band of misfit criminal friends can steal my heart any day.

AURORA CAPULET - LITTLE THINGS / ONE DIRECTION

“i can’t let these little things slip out of my mouth” aurora you may be thinking.. this song talks about all my imperfections why would you pick such a thing? oh no! it’s not because i think you’re imperfect at all. it’s because i’m totally in love with all the little things that make you who you are.. and not to mention i couldn’t not give you a ballad.

ANNA ARNADALR - HEY ANGEL / ONE DIRECTION

“hey angel do you ever try to come to the other side?” this whole song has anna vibes. anna, you’re an angel.. did you know that? well, angel… when you aren’t busy trying to fix your sisterly connection come to the other side and hang out with me.

BECKHAM TEAGUE - NICE TO MEET YA / NIALL

“i want your number tattooed on my arm in ink i swear.” the song, the lyrics, the vibe all just fits beckham’s personality very well.

BENNET DOE - SWEET CREATURE / HARRY

“sweet creature running through the garden oh where nothing bothered us.” sweet, soft, and lovely bennet.. sweet creature is one of my favorite songs in the world and it reminds me so much of you. i couldn’t pick a character better than you to give it to.

BARLEY LIGHTFOOT - CANYON MOON / HARRY

“i keep thinking back to a time under the canyon moon.” lyrically this song doesn’t fit you, barley. not truly. but, aesthetically it reminds me of you very much. you’re adventurous and a little out there just like this harry styles tune. the bridge especially gives me a vibe of riding around in guinevere out on an adventure.

CASSANDRA JAGER - ONLY THE BRAVE / LOUIS

“tall stories on the page, short glories on the fade.” cassandra reminds me of strength and being brave (wink wink). and this song just reminds me of you, cass. though short it gives me a feeling like i can kick some ass.

DANI DENNISON - THROUGH THE DARK / ONE DIRECTION

“oh i will carry you over fire and water for your love and i will hold you closer hope your heart is strong enough.” i love dani.. like really really love your sweet soul. she’s the cutest truly. just the sound and lyrics remind me so much of her and her heart to help the ones she cares about.

DAPHNE BLAKE - LITTLE BLACK DRESS / ONE DIRECTION

“i wanna see the way you move for me, baby” clearly this song isn’t anything to write home about lyrically. but, when i hear this song i get all excited and ready to go take on the world. something about it makes me feel like i’m the hottest girl in the room and it should go to the hottest girl in the room.. which is you, daphne.

ELIZABETH MCQUEEN - WOMAN / HARRY

“i hope you can see, the shape that I’m in while he’s touching your skin.” hi elizabeth.. this song is just hot. you’re just hot.. i really am jealous of monty and would take his place at any given moment if you let me.

ELSA ARNADALR - DON’T LET IT BREAK YOUR HEART / LOUIS

“don’t you let it kill you even when it hurts like hell. oh, whatever tears you apart don’t let it break your heart.” elsa, you’re truly the strongest girl i know. this song just radiates that energy of getting over what you’ve been through and not letting it break you down.

EMILY LORELEYN - BLUE / ZAYN

“in the clouds where the angels sing. in your eyes, where i wanna be and her smile is all i see….. i need someone to love me blue.” emily is a goddess okay.. like she’s so beautiful and kindhearted. this song is so beautiful and then also the ‘love me blue’. reminds me of her origin and how she waited for love until she passed and turned blue.

EUGENE FITZHERBERT - ONE WAY OR ANOTHER (TEENAGE KICKS) / ONE DIRECTION

“and when the lights are all out.. i’ll follow your bus downtown.” oh horace.. this whole song just fits you so well.. the teenage kicks mashup with the joan jett classic. it just embodies you so well. i don’t think i could’ve picked a better song for you.

FLORIAN CHARMONT - NIGHT CHANGES / ONE DIRECTION

FRANCIS KYDD - SOMETHING GREAT / ONE DIRECTION

“come on, jump out at me. come on, bring everything. is it too much to ask for something great? the script was written and i could not change a thing. i want to rip it all to shreds and start again.” there isn’t a real lyrical reason i picked this song for you, francis. just something about it made me think of you. just gave me a feeling that it was theatrical enough for you, dear.

FRAN BERNOULLI - NO CONTROL / ONE DIRECTION

“i just can’t get enough of you the pedal’s down, my eyes are closed. no control” did i pick this song because you’re a race car driver and it made me giggle… yes, and because i haven an uncontrollable crush on you, fran.

FRED FREDRICKSON - SAVE YOU TONIGHT / ONE DIRECTION

“i, i wanna save you. wanna save your heart tonight. he’ll only break ya. leave you torn apart inside.” fredzilla, my absolute favorite hero. i dedicate this to you. simple but effective.

FREDDY JONES - END OF THE DAY / ONE DIRECTION

GEORGIE FOXWORTH - SOUR DIESEL / ZAYN

GRACELYNN MOON - HAPPILY / ONE DIRECTION

this is my favorite one direction song, gracie and i’m giving it to you. so take care of it and understand that it’s upbeat sound reminds me of you and your cute behind.

HADES VASILIKAS - STOCKHOLM SYNDROME / ONE DIRECTION

you steal people. but if you stole me.. i’d fall in love. that’s all really.

HAVEN LEMOS - STEAL MY GIRL / ONE DIRECTION

HERCULES ZERVOUS - STRONG / ONE DIRECTION

get it because you’re strong? hehe.

HOWL PENDRAGON - ILLUSION / ONE DIRECTION

IAN LIGHTFOOT - MAGIC / ONE DIRECTION

JACK FROST - LET IT SNOW, LET IT SNOW / LIAM

i’m sorry but i’m not sorry i chose this song for you, jack. feel free to hate me forever.

JIM HAWKINS - WE MADE IT / LOUIS

KIARA SANTUCCI - NOBODY COMPARES / ONE DIRECTION

LILO PELEKAI - SHE’S NOT AFRAID / ONE DIRECTION

LOGAN TEAGUE - TEENAGE DIRTBAG / ONE DIRECTION

LUCA PAGURO - SUMMER LOVE / ONE DIRECTION

MAEL CALCIFER - FIREPROOF / ONE DIRECTION

“i’m feeling something deep inside. hotter than a jet stream burning up.” i’d only want to be fireproof for you, mael. there is just something about you that wins my heart. i’d walk through fire for you.

MAVIS VADUVA -

MEG DIMITRIOU - SHE / HARRY

MOLLIE SILVER - KISS YOU / ONE DIRECTION

MONTY MCQUEEN - ROCK ME / ONE DIRECTION

“hit the pedal heavy metal, show me you care.” not only do i want you to rock me, monty. the only reason i chose this song is because i have a nascar inspired shirt for this and it reminds me of you.

NALA OMITA - NEW ANGEL / NIALL HORAN

NUKA LEU - PILLOWTALK / ZAYN

ORION BARTHOLOMEW - KIWI / HARRY

orion, are we sure you’ve never had a woman accuse you of being her baby daddy? either way, this songs vibe just makes sense for you, dear.

PENELOPE HAINLINE - GIRL ALMIGHTY / ONE DIRECTION

“she floats through the room on a big balloon. some say she’s such a fake that her love is made up.” penny, you are aware you’re the literal coolest girl in the world this song just proves it more.

PHILIP CHARMONT - WOLVES / ONE DIRECTION

REAGAN CYMBELINE - SUNFLOWER VOL 6 / HARRY

“sunflower my eyes want you more than a melody.” reagan, besides the fact you’re a literal walking and talking sunflower there is just a sweet feeling i get when i hear this song and its the same feeling i get when i think of you.

RITA HOLDEN - ONLY ANGEL / HARRY

SADIE TEAGUE - KILL MY MIND / LOUIS

SIMBA SANTUCCI - TIO / ZAYN

SHAGGY ROGERS - WHAT A FEELING / ONE DIRECTION

SOPHIE HATTER - ADORE YOU / HARRY

THACKERY BINX - SMALL TALK / NIALL

VITANI LEU - MIDNIGHT MEMORIES / ONE DIRECTION

“tell me that i’m wrong but i do what i please.” vitani, if anyone in elias is gonna say fuck you i’m doing what i want.. it’s you.

VELMA DINKLEY - BACK FOR YOU / ONE DIRECTION

VIDIA BELLEFONTE - SHE / ZAYN

WALLY AXIOM - PERFECT / ONE DIRECTION

WILL TURNER - LIKE I WOULD / ZAYN

#waltmeme

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j0hn-deacons-perm · 4 years

Text

Bizarre Love Triangle

‘86 John x Reader, tail end of the Magic Tour.

word count: ~3.7k

Based off Bizarre Love Triangle by New Order (I recommend listening to it while reading) also the song just slaps

Also a quick author’s note. Did I write this until about 6 AM because I couldn’t sleep? Yeah, my dudes. There might still be a few mistakes and will fix them when found but hey, I hope you enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~

Last show. The bloody last show of this summer. Tour life has been nothing but stressful but to your surprise, even more rewarding simply with the audience reception. Every show packed with fans, many singing and bopping about like you were on the side lines. Despite being there for nearly every show, the anticipation never ceases to creep up on you. Shivers can be felt in your bones, ready for whatever is to come and you're not even the one on stage in half an hour.

Standing and grabbing drinks, you sit next to John. His knee bouncing as he reads the paper, spotting he's on the current events. Sighing gently, you roam your eyes around the space around you. Brian is tuning his guitar with Fred and Roger sitting next to him. You spot a scrabble board on the table and Roger looking frustrated as he picks letters from the box's top. Most people on your team are racing around, making sure everything is where it should be and in working order. Hearing a sound from John, you look over and watch him skip over the obituaries. However, seeing a name that surely sounds phallic encites a laugh on your end. He raises an eyebrow in your direction.

"Dark comedy your thing, eh?"

"More like potty humor. I see a name like Medick and it's reflex to chuckle."

He scans the page and you laugh again.

"Damn it John, you're looking at Medick."

You determine the laugh he gives you is one out of pity with how bad your Scottish accent was. After apologizing for assaulting his senses, he gives you a smile and asks the time. Looking at your watch, your co-worker announced to everyone the fifteen minute mark before they were expected on stage.

"I hope that answers your question."

His eyes crinkle around the corners and your heart melts at the sight. Answering you with "It does, yeah", he folds the paper up and places it on the empty seat next to him. Attention now on you.

"Any plans post tour Y/N?"

"Besides catch up on nearly a month of lost sleep and time with Tom, probably nothing for a few days. At least that's the hope."

You can see his face shift into a slight discomfort but it might be out of reflex. Two weeks in you began missing your boyfriend back home and requested no one bring him up in conversation, even yourself. Knowing you slipping his name must have been reflex for him. Right?

"Can't imagine what you'd be losing sleep over besides trying to keep track of four old ladies."

"You guys are a lot. Especially you, Deacon. I swear sometimes it's easier looking after a toddler."

He fakes hurt, hand on his chest and a pronounced distressed face paints his features. The rest of the time passes far too quickly for your liking as the boys are rushed off to play their show. You follow behind, overseeing things go smoothy. Grabbing things they may need between songs and making your way off to the side, you nearly jump as the rise in audience volume increases. The floor beneath you shaking as the first few notes play. Hearing the opening lines to One Vision, you calculate the time to sing along but with the lyrics you happened to hear when bringing them their copious amounts of coffee into the recording room. What you didn't expect is John looking over to see you sing 'one dump, one turd, two tits, John Deacon' followed by 'chicken feet, babe' in his direction. You can see him smile when he looks down at his bass.

As the songs pass, your dancing picks up as well as his. You thought John was called Disco Deacy due to his taste in tunes but turns out he's a regular Belle of the ball. His spins and hops always melted your heart, watching him enjoy the music and play. You bop along with him more often than not, enjoying the beats you've heard now countless amounts of times. When I Want To Break Free ends and Brian's solo begins, he heads over in your direction. Grabbing a towel and a vodka tonic, he pats himself dry while watching from your usual view.

"I swear, this solos get longer with every tour."

"And I swear your hair gets bigger with every tour."

"Optical illusion, my dear. Brian's been getting smaller."

He winks and finishes off his drink. His company is gone as quick as it came, or at least it feels that way. The last half of the show plays out along with two encores. Fatigue dampens down on everyone as the crowd starts to disperse and the roadies begin taking apart set ups. Walking back with the boys, you hand them their normal robes and towels as they head to the dressing room. Making your way back to your post and sitting down, the realization of this is the end dawns on you. A month of tours finished. A month of pain, suffering, blood, sweat, and many tears but also a month of pure bliss. A month of becoming even closer with the band that you've come to know the much more this past year. Seeing them outside of the studio was a shock at first but tour life seems to mellow them out in ways. Less ego if that was even possible knowing them in the first place.

Knowing you probably should attend the after party the hotel Freddie booked, your feet ache as you rise up. Feeling the ripe ol' age of 87 at 29 is a sensation you've grown used to but hearing your joints crack as you rise really made you feel ancient.

"Here I thought I was the old one. I heard that all the way over here!"

John laughs at your cracky joints, walking over to give you an arm to support you. A bird is flipped in his direction and he smiles wider. You can tell someone's got more alcohol in their system.

"Now, Y/N, you ready for one last hurrah before a hangover and drive back home?"

"You're speaking my language, Deacy. I'll meet you at the ballroom, okay? Not really digging the uniform look at the minute, you know?"

"Don't be too late, I might be a goner by the time you arrive."

Following his lead to the bus, you and the rest of the group pile in. John walking up the steps in front of you gave you a view you didn't expect to enjoy so much. Those pants really doing him some favors. Shaking your head, you walk the few steps up and look around for a seat. Taking the only empty one next to Freddie, you lean over to congratulate a job well done and yet another successful tour on their end. Feeling eyes on you, a look over shows a poofy haired bassist waving at you once he has your attention. Waving back and turning back to Freddie, you can tell he has a question burning his tongue.

"You and John sure have gotten close over this tour."

"I guess so, yeah."

"Playing favorites? I see how it is, dear."

You slap his shouder with a 'piss off' and a cackle on his end.

"Are you still mad about the scrabble match the other week, Fred? Don't break up the Y/LN and Deacon dream team."

The last night in France ended with drama and an almost scratched cornea as scrabble pieces went flying. Deciding since Jim was present that night, even teams could be made. Brian and Roger, Fred and Jim, then you and John teamed up and no one's surprise, Freddie's normal strategy of adding one tile to make a bigger word didn't work out in his favor. What did come as a surprise was Brian and Roger not taking the win that night. Tempers flared as you and John danced about. When turned, you couldn't see the rogue piece flying your way. Luckily you blinked in time to save you from a more serious injury.

"Please, I'm not mad over a silly fucking game."

"Yeah, one that nearly took out my eye!"

He rolled his eyes but smiled regardless of what he's trying to front. Pulling up to the hotel, you grab your luggage and is soon presented the key to your room. Not wanting to deal with an overly drunk John Deacon, you slightly rush to get ready. After party outfits normally consisted of a tank top, shorts and sneakers but considering it's the last one, you go more formal. Feeling very gussied up in heels you never thought you would wear at all this tour and a dress, you turn to the bathroom with your makeup bag is tow. What you already had on was fine but needed a touch up. Looking over your appearance and adjusting oddly fitting sections, you deem yourself offically ready. However feeling slightly over dressed and maybe showing more than what you're used to but hell, it's August. Realizing that it wasn't too late to call Tom, you dial the number that's branded in your brain at this point and wait for the phone to pick up.

"Hello?"

He sounds slightly tired but the call was quick so you didn't feel too bad about it.

"Hey, just wanted to call and say I'll be home in the next couple days!"

"Oh shit, that time already? I've already got so used to you being gone!"

You couldn't help but laugh along with him.

"We're throwing one last bash before this ends for good. Freddie's doing of course."

"Well don't let me stop you, go and have fun!"

"Love ya, Tom."

"Love ya too, Y/N."

Hanging up and taking a breath, your chest feels odd. Putting it up to just this being nearly over, you stuff your keycard in your bra, spray on one more mist of perfume. The feeling in your chest worsens as you walk into the ballroom crowded with people, nearly completely naked women servers and the sight of John sitting back and flirting with one of them while talking with Brian. Grabbing one off the nearest tray, you down it then grab another immediately. Shaking your head and walking over to the two men in question, they greet you with side hugs.

"Where are the other two?"

"Around somewhere."

"You know I'll hear it from both of them if I don't come say hi during the party."

Brian smiles, knowing far too well how they get with you at times.

"Regardless, cheers! Cheers to a successful tour and good friends!"

You three clink your glasses together and conversation flows. Brian talks about his plans when arriving home to the wife and kids along with possibly making plans with some actress he's a fan of. Spacing out and looking at your surroundings, the music is pulsing through your lungs with the bass pumping through the speakers. You recognize the song easily, Blue Monday filling your ears and the bass matches your heartbeat once you turn back to your friends and hear John conversing with one of the women attending the party. Watching him shift so she can sit next to him, her body pressing against his while he whispers in her ear, you're in need of a change of scenery. You finally figured out what the sinking feeling in your chest was.

"Hey Bri, care you dance?"

"Not really. Not really my kind of music, Y/N."

"Please?"

Batting your eyelashes in hopes of hiding how uncomfortable you are, it fails and he picks up on your body language.

"I guess you caught me in a good mood."

Sitting up, you two walk over to the other dancing party goers and while stiff as a board, Brian tries to do something with his body.

"Is everything okay? You seemed a bit off when you came in but now I know something's up. Did you call Tom?"

"How dare you say his name?!"

"Figured it'd be safe when you see him in, what, two days?"

"I'm taking the piss and I did. He seems happy to have me back but I think something's happened."

"He's not cheating on you, is he?!"

"Oh god no! I.....I think I've developed feelings for John."

You're pretty sure if he had a drink in his hand, it would've crashed all over the floor.

"Want to head somewhere else and talk about it?"

"Please."

Taking your arm and leading you through the crowd, Brian leads you two outside. A handful of people occupy the space but mostly to get a smoke in quick before heading back in. Spacing yourself away from the others as far as possible, you and Brian sit on one of the benches. Your breathing is unsteady and worsens as you try to calm it down. He puts a hand on your knee and rubs gentle circles in hopes of doing something for your nerves.

"I'm not going to lie, Y/N, can't say I didn't exactly see it coming."

"Gee, thanks Bri. Exactly what I want to hear."

"Is this a recent development?"

Thinking back, it started in the studio. It was around the time they started recording the album and you started just watching them play behind the producer. Wasn't until you watched John lick his fingers before playing the strings on his bass again where something flickered in you.

"....Shit."

That was almost a year ago.

"Well, around the time you guys started recording the new album."

His eyes widened. Blinking slightly resembling that of a reptile in its speed.

"Your 'shit' is valid."

"I know! The more time I spend with him, the more I realize I really care for the guy. But I can't just up and leave Tom. I can't just...hurt him like that. He doesn't deserve it in the slightest."

You sigh, feeling tears wanting to trickle out of your eyes any second.

"But I've been finding my feelings for him fading the more I'm with John. What if I leave Tom, then what? Just go up to John and be like 'oh hey, I have some strong feelings for you. Wanna do something?'"

Brian wraps a curl around his finger, pulling as he thinks. He lets out a sigh of his own.

"Honestly, I'm going through the same thing right now with Chrissie. That actress, Anita...we've been talking and I've developed some feelings for her. Ones I haven't had with Chrissie in a while, now. I have a wife and kids but should I persue this?"

You give him a sympathetic look.

"We're fucked, aren't we?"

"Maybe a little bit. But at least you're not married."

You look at each other in solidarity. Knowing each other's struggles far too well. He brings up the fair point that you aren't married. You also think back to how things were before you left for tour and it wasn't the best. You missed Tom, you really did. But was the passion there like it was previously? Not especially. Sometimes it just felt more like a friends with benefits situation rather than a full blown relationship lasting three years.

"You know what? I'm going for it."

"Positive, love?"

"I think so."

Sitting up and brushing off your dress, Brian stands with you.

"I think I might have a talk with Anita and go from there on how to do this. Chrissie doesn't deserve being left for another woman but sometimes people outgrow each other. Relationships evolves and sometimes they become stagnant."

Walking back to your previous place inside, you're greeted with the sight of the woman gone and replaced with Freddie and Roger. Bending down and asking a quick 'Can we talk?' to John, you two head over to the hallway. You're shaking and can't look him in the eye. Trying to get your sights on him, he lifts a hand to your chin, using a few fingers to guide your sights towards him.

"You're scaring me a bit. Did something happen, love?"

There is not enough alcohol in your system to make this easier.

"I was talking with Brian and came to some conclusions that have been....cloudy for a little while now."

His eyebrows are furrowed together in concern, he's never seen you like this. Nervous was normal in aspects of your job but like this is completely uncharted territory for him. Not knowing how to tread the waters, he takes the hand that was on your chin and rubs your upper arm.

"You can talk to me. You know that, right?"

You swallow, feeling like you're nearly choking on air.

"John I...god..."

Before you could mutter even something resembling a syllable, you hear John's name being called. Turning your head slightly to see it's the woman he was flirting with earlier, danging her bag in front of her.

"Finally remembered where I put the damned thing. You ready to go, Johnny?"

You want to vomit on the spot but knowing if you would, it would be Exorcist levels in the amount purged. Your eyes threaten to release the waterworks and you look up to put the tears back in their place. Beginning to walk away, you feel a grip on your shoulder.

"Sorry but my friend here is going through something. Raincheck, yeah?"

Obviously very annoyed, her eye roll was puntuated with her heels clicking away. He looks over at you and immediately notices tears running down your cheeks. Wiping them away, he leads you out of this area of the hotel and back to his room. Turning the key, your heart beats to the point where it leaves you breathless. He leads you inside and onto the bed but before you get to talk, he doesn't sit quite yet. Grabbing the unwrapped toilet paper roll from the bathroom, he hands it to you then sits down at your side.

"What's going on, Y/N?"

As he rubs your arm again like he did in the hallway, your brain struggles but comes up with some sort of coherent sentence to present.

"I think Tom and I might be over."

He blinks at you, much in the same fashion as Brian had. But before you knew it, he wrapped you in a hug. His head on your shoulders and hand smoothing over your back. He says your name softly followed by an 'I'm so sorry'. Staying like until the tears stop flowing, he peels away from you. You wipe away your tears, noticing your mascara has somehow held up.

"I...I don't mean to pry but, well, what happened?"

The question you were dreading but this band-aid needs to be ripped off.

"I realized we've sort of...grown apart. Also..damn, not again.." as you rip off a piece of toilet paper and dab your eyes. Catching your breath took a minute but you finally get their in due time. With a sigh, you finally let it out.

"I've developed feelings for another person."

Watching him with blurry eyes didn't give you the opportunity to see his shoulders drop slightly or lips tighten.

"They're incredibly lucky to have caught your attention, Y/N."

"I think I'm lucky to have met them is a better statement. He's really great."

You sigh again and finally clear your vision. His expression is hard to read. Almost, seeming disappointed but that's probably your imagination trying to cope with rejection. Rejection that hasn't happened yet.

"I'm sure he is."

He moves away from you and grabs the television remote, flipping through channels until one catches his eye. Sitting back beside you, he looks back at you.

"Sorry, felt like background noise might've been welcome."

"Maybe a bit, yeah. Do you want to hear about him?"

"Am I going to have a choice in the matter? You're destined to bring him up."

"Guess you're right. But you're...already quite familiar with him already."

"It's not Brian, is it? I know you two talk or maybe.." This time putting in air quotes around "Talk".

This time it's your turn to be stunned.

"No! I asked him advice about this guy. So, well...he's a bass player for a pretty well known group, I'm a pretty big fan of his work and writes some absolutely amazing tracks. Some may say he's had some questionable hair choices but I'm a big fan. Also he has these...gorgeous green eyes."

"Is it Paul McCartney?! I know you met him during Live Aid but damn, Y/N. Linda would kick your ass."

"It's not Paul McCartney you dumbass!"

A laugh erupts from you, making him laugh along with you. He dodges the slap on his arm but moving up the bed, sitting up against the headboard. You mirror him, eyes on the television screen. A comfortable silence washes over the room, the soft hum of the air conditioner adds background noise with the show playing before you. Seconds turn into minutes. Minutes turn into almost an hour of contemplation. Should you say something? You've grown close to him this past year, even closer this past month. He's one of your few confidants, a dear source of comfort. Possibly never seeing his smile again gives you literal heartbreak. But what if the risk is worth the reward? What if he views you in that way as well and you're just overreacting? Doubtful but not completely out of the realm of possibility.

It's when it turns into an hour and fifteen minutes when John starts yawning. If you wait, you'll never do it. You'll lose all nerve. You mutter a 'fuck it' under your breath.

"It's you."

He slowly turns his head in your direction.

"What was that? I was zoned out for a while, there."

"The guy I was talking about....it's, well...."

You can do this, you just did it. Come on.

"It's you, John Richard Deacon."

You've never seen someone's eyes go that big in your life. His jaw goes slightly slack as he just looks at you. You see his eyes dart around every point on your face. Before you can even start registering what's happening, His lips assault you. Kisses on your forehead, kisses on your nose, kisses on your cheeks, kisses on your jaw but finally he reaches your lips. One hand laces its fingers in your hair, the other placed just below your jaw. Your breath is completely and utterly taken away and when he pulls away, lips swollen, your chest fills. What fills your heart to capacity is him whispering.

"I've been waiting, Y/N....I've been waiting for that moment when you say the words I couldn't say."

~~~~~~~~~~

May formatting it to be tumblr friendly to read pay off and if you read this, you are a sweet cherub angel and I love you a little bit. Also damn, my first fic published on Tumblr, they grow up so fast.

#john deacon x reader #queen band fic #john deacon x y/n #john deacon x female reader #john deacon imagine #that's the basic tags right? sure...#When you're really not a fic writer but you try!#Also I mentioned blue monday in this..also by new order.. Such a great track plus released in '86 so had to do it to 'em

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thorne93 · 4 years

Text

Unforeseen Chasm (Part 43)

Prompt: Two sisters fall for men that are absolute enemies. The love they have could tear all of them apart, or it could bring them together.

Word Count:3370

Warnings: Language, mentions of the past, mentions of the winter soldier, triggered ofc song for this part: Note: This is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written (including my novels). It’s a collaboration with the amazing @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo. It started as a funny “What if…?” and it evolved and got huge. This took two years to write. We are both proud and happy and we hope you enjoy it. It follows from Thor 1 to Endgame in the MCU. Some of the timelines may be off in order to fit certain people, and some characters may show up earlier or in different ways than they have in the movie. But for the most part, it follows the MCU. It also has a bit of crossover with some other Marvel characters throughout the story.

Masterlist for Unforeseen Chasm

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

Once all the paperwork was filled out and signed, you were given the green light to head over to Nebraska. You set out packing your things and going out to get some stuff you knew you’d need since what you had wouldn’t keep you warm on those cold nights. About half an hour later Shannon got to the apartment and since she still had her key to it, she unlocked the door and headed in.

“Y/N! I was thinking we could hang out tonight and watch some movies before you leave,” she called out while she took her coat off but what she didn’t know was that the only person in the apartment was Loki and he’d been in the bedroom looking over pictures of you when you were in college.

Upon hearing someone in the apartment Loki walked out of the room with a dagger in one hand while the other opened the door.

“Who’s there?” Loki asked, his voice hesitant, yet confident. He put the tip of the knife between his skilled fingertips, readying it to fling it at the intruder. However, he just rounded the corner from the short hallway in time to see who it was. “Ah… It’s you.” Lowering the weapon, he quickly hid the dagger behind an illusion, and Shannon could no longer see that he was armed -- but she was sure that he was. In fact, she was entirely sure he was armed to the teeth, but he kept that all a mystery for her, and any other potential enemy.

She turned around when she heard the familiar male voice, her shoulders tensed seeing as he’d put away the knife but tried to play it off as if she hadn’t. “Hello, Loki, sorry for barging in, I had come over to… well you must had already heard what I yelled out. Is Y/N not here?” Shannon moved from one foot to the other.

“Does it look like she’s here?” he asked, his eyebrows raised as he gestured around the room sarcastically. When he saw her face morph into irritation, he backed off. He took a deep breath, and in a softer voice said, “No, she isn’t. She’s out getting supplies for her trip.”

Returning the sarcasm she replied, “Well it’s not like I can see through walls, if I could I wouldn’t have come up here.” Seeing the smidge of fear take over his features, she calmed down. “It’s alright. I probably should have texted her first.” She sat down in the one chair that you had kept that was her’s. “You didn’t want to go with her?” she asked, wondering why he was alone in the apartment.

“I promised to stay behind and clean the apartment for her. One less thing to worry about while she gets ready. Turns out cleaning actually turns into walking down memory lane…” He smirked, even laughing lightly. “Well, walking down her memory lane, that is. I came across her college photo album and got distracted.”

Shannon relaxed a bit, then she realized what he had said. “That photo album wouldn’t happen to be a fat blue one with white letters on the front would it?” She cringed hoping it wasn’t that one at all. She remembered all the silly photos the two of you had taken thinking no one but you two would ever see them.

He frowned slightly. “Actually, yes. You know it?”

“Ummm… yes actually, that’s the one album I thought we’d gotten rid of,” she said sounding a bit nervous. He didn’t know of her training from before her powers and many of the pictures she had saved in there were of her time in the Red Room. “You’ve probably gone through most of it, haven’t you?” she asked, wringing her fingers together.

He bobbed his head side to side. “For the most part, yes. Why? Is something the matter with it? It looks like you two had a lot of fun back then.”

“Well.. it’s not that there’s something the matter with it, it’s just that there are some pictures that Y/N had made me keep from.. From a period in my life before I became best friends with her that I would rather keep between me and her.” Shannon really hoped that she would be able to steer him away from learning the gruesome truth of who she really is or was in the past. “I guess it won’t really matter once you get to the back of the album,” she said, sinking further into the chair.

Loki took a tentative step toward her, eyeing her curiously. “Is there something you don’t want me to see?” He was about to give her a second to respond, but then he decided to add something to his question. “Because if there is, you can tell me and I’ll respect your wishes.”

Looking up at him, she never really got to know who he was as a person, which was something she had never really considered wanting to do. But seeing as he would eventually find out about her past, it might be time to know more about him. “There is in fact something that I would rather you not look at but I believe that it would help create a bridge of understanding between us as people who are a big part of Y/N’s life,” she told him with as much sincerity as she could muster at that moment. “If you don’t mind, would you bring the album over here? I’d think it’d be best to explain while showing you what I mean.”

He peered at her, intrigued by what she said, so he obliged. He swept out of the room, back to his bedroom, and retrieved the album. He handed it to her, gesturing for her to go on and explain what was going on.

Flipping the album open, she thumbed the pages until she found exactly what she was looking for. It’d been years since she had seen them. She pulled out most of them and put them in the correct order they belonged in. “These right here are photos of the past life I once lived years before meeting Y/N. The things I was taught and I had done has made me the woman I am today, or as Y/N/N liked to call me ‘femme fatale’.” She passed a few of the photos to him and let him take his time looking through them knowing he’d have questions.

His brow furrowed as he looked at the pictures of her. She was in all black attire -- a black t-shirt, black tactical pants, and black boots. In none of the photos was she smiling. Every photo she wore the same stoic face, which chilled him to the bone. “Was this some form of military school? Why were you there? And why are you telling me?”

She looked up from the picture she’d been looking at where it was Natasha, herself, and their instructor James. It’d been taken after a particularly exhausting training day but Nat had managed to get her and James somewhat smiling.

“It wasn’t exactly a school. It was a program where twenty-six of us were trained to be ruthless fighters and skilled in espionage,” she had begun when she pointed to one of the pictures that were laid out on the coffee table. “I was sent there as a young child by my parents thinking it was a program to help us become proper ladies, when really it was about us becoming skilled assassins.” She pointed to the other picture. “These two girls were the one in the highest ranks, which happens to be Natasha and myself. I’m telling you this because I believe you deserve to know the truth rather than finding out on your own.” She stopped to collect her thoughts and let him process what he had been told.

He slightly shook his head. “I don’t understand… Why does it matter whether I know, or how I find out? So you were enrolled in a young assassins class, what does that matter?”

“This is me trying to be honest about my past so that you and I don't have any bad standings.” She couldn't look at him, she felt as if she were too exposed to keep going. “When you told me you were looking through here fear came over me thinking if you’d find these pictures you’d try to convince Y/N/N that I shouldn’t be around her because of how dangerous I can be…” She got quiet for a moment. “I just got her back I don’t want to lose her again. She’s been that one constant person in my life since I had gone into college. It might be a bit clingy but she has no idea how much more I need her than she needs me.” Shannon felt as if a weight had been slightly lifted from her shoulders.

At this, Loki smirked quietly to himself. “Well, I can’t blame you for wanting to be around her. She is quite magnetic, isn’t she?” It was more rhetorical than anything else. “I… I may be a lot of things… but hypocritical is something I try not to be. I don’t hide the fact that I betray and deceive… which is precisely why your past doesn’t bother me.” He took a deep breath, thinking. “Y/N knows about your past, correct?”

She nodded.

“And she still remained your best friend…”

Again, she nodded.

“So… then why would I care?” Before she could answer, Loki continued. “I love her dearly, and I want to protect her from the evil in this universe, but I also respect the fact that she is an adult and can make her own informed decisions. If she knows of this past and chooses to be your friend, I see no reason to take that from either of you. Until you give me a reason not to trust you around her, I won’t do that.”

“You have no idea how much this means to me right now, Loki. I’ve never really thought about this but talking to you now like this makes me rethink about the person you are,” she told him in all honesty. “I believe there’s so much more to you than what you’ve shown us, and I’d like to make things up to you.”

Instantly, he was both touched and curious. “Oh? What would that be?”

“That’s what I’m still trying to figure out. I don’t know much about you aside from what’s happened here, and the fangirling Y/N/N had done about you when she was in Asgard.”

He couldn’t help but grin at this. “Fangirling, eh? Did she really mention me?”

She smiled seeing how pleased he looked knowing how he’d made you react when you first met him. “Half of the times she sent me a letter it would be her describing you and the type of person you seem to be,” she said. “Other times it would be her talking about your eyes and the sound of your voice, just don’t tell her I told you.” She laughed waving her hand. “She’d probably get flustered knowing you know.”

“Your secret is safe with me. I do wonder though, why she kept that from me. You would think I would find it endearing,” he wondered with a tiny smile.

“Thank you, Loki. Also wow what a total sap you could be!” she exclaimed a bit. Getting to know Loki like this was very interesting. “How are you doing now that you're living here and you're working with Stephen?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“Surprisingly, better, now that I’m not simply cleaning up his shop of relics. He’s actually telling me what things do, and I feel like I’m learning a lot. As far as living here, well... “ He looked around. “I honestly have no idea what I’m doing. I grew up with Odin and my mother, in a palace. Taken prisoner on Sanctuary, and then imprisoned here on Earth. I’ve never… I’ve never lived this sort of domestic life, especially with a partner. I have no idea what to do, if I’m doing a good job. I’ve heard a lot about ‘balancing work and home’, and I’m not sure if I’m doing that at all. I feel… guilty because Y/N went through all of this trouble getting this space, this home, set up for us and I don’t know how to properly care for it or live in it. I can’t cook. I don’t know how to clean or what cleaning product does what. Just the other day I tried cleaning the sink, and when Y/N saw me, she screamed in terror, telling me that I was using the wrong cleaner… I had no idea such a thing existed… I still can’t manage to work a computer or television well. This must be how she felt coming to Asgard,” he suddenly realized.

At that moment, his eyes seemed to shift to a far off point, as if he were reliving something.

“It’s a wonder how she ever survived my planet… our planet,” he corrected, remembering your true heritage. “Everything here is so strange and new and peculiar. It makes me worry that….” He stopped, not one for sharing his weaknesses, but seeing as Shannon had bared her soul, it was only fair. “It worries me that she will… want a normal life, with a normal human man from Earth. Someone she doesn’t have to explain everything to.”

She nodded her head knowing where he was coming from. “I was in the same position you were when I moved into the tower and Tony and I were still figuring things out. He was still getting used to the idea that he was in a relationship with a skilled assassin and I had to get out of the mindset of not having specific orders on how to do things. I was able to have a choice.” She went on to talk about how she’d felt the same way and tried to leave but Tony wouldn’t have it. “If you would like I could install one of the Al systems into the apartment to help you get caught up with everything? They could answer all your questions.” She waited to see how he would respond.

Loki waited a moment, contemplating it. He wasn’t sure using more technology to learn technology was a great strategy, but he also didn’t have anything to lose, and he desperately needed help.

“Sure. I would appreciate that. And if you could teach me how to do laundry…?” he asked in a hopeful, nervous tone. He worried Shannon would laugh at the fact that he needed help with something so mundane. If she said no, he would plan to play it off like a joke.

“I would be happy to help you,” she simply replied in a tone that she hoped would soothe his feeling of nervousness. “There’s no need to feel nervous about asking me about these sorts of things,” she reaffirmed.

“Thank you. It’s good to know that.”

A moment of awkward silence fell between the two of them as Loki nervously played with his hands.

“Is there something the matter? I can practically feel the nervousness pulsing from you.”

His eyes flashed to hers. “Actually… If I’m being honest, your presence makes me--”

“Uncomfortable?” she finished, knowing exactly how he felt.

“Precisely.”

“Guess it’ll take some time getting used to being around each other. I do however want to apologize for what happened at the sanctum. I didn’t think it would get that out of control or why Stevie didn’t pin me to the floor.” She felt guilty knowing that she caused this awkwardness between them and hoped to get passed it. “I’m still not sure when I’ll be stable enough to control it and not the other way around.”

He waved her off. “Think nothing of that. I’m not… referring to your recent… abilities. I’m more referring to… well.. Years ago. It’s hard not to look at you, and be reminded of how one moment you were my girlfriend, the next you’re literally stabbing me in the back… Kudos, by the way. Quite clever. It does remind me of something I would do. Perhaps why it frightens me... “ A fond smile played at his lips. “That was years ago, I know, but your training may have something to do with that… To be fair, I was trying to take over your home planet.”

She stayed quiet for a moment, she seemed frozen in the memory of that day all those years ago. In an instant, it began to pour outside, causing Loki to run and close the window.

“Shannon?” he questioned, concerned. While what he said was true, he didn’t want to cause her discomfort. He was just about to reach for her when she seemed to snap back to the present.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to cause you to fear me…” She paused, she knew there was nothing she could do to reassure him that she meant no harm to him but with the recent event that’s twice she’s attempted to kill him

He shook his head, waving her off. “It’s fine. It’s been years passed, and quite frankly it was deserved. We did attack you. However, the fact remains that you shoved a knife in my back.” Then, as if he remembered something, he commented, “Actually, I would say we’re even at this point. Y/N nearly killed Tony. You nearly killed me. Y/N shot and stabbed you. By now, I think the scales are pretty balanced.” For a split second, his face was serious, before it broke into a playful smile and chuckle.

Shannon paled at remembering all that’s occurred and the split moment with how serious he sounded. “I… guess we are balanced. Let’s just keep it at that, don’t you think?” She laughed a tiny bit hoping the awkwardness would fade.

He laughed back. “Yes, I think that’s a good idea. I… I would like nothing more if we could put the past in the past and move forward with a clean slate?”

“I think that is a great idea.”

“Good. I’m glad we could clear that up.”

Just as he said that, the door unlocked, and you stepped through the threshold. At first, you frowned, wondering what those two were doing. Then, it quickly became replaced with a gentle smile. Seeing the two people you loved the most in this world talking, possibly bonding even.

“Hey. What are y’all doin?” you asked.

“Nothing much, just looking at some of the old pictures you still have if us from college,” Shannon told you. She looked at the time and saw that she’d been there for two hours. “Oh shoot! It's late. I should get back to the tower.”

“Oh? Why? Where’s the fire? Did you come to see me?” you wondered.

“I came to hang out with you but when you weren't around well…”

“Well… what?” you questioned. “Did you two fight?” you noted, a little worried.

“Loki and I got to talking and we seem to be on the same page about things and have a mutual understanding of each other.”

“Well I’m glad to hear that. Are you sure you can’t stay?” you asked, starting to put your bags down on the floor.

“I would love to but I just realized there's a change I need to make to the invites list and get Tony to be okay with it,” she said going over to you and giving you a hug. “You and I will still get out a movie night before you leave, you hear me?” She kissed your forehead and turned to wave to Loki. “Have a good night you two.”

“What was that all about?” you wondered as soon as the door closed.

“Just some… mending, is all. Did you find everything you wanted?”

You wanted to inquire more, but you knew Loki would tell you everything, eventually. You launched into everything you bought, feeling elated that your loved ones were settling things between them.

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

Tag List: @essie1876 @magpiegirl80 @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @iamwarrenspeace @marvel-imagines-yes-please @superwholocked527 @missinstantgratification @thejemersoninferno @rda1989 @munlis @thefridgeismybestie @bubblyanarocks3 @igiveupicantthinkofausername @kaliforniacoastalteens @feelmyroarrrr @kaelingoat-blog @friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo @damalseer @heyitscam99 @yknott81 @sorryimacrapwriter @glitterquadricorn @xxqueenofisolationxx @little-dis-kaalista-pythonissama @bittersweetunicorm @alyssaj23 @sea040561 @princess76179 @thisismysecrethappyplace @sarahp879 @malfoysqueen14 @ellallheart @breezy1415 @marvelmayo @random-fluffy-pink-unicorn @cocosierra94 @hardcollectionworldtrash @capsmuscles @marvelloushamilton @paintballkid711

Loki: @lostinspace33 @ultrarebelheart @lenawiinchester @esoltis280 @tngrayson @wangdeasang @harrymewmew @jayfantasyatyourservice

UC: @lokis-high-priestess

#unforeseen chasm #loki x reader #loki fic #Loki Laufeyson #tony stark #tony stark fic #tony stark x ofc

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welldonebeca · 4 years

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A Heart That’s Been Loved

Summary: When Rey dies in a car accident, Ben teaches his son an important lesson about love and life. Pairing: Ben Solo x Rey Other Characters: Rose, Mitaka, Finn, Poe, Han, Leia, Kaydel. WC: 980 words Warnings: Heavy angst, loss of parent/spouse, tons of crying, Alternative Universe - Everyday Life. (Sam Wilson (shorter) version - I added some more to this story than I wrote back then.)

Ben took a long painful breath, pouring the old coffee down the sink and cleaning the pot with an empty look on his face.

The white roses were just left down on the table, her favourite flowers. He couldn’t bring himself to throwing away the last thing he’d seen her holding before leaving to work.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Just the previous morning he’d woken up by Rey’s side and made love to her, and she was fine. He tried to convince her to take the day off stay home so they could all just spend some time together. The car accident wasn’t expected – a car accident would never be expected – and when he got the call from the hospital about her state… He was shocked. Heartbroken.

He’d called Leia and Han to stay with Ren and drove just to find out they had tried everything before giving up because there was nothing they could have done for her.

Their friends had arrived at their house not more than half an hour later, and he had had to fight hard not to breakdown in front of them, and even that didn’t work. He’d had to explain to his son that his mother was gone and never coming back, that she was dead. How could he explain to a seven-year-old what death was when he himself was still trying to understand what it meant?

The favourite picture he had of them together was in his wallet. It was silly, nothing posed. Rey was pregnant and they were both painting Ren’s nursery with help from their friends, and Finn had found their old polaroid. She had just painted half of Ben’s face with a brush and they seemed so happy it hurt to look at it. Every time he blinked, a tear fell on his cheek, and the boy by his side was sobbing hard and painfully.

“Hey,” he kneeled, holding his son’s hand. “Look at me.”

Ren’s body was shaking, his face puffy and his eyes red. Her eyes. He had Rey’s eyes.

“It’s okay,” he assured him. “We’re gonna be okay.”

The kid shook his head. The day he was born was the happiest day of Ben’s life. When Rey arrived in his life, she was the best thing that had happened to him: She helped him contact his family and make peace with his parents and uncle, leave the First Order and find a job he loved and wasn’t just a corrupted money-making machine, and helped him make friends that weren’t exclusively her people hanging around with him or people who wanted something from him, but real friends. When she gave birth to Ren, he realised he had found love as a husband now he was a father, and he could be the father he wanted to have while growing up, present and loving.

“I want mum,” Ren sobbed. “Dad, I want my mum.”

He took a breath, trying to keep himself calm and steady, taking the kid in his arms and standing up. Rey would know what to do now.

“I know,” he caressed his back. “I know, I want her too. But we talked about this. She’s resting in a different place now.”

The boy only wrapped his arms around his neck. The walk to Han’s car -he’d offer to drive them to the funeral so Ben wouldn’t worry about having to do so - was filled with Ren’s sobs and he almost couldn’t bring himself to buckle his kid in the backseat. A young boy shouldn’t have to attend his mother’s funeral, but the therapist had said Ren should be able to say his goodbye like any other adult.

Leia looked over him through the mirror but didn’t say anything as both of the younger Solos sat in silence at the backseat of the Falcon.

“You know, there is a song your mum loved,” he said, his own eyes filled with unwelcomed tears. “And it said… A heart that’s broken is a heart that’s been loved.”

For a moment, Ren just looked at his father. He couldn’t understand.

“When you’re sad, don’t try not to be sad,” he explained, keeping his words steady. “But remember that there’s a reason why you’re sad, which is because you were happy before. You only feel sad about losing someone you loved because they made your life happier. You gotta remember that this person made you happy.”

The funeral was too long and Ren had fallen asleep in Ben’s arms, still crying and he just wondered what he would do now. Everyone was there, showing their support and while it made him feel better, it didn’t really change his pain. Rey was gone.

Raising a kid alone was never in his plans but losing Rey would never be included in any of his thoughts.

He rose his eyes when his friends approached him and only acknowledged them with a nod, unable to smile.

“Hey,” Poe muttered. “He’s out?”

“Yeah. At least he didn’t need to go through the whole thing.”

His friend nodded.

“If you need anything, we’re right here.”

On his other side, Phasma touched his shoulder.

“I’m gonna miss her,” Ben muttered a confession. “I already miss her.”

“If you need any help with anything,” she said by his side. “Let us know, okay? Cleaning up, cooking, Ren, or if you just need to talk… Just call up.”

“You can count on all of us,” Rose added, looking over to the rest of their group. “Right, guys?”

Finn, Poe and Mitaka nodded.

“Anytime,” Kaydel added.

“I know,” he muttered, feeling moved by their quick support. “Thanks.”

He looked at the boy in his arm. Rey was gone and he needed to move on. ‘A heart that’s broke is a heart that’s been loved’, he reminded himself, and there was no doubt of how she had loved them and how they loved her back.

. . .

Forever Tags: @emoryhemsworth @amythyststorm33 @shaelyn102 @yknott81 @ria132love @letsdisneythings @maximofftrash @kgbrenner @thefridgeismybestie @magpiegirl80 @mogaruke @unicorntrooper @shadowhunter7 @musicalcoffeebean @megasimpleplan4ever @deemoriarty @05spn18 @malindacath @kdcollinsauthor @random-fandom-fangirl2112 @widowsfics @frozenhuntress67 @averyrogers83 @notyourtypicalrose Forever SFW tags: @waywardemo? @newtospnfandom? @thewinterhunter? @amillionfandoms-onlyoneme? @fandomlover2001? @heartislubbingdubbing Star Wars Tags: Open ReyLo Tags: Open

#Reylo fanfiction #Ben Solo x Rey #Kylo Ren x Rey #Reylo #Rey x Ben Solo #Rey x Kylo Ren #Ben Solo fanfiction #Ben Solo imagine #Ben Solo angst #Kylo Ren fanfiction #Kylo Ren imagine #Kylo Ren angst #star wars fanfiction #Star Wars imagine #Star Wars angst

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edengarden · 4 years

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Regular Matchup Please! <3 :))

Hi there! First off thank you so much for taking the time out of your day to make others happy! Haikyuu is my comfort anime so I think it's so sweet of you to do this!

A lot little bit about me!:

-I'm really a really passionate person! Once I get into something I could talk about it for hours! I'm really analytical and I think I'm pretty smart. I also think that I a fiercely loyal person, very much ride or die kinda vibe.

- I'm really indecisive I have to think long and hard before I can make a decision. I'm pretty messy and have a hard time staying organized. I also have a hard time motivating myself and finishing projects.

- I love to write! It's always been a long term goal of mine to write a book (even if its not very good lol). I also love to read, fantasy books are my absolute favorite. I also love just hanging out with my friends and going thrift shopping and DIYing stuff. Also, a little dumb, but I love to sit down and make pointless PowerPoints? Like just zoning out and making silly presentations about anything.

Okay, my music taste is a little all over the place. I vibe most with Hozier, Fleetwood Mac, Joji, Paramore, Harry Styles, The Doors, Pearl Jam, The Rolling Stones, Mild Orange... But also anything that just makes me feel something, like a fire guitar solo or a lyric that makes me tear up or a sound that is unique is what I really look for. Think indie/pop/alt mixed with mainstream 70s mixed with tipsy white dad classics.

- Okay so I'm 5'4 and thick, but like everywhere not just on my thighs lmao. I recently dyed my hella long hair a deep purple. I have blue eyes and a septum piercing. I got lowkey freckles on my nose too.

-I kinda dress like an emo Amish person lmao. Like my go-to fit is some really nice heeled leather boots, a mid-calf flowy black and white skirt, and a thin black turtleneck. Add some eccentric dangle earrings and a necklace and boom that's me every time I leave the house.

- I don't like people who are mean, even jokingly. I need someone who is chill and upbeat, I don't like constant negativity and pessimism. Also someone who isn't clingy 24/7, I value having space but also someone who'll come over at like 4 am just to chill in the same room.

- I'm a Libra and a Ravenclaw :)

- I have four skeletons, who've I named and brought with me to my college dorm. They are my babies and I think its really funny to take them outside and like push them around in shopping carts and stuff.

I also have a huge birthmark going on my left shoulder and it goes all the way down to my wrist.

So sorry if this was wayyy to long or annoying. Get to it whenever you can, and I hope you're doing well! Thank you so much! I'm super excited to see who you match me with :)

I match you up with Sugawara!

I think this boy’s motherly instincts could really do you good for your flaws! And he’s considerate enough not to force his own values onto you! And as we already know, Suga seems like a very optimistic guy!

He admires your Ride or Die mentality and loves that despite having a hard time making decisions, you can still be fiercely loyal.

Your personalities (and fashion senses) don’t exactly look like they could be compatible; you’re silly, easily excitable with the right words, and for god’s sake you brought skeletons with you to college, while he’s almost the opposite. You do, however, bring out a sillier side of him. Little do people know, you two are totally the type to roam around college hallways at 3 AM to get some macaroni and cheese. He really enjoys participating in shenanigans with you, but he’s responsible enough to know the limits! Harmless pranks are his favourite. Once, he convinced you to hide a bunch of tiny, plush chicks in Hinata’s dorm and the two of you took notes of how long it took him to notice all of them. He still hasn’t found them all.

Especially after the two of you have settled down, I get a very vivid image that your dates are usually stay-at-home ones, where you both focus on your work and assignments but also help each other out when the need comes around, but most of the time you’re doing other stuff, like reading or procrastinating and playing a little game called How Long Before My Boyfriend Notices I’m Not Actually Doing My Homework. The look he gives you when he finally notices is so funny

Songs!!!!

- Love of My Life, Queen

- Someone New, Hozier

- Rock ‘n’ Roll With Me, David Bowie

- Dreams, Bazzi (oh this one, Suga has the perfect voice for this one, put it on and he vibin’. He listens to it often because it really makes him think of you, somehow)

#haikyuu matchups #haikyuu!!#matchup #sugawara koushi #submission

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weartirondad · 5 years

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A Heart Grows (With More People To Love)

Prompt: “You’ll always be my kid.” - Tony and Pepper are having a baby and first Peter is excited but then he hears how parents and adults in general will hover around the new kid and tend to forget older siblings. Naturally, he thinks Tony will forget him and he tries to alienate himself from his mentor so the rejection won't hurt so much. But it just leaves both of them miserable. ( @irondadgroupie )

FF.net I ao3

Peter wasn’t an ungrateful kid. At least he didn’t think he was.

Sure, sometimes he’d get annoyed because his aunt would tell him to do the dishes again and not to stay up too late video chatting Ned but that just fell under normal things teenager did, right?

Compared to Ned’s sister who was several years younger than them and was already scraping dangerously at the feared puberty door, he was a really nice, easy-going kid.

After having lost so much he appreciated what he still had.

He loved his aunt unconditionally and he told her every day, went to school happily most days, always eager to learn even when Flash tried to bring him down. He held on closely to Ned as his best friend and guy in the chair, studied for school and Decathlon and went out as a low-level superhero in his spare time, saving people or simply putting smiles on their faces.

On top of something he considered already a pretty blessed life despite everything that might’ve made it seem to be anything but, he had also gotten to meet his childhood hero. Not only that but he got to hang out regularly with said childhood hero, spent time with him in his ridiculously big and shiny lab to tinker, had movie nights and inside jokes and he had his own room in his monument of a tower.

Somewhere over the course of the past year he had made place in his life for the hero-turned-mentor-turned-surrogate-dad and everything that came with their new growing relationship. They had a schedule when they were supposed to train, when it was the billionaire’s turn to pick the boy up from school and they even planned their trips to get ice cream so they would eventually have tried out every single one in New York City. (It just might take them a while but they would make it.)

He didn’t care about the money, either, and didn’t even take it most of the time, happy with where his aunt had gotten them and their way of living even after – well – after everything they had been through together.

He probably had it worse than some but he certainly had it better than others.

Point was, Peter appreciated every little thing he got, every single person in his life, and he loved getting to spend time with The Tony Stark but he wasn’t an idiot either. As a matter of fact he had it certified that he had a genius level intellect.

He knew the man was busy more often than not and that made it mean that much more when he consciously made time for Peter in his tight schedule. There was a warm feeling of belonging, of family and being loved whenever he heard the man lazily cancel meetings (“Mister Stark you can’t stand up the president to watch Solo with me!”) just to spend time with him – a no-name kid from Queens.

One day, when they had been at the tower and someone had called the billionaire away to put fires out at Stark Industries, Rhodey had told him a little bit about how his mentor had been before they had met, how much Peter reminded him of his best friend when he was a teenager and just how hell- bent he was on not turning out like the father he never talked about.

Peter was perceptive enough to realize that the man he had looked up to ever since he could remember was in turn thriving on taking care of him, on having someone to teach and coddle and parent.

So when the newly wedded pair told him about them expecting a baby, eyes alight with wonder and excitement and a little fear, he was beyond thrilled for them.

All his life he had always wanted to have a younger sibling, a tiny someone to carry around and cuddle and love, and he had never really been able to actually realistically dream about it. May and Ben had never wanted kids to begin with but they took him in and loved him like they would’ve their own, like he was their flesh and blood and he was so incredibly thankful for the family, for the home, they gave him.

Now he could dream about more, however. He could dream about getting to be a sort-of-brother to his sort-of-dad’s baby and he already had a few pages worth of list full of things they would do together.

What he realized later on and which might’ve been the reason why Ned’s smile had faltered the tiniest bit when he had announced the good news to him – because Ned actually had a smaller sister and he knew – was that once a younger sibling got there, more often than not the older one got to spend significantly less time with their parent.

Which made sense, of course.

The baby needed a lot more attention and help because they actually couldn’t feed and dress themselves and weren’t able to change their own diaper. They were completely helpless whereas Peter himself was old enough to stay home alone for the weekend (although he rarely did because either May or Tony were always there), cook for himself, do his laundry and safe people as Spider-Man.

It was ridiculous, really, because Mister Stark wasn’t his dad and he wouldn’t be jealous of a newborn, he refused. Especially not when the mere thought of his own child made his mentor’s eyes light up with so much love and adoration whenever he talked about them.

Still, he couldn’t help but feel his eyes burn with tears and his heart plummet to his stomach with a sense of betrayal when he woke up and checked his phone only to find a message from the man he looked up to so much, asking to take a rain check on their lab date because of the prenatal classes he was attending with Pepper.

He rubbed the sleep sand from his eyes, stomach coiling with loss and tossed the phone to the side after having typed a short reply.

Stupid, he cursed himself, you’re being silly and childish and stupid.

The fact of the matter was, though, that in the end the #1 Iron-Dad mug he got him for father’s day and their matching shirts and their scheduled times together wouldn’t mean a thing. Not when the baby got here.

Tony wasn’t really his dad and he would have a child of his own – his actual, biological child. The kid would be loved beyond measure by everyone around them. They would have their mum and dad, several aunts and uncles and Peter himself wrapped around their little finger in no time.

There was a tiny, silly, childish part in his chest that clenched painfully and stupid, stupid voices screaming over each other in his head telling him that his days at the Stark residence were numbered and would be over not before too long.

It didn’t matter, though, Peter had been fine before Tony had come along and he’d be fine with spending less time with the man, as well. He had been perfectly fine doing his calculus homework on his own and creating his web-formula and –

“What’s gotten your panties in a twist on this beautiful Monday morning?”

He glared at his aunt who simply raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him, watching him intently as he silently shuffled into the kitchen and plopped down on his chair, trying his best not to look too miserable. Considering the look she shot him he guessed he was failing spectacularly.

“Nothing,” he grumbled, reaching for the cornflakes and dumping them into his bowl with a little more force than necessary. They spilled over, making a mess on the whole table and suddenly he was overcome with a barely controllable urge to scream.

“Peter, sweetie –“

“I’m fine,” he gave back curtly and swatted her hands away that were instantly at his side to help clean up. He didn’t want her help. He didn’t need it. He just wanted to get out and go to school and get this horrible, awful, terrible day over with.

Of course she ignored him and brushed his mess over to the side so he could put down his bowl again, wordlessly handing him the milk to pour over what he had managed to actually get to its destination.

He started eating rather listlessly just going through the motions of picking up the spoon, filling it with the sweet substance that tasted like ash on his tongue when he swallowed it and when he was done and May had finished her morning tea and he was about to flee the scene, she reached out to pull him into a hug.

This was normal. She did this every day. Only today it felt more deliberate, her grip a little tighter, a little warmer and he almost relaxed into her touch. Almost.

“Tony called me last night,” she said, pausing when he – against his better judgment –went perfectly still in her arms and started to push away. “He told me about the prenat class and to make sure you get your weekly dose of fast-food. So I was thinking we could order in and watch Dancing On Ice instead? We haven’t had Thai in ages, what do you say?”

He nodded mechanically, head spinning because his aunt sounded like everything was completely fine. As if this wasn’t the beginning of the end of his relationship with Tony Stark. And he hated himself for wanting to whine about it, how he wanted to complain about a billionaire, superhero and soon-to-be father not having enough time to baby him.

He wanted her to comfort him and to tell him that his mentor would still have time for him and that he wasn’t less important to the man just because there would be a new kid on the block soon. At the same time, though, he wanted to hear that she had never liked Tony to begin with and that he was better off without him.

“Hey baby,” she frowned, voice soft as she pressed a kiss to his temple, “What’s wrong? Are you sad he stood you up? I can tell him that he’s a shit head if you want but you know he only has four of those classes, right?” Her hand carded through his hair reassuringly, making tears spring to his eyes that he refused to cry.

Yeah, but he’d have a lifelong of the baby, he didn’t say because it would’ve sounded stupid and jealous and downright mean.

“No, of course not,” he said instead and gently extracted himself from her arms, shooting her a smile he hoped looked not as desolate as it felt. “It’s just one time.”

Only it wasn’t just that one time because when Thursday rolled around and Happy was scheduled to pick him up from school, he texted the driver that he had too much homework and an essay to finish so he couldn’t make it to their weekly movie night.

He told himself Spider-Man was needed in Queens on Saturday when they were supposed to have brunch and he had promised Ned to show him some cool moves and his newest web formula after so he couldn’t just go over in the afternoon either.

Over the next couple of weeks he realized just how packed his schedule was.

Suddenly he had too much to study for with Decathlon coming up in only a few weeks’ time and helping May around the house and geeking out over the newest Lego catalogue with Ned and trying to keep his neighborhood safe at night.

There was nothing to it, really.

It wasn’t like he was avoiding Tony Stark. That would be ridiculous.

He was just too busy with his own life to be able to make it to the tower for their regular meet-ups. There’d come a time when he wasn’t so occupied anymore and it’d go back to normal. Only then, he thought, the baby would already be there and the older man probably wouldn’t have time for h –

“Peter! Peter!” Ned’s excited voice pulled him from his mulling thoughts and he blinked twice, a little irritated at how cheerful his best friend was. Why couldn’t he be going through a crisis, too? “Look, it’s Iron-Man!”

That got his attention.

His head snapped up in disbelief, mouth already forming a not-so-nice comeback for Ned for lying to get his attention and neck cracking loudly at the fast movement, but Ned had not been lying. (Really, Peter was an asshole for thinking he would in the first place. Ned was his best friend and he was just in a sour mood.)

Tony Stark was, in fact, leaning against the body of one of his flashier cars, casually swiping away on his phone, pointedly ignoring all the wide-mouthed stares and the small crowd of students who just sort of stopped as soon as they stepped into his vicinity.

Some sixth sense seemed to alert him to Peter’s presence, though, because the second the boy took the last step off the stairs he looked up with a wide smile and waved. Or maybe it was F.R.I.D.A.Y. telling him he got out but he liked the thought of Tony being so in tune with him that he actually sensed him without some fancy tech. How could he, though, when they hadn’t seen each other in three we –

“You know, I can actually hear the wheels in your head turning. You’re thinking that loudly, kid.”

The teenager blinked at the man standing right in front of him who had expertly made his way through the crowd of awed kids without Peter noticing only to ruffle his hair and greet him and Ned who was gleefully excited at being recognized but didn’t let out much more than a “Hey Mister Stark” much to Peter’s relief.

He still hadn’t said a word or even acknowledged his mentor’s presence he realized when the gentle hand on his shoulder tightened momentarily and concern flitted through the warm brown eyes that were holding his gaze.

“Has he been like this all day?” Tony asked, question obviously directed at Ned who frowned and shook his head.

“He’s been a bit off for a few weeks but like,” he shrugged and pulled on the strings of his backpack – something Peter knew he always did when he was nervous, “Not dangerously close-to-the-cliff off. Just, off, you know?”

Peter saw the tiny moment of hurt cross Tony’s features before he stilled them into sobriety again. He knew why, too, because Tony hated when he was like that – almost apathetic – and he usually found a way to cheer him up or at the very least made him not feel so alone anymore but he had been avoiding him and so he never even had the chance.

Tony Stark was someone who fixed things and he hated being kept out of the loop so he couldn’t even try. Peter knew he hated feeling helpless more than anything.

Maybe now was a good time to start speaking up. He could hear his mentor’s heart rate pick up and the way his eyes flitted back and forth between the kid, the crowd and his fancy watch looked a lot like he was preparing to take off flying with Peter any second and he’d really rather not do that right now.

“Sorry,” he murmured instead of a greeting, “I’ve just been pretty tired, is all.” Tony didn’t seem too convinced by his lie but he kept it up anyway, “Uh, what are you doing here? Where we supposed to be meeting today?”

He was pretty sure that they weren’t supposed to meet up before the weekend which is why he had already prepared a new excuse to give all concerned adults in his life.

Okay, so maybe he had been avoiding the man a little bit.

“Nope,” Tony shrugged and put his arm around his shoulder, dragging him along to the car. “But I checked your schedule and checked with May and she said you’d be free and that you weren’t going to go out tonight anyway, so I thought we could have a sleep over. The bots have been missing you and Pepper’s worried you’re abandoning her because she’s now double your size.”

Really, if he didn’t know any better he would’ve said that his mentor sounded pretty nonchalant about the whole thing but Peter did know better. He knew him good enough to hear the edge to his overly cheerful voice he only kept up because there were other people around. There was worry in there, confusion and a little hurt. The emotions were blending together, hidden so perfectly behind a smile that he was sure didn’t quite reach the eyes covered by the trademark sunglasses sitting on the bridge of his nose.

“That,” he started and leaned into his mentor’s side experimentally, raveling at how perfectly he still seemed to fit there. He cleared his throat, “I’d like that. I miss them, too.” Which was stupid because he was the one who had cancelled all their meetings. So really, if anyone was at fault here it was him.

Tony nodded, seemingly appeased for now and thumb absentmindedly rubbing over the fabric of Peter’s t-shirt where his hand was still resting as he turned to Ned. “Do you need to be chauffeured anywhere?” he asked him but before he could even finish the sentence, his friend was already shaking his head and Peter couldn’t help but feel grateful for it.

Now that his mentor was here, he really wanted nothing more than to spend some time alone with him and he was already dreading having to talk about why exactly that had taken him so long.

“So,” he asked after they had gotten into the car and Tony had started driving more or less in silence, only tapping his fingers on the wheel to the rhythm of Black Sabbath’s Iron Man. “Are we going to be working in the lab? Do you need my help with some updates?”

Why did he feel so awkward? They had passed this stages ages ago. He hadn’t floundered while talking to Tony for almost a year now and now he was back to overthinking every little word and every single emphasis. What was wrong with him?

“Do you have homework?” the question came in return, completely sidestepping Peter’s own awkward rambling. If it had been a month ago he would’ve called the older man out for answering a question with another but it wasn’t so he didn’t.

It put an emergency brake on his racing thoughts, though, bringing them to a standstill and making the voices in his head go quiet for once. He nodded haltingly. “A few pages for calc and I have to finish writing a short story in Spanish.”

Tony hummed at that but didn’t immediately reply. His hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were turning white. Peter watched him intently as he forced himself to relax. It was a visible struggle but one he obviously won and a bit of the tension that he hadn’t even realized the other man had harbored seeped out of his shoulders with his next sigh.

Guilt started gnawing at him. Was Peter stressing him out that much? Maybe he really should’ve stayed away –

“Then you’re gonna do your homework first and then we’ll catch a movie,” he decided then paused and when he started talking again he sounded hesitant, only a shadow of his usual self-confident snark. It felt wrong for Tony Stark to be nervous talking to one Peter Parker, like they had been freaky-fridayed only that Peter hadn’t gained any of imperturbability he associated with his mentor.

“Do you, uh, I mean, you can always ask me for help with the tasks, you know that, right? My Spanish grammar might be a bit rusty but I think – well,” he sighed, “Just, I want you to know that I’d be happy to help if you need it.”

The tiny gnawing had turned into a solid mass, one that was currently forming a big lump in Peter’s throat and he grimaced a little, swallowing past it. “Thank you,” he said, voice so quiet it wasn’t much more than a whisper, “That’d be great.”

The soft smile the billionaire shot him was almost enough to make the shame ease away. Almost. Because he was acutely aware that despite everything, he was the one who had made it weird again, who had put up the walls between them once more that they had spent so long meticulously disassembling the first time around.

And why? Because he was jealous of a fetus.

Peter exhaled deliberately, relaxing the hand that had been clenched at his side as he turned to his mentor as much as the seatbelt would allow. He used to do that all the time – left ankle tugged underneath his right thigh, right side facing the front window, arms gesturing widely and eyes sparkling with excitement, trying to catch his mentor’s gaze whenever he looked up from the street.

Now he was angled a little awkwardly in his seat but with the shift he already felt more comfortable – more at home – than he did before. And he tried, maybe a little too hard, to sound like his normal exuberant self.

“We’re supposed to be writing about a misunderstanding,” he told him, cringing when his voice came out squeaky but Tony didn’t seem to care, he simply nodded, small smile indicating that he was listening and so Peter continued describing his general plot idea, letting his mentor weigh in with his own ideas every once in a while.

When they parked the car about fifteen minutes later, Peter was considerably more at ease and the tiniest version of a grin was resting comfortably on his lips as he shook his head at yet another ridiculous notion. Just like that, they were back to normal and it felt like coming home.

Peter jumped out of the car as soon as it had stopped, waiting until Tony got out so the man could sling an arm casually around his shoulders and lead him to his workshop for his afternoon snack and to start working.

His favorite flavored Doritos (nacho cheese) were filling the top drawer and from the door of the mini-fridge filled with yellow peppers, cucumber, tomatoes and bananas (“Growing mutant teens need vitamins, okay?”) his own picture was grinning back at him.

It was a random, dorky snap of him hanging from the ceiling in his Hello Kitty PJs and his favorite Iron Man t-shirt, tucked into the waistband so it wouldn’t fall into his face. His hair that was way too long for his liking was hanging down in messy curls and he was aiming the web shooter on his free hand at the man behind the camera, Tony.

On the couch was his favorite blanket and a few books he liked to read in his downtime were strewn across the counter. His work utensils hadn’t been touched since he had last moved them, just waiting for him to get back to work and Dum-E beeped happily when he made him a green smoothie like he always did.

It was obvious that the place had been waiting for him to get back and he realized, with a heavy heart, that sometime during the past year the lab that used to only have one owner had morphed so Peter fitted right in. Tony and the bots and everything had moved to make room for him. And he had pushed them away out of fear of being left out.

Being in the workshop now, scribbling away in his notebook while Tony worked on some new tech for Stark Industries felt liberatingly familiar. The bots’ quiet whirring whenever they moved and their creator’s small chuckles or annoyed groans a similarly calming background noise as May shuffling along in the kitchen was back in Queens.

He hadn’t realized just how much he had missed this.

“¿Terminaste?”

“Claro que sí.” Peter looked up with a cocky grin, finishing the last sentence on his assignment with a flourish before throwing his pen on the desk and watching it roll a good bit until it came to rest just short of dropping off the table completely. He pushed away his notes with an exaggeratedly relieved sigh, “Por fin.”

The billionaire returned his smile fondly and, instead of continuing his own typing like Peter thought he would, he rolled his swivel chair closer, hands unusually fidgety in his lap.

“I’ve got something for you,” he said, the casualness from before suddenly gone as he switched back to English.

“Oka-ay,” he dragged the word a little, tasting the question on his tongue experimentally as he tried to figure out where this was going but came up empty. (If he chose to ignore the self-destructive voices in his head telling him he was going to get dumped, which he decided to do.)

”What is it?” he wanted to know, cocking his head to the side quizzically.

That seemed to be all the incentive his mentor needed because his posture changed from uncertain to man-on-a-mission in the blink of an eye as he turned around and started shuffling back towards his desk only to pull out a small parcel from one of the drawers. Without so much as a heads up he threw it over to a baffled looking Spiderling that caught it without a problem.

“Open it.”

While the voice might have sounded a bit gruff to anyone else, Peter thought there was an edge of gentleness there, too, and when he started opening the package ever so delicately he could feel his mentor’s eyes on him, watching him like a hawk.

It was a… t-shirt? Yeah. A plain white t-shirt with some sort of print –

His eyes grew wide when the meaning of the words finally registered in his brain. “So, it’s a… she’s going to be a girl?”

There, blindingly bright and impossible warm, was the excitement over the newest addition to the Stark family that had been shoved aside for some unfounded jealousy weeks ago and it was – it was exhilarating. Every part of his being seemed to be buzzing with a sheer endless amount of love. Right now there was no place for envy, the green-eyed monster in his chest didn’t get any more nutrition.

The big bold letters on the front of his new t-shirt, his most important outfit to-date including his multi-million-dollar-high-tech-vigilante suit, were announcing him as a part of the family he had silently feared he’d be kicked out of to the whole world.

TREAD CAREFULLY, I’M HER BROTHER

Her brother, her brother, her brother – his world kept spinning around the two words like they were the axis everything would pivot around from now on. The center stone of his life moving forward. And it some ways it felt true.

His mentor didn’t seem to realize the amount of emotion and relief he had triggered in the boy and he kept talking, although his voice sounded far away in Peter’s ears.

“Yeah, we had the ultrasound the other day and they’re pretty sure. We even got a few pictures if you… if you want to see them.”

That brought him back to reality, the lightheaded spinning coming to an abrupt and painful stop as he detected the hurt in the older man’s voice.

He looked down, hands that were still gripping the t-shirt tightly sinking down into his lap as he felt the guilt wash over him once more. “I’m sorry… for having been so absent lately. I just –“

“No, none of that.” Tony had crossed the distance between them and his hands came to rest on Peter’s impossibly gently, his thumb hovering over the teenager’s knuckles as if waiting for consent which he gave in form of a barely visible nod.

When Peter looked up, he was surprised to find his vision swimming with tears threatening to fall. It was like all the feelings he had been harboring for weeks, that he had kept close to his chest and that had slowly started to poison his heart were unraveling and he was coming apart at the seams.

But Tony was there.

He was right here, tightening the grip on his hand and pulling him forward ever so slightly until Peter’s face was buried in the crook of his neck and the tears that were now running freely were soaking his shirt.

And through it all, Tony was there, humming gently because he knew the tiny vibrations were the easiest way to calm the shaking kid in his arms down.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Pete,” he continued when the sobs had quietened down to occasional sniffles but his hand that had come to rest on the top of his mentee’s head never stopped the carding motion.

“I – I mean, me being me I was freaking out considerably when you started cancelling all our meetings but then I, uh,” he chuckled, the feeling of his chest moving resonating in Peter’s own body, “I actually started reading some of the books the woman doing the prenatal class recommended and there are actually a few chapters in them about … well, about older siblings tending to feel left out – “

“But I’m not –“

“But you are, Pete,” he interrupted him gently, pushing the boy upright until he could meet his puffy eyes, “Or at least you are if you want to be.”

He let Peter have the choice, watching him patiently without trying to push in one direction or the other. If he was being honest, though, it wasn’t a question, it wasn’t a choice he had to consciously make because in his heart he knew what he wanted and so he nodded, timidly.

“I do,” he whispered, voice barely audible and sounding oh-so-young.

The answering smile was radiant and the hand that had moved down to rest on his shoulder tightened its grip momentarily.

“That’s,” Tony grinned – an outright, full-teethed grin that split his face in half – “That’s great.”

It almost felt like this was it because normally the genius didn’t linger in the area of raw emotions any longer than necessary but apparently the parenting books were already making their mark on the usually emotionally constipated engineer because he kept going, voice turning serious once more and impossibly loving.

“No matter what happens with our principessa, though, I want you to know, that her joining this family doesn’t make you any less a part of it. Pepper and I could have another 3 kids, get 5 dogs and an abundance of cats and you would still be my kid. No matter what happens or who comes and goes, I need you to know that nothing is going to change that. You’ll always be my kid. And, I’m being completely biased here obviously, but I think my baby girl is truly blessed to have you as her big brother.”

The tears were back but instead of closing his chest up and making him choke they were freeing and cathartic, washing away all the unnecessary hurt from before.

“Thank you,” he sniveled, nose buried in Tony’s t-shirt, “I’m so sorry for just – for assuming, I don’t know. I’m just –“

“Nah, I told you none of that, kid,” the billionaire replied easily, turning his head to press a kiss to the top of his head before burying his nose in Peter’s curls and breathing him in, feeling like coming home for the first time in weeks. “Believe it or not this is actually a normal behavior so for once you’re acting like normal kids your age and I think we should celebrate with ice cream and a movie.”

He snorted and jabbed, “Great parenting, dad, just fill up your kid with ice cream after every emotional conversation ever.”

“It’s called positive reinforcement, look it up, smartass,” was all he got in return and then, without any prior warning, he was being picked up. With an undignified squeak he buried closer into his mentor’s chest, arms and legs clinging to the man whose hands were resting lightly on his back as he was carrying him upstairs.

“So, what’s it gonna be, Underoos. Stark Raving Hazelnut or Hunka-Hulka Burning Fudge,” he asked once he had dropped his precious cargo on the couch in front of the TV.

Peter buried deeper into the familiar blankets, instructing F.R.I.D.A.Y. to pull up Rogue One, as his mentor went to get their ice cream ready.

Together they curled up, happy in each other’s presence and when Pepper joined them later, making herself comfortable on Peter’s other side and he got to feel Baby Stark kicking for the first time ever, there was nothing but joy in his heart.

(On the back of the shirt is a picture of the Iron-Man helmet and "iron kid" written beneath it in Tony’s handwriting. Peter doesn’t know it yet but Baby Stark will get a similar t-shirt, with a different front but the same back. In turn, Tony will be getting the “iron dad” version of the design (in Peter’s chicken scratch) for Father’s Day. He has never worn anything prouder.)

#irondad #irondad fic #iron dad #iron dad fic #tony stark #peter parker #baby stark #1k followers celebration #you'll always be my kid #a heart grows (with more people to love)#josis fic

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emilkertesz · 4 years

Text

anything for a brother | solo

who: emil & august

what: a look back on his life!

where: good ol’ metropolis

when: 2001 - 20012

2001;

The first year into the millennium had brought about much excitement for the Kertesz family. After being an only child for nearly eleven years, Emil was finally given the gift of a younger brother; August, Faith and Samuel's second son and their second pride and joy. Just like his older brother, the baby was born healthy, little streaks of dark hair and with those same hazel eyes passed down from generation to generation. To put it simply, he was a beautiful child.

Emil remembered the way the baby felt in his arms the first time he visited his mother in the hospital, how it felt to hold something so delicate so close to his heart. Even at such a tender age himself, Emil spoke confidently to his parents of how he would always protect his younger brother. Even at a mere 11 years old, he would die if it meant August lived.

But the joyous time was shortlived. When August was six months old, the Kerteszs found themselves in a situation they had always feared; Samuel had lost his job, the factory laying him off alongside dozens of other men. The short recession in their country had hit them worst and the Kerteszs, already poor and living in one of the worst parts of town, were left with little money to pay their bills and put food on the table. Unable to provide for his family, the event took a dark turn on Samuel.

To cope with depression and stress, the man turned to the sinful bottle. But what began as a simple glass of whiskey each night turned into something much worse over the years. Something once relaxing turned into an addiction, a lifeline, almost. He couldn't survive without the copious amounts of beer, liquor and spirits in his system each night. Samuel became a drunken mess, angered and frustrated at the world for how they had treated his children, his wife and himself. Though over time it became less about his family and more about his own pride; that anger had to escape somehow.

August mostly escaped the violence of his father, Samuel looked at him as though he were invisible, and the child suffered abandonment from the man he was supposed to look up to. For Emil? He was a troublemaker at school, despite his kind heart, and he became a nuisance in his father's eyes who deserved the beatings he got. Faith? Well, she supposidly didn't work hard enough, she didn't bring in enough income, she liked seeing Samuel suffer as she supported the family by herself... that was everything he liked to scream in her face each night when he had her pressed harshly against the wall.

"You think I don't see how you look at me? You think I don't see you laughing at me? 'cause I ain't some stupid fucking lawyer or doctor? 'cause I'm just another fucking failure?!"

Emil remembered the first night he saw his father raise a hand against his mother. He had been sat in the kitchen, slurring his way through the night as he glared at his wife who simply did her best to ignore his harsh words. But that only seemed to agitate him further.

"Fucking look at me, Faith. Are you that ashamed of me? Look at me!" The man threw an empty bottle above her head so it smashed against the wall, making her let out a scream and stumble backwards, hand over her face to shield herself from the shattered glass. But the man wasn't finished; stumbling to his feet, he grabbed the woman by her wrist and slammed her against the wall.

"Samuel, stop! I'm not ashamed so just -"

Hidden behind the doorframe, Emil let out a gasp as he watched his mother tumble to the floor with a yell, hand moving to her cheek. There was blood on her face. Samuel had hit her and he didn't even care about her injury, all he cared about was feeling better than her. Taking a step forward, the tiny child moved forward with intentions of seeing if Faith was okay.

"What are you fucking looking at, huh?"

The next day, Emil went to school with a black eye.

2004;

For three years, the wife and two sons had to endure the tyranny of Samuel as their house became less of a home and more of a prison. Violence and screaming was simply a part of their daily routines, weird stares from their neighbours who offered no support was customary, and Faith had grown ever so lonely.

Despite his insistence that she was nothing but a problem, Samuel had done nothing himself to support his family. All he did was waste their little money on alcohol and sit in that stupid armchair of his all day long, lifelessly staring at the TV that didn't even sit right anymore.

School was an escape for Emil and August. They arrived as early as possible and left as late as they could. Emil would often land himself in detention simply so he could spend less time at home. But doing that often worried him. He feared for August and feared for his mother. Now fourteen, the teenager had grown to be nearly as tall as his father, and so often became the protective stance between Faith and his brother against Samuel. It didn't always work.

Faith often took as many shifts as she could to avoid her husband and keep income flowing, but it still wasn't enough. On one cold morning in September Emil and August left for school together but something didn't feel... normal. There was something slightly off in the air as they walked out of the house; Emil had noticed the look on his mother's face but hadn't thought much of it.

Returning home that evening just as it was getting dark, the teenage boy closed the door behind him and ushered his brother upstairs into his room before his father could choose something to pick on him about. August was only three and went to pre-school but he had begun to suffer his father's wrath as well. This constantly sent Emil into a state of fear.

As he pulled his coat away, the boy noticed his mother wasn't in the kitchen like she usually was at this time. She was always home before her children, making the teenager frown and slowly turn to look at his dad who was sat in that same, brown armchair, watching the football on T.V.

"... Where's mom?" The boy asked slowly, hanging his coat on the wall hooks.

"Where? The stupid bitch left."

Emil felt his heart fall into his stomach, dread trickling into his veins. "What... left for where?"

"Dunno. Just packed her shit and left. What'd I tell you, kid? She never even cared about you either."

Feeling tears well in his eyes, the teen attempted to keep himself composed, too scared to share weakness around his father but it was scary. Did she... really leave her children just like that? No goodbye, no explanation? She didn't take them with her, she left them with that monster.

"No... No, she wouldn't do that -"

"Well, she did." The old man let out a sneer, almost, dropping an empty bottle beside him. "Who you gonna go crying to now, Emil? You're just as pathetic as she was."

Messing with his hands, the teen shook his head, "I'm not pathetic. Neither is she!" He wanted his mother so bad.

"Was pathetic!" Samuel yelled, rising to his feet and instantly making his son cower back slightly. The action brought the man some sort of amusement. "Was... pathetic. Now where is she? Act like a man, you're nearly fifteen, aren't you? Grow up, stupid kid."

Emil felt his childhood slowly evaporating before his own eyes.

2008;

It had been four years since Faith had left without a single goodbye. Four whole years of pain and loneliness for the Kertesz brothers. Without their mother, Emil and August only had one another and the two had developed a bond unlike any other. Now seven, the younger brother went to school and relied on Emil for everything. Getting to school and back, his food, making sure he was bathed and clean. He adored Emil and saw him as a hero, like one of those superheroes you saw on TV saving the world from mass destruction. The child had fallen in love with those champions and saw them as the escape from his home life. He only wished he could be one too.

It was 24th December, Christmas Eve. hardly a joyous occasion in their household. There was no family, no gifts, no food, nothing. Just another day where they suffered at the hands of Samuel. But he was nowhere in sight, probably stumbling around some bar in town. The family car was never used by the father anymore, just Emil so he could get to school and work easily, and so he could drop August off at his baseball club after school. Anything to keep him happy.

Once a timid child in his home, Emil had grown taller than his father and stronger too. He'd built up tough skin over the years and joining the high school football team meant the once skinny teen now had plenty of muscle on his side and was able to fight back when his father grew angered. It meant he was always the target and August didn't suffer. And that made Emil happy. He couldn't wait to graduate, he'd leave this stupid town with his brother and never look back, gain full custody and begin working so they could have better lives. He looked forward to it wholeheartedly.

But Christmas Eve would have to be his small scape for now. Noticing how glum his younger brother was, the high school senior remembered the Christmas Eve parade they always had in central Metropolis each year. It was the largest parade in the world and those silly superheroes always seemed to visit the event. Whilst Emil thought superheroes were arrogant men pumped full of radiation, his brother adored them. So he had an idea. Their rundown town was only an hour out of the city, he could take the car and drive there now, make it in time so August could see parade he always watched on TV in person.

Wrapping his brother tightly in his coat, scarf and woolly hat, Emil for once was smiling as he carried his brother outside into their old car. They could be there and back before Samuel realised.

"Where are we going, Milly?" The child asked. Such a silly nickname but he didn't complain.

"It's a surprise, bud. It's Christmas Eve, we can't stay at home, can we? Let's go have some fun together. You're gonna love it." Watching his brother beam as him with rosy, red cheeks, he placed August in his car seat in the front and clicked his seatbelt tight. Soon, they were on the road.

The first thirty minutes of the drive were peaceful. They drove down the winding, dark roads as Emil blasted music to sing along to loudly and August played with his favourite toy - a figurine of the famed Electro Man. Something his brother had stolen for him from the store but he didn't need to know that part. It had been snowing the past couple of days so the landscape was coated with a thick layer of sparkling white. It looked perfect.

"Are we going to play in the snow?" August asked, turning to face his brother.

"No... we did that yesterday, remember?"

"It was fun!... Are we going to get a Slurpee? Can I have a blue one?" That was at times all Emil could offer his brother.

"A Slurpee? Boring! We're going somewhere really cool and we're nearly there now."

Despite caring for his brother, the teenager could still be a little reckless at times. Noticing how it was nearly eight o'clock, the guy hissed a curse word under his breath. It was starting soon and they weren't there.

"What's wrong?" August asked with a frown.

"Nothing bud, just running a little late." Without considering the icy roads, Emil pressed the gas pedal so they were soon speeding down the roads.

"Emil... Emil, you should slow down." The child frowned, the speed unsettling him a little. "It's dangerous."

Shaking his head, Emil kept going and turned to face his brother. "Come on, ain't this fun? No dad, no stupid house, we'll be there soon and I swear, buddy, you're gonna love it so mu --"

"EMIL!"

Large headlights and a loud horn. Startling the teenager, he realised he was diving headfirst into a large truck and with a cry, he turned the wheel sharply so they swerved out of the way. But what happened next felt slowed down, almost. Slow, but they could go nothing to stop it. Screeching brakes, a loud crash and smoke.

Then nothing.

...

The two boys had been thrown out of the car onto the middle of the road, bodies torn and battered from the impact of the crash. For a moment, Emil felt nothing, saw nothing, heard nothing but a ringing noise in his ears as he stared up at the sky, vision blurred. Coughing loudly, he felt the taste of iron in his mouth and he tried to regain his bearings, arm broken at his side. Then it hit him.

His brother.

"August?" He cried, struggling for air as his eyes stinging from the smoke as he tried to see where his brother was. "August, where are you? August!"

Hearing the sound of coughing, Emil turned his head to his side and found his brother not too far from him, also on the ground. But his coughing grew louder as he noticed blood seeping from the child's mouth, his bones bruised and many broken, and a large shard of glass sticking out of his torso. He was losing too much blood. He was dying.

"Emil." The boy cried loudly, sobbing from the pain, "Emil, make it stop!"

Not caring about the pain in his arm, the teenager moved himself to sit upright, and scrambled forwards, grabbing his brother so he was leaning against Emil's body. He was weak, lifeless, like a ghost, but he gripped onto his brother's coat as tight as he could, letting out cries of pain. Emil's worst fears were coming to life, remembering the day he first held his brother in his arms when he was born. Now he was in his arms again... dying? No, no this wasn't happening.

"Stay with me, buddy, alright?" The older brother stammered, choking slightly as he watching the life begin to slip from his eyes, "Don't leave me yet, Augie, I need you, okay? I need you so just stay right here." Feeling the grip loosen a little, Emil shook his head violently and began to scream for help.

"Somebody, help!" He yelled, his voice hoarse and breaking, hands trembling as he tried to stop the wounds from bleeding. No one heard.

It was then that he looked up to the sky. "I'm begging you, I'll do anything you want, please, anything at all, I'll do it." Who was he talking to? Higher powers? In the last attempt, Emil used prayer in an attempt to keep his brother alive, knowing they wouldn't be rescued in time. "Just take me instead, not him, take me! He can't die! Not him!"

Sobbing loudly as he felt his brother slip away, Emil refused to let go of August. He refused to give up hope but survival felt so unlikely. No one was coming to save them.

“This is all my fault...” The teenager rocked back and forth, his entire body shaking as his brother’s lifeless body laid limp against him. He was gone. “It’s my fault, it’s my fault, IT’S MY FAULT!”

It's not your fault, Emil.

The teenager froze, glancing around for the voice he couldn't see. Had help arrived? His brother would be saved, yes?

"Who... who's that?"

Your brother isn't lost just yet, Emil. I can keep him safe. He can live.

The voice echoed in his ears. It was cold, empty, lifeless, but offered words of comfort. "H... How? Where are you?"

Do something for me, and I can give him life.

"... Anything, anything, I'll do anything! Please!"

The voice grew louder. It was pleased. Had Emil gone insane?

Give up your soul for his and I will let him live. Work alongside me and he will get a second chance in life.

Eyes widening, Amir looked ahead to find a shadowy figure floating in the air, created by smoke and staring right at him. It was terrifying... and it wasn't real, was it? It was the loss of blood driving him insane.

"... How do I know you're real? That this isn't some sick joke?!"

Are you really going to give up the chance of saving your brother's life?

Glancing down at the child, Emil felt his throat grow tight and the air grew thick. He didn't want August dead. Eyes cautiously moved back to the figure and he let out a trembling sigh of pain.

"... I accept."

Excellent.

Before Emil could say anything else, the shadowy figure lunged towards the boy who let out a large scream, the darkness of the voice seeping its way inside his body. At that moment, a trade was made, and Emil felt the life from his body escape and his body shut down, eyes closing as he fell to the floor. August opened his eyes with a gasp for air, and his own life returned.

Emil had sold his soul to the devil.

2009;

One year on and things had changed in many ways for the Kertesz brothers. After recovering from their injuries, both August and Emil had moved on in their lives and gotten as far away from their father as possible. Having fought for custody, the teenage boys had moved out of their deadbeat town and into the city. Emil worked three jobs and August attended a better school in Metropolis. They both lived in a van the eldest son had stolen from a car sales company one evening. It wasn't much, but they were safe and happy. Well... August was happy.

The child had little memories of that night and believed his brother had saved him in the crash. Whilst he was right, the eight-year-old knew nothing of what events had occurred. Emil's life had changed forever, and it would never be the same again. The teenage boy, once full of life, had become empty and heartless, only caring for himself and his brother. Why did he feel so... lost? Cold? It was like he didn't feel a thing anymore. No pain, no sadness, anything. That's what happens when you sell your soul away. What else is left?

Though he didn't know it yet, Emil had sold his life away to be a servant to the cruel and wicked Satan himself. He was now a puppet of the Devil, who had shown mercy and had allowed the boy time to recover and start a new life with his brother. But a year had passed and it was time for Emil to uncover what his new life really meant. The new potential he had... the power he possessed.

His brother, after much begging, had been allowed to stay at a school friends for the night. Protective, especially after the crash, Emil was reluctant to accept but wanted August to have as much as a normal childhood as he possibly could. This a fresh beginning. Walking home that night through the seedy streets to find his van, the man had his hands in his hoodie pockets when a certain voice made its presence known again.

Emil, it's good to see you healthy again.

Nearly falling over from shock, the man glanced around to find no one around but him. Not again. That voice... it had returned after the night of the crash. It was... real? It wasn't a hallucination? This entire time, Emil had believed August's survival to be a miracle and the loss of blood had caused him to hear voices in his head. He was very much alive... the voice was very real.

"I thought you weren't real."

You sold your soul to me and you thought I wasn't real? You have much to learn, child. This is just the beginning of our friendship.

"... Friendship?"

Don't you remember that night? You made a deal with me. You promised to do my bidding and I would let your brother live. I can take him away again if you'd like.

"NO!" Emil cried angrily, coming to a halt. "Don't... don't touch him. I'm listening, I ready to... to help."

Good. I like this attitude of yours. As the world's current aide to Satan, I can assure you, you will lead a very interesting life.

"... S-satan?" He stammered with wide eyes. "You're... you're real?"

Of course, I am. I oversee everything that goes on in this world, but I need someone on the ground helping me with my work.

"Work?"

To make humans repent for their sins. This world is full of them, especially this pathetic city of yours. Someone needs to help me find these people, and that someone is you. In return, your brother lives, and you are gifted with powers people can only dream of. These powers will allow you to find those who need punishment, but... I will also allow you to use them to your advantage. Use them to give you and your brother the best life you can have, and I will turn a blind eye to your... methods.

"... Powers? Like those superheroes?"

Superheroes?! Don't insult m--... Fine, I suppose you could put it like that, but you, Emil, are more powerful than all of them. The strength of fifty men. The ability to conjure and control hellfire. You can see into the pasts of every human, see each and every sin they committed, and let them suffer at the hands of the reaping glare. No one survives that glare, I can assure you. That power sounds nice, doesn't it?

Staring at the ground, Emil nodded slowly. He had felt so weak and tormented by the world for so long, now it was his turn to feel powerful. That sounded fantastic.

"I... I'll do it. I'll make them all pay for what they did. And I know... just where to start."

2012;

In three years since earning his powers, Emil had done exactly as his ruler had told him to do. He had followed the rules, tracked down sinner after sinner, and made sure his brother had the best life he possibly could. Through these people he found, Emil had gotten himself wrapped up in the criminal world too... and he liked it. Having unlimited power in a world where he could do as he wished, the man had slowly risen the ranks over the years, made a name in the underground world and established a growing empire for himself that ruled the illicit world of Metropolis.

August was oblivious to it all, of course. He had been told that during one of Emil's jobs as a waiter, a businessman had taken a liking to his work ethic and offered him an internship at his business. Through that, he had created a business of his own. A delivery and chauffeur business that ran successfully in the city and brought in much income. From the outside world, that's what he made his growing empire to be, it could even be used. From the inside? The only things they delivered were drugs, weapon goods, and members of opposing factions in the area.

Life was great. He was full of riches and full of power, it was something the man revelled in so confidently. The once kind boy had become a heartless, cruel dictator who ran the criminal world with an iron fist. He felt no shame in his power, who he and who he worked for, not that anyone knew. When you found about Emil's darker side? You didn't live to tell that story.

But something didn't feel right. For years, he had made others repent for their actions, but... for once, Emil wanted personal revenge. Personal revenge against his father, Samuel, who still lived in that awful home in that awful town. Still sat in that awful chair.

He had been stood outside for some time, eyes wandering to the bedroom windows. He needed some things from the house, photos, belongings of his mother. With little hesitation, he walked over to the door and knocked. And waited. And waited. He could hear the tumbling from inside, a gruff voice of a man who stumbled over to the door and opened it slowly.

"What do you want?" Still as awful as ever. Time had treated him unwell. Time had treated Emil... perfectly. This made the son smirk softly.

"Hello, father. It's been too long."

Samuel's eyes grew with confusion as he stared up the unrecognisable man. This man... covered head to toe in tattoos, expensive clothing, a scar running down his face and an extremely muscular body... was his son?

"... Emil? What are you d-doing --" The younger male shoved the father aside so he could step through the door, heading straight for the stairs.

"This isn't a visit. I'm collecting what's mine and then I'll be on my way." Walking up quickly, he made his way into his old bedroom. Untouched, as expected. Going to the drawer by his bed, the man opened up the storage and grabbed the precious photos he kept inside. Smiling for a moment, he placed them in his pocket before heading to his parents bedroom.

"The fuck do you think you're doin --"

"Shut up! Stupid man." He hissed angrily, heading inside and finding the remains of his mother's items still scattered around. Without thinking, he grabbed her old ruby necklace, her bottle of perfume, and the cardigan she always wore and liked to wrap Emil in when he was a child. All warm memories. Placing everything into a duffle bag, he headed back downstairs and placed the bag outside the door.

Then he looked back at his father. "You look awful."

"Is this really all you wanted, Emil? Some stupid photos and a necklace? Or have you come back to laugh at your old man."

Placing his hands behind his back, Emil tilted his head slowly and smirked, "Honestly? Both. I came to see what you were doing these days. Nice to know you're still a deadbeat fool like you always were."

The man stumbled towards him, raising his fist like he always did when his son was young. This time, things were different. Grabbing his father's hand, he forcibly moved back to the side with ease, hearing a cracking noise as the old man let out a cry of pain.

"Does that hurt? Awh." Emil was quite a sadist at times, watching his father suffer brought him immense joy. "Don't worry, this pain will be over in no time, I can assure you that." Stepping forward, the son stared the man dead in his eyes as his own turned a fiery golden, deep with a glare. The repenting stare, something everyone would fear. It caused the sinner to feel every ounce of pain they had ever caused on another person, cause them to relive every horror they had committed in the past.

Emil watched with glee as his father cowered in fear but couldn't escape his grip, being forced to feel the pain of all the times he'd heard his sons, his wife, relive each moment. But then... Emil saw something he didn't recognise. A memory he never knew existed;

...

"What are you doing, Faith?"

It was Samuel, younger, stood in his bedroom. Faith was there too, three small suitcases in front of her. One belonging to her, the others belonging to her sons. She had been packing her things away in them, as well as August and Emil's, all of their belongings. Where was she going?

She looked up at Samuel in horror, growing tense and stepping back.

"Nothing. I... I'm just reorganising our clothes. It really needed it so I--"

"You were going to leave me, were you? Take the kids and go, right?"

"What? No... I--"

"Don't lie to me, Faith. Don't. Fucking. Lie." He had been watching her for some time. He held something in his hand... a belt. He began to move closer to her.

"Sammy... Samuel, what are you doing?" She stammered, eyes fearful and voice timid. "Put... put that down, I swear, put it down or --"

The boys were at school so they never heard their mothers screams. Never heard their father choke the life out of her so heartlessly, like he hadn't fallen in love with her all those years ago. If I can't have you, no one can! Was all he had said. Faith had never abandoned her children. She never would. Samuel had killed her in anger and rage, buried her lifeless body in the forests in town. And Emil had never known.

...

Breaking apart from the stare, Emil said nothing. He simply looked ahead as he processed what he had witnessed. His mother was dead... this entire time. She wasn't halfway across the country with a new husband, new kids. She was dead, six feet under in some random forest no one cared about. No one had ever cared about her except for him.

"You killed her."

"Emil..."

"You... you took her away from and you DIDN'T GIVE A SHIT! YOU TORE THE LIFE OUT OF HER LIKE SOME ANIMAL AND YOU STILL DON'T CARE!" He roared at the top of his voice, pacing back and forth as his temper was on the brink of exploding, his eyes still full of fire.

Teeth gritted, hands clenched, the man let out loud breaths and as smoke rose from his shoulders. "You're fucking dead, you understand?... YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD!"

Never had the man felt so angry in his life. But at this point, it wasn't anger anymore. It was pure instinct. Nothing humane was left in him anymore. Before Samuel could act, he watched as his son almost... burned away, his body replaced by some sort of fire demon that towered over him, covered in flames with horns and talons. It was terrifying. Emil had never accessed this kind of power in his life, yet, and he didn't understand what it was, but he didn't care. He relished in it and allowed the demon to take over.

Samuel's death was marked as an accidental fire started by the pit in his home. No one knew that in reality? A fiery demon full of rage had burned the man until nothing about a man remained, and in a roar had allowed the house to become engulfed by deep flames and smoke, burning it to the ground. No one would miss Samuel but no one understood. Why was this fire so powerful? Had someone started it?

Not someone, but a thing. For nothing human remained inside Emil anymore.

#solo #wow #this took forever haha

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darling-clemmy · 5 years

Text

A Feeling We Don’t Know//Clouis Highschool AU--Chapter One

A/N: Welcome to the first chapter of my highschool AU! I will try to update this regularly, and I hope you enjoy the first part :)) also huge thank you to @missdaisymayrio , without her I could not have written this.

Summary of Story: After the first night, it seems impossible for them not to run into each other. Though, neither the boy with dreads nor the girl with curls can complain about that.

Summary of Chapter: Clementine had never liked parties--until she realized that some of them aren’t so bad, thanks to one dark haired boy.

Word Count: 3,670 words

CHAPTER ONE: PARTY FAVOR

The rain beat down against the overhanging glass of the bus stop, creating a repetitive pattern that was starting to get under Clementine’s skin. She’d much rather prefer to hear his cheery voice right now, speaking reassuring words into her ear, or the muted radio as they kiss in the backseat of his car. But that couldn’t happen now, or possibly ever again.

She pulled her oversized yellow raincoat closer to her body, although that would only relieve the shaking due to the cold, and not due to her silent cries. I’m so stupid, Clementine thought, forcing more tears out of her eyes. Yet, under the heavy rain, they were barely noticeable.

A car with blurry headlights zoomed past her, causing roadside rain water to splash up and hit her ankles. She was too numb to care about anything, much less a little bit more water on her already soaking clothes. Her head lifted at a realization—that car was playing their song. She could recognize that beat anywhere, having listened to it nonstop months ago. How silly it was to think that it held any meaning. She knew now that it was all a mistake. He was a big, heart shattering mistake.

Clementine checked her phone once more for whatever reason, as the same picture of a low battery came up again. She sighed, her entire being feeling so crumbled that it was useless to have any hope for herself anymore. So, with no other choices, she stood up from the cold bench, lifted her hood over her curls, and began stomping through the wet, cracked sidewalk back home, leaving him and all of their memories behind her.

—

7 MONTHS EARLIER:

Ding!

Clementine blinked in surprise as the bell signifying an order was ready rung. She removed her hand from beneath her chin and looked at the plate.

One large blueberry pancake, four scrambled eggs, and six pieces of bacon with a coffee that might as well just have been milk. Kyle, Clementine guessed, rolling her eyes at the fact that she’d have to bring it out to him.

Tightening the stained white apron that was tied around her waist, she picked up the chipped plate by its bottom and held the mug’s handle firmly.

The diner was especially busy today, as it was every Saturday. Besides, Everett’s was the only place other than Bee Joe’s to get breakfast in the small town of Wareham, West Virginia. Because of this, probably around half the population came in between 7am and 2pm, consisting of young children with their mothers, a group of loud old men who split the check in eighths, and Clem’s own teachers at school, who, no matter how much they come in, were always surprised she works there.

After maneuvering through the clustered tables and booths, she finally made it to the table marked “H,” where, of course, none other than Kyle was sat.

“Here’s your food,” Clementine choked out through a forced toothy smile. “And your coffee. Do you need anything else today?”

Kyle slumped back in his chair as he eyed the food suspiciously, before returning his gaze back to her silently.

At his uncomfortable stare, Clem cleared her throat and gripped the hem of her stupidly stiff baby pink uniform skirt.

“Nah, nothing that I can order off the menu, anyway,” he nearly slurred out, making Clementine wonder if he was already high or if he was just sleazy.

“Okay, well, let me know if there is.” By now, she was smiling so tightly and fakely that it was beginning to hurt. Before he could get another word in, she spun on her heel and rushed back to safety behind the counter, away from the college boy.

Once there, where none of the customers could really see, she threw down the order notebook with a huff. Looking up at the red LED clock, she counted the minutes to when she’d be allowed to leave. 275 minutes. 16, 500 seconds. It’s a lot, but she hoped that maybe she’d be able to just wash tables until then.

“Dumb day?” A southern-twanged voice asked from beside her.

Clem sighed in relief that it was Brody, and not her supervisor scolding her for not being “sweet and accommodating,” as she’d always say.

“It wasn’t too bad until Eric, you know, the new cook guy, spilled bacon grease on the floor and I had to clean it up. And Kyle’s here and you know how he always is and of course I’m his waitress.” Clementine complained as she lowered her head in closer to Brody, like preteens gossiping.

“Ugh, he shouldn’t even be allowed in here. He’s such a creep,” Brody agreed. “I had to wait on the Yorks and all eight of their kids, who all wanted chocolate chip pancakes in the shape of Disco Broccoli. Omar’s a good cook and all, but how is anyone supposed to do that?”

Clem chuckled thinking about Disco Broccoli and his Chive Talkin’ Friends. She was surprised kids still watched that show. “I think customers think we’re Gordon Ramsay.”

“Sorry, we’re actually just a bunch of 16 to 25 year olds and their 40-something year old manager.” The auburn hair girl replied, scribbling down her tipped wages. “On a lighter note, are you doing anything tonight?”

“Nope. AJ’s parents don’t need me to babysit tonight and my parents are both working late again.” She furrowed her eyebrows before continuing, “Why?”

“Marlon’s having a party tonight and I was wondering if you’d like to come!”

“Brody—“

“Shush, before you say ‘I’m not a party person, Brody,’ it’s not as big as his other ones. There will only be, like, 30 people there, at most.” Brody chastised, placing a hand on her hip.

“Why so small?”

“It’s for his best friend. He just got back from a music camp or something,” she explained.

Clementine sighed, realizing that she and Brody had never really hung out outside of work before. They may not have been best friends, but Brody had always been there for her, so maybe she owed it to her to go to a party or two. “Okay, I’ll go. At least for a little bit.”

“Really?” Brody squealed, making some customers’ eyes gather on the girls. “Thank you, Clem! I promise you’ll have fun.”

Clementine laughed, “Who’s his actual best friend anyway?”

“His name’s Louis. Has dreads, writes music and plays piano, his family lives in that really big house down on Charlotte Lane,” Brody described, hoping to jog Clem’s memory.

Really, she didn’t need to. Everyone in Wareham knew Louis Hastings and his parents. With his high economic standing and the fact that he was a major social butterfly, everyone had talked to Louis at least once. He was well liked, too, so it was no surprise to Clem that a welcome home party was being thrown with him as the guest of honor.

“Well, I’ll make sure I’m there,” Clem promised with a grin.

The door opened and hit the ear-ringing bell above it. The girls looked over to it to see an old couple, dressed in button up shirts with matching patterns.

“Oh, look, Mr and Mrs Carlton. I’ll go get them a table,” Brody recognized with fond smile, as the couple often came in for their usual English breakfast tea and raspberry scones.

Clementine watched as Brody left her side behind the counter before returning her eyes to the clock that seemed to be ticking slower as it went on. 260 more minutes.

Might as well start washing those tables, Clem thought before grabbing the soapy bucket and the old rag and getting to work.

—

“You really know how to make the guest of honor feel special, Marlon,” Louis criticized, shoving three more packs of red solo cups into the grocery cart that had an obnoxious squeaking wheel.

“Don’t be mad. You should be happy I’m bringing you along to shop for food, since you’re such a picky eater and all,” Marlon rolls his glacier colored eyes in response.

“I’m not a picky eater,” the dark haired boy began. “I am a refined one.”

“Chicken tenders and french fries are real refined, Lou.”

“Everyone likes chicken tenders and french fries.”

“Vegans don’t.”

“They make fake chicken tenders, you know,” Louis informed, scrunching up his nose at the sour cream and onion chips that Marlon threw in the cart. “Are you buying all of this?”

“I’m not that bad of a party host. You really think I’d make you buy your own party supplies?” Marlon asked incredulously.

Before Louis could respond, he felt his phone vibrating in his back pocket. He could tell by the personalized pattern that it was his dad calling him. He frowned.

“Hey, Dad,” he greeted blandly.

“Why aren’t you home yet?” The older man interrogated with a harsh tone.

“I’m out with Marlon,” Louis explained. “I’ll be back later tonight.”

“I can’t believe you sometimes, Louis. You really can’t even be bothered to have dinner with your parents after being away for two months?” His father questioned.

“Look, Dad, I—” Louis began, only to be cut off.

“Just don’t, Louis,” his dad interrupted harshly. “Just—if you have the time, text your mother. She’s missed you a lot.”

“Yeah, I will.” He already had two hours earlier.

His father gave no goodbyes before hanging up the phone, leaving Louis to listen to a dull humming.

“Is everything okay?” Marlon asked.

Louis remained silent as he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

“I know how tough your dad can be—“

“Do you still have your fake?”

Marlon’s eyes widened. “ID? Of course.”

At his words, Louis picks a large box of beer out of the cooler and slides it onto the bottom rack of the cart.

“That’s the spirit, Lou!” Marlon hit Louis’ back roughly.

Louis chuckled, but still, the feeling of disappointment in himself remained in the pit of his stomach.

—

Clementine was late.

Thankfully, not excruciatingly late. Not so late that it’d be rude to show up now. Just late by thirty minutes or so, since she had spent twenty more minutes than expected trying to figure out what to wear to her first party and another ten getting lost on the way there.

But, still, she was late. And she hated being late. It was embarrassing.

She walked up the steep steps to Marlon’s front door, the newly setting sun casting her shadow down in front of her, surrounded by a yellow-gold. She was already gnawing on her bottom lip in anxiety, thinking about how lonely she may be here. Yet, Clem still knocks on the door before lowering her hand and wrapping it around her other wrist.

Marlon opened the door, a navy blue can in his hand. “Oh, hey, Clem. Brody said you’d be coming tonight.”

She grinned bashfully. “Yeah, she thought it’d be good for me to get out more.”

“Well, I can assure you that my parties are the best reason to do so,” Marlon boasted. “Come in. Brody’s in the kitchen.”

Before she could say another word, he’s shut the door behind them and ran off to speak to somebody else in his living room. Clementine huffed and raised her brows, analyzing the inside of the house, trying to find the kitchen.

In front of her in the entryway was a rack of coats, hung up high on the grey wall. Clem didn’t bring a jacket, as it was nearly 85 degrees out, so she moved past it and walked into the main area. To her left was Marlon’s living room, accompanied by a few boys she vaguely recognized from school drinking and playing some video game on the large flatscreen. Not wanting to have to talk to them, she quickly walked straight and into the kitchen.

“You made it!” Brody jumped off from her seat on the granite counter and skipped over to the tan girl to hug her tightly. “I love your outfit.”

Clem looked down at her cuffed blue jeans and form-fitting rosy shirt. Although she was receiving a compliment, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh, thanks. It only took a billion years to pick out.”

Brody grinned softly. “Let’s go out onto the patio! That’s where most everyone is.”

The slightly taller girl grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out through the sliding glass door and onto the rocky terrain of Marlon’s patio. To her right was a porch, which you could step up onto and enter an above ground pool. There were pretty, golden bulb lights strung across the entire backyard, glowing down on a little over a dozen teenagers. Music from a nearby speaker played loudly, as Marlon didn’t have any close-by neighbors that would file a complaint.

Brody dragged Clem up onto the porch and over to a few of their classmates who she recognized: Violet LaCasse, Sophie and Minerva Wilson, and Mitch Gray. She had never really talked to any of them, except Mitch once for chemistry homework. But she knew that Brody was really good friends with Sophie and Mitch (surprisingly) especially, so she stayed put.

“Hey, Clementine, right?” Minnie asked as Clem sat down on the metal chair, her arm loosely around Violet’s shoulders.

“That’s my name,” Clementine joked tight-lipped.

“You want a beer?” Mitch chimed in, already reaching for the cooler beneath them.

Clem’s amber eyes widened. “Ah, no, thank you. I’m driving back home tonight.”

Mitch shrugged. “If you wanna’ have real fun tonight, then you drink. I’ll drive you home after.” He gave a cheeky grin.

“You’ve already had three beers in the past 40 minutes, dumbass,” Violet objected, running her finger around the lid of her water bottle.

Clementine remained silent, her eyes furrowed together. Instead, she simply shook her head at his offer. As she looked to her left, she saw how Brody’s lips were set in a slight pout, her fingers wrapped tightly around themselves.

Once the auburn haired girl noticed Clem’s concerned stare, her expression did a complete 180, returning back to her usual welcoming grin.

Sophie tugged on Brody’s sleeve. “Did Marlon say where Louis is?”

“You know, I don’t—“

As if on purpose, Marlon busted through the sliding glass door, his arm around a slightly shorter, darker skinned boy. A cuter boy, Clementine admired. Louis Hastings.

“Look who’s fuckin’ back and better than ever!” Marlon roared, clearly already tipsy, stumbling out onto the patio.

Practically everyone grinned and cheered, the screams of the teenagers echoing into the forest behind them. The rest of the boys who Clem saw inside also came outside, all thrilled to see their favorite friend back home. After a few minutes of the rowdy boys yelling and pushing each other, Marlon and Louis made their way up the porch steps and over to the table.

Marlon kissed the side of Brody’s head, her nearly flinching at the touch. “You smell like alcohol, babe.”

He kissed her again, despite her protests, as Mitch and Louis did that awkward side hug-back-hitting thing guys did.

Louis’s eyes scanned the table, nodding a simple hey, good to see you again to the blonde and the twins before his tawny brown eyes met Clementine’s.

He knew her face from around school, but didn’t really know her too well since she was a grade below him and almost everyone else, except for Mitch. All he really knew her by was the fact that she won a state photography prize for their school last year and that she sometimes wore her hair in two cute pigtails tied with purple ribbons. And that she was pretty. Really pretty.

Louis held his hand out towards her across the table. “Why, hello. I’m Louis, to formally introduce ourselves.”

Clem’s cheekbones flushed vaguely before the corners of her mouth lifted up. “Clementine.”

“I’m glad you could make it. The more the merrier, right?” Louis preached. “Oh, wait, that sounds bad. Uh, nevermind.”

Clementine giggled softly, not caring about the slightly confused stares from the rest of the group.

“Alright, you two, stop flirting,” Marlon interjected, waving his hand around. “C’mon, Lou, let’s go talk to Luke.”

“Okay, okay,” Louis said, turning back to look at her. “See you all later.”

The group said their chorus of goodbyes to the two boys and watched as they walked down the wooden steps, Louis holding up Marlon so he doesn’t fall. Clem’s stare lingered on the boy with dreads, even after they walked across the yard to a group of boys kicking around a soccer ball.

Brody leaned over the arm of her chair and whispered into Clem’s ear, “You’re welcome for inviting you.”

“Oh, quiet. He was just being nice,” she insisted, tucking a curl behind her ear.

“Whatever you say,” Brody sang.

Clementine stood awkwardly by the side of the house as she watched the rest of the party-goers dancing and talking. She wraps one of her hands around the opposite arm in an attempt to warm herself up. She wished she had brought a coat now, the early autumnal cold night air surrounding her in an aura of blue. When she lifted her head to look up at the stars, she hoped that the far away heat from them would transfer to her body. Sadly, it didn’t.

Since she was scuffing her white shoes against the ground, she didn’t notice the presence of a body next to her. She was too focused on an ant crawling through the caverns between bricks and a new dirt mark on the tip of her shoe that she accidentally ignored the kind boy.

He cleared his throat, alarming her and making her look up.

“Sorry,” she apologized flustered. “You were pretty quiet.”

“I don’t know if this will surprise you, but pretty much no one else has ever said that to me,” Louis told her, leaning against the tan house as well.

“Well, you did make quite the entrance,” Clementine complimented.

He shrugged. “Marlon and his alcohol made quite the entrance.”

“Right, right.”

“So, um,” Louis began. “I got you a drink.”

Clementine raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“I noticed you didn’t have one at the table. I can’t let a pretty girl go thirsty at my party,” Louis explained, his dark eyes twinkling like the stars above them.

She eyed the red cup suspiciously then gazed back at him. “You seem nice enough, Louis, I just don’t know if I wanna’ take a random drink from you.”

“What? I--Ohh!” Louis’ face dropped at what she was implying. “There isn’t anything--It’s just water with ice. I hope you like ice--Ah, okay, this is a really bad first impression.”

Clementine giggled and bit the inside of her lip. “Then, how about you make a good second impression?”

“Yes! Yeah, yeah,” Louis agreed.

“Can you walk me to my car? No offense to your party, but I don’t really think I’m needed here.” Clementine joked, but her solemn undertone spoke a different narrative.

He smiled wordlessly and opened the glass door for her, following her once she stepped inside. They made their way through the simple layout of the bottom floor and to the front door. Louis once again held it open for her, and her heart felt warm for the first time tonight.

The walk down the long dirt driveway and to the main street that Clem had to park on was silent, since the two teenagers didn’t know anything to talk about and didn’t really mind the comforting quiet that was only filled with chirps of crickets and nearby music from the party. Once they reached Clem’s silver sedan, she paused in front of the driver side door.

“Well, this is me,” she announced, pulling her keychain out of her back pocket. “Thanks for the walk.”

“I’d feel too bad to let you walk down here alone in the dark,” he reasoned with his hands shoved into his jean pockets. “But, you know, I don’t know if our short walk made up for the whole four hours of the party where you looked miserable.”

“What? I was having fun. So much fun,” she promised dramatically, but at his incredulous stare she gave in. “Yeah, fine, it kind of sucked for me.”

Louis sported a small grin. “And I take no offense to that. Besides, I didn’t really throw it.”

“Even if you did, it’s not like my opinion on it really matters. Everyone else looked to be having fun,” she responded.

“Your opinion matters to me.”

Her lips went into a confused pout. “We just met.”

“So? You still matter, and I still feel kinda’ bad that you were dragged here,” Louis empathized with soft eyes.

Clem sighed. “Can you still say thank you to Brody for me? And make sure she gets home safe? I know she doesn’t drink it’s just….”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he assured, opening the car door for her. He cleared his throat. “Have a nice night, Clementine.”

She smiled and slipped into the car, closing the door after her, but her window remained open. “You too, Louis. Welcome home.”

“Yeah, you too,” Louis said before realizing his mistake. “Wait, no. God, I’ve messed up my second chance, too, haven’t I?”

The tan girl laughed. “No, no, you haven’t at all. Goodnight, Louis.”

“Goodnight,” he waved weakly before stepping out of the way for her to drive off.

He watched her car as she drove down the curvy road like he was watching her herself. When she braked, turned on her blinker, and took a left off of the street, Louis sighed to himself with a blissful smile. She really is something else, he pondered, bringing his hands up to feel how warm his face had gotten during their interactions.

He wondered if she was feeling the same joy in the pit of her stomach, too, or if it was simply one-sided.

What he did know, though, was that he’d definitely have to thank Brody for inviting her.

#clouis #twdg #clementine #louis #louisentine #clemxlouis #fanfiction #the walking dead game #the final season #fanfic #clem #brody #marlon #violet #minnie #sophie #mitch #highschool au #a feeling we don't know fic

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antihero-writings · 5 years

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The Only Fight--Young Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/Star Wars Sequel Trilogy fic, Chapter 2 (full chapter!)

Fic Title: The Only Fight

Fic Synopsis: Waking or sleeping, Ben Solo has been fighting the darkness within him ever since he was a child

Chapter 2:

All he knows is he has to kill. The young man’s breathing is tempered, the cold threatening to bite into him, but he fends it off. Doesn’t falter. The darkness around him is his ally, cloaking him from the light and all things within it which would expose his faceless appearance. He does not know how long he has been in this snowy woods, searching, hunting. All that is real is this dark intent consuming him, and the blacker faith that set in there. He is not a patient person. He will not wait for his prey to come to him. He stalks it from shadow to shadow. Finally, he hears it: breathing.

The short, frantic gasps of his prey, as if the thing is pleading with the air to rescue him, begging for some coin of relief from this cold, this endless winter chase.

The sound is so small, so pitiful, shallow and without real resolve or reprieve...just the act of inhaling, exhaling, nothing entering his lungs. And then the breathing collapses, falls into the snow, crashing like a tree wondering if it made a sound when there was only the night to hear it.

The night did hear it. Now, now that his prey is within is grasp, now that his prey is heaving defenseless on the ground, now the shadow makes his move, stepping before him as if from behind the curtain of this grand show. His prey is a little boy, feeble and shaking on the ground. His form is so clear; the only thing in this blurred universe that is completely real. His black hair playing monkey in the middle before his eyes, infected with fear, tears tugging his lips. Hatred surges like a squall. His mind foggy, his reasons clouded behind a wall called yesterday. But when that hatred shoots through him and he knows it is real, even if nothing else is. This boy is nothing. Nothing. Nothing to him. Nothing at all. Young, afraid, powerless. He could destroy him now, and he would never become anything. Just a broken puppet of fear twisted and mangled on the playroom floor. But, try as he might to deny it, he isn’tnothing. To the host of darkness he means too much. This is more of a feeling than a knowing too. His presence makes him so angry, so disgusted, so…

So lost. So afraid. So alone. As if this wretched thing’s emotions are ebbing and flowing into his own mind.

Ben Solo. Just the thought of that name makes his hands curl into gloved fists, his jaw clench behind the mask. He hates the faceless name as much as he hates the face that goes with it, a tag team of disdain and contempt. He will destroy this boy. That name. He must. If he doesn’t, Ben Solo will surely destroy him. The darkness stands at his side like soldiers awaiting his command, a finely tuned blade. He ignites his real blade, the sound of the lightsaber rending the silence like a piece of paper. The red crackles, as if it too is unsure, as if it’s angry like its master is, scared like Ben is, singing a cracked, unfinished aria about lonely heroes falling to the dark, princes chained to thrones, scoundrels saving the day in war-struck empires, all hoping they’ll see light again. Black. White. Red. The only colors he knows now.

There was a time when he could see other colors. He named them, scribbled them messily on tablets and pages, along with stick-figure drawings of a mommy and daddy who weren’t there for him anymore.

He’s forgotten the hues now. He could ask Ben how and why he found himself in this snowy woods, he could demand that he leave him alone. He could leave him in the snow to freeze him out. But that wouldn’t be enough. He’s come to break his fragile heart while he still has a chance, in attempts to harden his own. It’s all he must do to become what he is meant to be, all he can do to free himself from the torment in Ben’s eyes.

It’s simple enough. Ben shuts those eyes, tight, doesn’t let go of the breath he’s holding, as if his own lungs are capable of keeping it safe from the fire. But after everything, the resolve strumming his heart, the shadows humming beside him, the saber singing sweetly...he finds he can’t just…do it. He can’t just raise the lightsaber and strike him down. Staring at his pitiful face, hatred piercing through him, even so, pity, empathy, and something… else, something like memory, keep him from his goal.

No. That’s not it. It can’t be it. No, it’s just too…easy. That’s all. He’s going to play with his catch before devouring it. Killing him right away is no fun. “Ben,” he taunts, trying to make the word contain all his hatred, sound as ugly as it tastes. and Ben is so small, so young…or maybe he is just too old, “Oh poor little Ben,” the words drip with a mocking pity, “who will save you now?” The shadow watches, watches the boy as he rifles in his mind for something to save him. “My father will come. H-He’ll come to save me.” The feeble words thrown into the snow catch the shadow by surprise. He laughs at how ridiculous, how childish, such an answer it is. And the answer he did provide…well, it’s a child’s answer, to be sure. Still. As much as he tries to deny it something pangs in the back of his chest. The hatred and resolve redoubles itself. There it is again; this boy’s ability to rummage around in the depths of his soul and bring out the parts of himself he thought he’d disposed of long ago.

He wants to take this boy and make him feel all the pain he causes him before running him through. Some call it revenge. He calls it destiny. He powers down his saber now, the red, commanding glow dissipating from the air.

The shadows around demand why? He tells them it won’t be long. He puts his hand on the boy’s cheek, as if checking he’s real, checking for a pulse, as if checking that he is the thing he was looking for. He doesn’t want to pollute himself with the boy’s fragility, yet he must, he must do this, must hang horror over his head like hypnosis.

There is something barely noticeable that does contaminate the sting in his words, gets in to the gaps in his mask, when he says; “Poor little Ben…all alone in the world.” He can see the boy’s adam’s apple bobbing up and down like a game at at the fair— this may be a game, but I’ll never let you back up for air— And at last he can no longer take the feeling of touching this thing “You think Han Solo will come to your rescue?” He tries to make the name as venomous as when he spoke Ben’s name, and this time he feels he accomplished that. “You think that arrogant wretch will be your savior?” he laughs, a silly notion after all, the smuggler coming to save this pitiful thing—

—Well, is it funny at all a father would save his son? …Or at least try—

“I am sorry to say”—and he isn’t sorry at all—“he will leave you on your own…everyone will. Han Solo can’t save you.” The words are an echo of something he said once. The boy’s hands are trembling in their fists, his nails digging into his palm, and the shadow feels a shot of anger go through him at the cry “N-No! NO!” the resolve in his voice almost mirroring his own. —(If that means he barely has resolve at all.)— “You’re so sure…why?” and this is the first question he’s actually curious to hear the answer to. Because why would this boy, all alone in these dark and snowy woods, powerless before a monster, hold on so tightly to something so breakable as the light? “Because…Because he’s my father—” He instantly regrets the question. He’d been hoping for some real, interesting answer, not some circular, childish reasoning. He snuffs out the conversation before he can continue. “And that’s what fathers do? Just because he is your father doesn’t mean he’ll always be there. There are some darknesses we must face alone. Best to realize this earlier on…it’ll save you the pain of betrayal later.” Sometimes he wishes someone had warned him. That he knew what was coming to him. That even those he held most dear would never regard him as something human, rather as a monster to be tamed, appeased, dealt with, sacrificed to. Then again, if someone had told him at Ben’s age…he probably wouldn’t have believed them anyway. Ben is still shivering, but he knows now the cold and the fear have nothing to do with it. That anger is so familiar to him he almost doesn’t recognize how overwhelming it must feel in the boy’s small frame. He reaches back and tilts Ben’s chin up, trying to make him feel as weak and powerless as possible. “You cling so tightly to the light. Wouldn’t it be easier to just give in?” “U-Uncle Luke says—” He wants to hit him and say strike two. To wring his neck for even speaking that name in his presence. “Skywalker.” The last thread in his venomous chord. “I should have known…Did he ever tell you of your grandfather?” Because that’s who matters in all this, the only one who really matters. Ben’s silence betrays him. “What if even your uncle Luke”—there’s that venom again—“isn’t the perfect hero everyone claims he is? If even he were to turn against you one day…what would you do?” “No…NO! Uncle Luke would never do that!” Ben is wrong. So very wrong. But that isn’t what matters anymore, because the shadow’s indecision may have led him to folly. He thought he was alone with Ben in these woods and all the time in the world, but now he feels another presence.

“Quiet!” He paralyzes his prey with the Force, keeping him locked where he can still strike him down, igniting his lightsaber again, the tongues of fire licking the boy’s terrified face. The figure steps before Ben, trying to shield him from the darkness’ offer. Their face is obscured, but their presence is familiar to him. “You’re the one who shouldn’t be so chatty.”—And they’re probably right about that—“He’s jut a boy. What do you want with him?” “What use would you have for him? He is just a boy.” “Use?” they sound offended, “He’s not a tool, or a toy! He is a person!” He twirls his lightsaber in the air as if that’s enough of a threat. “He has his grandfather’s blood in him. Someday he could become something great. But not like this; not sniveling on the ground.” —(And that’s what he wants to kill; the part of himself that’s the thing sniveling on the ground)— “He could be something great. He will be. But not led by you. Go. Leave him alone.” “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

They draw their own lightsaber—such a bright song, one about heroes, and hope, and never giving up—the blades clashing, creating fireworks in the night, their sound reverberating through the silence, and when Kylo Ren feels the lightsaber drill a hole in his chest…Ben Solo falls too. Kylo Ren awoke in his quarters, drenched in a cold sweat and heaving for breath. He tried to get up and fell off the bed to the ground. He had forgotten about the dream.

He’d had many nightmares like this one (long ago, now), and everyone always told him they didn’t mean anything. But he knew they were wrong. If he had remembered the dream from back then, he would have tried to forget it, as he did everything to do with Ben Solo. To pretend he never was that little boy crying on the ground, begging his parents to save him from the monsters in his head. And what was he now? Thirty years old, crying on the ground. The only difference was this time he didn’t have any parents to run to anymore. He was far far away from them, a lost boy trapped behind the second star. Rage surged like a living thing, infecting his breath, curling his fingers into fists. He wanted so desperately to destroy Ben Solo, to eradicate the sway he had over his heart, the ability he had to make him feel lost and scared and lonely, the child’s voice inside telling him this isn’t right. As much as he tried to block them out, deny they were ever real, fragments of memories fell apart in his head and cut his thoughts. He had killed Han Solo. That thing that caused him so much pain, so much torment, so much guilt. That thing tying him to that boy on the ground—the boy’s hope at rescue, still aching inside him—cutting off his ties to the life boat, ensuring him that nothing and no one would take him back to shore. Assuring him that the dark, the wind, and the waves were all he was, all he could turn to. And now guilt was an ever-present specter rotting away his chest like maggots. Memories like banshees, screaming, undead in his head. He sat up, leaning against the bed, telling himself it was only a dream. He didn’t believe it. Here he was, the shining, war-struck legacy of Princess, General Leia, Han Solo, of Luke Skywalker, and Ben Kenobi, and Darth Vader…sniveling on the ground. Trying to be everything at once and failing to be one thing at all. Trying so hard to fulfill a destiny…yet coming back with the pieces of dreams. Trapped behind sheens of lies, the ones others told him, and those he told himself.

If only he’d grown up.

If only he’d stopped believing in the light. If only he could have forgotten, destroyed that boy in the woods. Then maybe he could convince himself he’s not still Ben.

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roger1na · 5 years

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careful ch5 - john deacon x reader

summary: you are a ballet student at the royal ballet academy. To pay for your tuition, you work part-time at the celebrity gossip magazine, Seven. One fateful day you’re sent to interview a band on the rise, Queen, post-concert and befriend the sweetest man on the planet.

word count: 2.3k+

warnings: swearing

author's note: i'm so happy w all the positive comments i get you guys have all my uwus <3. i've realised FAR too late that brian's supposed to have hepatitis right now so ig in this universe it didn't happen, let's save our boy from some sickness. i think if i can keep to plan, careful should be twelve whole chapters! i don't want to start any new series before it's complete, i'm prone to abandoning projects if i don't really stick with them.

[ch1] [ch2] [ch3] [ch4] [ch5] [ch6] [ch7] [ch8]

chapter five

There was a certain routine to being in love. The butterflies you got every time you wrote about him in your diary. The softness of your heart when you heard Queen play on the radio and perked up your ears to hear the often forgotten bassline.

You soon learned that ‘till next time was code for next week, when John brought you lunch again, letting you hold his hand and tease him about his thick curls and shy smile. The late July sunlight played with the shadows on his face beautifully. Sometimes you felt as if you could just stare at his face forever, get lost in his features. Rose comforted you, saying it was part of falling in love. It terrified you, as a thought. But you hadn’t even properly kissed yet. The thought was ridiculous.

“What’re you thinking about, love?” You let the term of endearment roll of your tongue nervously, relying on British culture to keep your true meaning hidden. You had been walking for quite some time in silence after enjoying lunch in Kensington.

He hesitated slightly before replying. “The new album is so Freddie, Brian and Roger. I feel like the bass is lost.”

“You wish there’d be more bass?”

“Well, I don’t mind not being in the spotlight all the time…” he trailed off.

“But?” You encouraged him.

“I miss songs like Liar. Where I had a solo and all that.”

“You should write your own song, then.”

He looked at you, eyebrows raised, incredulous expression plastered across his face. You laughed and shrugged. “I know none of the songs on Queen and Queen II are yours. Why don’t you give this one a little Deaky twist?”

“Yeah but I can’t sing.”

“Bullshit, you have a great voice.” You stopped walking and turned to him. “I at least like it.”

A small redness spread across his cheeks and he avoided your gaze. “Well, uh,” he stumbled over his words.

“And also, if you want something a little less serious, why not play a bit of a practical joke on them? Something silly and stupid, Freddie would go bonkers for that.” You trailed off before smiling softly. “And, uh, Liar is my favourite song. Especially the bass.”

“You flatter me.”

“I’m serious.”

“I am too! They’re going to have a laugh.”

“Well then, make it into a funny song. Then they’ll laugh for the humour and you won’t feel bad if they insult your poetry or whatever.”

“You really think I should do this?”

“Absolutely.” You took hold of both of his hands and grinned.

You were caught in the moment just staring into his eyes. They were a wonderful shade of grey, occasionally looking dark and black in the shadows and sometimes twinkling like diamonds. You kept going back to the concert where you’d met him. The mischievous glint in his eye kept bringing you back to the silver glint of his bass strings.

A camera shutter snapped behind you, startling you. John’s expression changed from happy to apprehensive and his stance became wary.

“Was that a paparazzi?” The word sounded so silly. So fictional. He grimaced and nodded as some college student with a pimply face and shaky legs ran off with expensive equipment, and probably a picture of you and John where you looked madly in love. Or completely ridiculous. Your skirt suddenly felt too short, your shirt cropped too low and your hair messy.

John’s grip on your hand tightened. “Can we just go back?” You mumbled, embarrassment creeping in your voice.

John looked at you, worried. “Yeah, of course. You alright?”

You nodded, but you didn’t even convince yourself. He lead you back to the office through various shortcuts and darkened alleyways, hurriedly making sure nobody followed you. Once you arrived at the big glass doors to your office he apologised profusely.

“I’m so sorry, I should’ve been more careful.” His eyes were sad.

“Hey,” you grabbed his cheeks and squeezed them together slightly to make him form a smile. “Don’t worry about it,” you assured him, although your knees were shaking slightly.

“That’s not normal, I promise.”

“I believe you.” And you wanted to. But fear was creeping in your heart.

“‘Till next time?” He asked nervously.

“‘Till next time,” you promised him, squeezing his cheeks one more time before turning and rushing to the office.

A cloud hung over you as you walked over to your desk, heart beating rapidly, blood rushing in your ears. Williams was whispering something to an intern who looked like he was about to pee his pants at the sight of her, knees clicking together in fear.

You didn’t feel like challenging her anymore. She had a superiority complex. And she definitely hated competition in the workplace, although your intention was not to rise through the ranks. She saw women as something to weed out. You never understood what made her put herself against you, until you were warming up for an audition, and you realised that all the other dancers were looking for the same prize you were. But today, you gave it no thought.

For the first time ever, it properly hit you. John Deacon was famous. He went on tours and played for lovesick fans and probably had an army of teenage girls ready to tear him to shreds if the opportunity presented itself. Or maybe you were being delusional and he was just slightly more known than usual. He was a niche, he was a bass player. He wasn’t in the spotlight that often. Maybe.

You boiled coffee for yourself in thought, stirring in cream and sugar and taking a thoughtful sip. Would your mark on the world be a paparazzi photo with a guy you maybe-dated? While he had an incredible legacy? You’d be like one of those girls in a fan photoshoot which got terribly famous - only to remain anonymous. It was all so complicated.

The office had grown quiet when you returned from the canteen. Several people shot you pitying looks and Williams didn’t look so confident anymore.

“What’s going on?” You whispered to her, suddenly uncomfortably aware of yourself.

Nat left her front desk quickly, hiding something behind her back. “Y/N, sweetheart, don’t be mad…” she trailed off before handing you a copy of the Sun’s evening paper. “It just came in print.”

On the front page there were tons of different news. About celebrity scandals and weird locals. And then a small square image on the right corner of the page. John, with a dopey smile on his face, holding hands with a girl. It was you. Stupid grin and eyes for only John. And the title of the article made you sick.

Queen’s mr. Deacon hanging with the wrong crowd? Somebody should warn you…

Earlier today Queen’s John Deacon was spotted with a girl who works for the infamous gossip magazine Seven. What’s the girl fishing out of him? More on p.13

The article itself was maybe an eighth of a page, accompanied with two pictures. The one on the cover and one where you were entering the office building. But it was pictures of you. It was tarnishing you. You were going to be sick. What would he think if he saw this? You set down the paper and stormed to the bathroom before anybody saw your tears spill over your cheeks.

You stayed like that for a while, occasionally thinking you were brave enough to face people again. Then you caught sight of your red, swollen face and bleary eyes and retreated back into your stall. You mulled things over and over again. Was it always going to be like this?

You were at the office long after hours. Eyes stinging from crying and wiping them with sandpaper-like toilet paper.

Nobody tells you this, but crying from embarrassment and humiliation is the worst type of crying. With every tear that falls, you are reminded of how you messed up or how somebody decided that your actions were something to laugh at. With every sniffle you remembered that you had to go back and face the world, even though your knees were weak and your moral low.

While you were busy letting yourself get run down, the office had emptied. The lights were off and you could hear a lone janitor whistling as he cleaned. You sat down at your desk, pulling your knees to your chest, the chair creaking under your weight. Your sniffle echoed too loud.

You sat there for a while, feeling abandoned by the world. You let yourself be vulnerable and the press snagged onto it. You let yourself fall in love and now half of England thought you were scheming slag.

Your eyes drifted around your desk and landed on the locked drawer where you kept your diary. You fiddled with the lock a bit before it clicked open.

It was filled with memories from the wonder of late july. John this, John that. Ballet had trailed off the pages. You still danced. Every day but saturdays and sometimes even then. Your toes were bleeding often and your ankles hurt and you barely slept because your job started early and ballet ended late. But you had forgotten how much it used to eat up your happiness. It was the only thing that brought you joy. Now that John was part of the scene, you had a break every day. Like an entry to a whole nother universe for half an hour. Where he told you about photography and birds and basslines and you explained how all ballet dancers were evil because every understudy hoped for the failure of the prima ballerina. It was change and it was great. The fear in your heart was losing the fight.

If Rose could astral project, she would’ve appeared to you right then and there, screaming at you to call him.

You dialed his number and picked up the phone. It rang a few times before he answered, nervous on the other line.

“Hello this is John Deacon here,” he announced and then made a small tsk noise with his mouth.

You were so overcome with the relief of hearing his voice that you only managed a small sniffle.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

You took a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah.”

“You sound like you’re in tears.”

You laughed blearily. “Yes well, a bit. Don’t pick up the Sun today.”

“Ah, I see.”

“You read it?”

“Well, I know where you work. I’m still fine.”

You pressed your face into your hand. “God I feel like such an idiot.”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s not your fault, y’know? I should’ve realised. You’re John Deacon of Queen.”

John’s heart stilled. You didn’t sound bitter, just sad. Like you were done with everything. The lunch dates were a bad idea. The ballet lessons and the phone calls and the pampering. Bad ideas. He was about to open his mouth but you stopped him.

“I’m all in.”

“What?”

“Paparazzi and bad reputation and all stupid things included. All in.”

“What?” He was struggling to grasp what you were trying to get across to him.

“I feel like… I was one foot out of the door? I was nervous and hesitant to fall for somebody. And when I saw that article, it was maybe the worst moment of my life so far.”

“This isn’t very convincing.”

You started laughing on the other end. “Oh, you’re right, I need to clarify. I looked through my diary and so much has happened since I fainted at that concert. I’m all in. No hesitation anymore.”

“You keep a diary?” You could hear his teasing smirk through the phone.

“That’s what you got from me pouring my soul out to you?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t pick up on the subtext that I’m definitely kissing you the next time we see?”

“Oh?”

“I’m going to hang up now-”

“No wait! Tell me more.” He urged you, laughing on the other end.

“You sure? You don’t want to tease me anymore?”

“I’ll stop, I promise.”

“Okay,” you giggled. “So, Swan Lake by my class group has its opening night next week, Friday at 8pm. And I was hoping you’d join me. Or join the audience, I suppose.”

“I get to see you dance?” His voice was alive with joy and wonder, in an almost childlike way.

“Yes, yes! That’s what I mean. That’s part of all in. You get to see me dance.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“Yes I agree, I am wonderful.” You laughed.

He scoffed on the other end. But his heart was palpitating. He was overcome with happiness. It’d been strange, courting a girl who was so carried by art, so immersed in dance that she could let herself go for weeks on end just to keep up with it. Seeing her work come to life was the biggest prize he could’ve gotten from making time for you, bringing you lunch, making sure you didn’t starve yourself for the work.

“What made you decide you’d want to kiss me?”

“It’s been too long, hasn’t it? There’s been too many almosts. To hell with almosts.”

“Have you drank something?”

“No!”

“You promise? I won’t wake up tomorrow and you’ll have forgotten all of this?”

“Of course not, I’m responsible.”

“Sure.”

You chatted for a while. He was such lovely company. So full of adoration and respect and wit. He had such a way with words. You felt deep longing in your heart. You also felt relieved, like five years worth of missing love was finally replaced with the warmth of another person.

“I think I’ve got to go now,” you whispered when the janitor entered your section of the office. “I’ll see you friday.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Bye, John.”

“Bye, Y/N.”

You set down the phone, adrenaline making your hands tremble ever so slightly. You wiped your face one last time before taking your things and leaving the office. There was a spring to your step which echoed in the empty evening London streets. You could hear the bellowing of drunks from the pubs and the crying of a baby from a nearby apartment. But it didn’t really mean anything to you anymore. You were flying on the wings of love.

God you felt ridiculous.

***

taglist: @fourmisfits @deakysgirl @im-happy-at-home @obsessedwithrogertaylor @itsametaphorbriansblog @rhapso-kei

#john deacon x reader #deacy x reader #deaky x reader #joe!john deacon x reader #joe!john x reader #john deacon #queen imagine #careful - jd #aa u guys im so excited for the following chapters #trust me it gets fantastico #youre going to love it bc it's going to be /hella/ overdramatic #and trope-y #so trope-y

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tarithenurse · 6 years

Text

New Years Eve

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Avenger!Reader Content: Pining, fluff, lemons. Don’t read if you’re not old enough. A/N: Refound the draft for this which I must have started back in December 2017. Thought it was about time to finish it...even if it’s not really NY Eve soon. And still...didn’t do proper proof reading. Sorry.

”The party of the year”, had been the way Tony described it when he secured your attendance for his New Years bash more than two months ago. Since then, you’d only heard rumours about the plans, and you’d been too preoccupied about getting through your solo-mission to spare a thought. That’s why you’d more than happily accepted when Wanda and Natasha had offered to sort whatever was needed that night.

Leaning back in the car seat, you really hope your two friends and co-Avengers have kept their end of the promise, whatever it might entail. No texts or calls have come your way which had been rather relaxing. For a while. Now not so much. Both Wanda and Nat are perfectly capable of being reasonable adult with common sense, but sometimes they end up in a mood where they wind each other up. Add Clint to the mix and the result will be disastrous, yet brilliant, pranking. For all you know, you might be on the way back to a cellophane covered room and a New Year’s outfit suitable for disguising the wearer as a flamingo.

...

Even after very careful inspection of your rooms, you’ve not been able to find any pranks lurking. And the outfit? It couldn’t have been better which is good because a few hours from arrival to party-start wouldn’t have left you with a whole lot of option. Why not re-use a dress or something? That’s what you normally would, but in usual Stark style the party has to be themed and this time it’s “animals” – hence the worry about the flamingo. But you’re in luck and the outfit is perfect.

More than perfect, you admit to yourself as you smooth a hand over the tightfitting number you’ve wriggled into. Tiny, faux scales in an oily-black shade is covering your body, only broken by the plunging cleavage and daring slit at along the thigh and a series of red accents that shimmer like fire across you chest and hips. Unfortunately, it does little to steel your nerves. It’s too…too…little! You feel exposed, naked.

A knock on the door barely precedes Natasha and Wanda who come barging in. They’re ready to go (one as a tiger and the other representing her alias’ namesake) and are here to put the last touches to their plan.

…

“I feel…like someone else!”

The woman staring back at you from the mirror is perfect. Dark makeup compliments the outfit (normally you’d only go as wild as mascara), and the usually unruly hair has been tamed into a surprisingly long, sleek braid that on its own looks like the snake you symbolize.

“You don’t like it?” Wanda cocks her head, causing the plushy tiger-ears to wobble endearingly.

You frown at the mirror. “I…I do! It’s just so…not how I normally look…” Do you? “That there,” you gesture helplessly, “she’s…I mean…hot and I’m not.”

“Jeez, good thing we got you sorted then.” Natasha’s adjusting the red/black corset one last time but spares a glance in your direction. “It’s about time you see what everyone else sees.”

Everyone? There’s no room in your head to consider the possible implications of that, so you try to ignore the hot bubble of nerves in your stomach. It’s just Nat and Wanda saying it. They’re your friends. Supportive, sweet, honest…but not objective. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if a couple of the guys would claim you were pretty either. Like Tony, he compliments anyone he meets on their outfits or whatnot (even if there’s nothing new about it), and Thor and Steve are the biggest sweetheart although one is quiet and the other is boisterous about it. Yeah, but what about Sam. And there you go, thinking exactly what you didn’t want to.

Sam used to be your friend. A buddy you hung out with and who showed you the ropes when you joined the Avengers. You still try to do that, but each moment around him is close to painful because you don’t see him as a casual friend anymore. You should because that’s what you guys are…but it’s not enough. What you feel for him is so much more. Trusting him with your life would be the easiest thing. And there’s no limit to what you’d do for him both in the field and outside to make sure he is safe and happy. Fuck.

“Hey! Viper, where you at?” Nat’s voice reaches through the swirling thoughts.

Both ladies are waiting at the open door, ready to head out. Mumbling an apology, you hurry after them, hoping they don’t notice your quickened breath and pulse.

“Why a black snake?” Standing in the elevator, it’s only now that it strikes you as odd. “I mean…as Viper it would make sense to use that for the animal tonight.”

“People might get suspicious,” Wanda shrugs, busy inspecting her nails.

Nat’s busy looking for something in her tiny purse but manages to talk past a thin knife: “Bwe’ide, ‘omeone elwe claimed it.”

…

You’d been lucky that there already were plenty people at the venue, meaning you could snake in between the other guests and head straight for the bar (ditching your friends at the same time).

“Gin ‘n tonic, please.”

Waiting for the drink, you look around the place. It’s busy, both at the bar running the length of the ball room, but also at the place in general. Hundreds of people are milling about, snatching canapés from trays carried by various birds (not actual birds, but waiters dressed as flamingos, cranes and so on). Huge tables with champagne pyramids is the only “classic” New Year’s theme while the place has been invaded by what appears to be an entire jungle. Lush green plants and exotic flowers create section in the large area while trees and hanging plants mingle above the heads of the guests, infiltrating the chandeliers to the point where you don’t think they will ever get free again.

“There y’are!” Nat’s smoky voice curls around you together with your arm. “Found the others by the palm trees. Steve’s a cat with yarn and all.”

It’s impossible not to take than bait, so you let her lead the way as soon as you got the cool drink in hand. They’re a sight to behold. Not just Steve the Kitten, but also Tony the Unicorn (sporting a long horn with which he attempts to skewer hors d’oeuvres when Pepper the Peacock isn’t looking) and well, probably everyone, but of course your mind is being silly and making sure to get stuck on the sight of the one person you shouldn’t watch.

Hot damn. Green scales glitter in the light as they adorn Sam’s suit, making it looks as if a viper’s curling around his body in a way you wouldn’t mind mimicking. No! I shouldn’t think that. At least he hasn’t noticed you because he’s too busy examining the rear end of Tony.

“You installed cooling?” His warm voice muffled by the fake tail hanging down.

“Wha’?! He’s got air-con?!” An edge of betrayal is powering Rhodes’ disbelief. “Man, you said I couldn’t get my exo cooled!” Hurrying over to take a look through Stark’s rear, he pushes Sam aside.

“Hey! Wa–” But Sam never gets further.

His eyes are scorching your skin but it’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking. Out of sheer nervousness, you fidget with the metal straw in the drink, almost inhaling the clear liquid. Suddenly, the dress is too revealing, causing your guts to clench in a desperate plea for hiding, but the moment you try to move to get a bit behind Nat and Bucky, you feel the air breeze through the slit. Shit. Heat is rushing through your body.

“You’re looking good.” It’s Steve. “Like what Wanda and Nat have done, sticking with the venomous snake theme.” His friendly chuckle helps you soften up a bit as memories of your old life flashes by.

Growing up in the slums in the biggest city in South America had taught you a lot – even more so during the hardest periods where you stole away to survive in the jungle instead, figuring it was safer than being near the gangs and drug cartels. In hindsight, neither option could’ve been considered safe, but that was at least you learned enough to eventually take up the fight. Try to protect innocent people from the violent crime lords. That’s how you’d gotten onto the Avengers’ radar. Why they came to capture you. It was a good thing Clint had been there on that trip because he convinced the others to bring you back.

“Thanks. Feels odd not to wear something more…practical.”

A broad smile flashes. “I get it. Penguin suits are fine, but they aren’t made for moving.”

“That too.” Need to get away. “’Scuse me.”

Slipping away between the myriad of guests, you circle the room once while pretending to admire the decorations. In reality, you’re scoping the place for quiet corners and easy escape routes. But soon enough your feet are carrying you back to the bar for a refill. From there it’s possible to see most of the room…including the random flashes of a familiar green. My colour.

…

How can it not be near midnight?! It’s never been this awkward hanging out with the team. Sure, the chatting and fun is still going on…it’s just you that finds it hard to feel comfortable in your own skin as long as your near Sam. You’d tried talking to him, pretending everything’s fine. Normal. No unrequited love tearing you up from the inside, making it feel like someone has dripped your old venoms straight into your heart.

So you try to spend your time on the dance floor where no one expects you to carry on a conversation as you can lose yourself in the rhythms. Otherwise it’s the bar that calls, luring you with cold G&Ts until your head is buzzing comfortably. Not drunk…because you never know what can happen. 4th of July was bad, you remember, pushing the ice cubes around in the tall glass.

A delicate but strong hand clamps onto your shoulder, startling you.

“Relax, hon, just me.” The redhead takes a seat beside you. “Do you want me to ask or are you just gonna talk?”

“’Bout what?”

You don’t even have to look at her to know she’s rolling the eyes. “Why you moping.”

“Oh.” The straw clinks against your teeth. She’s bluffing. “Ask away. Doesn’t mean I got anything to tell.”

Somehow managing not to spill the martini, Nat whips around to face you. “Right, of course not. ‘Cause it’s not like you’ve been harbouring a huge crush on a special gentleman.” Your glare doesn’t discourage her. “Maybe you should consider why the viper was taken so quickly.” And with that she floats away, drink in one hand and hips swaying elegantly to the music.

…

Dancing with Steve is an interesting experience: as physically gifted as he may be, this is one thing he has a hard time getting the hang on although he does his best to follow your instructions while both of you are grinning like fools, the ending of the song still brings a certain relief. Until you turn around straight into Sam’s arms. For a second, he seems just as baffled as you do, but then his trademark crooked grin lights up his face.

“Guess there’s no way about it now…wanna dance?” A warm hand is already skimming along your hip although the other waits for your decision.

It’s odd how perfectly his fingers fit around yours, how his arms seem to create a bubble of calmness that seeps into you until your breath is even and your heartbeat follows an unheard rhythm. Fingers with blood-red nails slither across venomous-green faux scales until coming to a rest on Sam’s shoulder.

“Didn’t know you liked that colour.” It looks amazing on him. “You should use it in your uniform.”

They’re playing an old Frank Sinatra song that you’ve heard a million times, allowing your brain to switch off and Sam to lead you effortlessly.

“I’ve thought about it…didn’t wanna to steal from you, tho’.”

He twirls you in his arms before dipping you, causing your heart to pound rapidly against the ribs so hard he might hear it (especially considering how close to your cleavage his ear is). Not like you haven’t stolen anything already.

“Oh, is that so?” Pulling you back up, chest against chest, it’s evident that you must have spoken your thoughts. “What’d I steal, babe?”

Babe. Sure, he’s used nicknames before. He’s the master of thinking up witty monikers for everyone on the team and failing that there’s always the classical endearments which he freely uses for everyone. This time, though, it’s spoken in a soft purr that makes it sound anything like the usual banter. You can’t take your eyes off him as your try to kick your brain back into action. A quick sweep of the tongue to get your mouth working brings back the taste of lipstick and G&T, brings Sam’s focus onto the red colour adorning your lips and his eyes darken momentarily.

Maybe you should consider why the viper was taken so quickly. Nat’s words echo in your mind and small details that you’ve never really given much thought start to fall into place. The way Sam always makes sure there’s a spot on the couch on movie nights, or how he somehow checks in a bit more frequently on missions than with the others. He even knows how you like your tea and coffee, despite the fact that you aren’t sure yourself.

“Sam…” you bite your bottom lip, still nervous.

“[Y/N]?”

Somewhere outside the bubble he’s created, the music is still playing, and people are getting closer to the new year, but inside, it’s just the two of you standing closer than humanly possible, allowing your lips to brush easily over his. Maybe the soft sigh is from him, it doesn’t matter. Just the fact that he recaptures your lips to deepen the kiss is important. His hand travels up the back to cradle your neck, the other arm drawing you closer.

…

The party is far away across town when the new year approaches. Clothes are discarded around the familiar room as Sam looks at you from under heavy lips. His hand is resting on your head that bobs slowly in unison with your hand. Each time the tip of your tongue twirls around the crown of his cock he hums in approval and you can feel his muscles work under the free hand you’re supporting yourself with partially.

His erection twitches as moans become groans, maybe spurred on at the quiet laughter you can’t hold back. It’s exhilarating to have such power over him, but next moment it’s gone as he pulls your away. Sam’s got you on your back quicker than you’d anticipated, lips trailing hot over the goosebumps covering your body and then…then he’s the one in control as mouth, tongue and fingers play you like an instrument, coaxing sounds from you that increasingly sound like his name. Sound like begging.

Your limbs are shaking when he pulls you onto his lap. Hands on your hips, the gorgeous man allows you to set the pace after he has aligned the throbbing cock with your wet core, and as you finally glide down the shaft, as he fills you up more than anyone has before, both of you cling on.

Open mouths breathing hard. Sweat glistening on skin. Moans. Strangled cries of pleasure. Partially suspended above your arching body, your name tumbles from Sam’s lips while his hips rock into you. Harder, faster. Your legs are on the verge of cramping from the iron hold around his waist, ankles locking behind his backs while your nails are digging into his shoulder blades.

Outside the window, fireworks light up the night sky, their explosions nearly drowned out by his name as you both tumble over the edge and into the hazy sea of bliss.

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