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helliontherapscallion · 4 years

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(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Monday

Tuesday Wednesday Thursday (Part 1) Thursday (Part 2) Friday Saturday Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Pairing: SBI x sister!reader (she/her pronouns)

Warnings: swearing, toxic friends, panic spirals/attacks, injury, taking pills for pain

Summary: you have a very bad week, how will you manage? (Characters are fully human, but based on their DSMP characters. High school AU)

Word count: 4,818

(A/N): I’ve never played volleyball or watched Haikyuu before, so I’m not 100% certain how games work. Also, I probs should’ve split this into two parts, but eh.

“(Y/n) love, you look homeless in that sweater, it’s literally so fucking ugly.”

“Haha, yeah it is. I guess I just wasn’t really trying today.”

Adrian snorted, scanning your body with his cold eyes. “Today? You don’t try at all. You always look like trash.”

“More than trash, you always look like you just rolled in dog shit.” Sammy threw her head back and cackled at her own joke.

Your friends around you erupted in laughter as you four walked down the hallways of the hell that was your public high school. You awkwardly chuckled alongside them, you didn’t really find it funny, but you didn’t want to draw more attention towards yourself.

“Seriously, (y/n), I really don’t know why we still hang out around you anymore. You really let yourself go.”

“Yeah, now that I think about it, you did gain like five pounds in the past week.”

“Really not a good look on you, love. Then again, nothing you do can make you look good anymore.”

You tried to not let their comments get to you, you really did, but sometimes their comments just rooted themselves deep into your subconscious. You didn’t try looking good anymore, you couldn’t wear anything without them criticising it. You could never win.

“Awe,” Adrien poked your cheeks, “stop looking so sad. We’re just trying to give you advice. You really need it.”

“Yeah, (y/n). You’re so sensitive, get a grip.”

“Guys look, I think she’s gonna cry!”

You wiped at your welling eyes with the sleeves of your sweater. “I’m not. I just got allergies.”

Annie rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh. Anyways, what are our plans for Halloween? We should totally dress up like sexy angels! I think that’d be so cool. Like, Clint’s party won’t be ready for us.”

“Oh, about that Annie…”

“God, what now (y/n)?”

“I was actually planning on spending Halloween night taking Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating with my brothers and dad. I won’t be able to go with you guys, I’m sorry.”

The group groaned loudly. “C’mon (y/n), you never hang out with us anymore.”

“Oh my god (y/n) you still go trick-or-treating? We’re juniors.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve just been busy with my AP classes and studying for the SAT. My team captain’s really been pushing the team hard with volleyball practice. State finals are soon and we want first this year.”

“No matter how much studying you do, you’re gonna fail. You’re stupid, so why try? Just give up and hang out with uuussss.”

“Yeah (y/n),” Adrien looked at you suspiciously, “you’ve been ignoring us lately. I thought we were friends. Do you even wanna be friends anymore?”

You felt a flare of panic flare up in your gut. “I do! I-I just have so much going on right now. It’s starting to get hard to juggle everything.”

“We’re starting to think that you don’t like us anymore, we want our (y/n) back!” Sammy whined. The others agreed with her, making you feel guilty. You were ignoring them, it was selfish in your opinion. You supposed that you could skip out on taking Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating, there’ll be other years you could take them.

“I guess I can take Tommy and Tubbo another year. They’d just have to go without me this year.”

They cheered, giving you praise. You beamed at that, they seemed down lately and you loved it when they’d give you compliments. They didn’t do that much, so that made their praise more special to you. You strived to get compliments.

You four went off to your separate first classes for the day. Yours was statistics, a class you’ve been struggling in lately. You didn’t know anybody in there except for your oldest brother Techno, so you tried to stick with him. Unfortunately, the teacher’s seating chart placed you both on opposite ends of the room, probably because of your last names indicating that you’re siblings. You placed your stuff down on the table and plopped down into your seat, already drained. You had a long day ahead of you; you had a major AP world history test in your next class, you had to give a presentation in your AP english class that was worth a quarter of your final grade, and you had a semifinals volleyball match that would last until late in the night. If your team won, you would be going to state finals, so it was a lot of pressure on your shoulders. You were the main setter, so you had to really focus tonight if you were going to score your team points.

“Alright class, pull out your homework!”

Fuck, you had homework? You looked in your folder, only to see the unfinished sheet full of equations you didn’t understand staring back at you tauntingly. Mr. Mullins walked over to your desk, took one look at your blank homework, and just walked right past you. Another big fat zero in the gradebook for you, just what you needed. At least he wasn’t in the mood to berate you today. You didn’t need any more stress piled onto your shoulders.

The lesson felt like it dragged on forever with you frantically trying to copy down the notes on the board and trying to understand the content at the same time. Overtime, he would call students up to the board. Hopefully, he would skip over you today. “Ms. Minecraft.” Goddamn it, you spoke too soon.

Your head perked up and you looked at him. “Yes sir?”

“Come up to the board and solve this.”

Gulping, you felt panic rise up in you and stood up with shaky knees. On the board was part of the newer content he was just teaching. Something that you understood only a little bit better than the rest, and that’s not saying much. You still didn’t understand the content completely. Your writing was shaky as you wrote what you thought was right on the board. Finding the answer, you circled it and looked at Mr. Mullins. He looked disappointed.

“That’s wrong, Ms. Minecraft. Please sit down.”

You felt like your face was on fire as you saw the entire class burning holes into you with their eyes. Though they looked dead inside, as per usual with any morning class full of tired teenagers, their effects still took hold on you. You wanted to crawl into a dark hole and die. You sat back down and stared at your note packet, you couldn’t focus on the lecture anymore. Your attention was fully on your surroundings, you were hyper aware of every little whisper and bouncing leg in your peripheral vision. You could feel yourself spiraling, usually that wouldn’t happen until after your third class. Today was going to be rough.

The loud chime of the bell startled you out of your thoughts. You shakily put your papers back into your binder and put the binder back into your backpack. Right as you were about to walk through the door, you heard Techno catch up to you. “Hey, you good?”

“Yeah Tech, I’m just peachy.”

“Are you su-”

“Technoblade. I’m fine. Now if you excuse me, I have to get to my next class. I have an important presentation I’ve gotta prepare for.”

Without giving him any room to argue, you rushed off to your english class. You had Adrian and Annie in your class. For your presentation, you were paired up with people that you hardly knew. At least they did their part in the project, you were certain you were going to die if you got paired up with Adrian and Annie again. You loved them, but they never did any part of their portion of work. They left it to you to finish at midnight the day the project was due. To be fair, they both told you they had family emergencies, so you covered for them just that once.

You pulled out your flashcards only to have them knocked out of your hand when someone bumped into you. You quickly crouched to pick them up so you could have them in order by time class started. “Oops, sorry love.”

It was Annie. She and Adrian towered over your crouched form smirking at you. Looking back down to rearrange your cards, you murmured “it’s ok.”

“Are you ready for this presentation, I know I am.”

You smiled a little. “Actually, I think I’m going to ace this. English is my best subject.”

“Yeah (y/n), I wasn’t asking you. I was talking to Annie. Besides, you’re probably going to fail this.” Adrian scoffed.

“Thank you for asking, Adrian,” Annie shot a pointed look at you, “at least someone cares.”

The bell rang, signifying the start of your second block. You felt like you had a lump in your throat blocking your breathing. If Adrian, one of the smartest kids in your english class, said that you were going to fail, then you probably were going to fail. That would take a huge hit on your grade, this project was worth a quarter of your final grade after all. You were zoned out for the entirety of your classmate’s presentations putting yourself into a spiral. You jumped when Mr. Todd, your teacher, called your group up to present.

You stood stiffly in the middle of your two groupmates and clutched your flashcards with clammy hands. Luckily, your part of the presentation was not first. When it came to your part, you were stuttering and tumbling over your words. You even dropped your flashcards in front of everybody, causing half the class to snicker. Your face burned as you hurried to pick them up and your other groupmate took this as a signal to continue the presentation. You still had an important point to make that was integral for the set up to your other groupmate’s part of her presentation. You stared at your flashcards for the rest of the presentation.

When the bell rang, you made a mad dash out of the classroom. You didn’t want to talk to anybody, especially not Adrian or Annie. It was a relief that you had your lunch period at the moment. You could hide yourself in the bathroom nobody used and let your panic attack ride itself out.

You ducked inside a stall and sat on the toilet, bringing your knees up to bury your face in them. The tears and panic you were holding in all day let itself out with explosive effects. You started to hyperventilate as you muffled your sobs with your knee. Your chest painfully clenched so you couldn’t breathe. Your limbs felt like they weighed two tons each and they were shaking intensely. You didn’t hear the end of the lunch bell ring. By the time you calmed down slightly, you were five minutes late to AP world history.

You packed your stuff up in a hurry, power walking through the halls. You probably looked like shit, but you didn’t care, you had a class to get to and a test that you probably wouldn’t be able to finish now. You lost ten minutes of your test time. When you tried to open the closed door, you found that it was locked. You had to knock if you wanted to get in. You raised a shaking hand to knock, but the door was opened by a less-than-impressed Ms. Osborne. She ushered you to your desk and gave you your unit test.

You couldn’t focus. The multiple choice section was usually a breeze to you, but you couldn’t comprehend any of the questions. When you could comprehend them, you couldn’t concentrate on choosing an answer. You did your best to find the correct answers, but you were almost positive that at least half of them were wrong. Your handwriting was nearly incomprehensible and your essay topic was something you didn’t study for. When you were done with half of the body paragraphs, the bell rang and you had to turn in your unfinished test.

You had your independent online psychology course next in the library. You usually worked alone secluded in a corner deep inside the library where nobody went. You would get some solace in being alone. Maybe you’d calm down enough so that you could ride home with your brothers and not go for a long walk so you could avoid them.

You settled down in the comfortable chair and pulled out your laptop to get started. Psychology was your favorite class. It was easy for you to understand, it didn’t have much of a workload attached to it, and it was fun to learn about. It always calmed you down reading about the intricate workings of the brain.

By time the day was over, you got most of your psychology work done and you were on your way to the car you shared with Technoblade and Wilbur. You took out your spare keys and slumped against the window in the backseat. You were absolutely drained after your terrible day and you still felt panic swirling deep within you, waiting for the right moment to strike.

You stretched out your legs across the seat and leaned your back against the door. For the first time that day, you felt peaceful. You still had at least fifteen minutes to yourself until your brothers would start to make your way to the car. You felt the panic subside slightly and you fully relaxed. You closed your eyes and let yourself drift off into a light sleep. You needed your energy for tonight’s match.

The door you were leaning on swung open and you tumbled backwards smacking the back of your head against the metal frame of the car and reverse scorpioning onto the pavement. Your entire upper back and the back of your head exploded in pain and your lower back hurt slightly from having your back bent uncomfortably. You heard laughter above you as you felt tears of pain start to slip out of your eyes. Your legs swung out from their place above your face and landed on the ground with a painful thump.

You saw three blurry figures above you laughing at your pain. You reached up with a shaky hand to wipe at your tears and saw Adrian, Sammy, and Annie. They were cackling as you shakily stood up and sat on the comfortable seats of the car. You waited patiently for them to calm down.

Eventually, Sammy calmed down enough to explain what happened to you through chuckles. “I’m sorry (y/n), it was just too good to resist. You should’ve seen your face.”

She and the others broke back into uncontrolled laughter as they remembered your embarrassing fall. You were used to their antics, and quite frankly it felt good to make your friends laugh, even if it were at your own expense. Just as they were calming down once again, you saw Wilbur and Techno walk out the front doors of the school laughing at something the other said. Annie and Sammy heard their laughter and quickly turned around to watch them. They had massive crushes on both of your brothers, many in the school did.

Your brothers made their way to your shared car and stopped to look at you in slight confusion. “(Y/n), were you crying? What happened?” Wilbur asked worriedly.

“Yea-”

“Oh Wilbur, it was terrible, (y/n) fell out of the car. I don’t think she closed the door before she leaned on it.” Annie interrupted you with a faked concerned tone, a complete contradiction to her reaction before your brothers came.

Techno hastily made his way to the driver’s side door. “Well, if she’s hurt we better get going, right Wilbur?”

“Yes! We better get going, please excuse us.” He sat in the passenger seat and closed the door without hearing Sammy and Annie’s desperate attempts to stop them so they could talk to them. Your brothers thought Sammy and Annie were annoying. They absolutely hated being around them.

Waving apologetically at your friends, you pulled yourself into the car and closed the door. Annie and Sammy looked offended that you had let Wilbur and Techno get away from them. Avoiding their eyes, you looked down at your tightly clasped hands. They were shaking slightly.

After pulling out of the parking lot, Techno glanced at you from the rearview mirror. “You ok (y/n)?”

“Yeah, my back just hurts and I have a headache.”

“Well, do you wanna go and get some ice cream? We still have some time left before we have to pick up Tommy and Tubbo. Dad doesn’t have to know,” Wilbur asked you.

You sighed, you wanted nothing other than to take a nap before your match. “Sorry, but I need to watch what I eat today. We have semifinals tonight and I can’t have anything sugary. I just wanna go home and take a nap.”

Your brothers were quiet for the rest of the car ride until you reached your driveway. Techno twisted his body around in his seat to look at you after he put the car in park. “Did you actually fall out of the car?”

Shit, should you tell him the truth? If you did, they would almost certainly get mad at your friends. Sammy and Annie would never forgive you if you turned your brothers against them. You decided that you would take one for the team again. “Yeah, I wasn’t paying attention.”

Techno snorted. “Well, that was stupid,” he jokingly said. “Next time you’re gonna get run over by a parked car.”

You knew that he meant that as a joke, but it still stung. Stamping your emotions down, you laughed with him and Wilbur. It was stupid of you to do, you shouldn’t have let your guard down if you weren’t at home.

You winced as you slung your bag on your back and walked the best you could back into your house. Your upper back was killing you. You made a beeline to the bathroom and rummaged through the medicine cabinet looking for some pain relief pills. You took some and shambled off to your room to take your well earned nap. You set your alarm’s setting to its loudest volume and passed out.

You jolted up and gasped when you felt a wave of pain hit your upper back. You blearily looked at the time. You had a little under two hours before you had to get back to the school for your match. You groaned when you pulled yourself up, your head pounding with every turn. You pulled yourself out of bed and once again took some pain pills. You went downstairs to grab an apple or something to eat. Your dad was at the stove stirring something around in a pot.

He turned to look at you with an excited smile. “You ready for your match tonight? You’re gonna kill it!”

You only nodded halfheartedly and plopped yourself down at the table with your apple. Philza frowned at your lack of enthusiasm, but he figured that it was just because you just woke up from a nap. You’d bounce back eventually.

“Wilbur told me that you fell out of the car? How’d you do that?”

You shrugged, wincing slightly as it moved your back slightly. “Dunno, must’ve not closed the door.”

Philza was at your side in a hurry, his hands hovering over your shoulders. “Did you get hurt? Show me where it hurts.”

“My back and the back of my head.”

“Can I move your shirt so I could look?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

You felt him gently pull the neck of your t-shirt away from your body to peek at your back. You heard his breath hitch as he looked. Was it that bad? “Good god (y/n),” he breathed out.

“What, is it bad?”

“Don’t you feel how bad it is? Your entire back is bruised. I think there’s some blood too.”

“Damn.”

“First, language. Second, that’s all you have to say? Aren’t you in pain?”

“Yeah, but the pain pills are gonna kick in soon. I’ll be fine.”

“Would you be able to play tonight? I really think you should sit this one out.”

“No, I’m playing tonight Dad.”

“(Y/n),” oh no, he was using his stern dad voice. “It’s not a good idea to play tonight. You’re hurt, I’m sure they’ll understand if you sit this one out.”

You felt frustration rise up in you. “We’re in the semifinals. They need me, I’m the main setter. They’d lose without me playing.”

“(Y/n), I’m serious. You’re not playing today.”

“Dad, I am playing today. Look, I’ll talk to Coach Williams to see if I could be rotated out more often. I know she’d let me.”

He stared at you for a while before sighing. He knew there was no convincing you. “...Fine. But you better talk to Coach Williams about sitting out for a bit if your back hurts too much or I swear I’ll drag you off the court myself.”

You smiled a little at the small victory. “Thank you! I promise I’ll sit out if needed.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “If needed?”

You sighed, “when needed.”

He walked over to the pot, stirring the contents slightly. “That’s better. Dinner’s almost ready, I made some pasta.”

“It smells good, but I think I’m skipping out on it for today. I already ate this apple and if I eat any more I’ll probably hurl on the court.”

He made a displeased noise in the back of his throat, “fine, but you’re eating something when we get home tonight.”

He walked off to go get your brothers and Tubbo for dinner. You could hear their booming steps racing down the stairs towards the kitchen. They raced into the kitchen and almost crashed into the back of your chair. You stood up and looked at the two excitable fifth graders. “Careful boys, don’t want you getting hurt.”

“You’re no fun (y/n),” Tommy whined.

“Sure, sorry bout that,” Tubbo beamed at you.

You chuckled, making your way upstairs to get ready for your match. You took off your clothes with great difficulty and slipped on your jersey and your spandex shorts. They were way too short for your tastes, but you couldn’t wear longer ones, they’d just get in the way. You fondly remembered how your dad flipped out when he first saw you in them, he hated them with a burning passion. He still hates how short they are.

When you were struggling with pulling your hair back into a tight, sleek ponytail, the back of your head throbbed continuously with pain. You most likely bruised your scalp.

You slipped on your shoes that were made specifically for playing volleyball and headed downstairs. You were met with Tommy and Tubbo jumping in excitement seeing you in your uniform. They loved going to your matches, even if they would always pass out in the car after them because matches usually ended late at night. You grabbed your dad’s keys and headed to his car. Before you could lead the boys out the door, Philza’s voice stopped you.

“(Y/n), coat.”

You huffed, grabbing your coat and putting it on before tossing him his keys. You four got into the car and set out for the high school. The short drive was filled with Tommy and Tubbo asking you questions about volleyball and encouraging you. “(Y/n), you’re gonna kick their butts!”

“Yeah!” Tubbo cheered

Despite their voices causing a spike of pain to shoot throughout your head, you laughed at their enthusiasm. It was always nice to hear your little brother and pseudo brother in the stands cheering you on, they were your and your team’s personal cheerleaders.

Not long after you got to the school, you were stretching with your team on the gym’s floor. Your posse found their way into the stands, sitting in the front row. The away team watched your team like a hawk, analysing every single player for any weakness. It was because of them that you tried to not show any pain when you moved your back. You talked to Coach Williams before the team stretch and she was obviously sympathetic with your situation. She agreed to switching you out with the standby setter every few rotations.

The echo of the whistles caused pain to ring in your head every time someone scored or a foul was called. Your team captain, Haley, was constantly, yet discreetly checking on you throughout the game since she was always next to you. She was the team’s main spiker after all.

The game droned on and on before you realized that the opposing team was targeting you when they were offensive. They probably realized that you were injured a round ago. You tried your best to block every ball that was sent your way, but a few managed to slip past you when you couldn’t move fast enough. This team was good, but your team was better.

The score during the final round was tied and the clock was on it’s last ten seconds as the ball soared your way. You dove to hit it, landing on your shoulder on the hard floor and hitting it up high enough for Haley to spike the ball down. The crowd went wild as the ball bounced off from the opposite end of the court almost simultaneously with the screeching of the referee’s whistle, signifying the end of the game and your team’s victory.

You laid on the floor in pain, you thought you must’ve pulled your tender muscles in your back and shoulder. It hurt to move it. You felt one of your teammates grab your hand to yank you up into a giant full team group hug. You yelped slightly in pain as you felt arms press against your back and hands firmly patting your bruised shoulders. You were whisked away into the locker room to change into the pajamas you brought with you.

“(Y/n), are you alright? That was a pretty hard fall.” Haley’s soft voice asked you. You felt your heart sing in your chest.

“Yeah Hales, I’m fine. I just pulled a few muscles.”

Her perfectly shaped eyebrows furrowed together, “are you sure? As your team captain and your friend, I’m worried about you.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. You felt warm knowing that she cared about you. “I’m sure, worrywart.”

She rolled her eyes playfully and breathed out a soft laugh. “Sorry for asking, grump.” Her laugh sounded like music to your ears.

Your phone vibrated in your pajama pocket, alerting you of your family waiting for you in the car and for you to hurry up. You sighed, “sorry Hales, I gotta go. Dad’s getting impatient.”

She gave you a small smile. “Oh, well, tell your family I said hi! Good work on the court today, I wouldn’t ask for a different setter.”

You felt your cheeks warm up and you watched with wide eyes as she left the locker room. Your phone vibrated again, your dad was really starting to get impatient.

You walked out of the school as fast as you could to find your dad’s car waiting for you up front. Jumping in and softly closing the passenger side door, you slumped against the window. “(Y/n),” Tommy’s tired voice slurred. “That. Was. Pog…”

You glanced back to see him and Tubbo snoring away in their seats. Your match was more exciting than usual, so that must’ve really tired them out. You chuckled, turning back around to lean against the window. You took care not to put any weight on your shoulder or back.

“(Y/n), you were amazing out there, but why did you dive for that ball? That fall looked like it hurt.”

You hummed tiredly, “thanks Dad. I just did what I thought would win us the game. We’re going to finals!” You quietly sang.

“Did you hurt your shoulder?”

“I actually don’t know, but I think I might’ve pulled a few muscles. Nothing too bad.”

“...I scheduled a doctor’s appointment for you tomorrow morning during your first and second blocks. I want you to get your back, shoulder, and head looked at. You looked miserable the entire match.”

You sighed, too tired to argue, “mmk.”

He chuckled before the car fell into a comfortable silence. The gentle bouncing of the car and the subtle hum of the engine was lulling you to sleep. Your eyelids were drooping by the time you pulled into your driveway.

You drug yourself out of the car and into the house, leaving Philza with the sleeping boys. You walked straight to your room and plopped down on your bed, passing out instantly for the second time that day.

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interact-if · 3 years

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Day 2 of the Black History Month Featured Author Interviews, featuring Summore!

Summore, author of A Trial of Horror

Black History Month Featured Author

All you wanted was a break. Just a day when your life wasn’t filled with worrying about when your next essay was due or if you had a night shift with your sleazy co-worker who just won’t take no for an answer. Hell, you were so desperate for some downtime that you would be happy with just an HOUR of peace.

One day, your friend Tama recommends an experimental VR game called “Little Trails of Horror” to destress. As someone who survived their very own horror movie, you figure that there isn’t anything that you haven’t seen that would shake you to your core. It also helps that there is an incentive of 10,000 dollars for participating. You decide to sign up, imaging that there were worst things that you could be doing on a Friday night. What you anticipated was cheesy graphics, with too much gore and too many jump scares. Not a darkness that seems too natural and a breath on the back of your neck that feels too warm.

Now stuck within these games with no way to leave without completing the objectives, your only worry now is to survive and find a way to break this vicious cycle. But every time you get even close to doing that or finding someone with answers, they die on you. Will you be able to escape for good or continue to be dragged from mission to mission, or worse?

Read more about A Trial of Horror [here]

A Trial of Horror Demo TBA | Discord | Beta Testing Application

Tags: 18+, Dark Fantasy, Thriller

[INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT UNDER THE CUT!]

Q1. So, tell us a little bit about the projects you're working on!

So, I have two projects that I’m working on currently. The first is A Trial of Horror, that's my baby! The one that I’m currently putting all of my proverbial eggs into. I wanted to take some of my favorite troupes from various horror movies that I’ve watched and prose the story in a ‘what would YOU do?’. Of course, the answer to that question is going to have consequences, some good, some bad depending on which route you go. I want readers to recognize that there is an underlying reason underneath every action. And when they do, I hope that they'll start asking themselves: Why is this happening? Can I trust this NPC or RO? What is everyone’s game and how does the MC fulfill or fit into the bigger picture. If I had to put it in one sentence: Evil Dead meets the tired as hell Lemony Snicket protagonist.

My second project is still being developed, I haven’t gotten a title for it yet, nor do I have a definitive plan of action. With that being said, I've decided that its going to be a re-telling of the Trojan War. I want to explore the Greek myths surrounding the myth and add a bit of funkiness into it. What I have so far is that you will be able to play a character from either the Spartan side or the Trojan side and follow the events of the war from opposing sides. I don't want it to be TOO heavy hearted but I doubt it'll stay that way, cause war is a bitch and too many atrocities were committed on both sides. But I'm gonna mute those as much as I can. I hope.

Q2. What inspired you to start writing your current project(s)? Why in Interactive Fiction?

I love horror, honestly, I’ve probably been a horror nut since I was 17. So when I was thinking about creating fiction, I wanted my first experiment to be in IF. It offers so much flexibility, and I think you, as a reader, can fully immerse yourself into the work. Reading horror novels is cool, but sometimes it's hard to put yourself into the shoes of the protagonist. Whether it's because of social identity or cultural differences. So, I wanted to create something where people could relate, or see themselves inside of the story. I think that really amplifies the fear factor when you immediately think, "God, that could be me."

For the second IF, it's a shorter reason. I'm actually an Ancient Mediterranean major, so my whole college career was based upon reading Greek myths and tales. My favorite was Medea but slowly but surely I grew a love for the Iliad. (It really took a while for that to happen…). But I wanted to write an "what-if fic?" For this story. What if circumstances were different? What if you could save Achilles and Patrocilies? What if you could save Hector? I really want to explore those options within this IF! But my thought process can change, and I could want to look at it from a different lens, either way I hope it's gonna be dope.

Q3. What is the most rewarding part of creating for you? The most challenging?

The most rewarding part would have to be seeing how much of an impact your work can have on people. There really is such a gratifying feeling from seeing someone say, "Your characterization is so detailed, I can totally relate to XYZ!" or "God, this passage hit me right in the heart! It moved me to tears!". When you get messages like that, I feel like you were able to reach out and connect to someone, despite the miles of distance between you two.

Now, the most challenging part would have to be the writer's block. Those things are UGLY and they really come from nowhere! You could be on a role, and then all of a sudden BOOM, blocked from creative juice.

Q4. Does your heritage have a lot of influence in your work? How?

Hmmm, that’s a good question, and I’d have to say no and yes. I know that’s a little bit of a cop-out, but I say that because my heritage is truly embedded in almost EVERYTHING that I do. Whether it comes from the jargon or slang that I use or the old slave folktales that may seep into the stories that I tell. With that being said, I try my hardest to exclude some parts of my heritage. To be specific, I try to avoid writing anything that is embedded in black trauma or as my friends call it trauma porn. In case anyone is asking what ‘s ‘trauma porn’ or black trauma. It’s typically any form of media or consumable information that is emphasized around the pain and suffering of either a POC or the black community experience. For example, whenever we see black films or black horror there’s always some form of old-school Jim Crowe cruelty that’s the underlying plot. Now, I’m not saying that it shouldn’t be there, because if you can execute it well, then execute it. But how many films do we have to watch that are essentially reiterations of the previous one? How many times do we as black consumers have to be retold the same story with the same antagonist, and the same message? It can be so grating because I feel like anything that’s involved with Black culture and horror it MUST deal with slavery. Like there are so many other themes, folktales, and other topics that can be utilized. So, I’ve tried to avoid leaking that into anything that I write. And if it does somehow show up? I try to dial it down or remove it altogether, some people can’t handle it, and I try to go by a case-by-case basis. But just to be clear, it is important for us to talk about these issues, such as Jim Crowe and discrimination, because unfortunately, we are still dealing with redlining and other issues. But do we as black consumers need to have another ‘12 years a slave’, or ‘Them’ every year?

Q5. What is something you would like to see more of in IF works and in the community?

I think I'd like to see more inclusion and diversity in IF works. However, if they aren't executed well, I feel that it can be a huge problem. So, maybe more resources for non-POC who are trying to write POC? Although the blog writing with color gives you pretty much ALL the resources you would need.

Q6. Describe something that you love about your work or are excited about sharing in your story.

Hmm, I'm honestly excited about almost everything! The plot is something that I’m working with every day, and it changes or grows little by little. I'm excited to see how it's going to look a year from now! An aspect or I should say character, that I am most excited about sharing is the Magdalene’s lore, because who doesn’t love a good tragic backstory ? Her involvement in how MC gets trapped within the game impacts the plot in a major way and I'm interested to see how many people gravitate towards her or hate her, in the end!

Q7. Any advice to give to your fellow writers?

Keep going guys, you got this! You all have wonderful and amazing stories to be told, and we all can't wait to read them.

#Black History Month #if: events

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absolutepokemontrash · 3 years

Text

The Seven Demon Lords’ Pet Human

So I’m quite fond of the idea that the lesser demons see MC as the brothers’ dumb pet human up until MC is revealed to be a five star badass who can control the brothers on a whim. But Himiko isn’t okay with being referred to as anyone’s “pet”, and after a very bad day, she’s going to let the brothers know that.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Genre: Half Crack Half Fluff

Warning: This story features my MC, who uses she/her pronouns, if that makes you uncomfortable no harm no foul, see you next time

“Just their pet human,”

“Aw, they let their cute widdle pet walk around all by herself~.”

“The brothers’ new pet looks so delicious…”

Himiko Nanami was not one for demeaning nicknames. She had told Luke over and over again that the reason people kept calling him a chihuahua was because he gave them a reaction, but she just couldn’t follow her own advice. A pet… the brothers’ pet… what complete and utter shit.

She had forged pacts with the seven lords of Hell. She had escaped death more times than she could count. On her first day at RAD, she had gouged out a demon’s eye with her headband for trying to eat her. She had walked Cerberus and survived. Himiko was no dainty little pet.

It was a tragedy that some of the demons that wandered the halls of RAD couldn’t see that. Not all the demons were irredeemable anti-human trash, some were quite sweet. But it only took one weird squishy grape to make Himiko refuse to eat the rest of the bowl. That’s how that saying goes, right?

It was supposed to be a good day, it was a Friday for Christ’s sake! But no, the world at large was conspiring to make Himiko’s forehead vein burst.

First period with Satan went normally for the most part, until the two paired up for an assignment and Himiko decided to give Satan a few pats on the head. A few snickers coming from a few rows behind her drew her attention, and right after Satan left to use the bathroom, that’s when she heard it. The first comment of the day.

“Aww, a pet petting her master, how sweet.”

When Satan returned, Himiko was holding a broken pencil.

To her credit, she didn’t dignify those idiots with a response, but their comment managed to burrow its way into her brain and settle there right when she snapped the pencil.

Second period shouldn’t have been so shitty, Himiko had friends in that class. Friends other than the brothers and the other exchange students, but no. Everything sucks in the Devildom.

Paimon had so sweetly offered to share some of his chips with her when he heard she had skipped breakfast. Himiko was in the middle of happily chowing down when some asshole decided to ruin the cute friendship moment.

“Geez Pai, I thought you’d be more responsible than that~.” A demoness a few rows ahead cooed. “Feeding other people’s pets without asking~.”

Paimon choked on the chip he was chewing on while Himiko gave the demoness a bone chilling glare.

“Sh-she’s not- I’m not-”

“How about you mind your own fucking business?”

The demoness only rolled her eyes and turned back to giggling with her friends. It was truly a shame that at least 60% of all the demon ladies in the school were incredibly mean and/or homicidal, a shame for Himiko because she’s a raging bisexual.

With her appetite lost, Himiko forfeited the rest of the chips to Paimon.

Lunch went by as normal as it could have gone. She sat with the brothers as usual and happily watched their antics. When she left the table to throw her trash away was when all hell broke loose.

“-Pet,”

“-Pet…”

“-Pet.”

“-Pet!”

All those damned whispers reached Himiko’s ears and if she had any less patience she would have pulled her hair out and screamed. When she got back to the table, she spent the rest of her lunch period in silence.

What’s worse was that her next class was with Solomon, and the only seat available was next to him. Great…

“Grouchy today, ms. Nanami?”

“Annoying today, mr. Wizard?”

Solomon let out a quiet and carefree laugh and rested his head on his hand. “Oh Himiko, you know I’m always up for being a little annoying.”

Himiko rolled her eyes and tried to pay attention to the teacher. “Whatever…”

Class went on, but Solomon didn’t let up on his quiet pestering.

“Himiiiiii, tell me what’s wrong, I won’t laugh.”

“Go to hell.”

“Poor choice of words, you’re there with me.”

“I hate you.”

“So mean, I’m just trying to help. Solomon the Wise is known for giving great advice!”

Himiko turned and looked at the immortal sorcerer next to her and saw his pitiful attempt at what looked like puppy dog eyes. She rolled her eyes again and turned back to her work.

“I thought you were known for ordering a baby to be sawed in half.”

“Hey!” Solomon huffed, crossing his arms. “The baby did not get sawed in half. The saner of the two women got to keep the baby, I was being smart.”

“Sure, sure.” Himiko couldn’t hold back a bit of a smile. To her own surprise, Himiko began to weigh the pros and cons of actually telling Solomon what was going on. Hm, on one hand, Solomon was the only other human that might possibly understand what Himiko was dealing with, on the other hand, Solomon was a known shifty bastard and could barely be counted as human at this point. In the end, human solidarity won out.

“Solomon,” Himiko began. “Have you ever gotten called a pet before? Like a demon’s pet..?”

Solomon thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Probably. I’ve been alive too long not to have been called every name under the sometimes lack of sun, but I’ve always been more widely known as someone who makes demons into his pets.”

“Mmm, sure.”

“But fret not Himiko, those closest to you know the truth. You’re no pet.”

Not exactly the heaps of comfort Himiko wanted, but at least Solomon answered truthfully and didn’t say anything that would get on her nerves-

“I don’t know why you’re so upset about that nickname though, you’d look amazing in a collar.”

For what happened to poor Solomon right after he said that, let’s just say a palm reader could read Himiko’s future off Solomon’s face.

In fourth period, Himiko had to hold herself back from bitchslapping someone else who decided it would be a good idea to test her. A quick word of advice to anyone in the Devildom who would like to survive an encounter with Himiko, never, ever, fuck with her headband.

“You fiendish demon!” Luke yapped, trying to help get Himiko’s headband back from the nasty awful no good demon who decided to pluck it off her head and hold it out of reach. “Give that back!”

“N’awwwwww, pet buddies!” The taller demon laughed and dangled the headband a little closer. “So cute! Someone get a picture for Devilgram-”

Luke slammed his foot directly into the demon’s kneecap. The demon practically shrieked and doubled over only to be met with Himiko’s knee in his gut. She daintily plucked the headband from his grasp and quickly pulled Luke out of the room.

“Are you okay?” The moment the two were far enough down the hall, Luke began to fuss over Himiko like a tiny nurse. “You didn’t get hurt, did you?”

“No buddy, I’m fine.” Himiko held out her hand for a high five. “Up high,”

Whack!

“Down low,”

Woosh!

“Too slow.”

“Hey!” Luke whined. “No faaaaaiiiiir!”

———————

No one wants their human to be grumpy, especially not the brothers, so when Himiko spent the rest of the time until dinner holed up in her room, they were a tad concerned.

“My human’s all saaaaaaaaad,” Mammon rested his chin on the table and whined. The rest of the brothers sans Asmo were sitting at the table awaiting dinner. “Himiko said she didn’t wanna play the Game of Life, and it’s like, the one game she’s good at…”

“Yeah, she’s been pissy all day.” Belphie added before quietly yawning. “What’d you do, Mammon?”

“Me?!” Mammon sputtered, practically scrambling out of his seat and pointing an accusatory finger at his brothers. “I didn’t do shit! What about you idiots?!”

“Well, let’s look at what we know,” Satan said, waving off Mammon. “During first period we partnered up for a project, I left to use the restroom, then when I came back she looked upset. During lunch when she left, she came back and didn’t speak the rest of the lunch period. Any theories?”

Beel raised his hand, and Satan nodded to him. “Himiko has terrible separation anxiety now, she can’t go too long without us.”

Satan gave Beel a few nods, then turned to the others. “That’s one guess. Anyone else?”

Mammon raised his hand, and Satan promptly ignored him.

“Oi! Pay attention to me!” Mammon stuck his hand in the air and waved harder. “She’s angry because she’s failin’ a class! Every time we’re not distractin’ her, she remembers!”

“I would have heard if she was failing a class.” Lucifer finally piped up from the head of the table, his face was buried in RAD’s newspaper. “You on the other hand, Mammon, are failing three of your four classes this semester.”

Mammon slid back into his seat and scratched the back of his neck. “About thaaaaaat, I need money for uh… for new books n’ pencils n’ shit. That’s why I’m failin’, you’ll lend me money, won’t ya big bro?”

Lucifer didn’t get to respond as Asmo burst into the door of the dining room with a pot of pasta that was almost half his height. “DINNER IS SERVED~!”

As everyone settled in to eat, Himiko finally made her appearance and plopped herself down in her usual seat next to Mammon and helped herself to the pasta with rosé sauce.

“It’s good! It’s good right?” Asmo peppered the group with questions about the food and how good he did. Himiko had to admit, this was damn good pasta. Smooth, creamy, cheesy, all that was missing was garlic bread. In a matter of minutes Himiko had cleared her first bowl and was going in for seconds.

“So Himiko,” Satan said as Himiko continued to shovel pasta into her face at a pace that could rival Beel. “We’ve noticed you’ve been looking a little upset today, care to satiate our curiosity?”

Himiko paused mid bite, which wasn’t doing wonders for her appearance considering she had sauce on the tip of her nose. But still, how sweet of her boys to notice, it made her cold dead little heart swell with love.

“Oh you know, just idiots at school not worth my attention.”

“What have they been saying?” Asmo asked, his voice unusually stiff.

“They’ve been calling me you guys’ pet.” Himiko grumbled. “How ridiculous is that?”

The clattering of forks and the chewing of food halted as the boys went completely silent. Himiko shifted uncomfortably in her chair as she looked around. Had what those demons said been a greater insult to the boys than she-

“Pfff- HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Mammon erupted into laughter and the rest of the brothers followed suit.

“G-Geez,” Belphie snickered, feigning wiping a tear from his eye. “Humans are so sensitive.”

“Excuse me?!” Himiko gripped her fork so hard she was sure it would leave indents.

“I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, Himi,” Levi said between bouts of cackling. “But you are a teeny tiny little normie human surrounded by well… us.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?! That I should just roll over and take it!?” Himiko immediately turned and pointed at Belphie. “Don’t you dare.”

Belphie’s mouth was open to make a comment about Himiko’s poor choice of words, but the pact activated and any words died in his throat. Belphie flipped her off and Himiko returned the gesture.

“Himiko,” Beel was sweet enough to not laugh at Himiko’s predicament. “It’s not that big of a deal. Besides, people love their pets.”

As sweet as Beel thought his words were being, Himiko really wanted to send him to bed without dinner.

“Yes, yes, Beel’s right.” Satan took a deep breath and collected himself after his laughing fit had finally ceased. “It’s nothing to worry about, Himiko. It shouldn’t be bothering you. Just don’t listen.”

Himiko somehow gripped her fork even tighter as she levelled her ice cold glare at Satan. “Thank you so much for demonsplaining how I should deal with and feel about the very human problem of people seeing me as some toy.”

The venom in her words seemed to snap the rest of the table out of their giggly stupor, and Mammon gave Himiko a few pats on the back.

“Ah don’t worry about it, Himiko. I’ll fight any bastard who says anythin’ like that.” Suddenly realizing he hadn’t been a tsundere for five whole minutes, Mammon went red and snatched his hand away. “Ya know, just because you’d probably use the pact and order me to anyway…”

“I’m not a dere~” Levi began to softly sing, Himiko perked up and grabbed Mammon’s cheek.

“A tsun-tsundere~”

“Not that song again!”

That should have been the end of that whole debacle. Himiko’s decent mood had been restored and all was well! The gang chatted amicably for the rest of dinner. Himiko made sure to heap loads of praise on Asmo for his amazing pasta. She felt a part of her die when she went in for fourths and the spoon scraped the bottom of the pot.

Too bad nothing ever goes smoothly in the Devildom.

Since it was Asmo’s night to cook, it was Himiko’s night to do dishes, so she got up and began to clear the table. As she began to collect the unused knives, Lucifer, not looking up from his newspaper, handed Himiko his plate.

“Thank you, pet, that’ll be all.”

Himiko stopped dead in her tracks and her grip on the plate tightened. “Repeat that, Lucifer?”

“Thank you, pet, that’ll be all.”

A tiny smirk spread across Lucifer’s face, which only served to make Himiko’s blood boil. If he thought he could make a joke about that while she was still mad he had another thing coming.

As quick as a flash, she had whipped the plate straight at the ground, shattering it into dozens of tiny pieces, before Lucifer even had a chance to say anything, Himiko was standing in front of him with a frigid glare on her face.

“Lucifer, put your hand flat on the table and spread your fingers. Keep quiet.”

With no choice but to obey, Lucifer slapped his hand down on the dining table, though, the glare he was giving her wasn’t any less murderous. Not caring, Himiko’s gaze remained cold and calculating, she turned to the other brothers, who were rooted in place from sheer shock. “Stay.”

“I’d just like to get something out there to you seven,” Himiko said calmly, holding one of the knives in her right hand and waving it around like it was the most casual thing in the universe. “I, am no one’s pet,”

Himiko turned and slammed the knife right between Lucifer’s middle and index fingers, imbedding it deep in the table.

“Arm candy,”

The second knife was slammed right in between Lucifer’s middle and pointer finger.

“Or accessory.”

The final knife went between his index and pinkie finger. Himiko’s next words were slow and deliberate as she stared the strongest of the brothers directly in the eyes.

“I am your friend, and equal, I won’t accept being anything less, whether it’s a joke, or not. You agreed to those terms the day we made our pact, didn’t we Lucifer? Have you changed your mind?”

It was so quiet you could hear Henry 2.0 swimming around in Levi’s room upstairs. No one dared to breathe as the seconds ticked past.

Finally, Lucifer responded, his voice tinged with exasperation. “No Himiko, I haven’t.”

“Good,” A small triumphant smile appeared on Himiko’s face as she removed the knives from the table and finished up cleaning the table. “That goes for the rest of you boys too, got it?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Mhm.”

“Yes…”

As Himiko walked into the kitchen to do everyone’s dishes, they quietly reminded themselves exactly who they were dealing with. Himiko Nanami was no dainty little human, no no no, she was the one master to rule them all, and by god was she going to make sure no one ever forgot.

——————

AAAAAAAA THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE!!!! I really need to write more stuff with Himiko! Inspiration struck at like… 10 this morning and I just ran with it.

Now on one hand, I can see that people might think that Himiko overreacted to Lucifer’s little joke a tad. Buuuuuuuuuuut she’s gotta shut down that shit early, right? She doesn’t want “pet” to be the next “chihuahua”.

Lucifer’s probably trying to stick his nose back in his newspaper as he wonders whether he’s incredibly enraged or unbelievably turned on.

Hope you all enjoyed! Now back to the regularly scheduled shitposting.

#obey me #obey me!#obey me! shall we date?#obey me shall we date #obey me mc #Obey me fic #Obey me Lucifer #Obey me Mammon #Obey me Satan #Obey me Leviathan #Obey me Asmodeus #Obey me Beelzebub #Obey me Belphegor #Obey me Solomon #Obey me Luke #obey me OC

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lilliagradiewrites · 4 years

Text

go get her, kid. (peter parker)

Summary: Peter Parker is hopelessly in love with Tony Starks’ teenage daughter, and Stark encourages him to shoot his shot.

WC: 7.4k (holy shit)

Warnings: Bad language, , really nothing else. A lot of cute peter and a painful amount fluff. A tiny bit of angst too.

A/N: I found myself watching Tom Holland interview clips today and I just couldn’t help myself. Here we are: my first peter parker/ spiderman one shot! I have some Harry and Jj pieces in the works, so keep eyes out for that!

LET’S DO IT!!!

--------

Peter found himself in this position far too often. Staring at you shamelessly while you worked away at whatever was on your desk, usually a school assignment or some tech project. His crush had been going on for quite some time, but it was getting more and more difficult to hide.

You and Peter had been best friends ever since your dad first recruited him. Something clicked between the two of you, causing an instant friendship. As time went on, you grew closer and closer to the superhero, and he quickly became your best friend. You began surrounding yourself with his friends without even realizing it, becoming close with Ned and MJ almost instantly. They were great people, and you loved being around them, but something about Peter was just different. Your energies matched perfectly for some reason. He got your humour, liked the same things as you, plus he was a great conversationalist and an even better listener. Some of your favorite memories were made with Peter.

Despite knowing practically everything about the boy, you were completely oblivious about his huge crush on you. Ned was the only person who truly knew, though many other people had their suspicions. The Avengers had an idea about it, considering you were what he talked about 90 percent of the time. MJ could tell because of the way he looked at you. When he looked your way, his pupils enlarged, his cheeks went pink, and the look on his face was entirely lovey-dovey. It was so obvious just in the way he gazed at you when you spoke.

He was looking at you in that way now, though you weren’t aware. He was meant to be studying (it was the whole reason he came over to your house, or at least that’s the reason he told you), but he couldn’t bring himself to care about chemistry homework when you looked so damn beautiful. Your hair was pulled back into a low ponytail keeping it away from your face as you worked. Your hands flew across the keyboard on your laptop, typing out something Peter probably wouldn’t understand. He was smart, sure, but you were intelligent in a different way. You were insightful and observant, you got things other people couldn’t begin to process. Your brain understood things in a different capacity than most. Peter assumes you got this trait from your father, who was the exact same way.

“What’re you typing? Something for school?”

You nodded, your attention not wavering from the laptop screen. “Yeah, an assignment for AP Lit.”

“Oh, that one project you told me about? With the essay and the powerpoint?”

You nodded again. “Mhm.”

Peter furrowed his brows, moving off your bed to come stand near you at your desk in an attempt to get a better look at what you were working so eagerly on. “I thought that project wasn’t due for another month.

“It’s not. I had an idea for the essay, and I figured if I get started early, I have more time to edit and perfect it.”

“You’re such a perfectionist.” Peter says with a light chuckle, looking at the state of your desk. It was both chaotic and organized at the same time. Pens, highlighters, pieces of paper, a book with annotations scribbled in the margins, notebooks with neat class notes printed inside of them in your pretty handwriting. They were all scattered about the surface, but Peter knew you well enough to know that there was always a method to your madness. As you observed longer, he realized that all of the items were in different sections on your desk, based on categories and subjects. He smiled lightly, realizing that this messy but technically neat surface was probably a very accurate representation of what goes on in your mind.

You finished the paragraph you were typing with a flourish, a satisfied smile resting on your lips. “There. I have a basic outline done for the essay portion. Obviously, I’ll have to go back and add a little more and elaborate on the points, but the basics are there.”

Peter glanced up at your laptop screen. His eyes were met with a never ending sea of typed out words. He smiled; this was so you. Your ‘outline’ is another student's essay doubled.

“You’re gonna write more than that?”

You looked back at him, and he saw your face for the first time during the encounter. His cheeks went slightly pink at the sight of you, and he prayed that you didn’t notice.

You didn’t, or perhaps you just didn’t say anything. You continued on with the conversation without skipping a beat, and relief washed over Peter because of this.

“Of course I am.” You stated with furrowed brows, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “This is so boring and basic, and has no detail whatsoever. Anybody who reads the summary of the book online could write this. I want my teacher to know that I thoroughly read and understood the novel, you know? I don’t want to submit some surface-level shit, I want to really pick apart the undertones of and the meaning behind the story.”

Peter nods, pretending to understand what you meant. He’d barely been paying attention to the words you were saying, too encapsulated with your beautiful eyes to do so. You turned back around towards your work, causing your best friend to snap out of his trance-like state.

“Do you wanna watch a movie or something? I’m bored.”

You had now picked up a pencil and a highlighter, working on the chemistry notes he was supposed to be taking. “Don’t you have work to do, Pete?”

“...No.”

You paused your writing to gaze at him skeptically.

“So you did your book report for english?”

“Yes.”

“Your worksheets for pre-calc?”

“Mhm.”

“You read the assigned chapters for Pschycology and finished the quiz you had to take on them?”

A nod was your only answer.

“What about chem? We have notes, essay questions, assigned reading, and a formulas worksheet due next tuesday. Have you done all of that?”

Peter hesitated for a moment. “Yes, I have.” It was a clear lie. “Can we watch a movie now?”

“There’s no way you did all of that. Go finish your work, and then we can watch a movie.”

A groan escapes Peters lips as he turns, resting against your desk. “But that’ll take forever. Your dad kicks me out at 11:00. We’ll never have time to watch one.” He whines.

You smile slightly, unable to fight it. Not replying to your friend, you spin around in your chair, raising your voice slightly, “FRIDAY, connect to dad please.”, the command directed to nowhere in particular.

“Connecting to Mr. Stark.” The familiar robotic voice echoes throughout your room.

“What’s up, Y/N/N?”

“Hey, Dad? Can Peter stay a bit later tonight?”

“Why?” Your dad’s voice replies through a hidden speaker, his tone almost accusatory.

“Because he wants to watch a movie but I won’t let him until we’re done with homework. We won’t have enough time to finish the movie if he leaves at normal curfew? Pleeeaseee, Dad?”

You can hear your father sigh. “Fine, but only because it’s not a school night and I’m feeling generous. He’s gotta be gone by one though, no exceptions.”

Both of you smiled widely, and you erupted in cheers. “Thanks, Dad!”

“Kid, be ready for training at eight. A later curfew doesn’t mean an exception from your early morning saturday sessions.” The statement was directed at Peter, who nodded, despite your father not being able to see him.

“Got it, Mr. Stark.”

“FRIDAY, disconnect.” You heard Tony’s voice from the other side.

“Disconnected.” The sound of the AI confirming the command filled your room, and the space fell into a brief silence once again.

You spun in your chair, turning to face Peter with a smug smile on your face. “There, now we can get our work done, and watch a movie. Satisfied?”

Peter nodded, giving a roll of his eyes and heading back over to his workspace on your bed, plopping down and continuing his assignments.

An hour and half later, Peter gave a heavy sigh, finally closing his textbook with a smile. “All done!” he announced proudly.

“With everything?”

“Yes, everything.”

You closed your notebook you’d been working in, standing up. “Great. I’ve been done for half an hour, I’ve been working on future assignments while I waited for you to finish up. Ready to watch that movie?”

Peter nodded excitedly. He loved watching movies with you, because you always cuddled up close to him on your bed while you watched. Peter loved being in close proximity to you, even though it made him a little nervous.

“What do you wanna watch?” He asked, beginning to clear his things off your bed.

“I don’t know. We can discuss while we go make popcorn.”

Peter’s eyes lit up; he loved popcorn.

“Okay!” He tossed the rest of his things in his school bag, zipping it up quickly and dropping it in the corner of your room. “Lets go!”

You chuckled at his childlike behavior, following him out of your bedroom door towards your kitchen. The entire journey down the stairs, down the hall, and to the kitchen was filled with Peter going on and on about movies he wanted to see.

You grabbed the microwave popcorn from the pantry, unwrapping it and tossing it in, starting up the machine.

You continued to listen to Peter as soft popping sounds filled your kitchen.

“Oh, you guys have Disney plus, right? What if we watched that new star wars show thingy? The mandalorian?”

You smiled at this statement. Though you didn’t see the boy in any way but a friend (at least that’s what you told yourself), you found Peter’s Star Wars obsession very cute.

“I mean, I would watch that, but I don’t think I’d understand it.”

Peter’s brows furrowed. “Why not?”

“Because I’ve never seen the movies.”

You watched in amusement as Peter’s jaw dropped, his eyes widening in shock. “You’ve NEVER seen the Star Wars movies? Are you kidding me, Y/N?”

You laughed at his reaction, moving to fetch the fully popped popcorn from the microwave and transfer it into a bowl. “No, I’m not kidding. I’ve been meaning to watch them forever, but I guess I never got around to it.”

“I can’t believe this!” Peter exclaims in disbelief. “We’ve been friends for a year and a half now, and you’ve never seen the Star Wars movies? This is insane! I talk about them so much… did you just never understand what I was talking about?”

You shook your head, chuckling. “Nope, I never have. I kinda just let you talk about it, because I planned on watching the movies. I figured I’d understand what you meant when I watched them.”

“Holy shit… we’re watching the first one tonight, Y/N. No arguments, we’re doing it.”

You grabbed the now prepared bowl of popcorn, smiling at your friend. “Alright, let’s do it.”

You headed back up the stairs, the sound of your footsteps accompanied with the sound of Peter murmuring in disbelief as you made your way to your room.

Once the two of you arrived at your destination, you closed the door, placing the bowl of popcorn on your still cluttered desk.

Peter climbed into your bed, while you rummaged through your drawers in search of comfy clothes. “I’m gonna change into pj’s before we start, i want to be comfy.”

Peter nodded. “FRIDAY, put Star Wars: The Phantom Menace on Y/N’s TV.” He spoke out in a slightly raised voice. The movie appeared on your screen, waiting to be started as you changed.

A few moments later, you emerged from your bathroom, now wearing a pair of Nike shorts and a slightly oversized t-shirt.

“Y/N, this is about to change your li-” Peter’s voice trailed off as he looked at you. The oversized shirt you were wearing… was his.

He choked on the piece of popcorn he’d been eating. “I-is that my shirt?”

You looked down on what you were wearing, realizing that it was, in fact, Peter's. “Oh shit. Yeah, sorry. You left it at the lab once, dad gave it to me to give to you, and I guess it just got mixed in with my clothes. I’ll wash it and give it back.

Peter shook his head, coughing again. “No, it’s okay. You can keep it. It looks better on you anyway.” his cheeks went pink as he realized what had just left his mouth. He hadn’t meant to say the last part.

Your cheeks went even pinker at the compliment, which you couldn’t deny made your stomach flutter a little bit. “Okay, thanks.” You smiled at your friend, climbing into the bed beside him. You cuddled in close to him, probably closer than need be, but Peter didn’t seem to mind.

“FRIDAY, start the movie.”

---

A few hours later, the credits were rolling, and Peter was red in the face. You had fallen asleep halfway through the movie, and had moved even closer to him in your slumber. You were now full-on cuddling the boy, and he had no idea what to do. Your leg was moved over his, your head lay on his chest. One arm thrown around his waist. He liked having you this close, but his stomach was in a constant state of butterflies, and he was worried that the sound of his heart beating loudly in his chest would wake you.

He didn’t know what time it was, but it must’ve been close to one, because a knock sounded from the other side of your bedroom door.

Without waiting for an answer, Tony entered the room. “Alright, kids, it’s almost curfew, time to wrap it up…”

His eyes landed on you and Peter, cuddled up in your bed.

“Kid, what the hell is going on here?”

“Mr. Stark! Um, Y/N fell asleep while we were watching the movie and she kinda… I don’t know.. Ended up like this? Nothing’s going on, I swear, it’s just… I didn’t want to wake her up…”

Peter’s face was the color of a tomato at this point. Stark still had his suspicions about the boy’s intentions, but had a feeling that Peter was telling the truth. “Alright, then. You’d better get your ass home and get some sleep. Like I said, you don’t get a free pass from training because you were cuddling with my daughter till one am.”

Peter’s eyes went wide. “No, Mr. Stark, I- We weren’t… I Wasn’t…”

Stark chuckled at the boy’s flustered state. “I’m screwing with you, Kid. Now get the hell out of my house. I’ll see you at 8 AM sharp at the compound”

Peter nodded frantically. “Yes, sir. 8 AM. Got it.”

Tony turned and left without another word, leaving Peter slightly panicked. Did Mr. Stark think that something was going on between him and Y/N? Would he be mad if there was? Peter didn’t know what to think, but he knew that he should probably leave before Tony decided to come back.

Peter climbed carefully out from underneath Y/N, setting her head gently on her pillow. He tried his very best not to wake her as he moved out of the bed.

“Goodnight, Y/N. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Love you lots.” Peter whispered to his ‘best friend’, planting a sweet kiss on her forehead. With that, he slid your window open, climbing out of it and swinging his way home.

Peter was completely oblivious to the fact that Tony had been standing quietly outside your door when Peter said his goodbyes, and Tony saw the entire encounter. The ‘goodnight’, the ‘i love you’, the sweet forehead kiss.

Tony had his suspicions, but that night it was confirmed: his newest recruit had it bad for his daughter.

Strangely, Tony didn’t find himself terribly angry over it.

The next morning, you awoke to the sound of your alarm blaring frustratingly loud. You groaned at the noise, picking up your phone to turn it off. The time on your phone screen read 7:00 AM. Groaning again, you pulled yourself reluctantly out of bed. As much as you hated getting up out of bed, you knew you had to if you ever wanted to complete your training. Your father had promised you that you’d get a spot on his team if you trained hard enough, and you were extremely determined. It had been your dream for years to become an Avenger, so you had been training your ass off for months to earn your spot.

This is how all of your Saturdays had begun for many weeks. An alarm going off at seven in the morning, waking you up to get ready for training at eight. It was a normal routine for you at this point, but for some reason the early wake up never got easier.

You moved about your regular morning routine, heading straight for your bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face. Once your basic hygiene was done, you brushed through your hair, changed into some clothes (your training uniform was at the compound), grabbed your phone, and headed downstairs.

You made a beeline for the kitchen, where your father was already making his morning coffee. When he noticed your presence, he gave you a tired smile.

“Morning, Y/N/N. Sleep well?”

Still half asleep, you gave an exhausted nod. “I shouldn’t have stayed up that late last night. I’ll yell at Peter when I see him. He always manages to convince me to let him stay late.”

For some reason, your father gave a light chuckle at your words. “I bet he does, sweetheart.”

Your brows furrowed at his statement. Something about his tone of voice didn’t sit right with you. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, making your way over to fix yourself a cup of coffee.

Your father smiled smugly at you, passing over the coffee pot and a mug. “Nothing, honey. Be ready in fifteen.”

Still suspicious, your eyes followed him as he placed his coffee mug in the sink and moved from the room. Why was he acting like this? Did Peter do something last night? You remembered falling asleep halfway through the movie, not being able to make it through the whole thing. Had something happened while you were sleeping?

Deciding not to let it bother you, you pushed the interaction from your mind, focusing solely on fixing your coffee. You were barely functional without it, and you knew you needed to be fully aware for training. You had to prove to your father that you could keep up with the Avengers, and that you’d be a useful asset to their team.

You downed the coffee quickly, knowing you had only a few minutes left to get ready. When your father gave you a time warning, he always meant it. And, you knew all too well, he would leave you behind if you were going to make him late.

He’d done it twice before.

Once you had finished chugging the remnants of your coffee, you placed the mug neatly in the sink, right beside where your father had left his. The drink had been an instant pick-me-up, and you automatically felt more awake. You found yourself getting more and more excited for the day ahead of you. Though waking up early on saturday mornings was a pain in the ass, you did enjoy training. You got to exercise, learn about cool technology, and screw around with your best friend. What wasn’t there to like?

Now that your best friend had crossed your mind, you pulled out your phone to text him. You sent him a message every morning, or he sent one to you. It was just a thing the two of you did. Over the past year the two of you had been close, it became some sort of routine.

Y/N/N: morning spidey. u awake?

Within moments, he was typing out a reply. He always answered your messages quickly.

Spidey: yes i am :) ready for training? I’m gonna kick ur ass in sprints today

You chuckled lightly at his response. You and Peter had always been insanely competitive towards each other, and it really jumped out during training. Unfortunately for you, Peter usually won the challenges. You always blamed it on the fact that he had more experience and super strength; he blamed it on the fact that ‘you suck’ and ‘he’s just that awesome’.

Y/N/N: u can try, but idk how that will work out. I’ve beaten u in all of the other sprints for weeks.

Spidey: doesn’t matter. I’m showing out today

Spidey: bring ur a-game, irongirl.

You smiled at the message.

Y/N/N: always do, spiderboy

He started typing back immediately, and you knew exactly why. He called you irongirl to screw with you, so you had begun calling him spiderboy to get on his nerves. It worked every time.

Spidey: Y/N!!! It’s spiderman!!!

Y/N/N: spiderboy!!! It’s nova!!!

Spidey: ugh. Ur impossible.

You grinned widely. Your playful banter with Peter has always been one of your favorite parts of the friendship.

Y/N/N: but u love me anyways :)))) see u soon

Spidey: u better be glad i do. see u soon

You reread the texts, unable to fight the smile on your face. Everytime you interact with Peter, you remember how much you truly love him. Being an avenger, and the daughter of one of the smartest and most famous men on the planet, wasn’t easy. Peter was the only one who had a taste of the madness that was your life. Having him around was having a sense of normalcy, and so were incredibly grateful for him.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your voice being called from the front door of your house.

“Y/N! Time to leave!” Without hesitation, you locked your phone, slipping it into the pocket of your sweatpants.

You hurried towards the front door, not wanting to be left behind again. When you arrived, your father was already standing there, holding the door open. You gave him a smile and a quick thank you for holding the door, then made your way out. The driver was already waiting patiently in front of your house. This was one of your dad’s six drivers.

“Morning, Bernard.” You say kindly to the driver, climbing into the back seat of the range rover. “How are you today?”

“I’m doing wonderful, Y/N. How are you?” The older man replied. You really liked Bernard, he was one of your favorite drivers. He was an older man, in his mid seventies, and you found him to be the sweetest person in the universe. Sometimes, he’d bring you your favorite candy when he used to pick you up from school, and he was always so considerate and kind.

“I’m good. Tired, but good.”

The man smiled at your reply. By this point, your dad had finished locking up the front door of the house, and he climbed in the backseat beside you.

“Good morning, Mr. Stark.” Bernard said professionally to his new passenger, and your dad nodded as a reply.

“Morning, bernard.”

The conversation ended there between the two men. Your father wasn’t a very social person with people he didn’t know, and Bernard was aware of this fact. He mostly talked to you when you were in the car, and Tony went on his phone and did Lord knows what.

“How is Dorothy doing? Is she feeling better?” You asked the man as he began pulling out of your driveway. Dorothy was Bernard’s wife, and she’d gotten sick the week prior. Given her age, Bernard was very worried about her.

Bernard smiled at your question. “Much, much better. They released her from the hospital yesterday, she’s back home and doing great. Thanks for asking.”

“Of course!” You grinned back. “Did you ever find out what she had?”

“Pneumonia, just a very bad case of it.”

You nodded in understanding. “Well, I’m glad she’s better! I was worried when you first told me.”

The conversation continued, talking about anything and everything as you drove to the compound. He told you about his wife, his four kids and what they’re doing. His granddaughter had a baby a few days before, and he was extremely excited about it.

After a 20 minute drive, you pulled up to the building you knew so well. Bernard went to the normal procedure of getting through the front gates, and then pulled up to the front of the compound.

“Well, here we are.” Bernard announced, parking the vehicle. You and your father began climbing out of the backseat.

“Thank you, bernard. Tell your granddaughter I said congratulations!”

He wished you a kind goodbye, and then you were gone, leaving the car and heading towards the compound.

When you walked into the main section of the building, you spotted your best friend in the kitchen. You had to admit, he looked incredible, standing near an open window in the early morning light. He was already dressed in his sleek, black training uniform. It was tight against his body, showing off his muscled body. Sometimes, you forget how beautiful Peter is.

“You’re staring…” A singsong voice came in your ear. You whipped your head towards the voice to see your father walking away from you, smirking. You stood there, feeling slightly confused. Had you really been staring at Peter?

At times, you forget that Peter is only your best friend. The two of you act like an old married sometimes. You spend all of your time together, and you know each other so well.

Strange feelings you couldn’t understand had crept up on you before, especially recently. You couldn’t deny Peter was attractive, and he was a great person, too. How could you not love him? The issue is, you found yourself loving him in a different way than before…

You shook your head, clearing your thoughts. You couldn’t be thinking about this right now, it’s not the place or time. Peter was standing right in front of you, and you needed to be focused for training.

You could process your feelings and emotions at a later time.

You began walking up to Peter, who was leaning up against the counter holding a cup of coffee.

“Morning, loser.” You said teasingly, greeting your friend. His head snapped in your direction, and he smiled when his eyes found you. (You thought you could see his cheeks go pink, too, but you forced yourself to ignore it.)

“Hey! How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good.” You replied, leaning against the counter beside him. “I didn’t even notice that you left last night, I was really out. Did my Dad come in and tell you to leave?”

The pink in Peter’s cheeks darkened at your statement. Of course, this was the perfect time for your father to reenter the room. “Yeah, I did. He seemed very comfortable, but I kicked him out at one.”

Peter and your father were making direct eye contact. Your dad had that stupid smirk on his face, and peter was bright red.

You looked between the two of them, not knowing what to think. Before, you were just suspicious, but now it was confirmed: something happened last night between the two of them, and you were determined to find out what.

Hours later, you’re completely exhausted from training. You worked your ass off, and had successfully beat Peter in sprints.

“That’s right! You lost! How amazing is spiderboy now?”

Peter rolled his eyes in mock annoyance. “Whatever, Y/N. I let you win.”

Your jaw dropped. “You did not! I won because I’m better!”

Peter just smiled at you. You took a swig of the water bottle in your hands, turning around to look at your friend as you did.

The sight you were met with was very sweet. Peter stood there, smiling at you with a look you could only describe as adoration. You looked back at him, a small grin resting on your face.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” The brunette boy says cheekily.

“Why are YOU looking at ME like that, Parker?”

You took a step closer to him, his eyes widening slightly at your movement. He said nothing in response to your question (though it felt more like an accusation), and you smiled again.”Got nothing to say?” Your voice was barely a whisper.

“Parker!” You jumped what felt like 20 feet in the air at the sound of Natasha’s voice, breaking up the little moment between you and Peter.

You stepped back away from him, and you couldn’t help but notice the sadness flash across his face before he turned to the other woman in the room.

“Yeah, Nat?”

“Tony needs your help in the lab. I believe his exact words were ‘he needs to be here in five or I’ll kill him.’ A few minutes have already passed, I’d start running if I were you.”

Peter’s eyes widened for the second time. “Oh, shit, okay. Thanks, Nat.” He turned his head quickly in your direction. “I’ll meet you in your room when I’m done, okay?”

You nodded with a smile. Peter planted a quick kiss on your forehead before jetting off in the direction of the lounge.

Grinning to yourself, you turned towards the sink, your back facing Natasha. You begin cleaning out your now empty water bottle, thinking over the previous interaction with Peter. You loved when he kissed your forehead.

“So, how long have you liked him?” You were so deep in thought, Natasha’s voice made you jump once again. When you’d fully processed her words, your cheeks went pink.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Oh, don’t give me that. I know you like him.”

“Like who?” Play dumb. That’ll throw her off your trail… right?

“Peter! Come on, you’re caught. Just admit it, Y/n, you’re making things harder on yourself.”

Finally, you sighed. Drying your hands on a towel, you turned reluctantly back towards Nathasha. “Is it really that obvious?”

The woman broke out into a grin at your words. “Of course it is! You two are hopelessly in love with each other. It’s almost hard to watch.”

Your cheeks went pink at her statement. “With each other? Oh, no. You mean I’m hopelessly in love with him. It’s not mutual. I’m just his best friend.”

Nat rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh, come on! ‘Just his best friend’ my ass. He loves you, Y/N. He’s even more obvious than you are.”

You shook your head quickly. “No, I promise you’re wrong.”

She looked at you pointedly. “I was right about you, wasn’t I?”

“Yes, but…” Your voice trailed off. You couldn’t argue with that. Nat grinned smugly at your reaction.

“That’s what I thought. Please confess to him when he meets you in your room later. It’s painful to watch, I can’t do it any longer.” And with that, Natasha was gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Was it really thought obvious? Could everyone tell how you felt about peter? You could hardly even tell how you felt about him; the line between best friend and crush had been blurred for so long. If everyone could tell that you were hopelessly in love with your best friend, you would be incredibly embarrassed.

Even worse… what if Peter could tell that your in love with him?

You shook your head, as if clearing your thoughts. No. You couldn’t think like that. Of course he didn’t know; he would’ve said something.

Right?

Sighing, you walked off towards your room to take a shower, pretending you weren’t going to think of him while you were in there.

---

While Natasha was exposing your feelings, you were completely oblivious to the fact that Tony was doing the same thing to Peter in the lab.

When the boy walked in, Peter fully expected that he was being called for one of three reasons.

One: Tony had a new mission for Peter.

Two: Tony needed help with an experiment.

Or, three (the scariest option): Tony wanted to scold him for (albeit unintentionally) cuddling with his daughter the night before.

Peter could only be described as apprehensive as he walked carefully into the lab, where Tony was hunched over a table, working on something that Peter couldn’t see.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter spoke nervously, a timid way of letting Tony know of his presence. “Nat said you needed me. Is that true, or was she just trying to get rid of me?”

“No, no, I called for you.” Tony replied. He made a few last touches on whatever he was working on, then turned around towards peter. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Okay, option two is eliminated. Now, the question at hand is: will it be option one or three?

“Oh, okay. What about?” Peter said casually (or at least, that's how he hoped it came across.)

Tony gave a pointed look to the boy before speaking again. “My daughter.”

Peter’s eyes widened slightly.

Shit, shit, shit.

Option three it is.

“Is this about last night sir? I swear I can explain-” Peter was quickly speaking.

But, before he could finish, Tony was cutting him off.

“This isn’t about last night, kid. I mean, it kind of is, but not really.”

Peter’s brow furrowed.

Unknown option number four?

“What do you mean, sir?”

“I saw what happened before you left last night. The forehead kiss, the ‘I love you,’ all of it.”

Peter was bright red in seconds. “Oh…”

“Do you love my daughter, Peter?”

The boy’s cheeks somehow managed to go a darker shade of pink.

“I-I uh.. O-of course I do, she’s, uh, she’s my best friend.” Peter stammered out.

Tony narrowed his eyes. “That’s not what I mean, Peter.” The man says, his tone borderline accusatory. “Do you love her, love her?”

Silence. Peter didn’t know what to say, so he opted for nothing at all.

“I already know the answer, Peter, so you might as well just come out and say it.”

Peter pondered his next move. If he played his cards wrong, this conversation could end in him losing his life. Tony Stark was not one to be messed with, especially when it comes to Y/N.

On the other hand, Tony Stark was not one to be lied to, either.

Peter sighed, accepting his fate. “How did you know?”

Much to Peter’s surprise, Tony gave a small smile. “I see the way you look at her, kid. I’ve looked at many girls like that in my day. That enamoured look. You're in love with my daughter, and I have some questions.”

“Questions?”

“Yes, questions, kid. Keep up.”

Peter nodded. “Alright.”

“How long?” Tony asked.

“How long…?” Peter didn’t understand what Tony was aking.

“How long have you been in love with Y/N! How long have you known?”

Peter looked away, breaking eye contact momentarily out of nerves.

When did he begin loving you? Now that he’s truly thinking about it, he can’t really remember.

Maybe it was the first mission that the two of you did together, back when you still known as irongirl. It was a bank robbery, an easy task that Tony had given for your very first mission.

Maybe it was that one time when you dragged him out of bed at 6 AM so that you could show him your favorite coffee shop.

Perhaps it was when you took that faithful mission to Asgard, when you gained your powers accidentally, earning your new title as Nova.

Or, it could be the time that you and him stayed up late binge watching a show he couldn’t remember. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you that night. You looked so beautiful that night, getting excited as something cool happened in the show. Your hair was tied back, wearing an oversized shirt, your face makeup free. He couldn’t help but smile as you laughed, and didn’t think he’d ever heard a more beautiful sound in the world.

Yeah, he thinks it was that night.

“Um… about ten months ago, I think? That’s when I realized, but I think I’ve loved her for longer. I just forced myself not to acknowledge it, I guess.”

Tony nodded in understanding. “I get that. What is it about her?”

Another question the boy had to think about.

“There’s a lot of things, I think. Like how excited she gets when she talks about things she’s passionate about. Oh, and the way she laughs when something’s funny in a movie or a show or something. And the way she sends me memes or videos that she thinks are funny. They’re usually not very funny, but of course I think it’s hilarious just because she sent it to me. And she always listens to me when I talk, even if I’m talking about something stupid and boring like science stuff I think is interesting. She talks back to me like she cares what I’m saying, and I know she probably doesn’t, but she acts like she does, and that’s enough. She always drags me out to go on adventures, or, at least, that’s what she calls them. Usually it’s just going to get coffee or try out some new restaurant she heard about but it’s still fun. She’s just so amazing, and I think she makes me the best version of myself.”

The rant ended, and for a moment, Peter forgot that Tony was even in the room.

“Damn. I wasn’t expecting that. I’m impressed, kid. To be honest, I expected some shallow answer like ‘she looks hot in her suit’ or something like that.”

“No, sir. Of course, she’s beautiful, but Y/N is just so much more than that.”

Tony gave another sweet smile to the boy in front of him.

“She likes you, too, you know.”

Peter’s head snapped toward Tony again.

What the hell did he just say?

“What?”

“Y/N. She likes you.”

“No way. She just sees me as her best friend. I’m probably like a brother to her. She doesn’t like me like that.”

“But she does, kid. I know my daughter better than I know myself. She is head over heels for you, spidey. Which is why you should tell her how you feel.”

“Tell her how I feel? Why would I do that?”

“Because she likes you, too, and then you two will be stupid kids in love.”

“Are you serious?”

“Aren’t I always?”

Peter paused for a moment. “I thought you’d kill me when you found out I liked your daughter, not convince me to go talk to her about it.”

“I’m gonna be honest with you, kid. I brought you in here with the intention of killing you, or just telling you to stay away from my daughter. But after you went on that little rant about why you loved her, I just couldn’t tell you to keep away from her. You really love her, kid, I can tell. So go talk to her.”

“You’re sure you won’t be mad if I ask her out?”

Tony shook his head and smiled.

“Go get her, kid.”

-------

Freshly clean and feeling a significant amount better, you sat on your bed scrolling on your phone. Thoughts of Peter had begun to fade (mainly because you forced them out of your mind) and that helped to keep you from stressing about what’s to come.

You had decided to confess how you feel to Peter.

True, this plan could ruin everything. Today could be the day you lost your best friend, and that thought made you want to cry.

But today could also be the day you finally get to kiss the boy you’ve loved forever, and that thought also made you want to cry.

You didn't have much time to think about it further, however, because Peter was knocking on your bedroom door.

“Y/N? It’s me. Can I come in?”

You paused immediately, your heart rating speeding up.

Oh, shit. This is it. This could be the beginning or the end of you and Peter Parker.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. It was now or never.

“Yeah, Petey, come on in.”

The door opened, and the boy you loved so much walked in. His cheeks were pink, you noticed. His cheeks only went pink when he’s nervous. Why was he nervous?

You could tell by his damp hair that he had also showered before coming to your room.

“I need to talk to you about something.” He rushes out.

Oh.

“Same.” is your reply. What else are you meant to say?

“Oh, really? Well, uh, you can go first. I’ll wait.”

You shook your head frantically. “No, you first. You said it first, so it’s only right that you go.”

Peter’s hand went to the back of his neck, rubbing it. Another nervous habit of his.

“Can I sit down?”

You nodded. Why was he even asking? Usually he’d just plop down whenever he pleased, no questions asked. This behavior was very out of character for the boy you knew so well.

The boy sat down on the edge of your bed, and then took a deep breath. “Okay. I don’t know how to tell you this, but I just have to. I don’t want you to hate me, and I really hope this doesn’t affect our friendship, but…”

Peter paused for a moment, and looked into your eyes. They were brimming with concern, and he just couldn’t hold it back anymore. He broke the eye contact you’d been maintaining, mustered up all the courage he could, and then blurted it out.

“I’m in love with you. I have been for I don’t know how long. I wasn’t planning on telling you, because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, but it was starting to get physically painful and I just- I can’t hide it anymore. I love you and I’m sorry.”

Peter clenched his eyes shut, unable to look at your face. He waited (very anxiously) for a reaction, but it never came. Eventually, he opened his eyes, gaining the burst of bravery it took to look at you.

Your jaw was dropped, the expression on your face unreadable.

Oh, no. No no no no no. He’d fucked up. He fucked everything up and now you were never going to speak to him again. He’d lost you. Damn you, Tony Stark.

“Y/N…” He began his apology solemnly. “I’m-”

But he never got to finish his sentence.

Because you were pouncing on him before he had the chance to.

You were on him within seconds, kissing him with so much intensity that he fell back on the bed. He was taken aback for a moment, but quickly kissed you back.

For a moment, the two of you just lay there, wrapped in one another, kissing like there was no tomorrow.

A kiss that made up for all the ones both of you had longed to have in the months before.

You pulled away gently, looking into Peter’s eyes.

“I have loved you for so fucking long, Peter. I was going to tell you that I loved you today.”

“Are you serious?”

You laughed lightly. “Of course I’m serious, you dumbass.”

“Hey!” Peter feigned offense.

You pecked his lips. “You’re a cute dumbass, though.” And then you were kissing him again, and it’s all you could’ve asked for.

----

After a while, the two of you had finally tired each other out, and now you sat cuddled against each other on your bed. No movie or show was playing; it was just you and Peter, listening to each other’s breathing and the sound of your heartbeats.

You looked up at the beautiful boy you were cuddling with, only to find he was already looking down at you.

“Aren’t you going to ask me out, Parker?”

Peter’s eyes widened, and his cheeks went red (for the millionth time that day.)

“Oh, yeah, I- I just thought- nevermind, uh- Y/N, will-”

“Yes, of course I’ll be your girlfriend, Petey.” You cut him off, saving him a few extra minutes of nervous stammering.

He smiled sheepishly at you, then leaned down to bring you into a kiss.

You cuddled back down into his chest, smiling warmly.

You can confidently say that right now, in this moment, you are the happiest you’ve ever been.

#peter parker #peter parker one shot #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker angst peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #marvel fanfiction #mcu

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studyguidepro · 3 years

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Why are Tenses Important in English Language? Know the Reason

You should always keep in mind that English is a chronological language. English speakers simply always need to know when some action or event took place. Chronology, or events and dates set in order of their happening, is expressed by English speakers through verb tenses. Each tense indicates the connection between two or more time periods or the exact time an activity occurred, which underlines the importance of English grammar tenses. They can be used to create different meanings from the same verbs and help to anchor the listener understand the meaning behind your story. Thus, English has a lot of verb tenses with some expressing a connection between two time periods whereas others indicate the exact timing of an activity. Further, the depth of the English tenses should never be underestimated. We can, indeed, express very different things when simply changing the tense; or even use tenses as rhetorical devices to stress whether we strongly believe a project "is going to succeed" or simply express that we "will see" if a project "will succeed".

Some languages do not put as much emphasis on tenses and the chronological order of events and actions. Instead, they stress (hierarchical) relationships between the people involved in the events and actions that are being described by the speaker/narrator. Japanese is one example for a language that puts much more emphasis on relationships. Thus, English learners whose first language is Japanese need to pay extra attention to the tenses in English and should work with visualization aids to move English tenses from the rather abstract realm of textbooks to a much more tangible and understandable medium. For example, why not take a wooden box and imagine that the past tenses need to placed within that box to symbolize how they describe events and actions that started and were completed in the past. This method works for tactile and visual learners alike.

If you’re still wondering why verb tenses are important, then let’s walk through the different types of tenses and how they can be used to effectively communicate with other people. After all, the goal of this post is to understand the important verb tenses that will help you in businesses and daily life.

Where does the word ‘tense’ come from?

Understanding where words come from will help you remember why they’re important. You can quickly recall the value of a verb tense by memorizing that it comes from the Latin word tempus, meaning time. With the English verb tense lists below, you’ll be able to quickly understand how to communicate about different events in time.

Four Main Types of Verb Tenses

Past Tense

Present Tense

Future Tense

Perfect Tense

Four Forms of Verb Tenses

Simple Progressive/Continuous

More About the Different Types of Verb Tenses

The four main types of verb tenses and two forms can be used in a variety of combinations to create unique meanings. With so many options, it can be hard to determine what type of verb tense to use at the appropriate time. Below, you’ll find definitions of the different verb tenses and examples to help you understand how these could be used in your daily life.

Simple Form Verb Tenses

You can think of simple verb tenses as the building block of all other forms. In English grammar, simple form verb tenses do not have an auxiliary verb in affirmative sentences, which you’ll find in other forms. Below, you’ll find examples of simple present, past, and future phrases that you can use in conversation.

Simple Present Tense – Definition & Examples

The present tense can be used in two ways: to express a recurring action and to represent a common belief. Below, you’ll find an example of how the present tense is used in each of these instances.

Example 1: The tallest buildings are on 42nd and E Street.

Example 2: On warm days, the students run home from the park.

Example 3: Plants process carbon dioxide through photosynthesis.

Simple Past Tense – Definition & Examples

If you’re talking with a friend or a coworker and you want to explain that you started and finished an activity in the past, then you’d want to use a simple past tense verb. Regular past tense verbs end with -ed, but you’ll also find irregular past tense verbs where the spelling of the root word changes.

Example 1: We jumped off the diving board and into the pool.

Example 2: We drove through the night to make it home after the party.

Simple Future Tense - Definition & Examples

In its simple form, the future tense signifies something that is going to happen in the future. You can identify or use the simple future tense by using will or shall (note: The latter is far less common than will). Aside from will and shall, you can also express the simple future tense with am, is, are + base verb + ing, going to, and the simple present.

Example 1: My team will finish the report on Friday.

Example 2: We’re going to the mall on Saturday to find new clothes before the concert.

Example 3: The race starts early in the morning before the sun rises.

Perfect Verb Tenses

Not all events are clearly situated within a time frame, which is to say that some events happen at an indefinite time. Do you remember the specific time you drank coffee today? Probably not, because it stretched out over an indefinite period of time in the past. Perfect verb forms also apply to past and future tenses, where an event took place before another or will be completed in the future before another action.

Present Perfect Tense - Definition & Example

Communicating events with indiscrete times can be tricky in English. The present perfect tense is supposed to make this easier. If you want to explain an event that happened at an indefinite time in the past or that began in the past and continues into the present, then I’ve put together a few examples below. These will help you understand the basic rule of the present perfect.

Example 1: My friends have seen the movie so many times, they lost count.

Example 2: People have gathered together to celebrate each other’s birthdays for hundreds, if not thousands, of years.

Past Perfect Tense - Definition & Example

If you’re talking about multiple events that happened in the past, then the past perfect tense will be useful for you. This verb tense allows you to discuss or write about an event that took place in the past, but before another past action.

Example 1: All the cars had parked alongside the road to watch the meteor shower.

Future Perfect Tense - Definition & Example

Just like you can discuss the relationship between two events in the past, you can also do so for those occurring in the future. The future perfect tense describes an event that will occur before another in the future. You can identify future perfect tense verbs because they’ll use the phrase, will have with a past participle.

Example 3: When I finally visit Japan, I will have traveled to every country.

Progressive Verb Tenses

If you want to signify something that is ongoing or discuss two events that overlapped in time, then the progressive verb tense is the best option to use. Both in writing and conversation, progressive forms help to show the duration of an event rather than just stating that it occurs, occurred, or will occur.

Present Progressive Tense - Definition & Examples

Often times, it’s useful to explain that an occurrence is happening at the same time of your explanation or writing. In English, the verb tense you would use to show that an action is happening at the same time of the explanation is called the present progressive form. Typically, speakers and writers use a verb ending in -ing alongside am, is, or are to create a present progressive form.

Example 1: The students are studying for their exams for the next few weeks.

Example 2: The children are eating their breakfast before our hike today.

Example 3: I am finding a way to go to the festival this year!

Past Progressive Tense - Definition & Example

Aside from using a progressive verb tense to show that an event is occurring at the time of the statement, they’re also used when talking about events that happened in the past. A past progressive tense can be used to show an action that was happening at the same time as another in the past. These past tense progressive verbs are typically used with was or were and also end in -ing.

Example 1: Our friends were eating breakfast at our house when we got the news our family just landed in Chicago for a surprise visit.

Example 2: I was sitting in the lobby when the clock struck midnight.

Future Progressive Tense - Definition & Example

Like the other forms, the future progressive tense also uses verbs that end in -ing along with will be/shall be, and am/is/are + going to be. This tense is most commonly used in conversation and when writing to describe a future event that will be ongoing.

Example 1: My friends will be spending some time with us next Saturday.

Example 2: I am going to be waiting for you in the lobby of the hotel.

Perfect Progressive Forms

Aside from showing an event at a certain period of time or the relationship between two past or future events, there is one more option you have when discussing the time between events. A perfect progressive form allows you to explain an event that happened in the past, is occurring in the present, and may occur in the future. In other words, you can use this when trying to explain a project you started last week but you won’t finish until the next.

Present Perfect Progressive Tense - Definition & Examples

When making project updates, or trying to explain when you’re going on vacation, you might need to use the present perfect progressive tense. This verb tense describes an event or action that started in the past, continues in the present, and may continue into the future. This form is created by using has or have been and a verb ending in -ing.

Example 1: For the past two weeks, the team members have been debating who will be the next team campaign leader.

Past Perfect Progressive Tense - Definition & Examples

If you’d like to communicate with depth, then you can use the past perfect progressive tense. Trust me, it sounds more complicated than it is in practice. Put simply, this verb tense gives you the ability to talk about a past action that was ongoing and completed before another past action occurred.

Example 1: We had been baking for the holidays when we heard our friends knock at the door.

Future Perfect Progressive Tense - Definition & Examples

Especially when talking business, the future perfect progressive tense is helpful for communicating with others. If you need to explain the expectations one or two quarters out, then you can do so by communicating or writing with this verb tense. The future perfect progressive tense describes an event in the future that is ongoing, but occurs before an arbitrarily specified time. You can create this form by using will have been and a verb ending in -ing.

Examples: By the end of the century, we will have been using the internet for over forty years.

There you go — now that you know the different types and forms of verb tenses you can start to practice communicating about time with people. Challenge yourself with one of these verb tenses a week to try to improve your fluency. At the end of the week, write down the different phrases you used and keep an ongoing journal to commit them to memory.

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capricorn-stark · 3 years

Text

Unexpected Encounters Pt 2

pairing: dick grayson x reader, reader doesn’t know he’s nighwing yet

warning: nothing

a/n: this fic is for the lovely @daintykeith who requested this from me literally like a month ago - i didn’t expect to get as busy as i did, but thank you so much for your patience and i hope you enjoy it!!

part 1

There was a new hero in town. And he went by the name Nightwing.

It wasn’t surprising to you in the least, you had practically predicted a hero sauntering into Bludhaven since the very first day you moved there. In a city as messed up as it was, there was no chance some latex-clad figure with a hero-complex could pass it up—after all, Bludhaven gave Gotham a run for its money.

What was surprising to you was the fact that you had run into this new hero on more than one occasion, and by this point, it was starting to seem less and less like a mere coincidence.

“I’m serious—I’ve been seeing this guy everywhere,” you began in disbelief as the blurry image of a man in a blue and black suit flashed across the TV screen, some blonde news anchor discussing the subject with notable interest while Dick Grayson laughed beside you on your couch. “It’s been, what, a month? And every other time I turn on GBS, they’re still talking about him.”

“It’s that bad?” the man grinned as he watched you fall back down onto the couch beside him, following your rather baleful gaze back to the screen. “I didn’t even notice it that much, honestly.”

“It’s not even just the news! I’ve run into him like a dozen times in the past few weeks in person,” you insisted, shifting to face him as he continued to chuckle disbelievingly.

“You sure you’re talking about this guy? ‘Cus even the BCPD’s had a hard time tracking him down.” Dick nodded towards the photograph on the TV. “They can’t even get us a good picture.”

“I didn’t know we had other guys dressed up in black and blue spandex and jumping off of buildings,” you deadpanned, causing him to laugh again. “I’m pretty sure it’s the same guy, Detective Grayson.” He raised his hands in surrender.

“Hey, fair enough-” His phone went off and he paused, shooting you an apologetic look after glancing at the caller ID. “Sorry - one sec.” You nodded and he picked it up, rising from the couch to head over to the hallway to speak. It didn’t bother you - you figured it was his typical phone call about detectives needing to do what detectives had to do. So, you turned your attention back to the TV where they were discussing Bludhaven’s new vigilante. “Addad wants me down to the station to look over a few case files,” Dick announced when he finally returned to view, pocketing his phone and hurriedly adding more after catching sight of your expression. “It should be really quick, it’s just—it’s really important.”

“Right,” you started with an air of mild awkwardness, standing up as he moved to slide on his jacket. “Yeah, totally. Don’t worry about it.” He hesitated before reaching for the door, shooting you another glance and a little grin that induced a few stray butterflies in your stomach. Irrationally, of course.

"I'll call you."

He let that hover in the air before closing the door behind him, leaving you still standing by the couch.

Whatever it was that was going on between you and Dick Grayson was—well, you didn’t actually have a name for it yet. But it was definitely something.

It was later that very night when you received not one but two unexpected visitors via your apartment window.

The broken window was the least of your worries when the black-and-blue clad vigilante began to rise to his feet, groaning as he straightened and freezing when he met your eyes.

His face was rigid as he looked at you. You were still frozen on your couch, eyes flickering between him and the seemingly unconscious person on the floor. You would’ve reached for your gun, but unfortunately, you didn’t keep guns with you during Friday night TV marathons. Apparently, that was another bad idea in Bludhaven.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” the man blurted out before you could break out of your stupor and attempt to chuck something at his head. “I was just dealing with this guy, that was an accident.” You both glanced at the shards on the floor and then back at each other. He winced. “And sorry about your window, that was...also an accident.”

Your landlord was not going to be happy about this one.

“Nightwing,” you finally managed, still glancing between the two figures. “You’re Nightwing.” The blue symbol on his chest (a bird? Crossed with a bat?) made that much clear.

“The one and only.” There might’ve been a hint of amusement in his voice as he leaned over to grab the man on the floor single handedly. “You know who I am?”

“Who doesn’t?” you deadpanned, still eyeing him somewhat warily as he dragged him back towards your balcony. You wondered how exactly he was planning on heading out from there while carrying- “Is that Scarecrow?” you gaped, taking a few steps back as soon as you finally caught sight of the potato sack-like sheet obscuring the other man’s face. You could tell he was probably the real deal by the shitty stitched up mouth and the excessive usage of string around the neck. You still had no idea as to why he chose to wear his elementary arts-and-crafts project as his villain costume. “Isn’t he supposed to—why isn’t he in Gotham?”

You did not move over to Bludhaven just to have the Gotham baddies decide to relocate with you. Nightwing’s off-handed shrug wasn’t helpful.

“Maybe he wanted a change of scenery. Maybe he wanted to poison another city’s water system with hallucinogens.” He smirked at your expression. “Bad guys get bored too, y’know.”

“That’s cute,” was your response as you pointed back to the broken window. Out of all the apartments he could crash into, he had to crash into this one. “What am I supposed to-”

“Don’t worry about the window, I can take care of it,” he interjected somewhat hurriedly before you could finish, already seeming embarrassed enough. “Sorry.”

More staring.

“Are you going to fix my window…?”

“...no.” A pause. “Not personally, I can’t—I’ll send people over here. Later.” The silence ensued and you finally raised a brow at him, to which he gave you a rather sheepish grin. “We’ve seen each other a lot, huh?”

Aside from this incident, there had been the time where you had been stopping by the corner store and he had shown up chasing after some of Tony Zucco’s men, sending a cocky grin your way before he took them down.

There had been the time you had been at work and he somehow managed to take his fight with Blockbuster right outside your window, shooting you a wave mid-kick and barely avoiding a fist to the face because of it.

Then there was the time at your local cafe when he had literally just stepped in, suit and all, to get a cup of coffee at the same time you had gone in.

There were so many instances where you had seen him around, fighting crime, stopping villains, and even just relaxing, that it had started seeming less and less like coincidences and more like he was, in fact, sticking around your area a little more than he needed to.

“Yeah,” you finally answered, still eyeing him in mild disbelief, “we really have. A lot.”

“Coincidences, am I right?” The teasing tone of his voice was unmistakable.

“Once or twice? Sure.” Seeing Batman during a night at Gotham could be considered a coincidence (and bad luck, according to urban lore and statistics concerning the likelihood of also encountering the Joker). Running into a person you knew in public could be considered a coincidence. Meeting the same vigilante about six different times when the rest of the city barely even had good, non-blurry pictures of him? Not a coincidence. “I’m pretty sure it’s more than a coincidence at this point. Do I know you?”

“Do you?” His playfulness hadn’t been reduced by a shred, and you moved to grab the broom to clear up the broken glass with a sigh. “I get asked that a lot - here, let me take care of that-” You brushed him off with a shake of your head, already having started yourself.

“It’s fine. And if I don’t know you, this is even weirder.”

“I wish I knew you better.”

“Seriously?” He shrugged again, still grinning.

“Seriously.” You gave him another look before finally clearing away the glass. Nightwing had brought the still-out Scarecrow onto your balcony. You were surprised the guy was still knocked out. He must’ve taken a pretty solid hit.

“I really hope you were serious about fixing this-”

“I was, trust me,” he assured, watching you walk outside as well before he picked the man up again. He had the decency to at least look rather sheepish about the entire ordeal. “You won’t have to worry about it, I promise.” You shrugged at his words, but you somehow felt like he was actually being genuine about it. So you decided to wait and find out if you were right about him.

“Then I guess I’ll see you around, Nightwing,” you finally said after catching his gaze through his cowl, shooting him a little grin he returned easily.

“I’ll see you around too, Y/N.”

It sounded so off-handed and normal that you hadn’t even realized what he had said until he had swung right out of your view, leaving you standing at your balcony in complete disbelief.

How had he known your name?

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stxphxn-strange · 3 years

Text

playing pretend

a/n: hello hello hello! i have a prompt fill for this Dark!Stephen AU from @ironstrangeprompts and im just gonna post it before i can start second guessing my writing lmao

tw: mentions of torture, injury, implied past abuse

Prompt: Dark!Stephen AU. The avengers never really notice Stephen’s pacifist to-a-fault superheroing style until one day a magical incident corrupts him/magical entity possesses him. They’re treated to a completely unhinged and lethal Stephen, the avengers realize just how much Stephen was holding back, what with his quick work dispatching all of them, resulting in very heavy injuries. However, he takes special interest with Tony Stark, whom he has been dating for a few months now. He has Tony all strung up in the middle of the battlefield in front of the other broken and beaten avengers, he taunts and tortures him. “Being a doctor and a sorcerer is so very useful, I can break you in very precise manners, put you back together and then do it again.” When he gets bored of Tony’s screams and decides to end him permanently, Stephen suddenly snaps back to normal. The real Stephen has been battling internally to gain back control, knowing that he’s about to kill the love of his life gives him the final push to break free. He portals them all to safety and to receive medical help. Cue heavy angst and Stephen trying to make it up to them but especially Tony, who insists that everything is fine and that he knows it wasn’t the real Stephen. However they both know that Tony is just putting up a brave front and is undoubtedly traumatized by the incident. Up to the author on if they want to end it in a bleak or hopeful tone.

It took Tony a few minutes to register his surroundings when he woke up. He wasn’t lying in a makeshift coffin of bent metal, broken bones, and the ruins of the building. The familiar baritone, the melody of his waking world, wasn’t hollow and cruelly taunting him. Stephen sounded like himself, soothing and loving and reassuring but worried and tired all the same. Tony heard guilt in his partner’s voice, delineating his dream, his memory, from the present. He wanted to follow that voice, the real Stephen’s voice, and leave the past behind them. Guilt was eating away at Stephen as he tried to calm Tony down and wake him up. He defaulted to the standard promises and phrases when Tony had nightmares, but this time was different. This time Stephen was the cause of the nightmare, and he knew it. No matter how much Tony said it wasn’t his fault, that everything was okay, Stephen knew he had to repair the pieces of Tony’s trust he’d obliterated.

Tony thrashed again in his sleep, feebly kicking the air in front of him just like he did on the battlefield. “Stop!”

“Sweetheart,” Stephen began, unsure of what to say. “Tony, wake up. You’re safe, no one will hurt you.”

“Stephen!” Tony groaned and thrashed again, his eyes still shut as he fought to wake up. “This isn’t you… don’t do this.”

Stephen barely held back tears as he spoke again. “It’s over Tony, I’m back. I’m me again. I won’t hurt you, I promise I’ll never hurt you as long as I live.”

Tony was shaking when he finally woke up, unsure if he was even breathing. He opened his eyes hastily, studying the look on Stephen’s face. Stephen looked concerned, even worried, but unsure of himself as he murmured soothing nonsense to Tony.

“Breathe, Tones,” Stephen said. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. It’ll be okay, I promise. Just breathe, we’re alright. I’ll leave you be once I’m sure you’re okay, and—”

Tony wrapped his arms around Stephen and hugged him tightly. “Don’t you dare. Don’t go… please don’t go Stephen.”

“I can’t risk scaring you again Tony. I’ve already hurt you enough, it’s not fair to keep putting you through this,” Stephen argued, fighting his urge to hug Tony back.

Tony only held on tighter, determined not to let Stephen leave.

Stephen still wanted to disappear, but he quickly understood that Tony wouldn’t let him go that easily. The mechanic was still shivering and trembling, slowly starting to calm down as Stephen hesitantly hugged him back.

++++

They both woke up at the same time, almost four days later. Stephen woke up slowly, feeling like he was underwater or in a fog, while Tony started awake across town.

It was pitch dark in the room, the heavy curtains drawn shut to keep out any intrusive light. It was the middle of the day, judging by the clock Stephen kept on his nightstand, but he couldn’t feel the sun on his face, or see any light from his window. He was bathing in pitch black. At first, he thought he was dead, doomed to an eternity in darkness, when something red bloomed and came to life beside him. Even now, his Cloak was always dramatic, comforting as it covered him like a blanket.

As his eyes adjusted, Stephen registered Wong and Christine on the other side of the room, just studying him.

Christine was the first to meet his stare, rushing to his bedside. “How do you feel?”

Stephen grimaced in pain as he shrugged. “Not great, thanks.” There was something else on his mind, but he was too afraid to ask. He was almost too scared to hear the answer.

Luckily, Wong spoke up before Stephen could ask. “You slept for three and a half days, Strange. How much do you remember?”

“Something attacked the Compound… I think it was me,” he mumbled.

“Not exactly,” Wong began, gentler than Stephen had ever heard him.

“Possessed or not, I still attacked!” Stephen sat up, paying the price as he rose quicker than his body could handle. “It doesn’t matter if I saved everyone, not if I almost killed them first.”

Neither Wong nor Christine spoke, and the cloak simply wrapped tighter around Stephen’s shoulders.

“You did save everyone,” Wong said finally. “And you banished whatever entity possessed you. We still haven’t figured out what it is, but…”

Wong’s voice trailed off as Stephen stopped listening. His head started to hurt as he remembered, in searing detail, more of what happened and what caused him to snap out of the state he was in.

Tony was near silent, his voice failing him after hours of tortured screams. Somewhere, somehow, Stephen knew that he was the one hurting him, the one causing Tony so much pain even though he promised never to hurt the hero. He wanted to stop, to end all of the carnage he’d brought to the Compound, to his friends who were starting to feel like family, to Tony… but he couldn’t. The hand controlling his impulsive strings was strong and steady, and it wouldn’t rest until Stephen finished its bidding.

His movements were mechanical as he strode, like the marionette he’d become, to stand in front of Tony.

And Tony just looked at him with a defeated, almost calm look on his face.

Stephen’s voice sounded distorted when he spoke, preening with a twisted smile as he bent to look upon the man of iron. “Accepted your fate?”

“You won’t be the first person I’ve loved who’s hurt me,” Tony said, between pained breaths. “There’s nothing to say.”

Stephen tried to back up, to keep himself still, but he couldn’t fight the influence of his controller and struck Tony again. “Arrogance is unbecoming.”

Tony inhaled again, deeper and more pained this time but somehow even calmer. “Go ahead and finish the job. I won’t hold it against you, Stephen.”

Stephen was hyperventilating when he heard Wong’s voice again, pressed against the headboard of his bed like he was backed into a corner.

Christine approached him tentatively, resting her hand on one of his shoulders.

Stephen recoiled away from the touch and curled up on himself like a turtle retreating in its shell. He ducked his head under a pillow, shaking in fear and pain from moving too quickly. “Did I… did I kill him? I remember everything until I was about to… please tell me I—”

“You didn’t.” Christine cut him off, hoping to keep her friend from spiraling further. “Wong said you saved everyone, and that includes Tony.”

Stephen sobbed just hearing his partner’s name. Guilt wracked his entire body as he cried harder and harder, his magic running through his veins. Was he not this exhausted, he’d probably set fire to something from his high levels of stress and fear, but all he could do was cry until he fell into painful sleep.

++++

He didn’t finish it.

He didn’t listen.

Tony remembered the horrified look he saw on Stephen’s face, the remorse in his eyes as he sent a vaguely corporeal figure of dark energy through a portal.

Tony remembered the way Stephen apologized again and again as his eyes started closing, overwhelmed by the pain seizing his mind and body. A part of him hoped that Stephen had listened, that maybe the last thing he’d see in this life would be the face he’d come to absolutely adore…

… But he’d woken up sometime later in the MedBay, wanting to see Stephen more than anything. In spite of everything that’d just happened, or maybe because of everything that’d just happened, all Tony really wanted was to go back to sleep, preferably in his partner’s embrace. That really didn’t seem like too much to ask for.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Stark?”

Tony almost didn’t notice Peter pacing around on the ceiling, in fact he didn’t know his pseudo son was even in the room until he suddenly landed a few feet away. “I feel great, Kid. Definitely not like I took a ton of bricks to the face.” He didn’t remember the gory details of the fight, so Tony couldn’t say whether or not he was being literal.

“Welcome back, Boss,” FRIDAY said, a hint of worry in her voice. “And good morning. It’s currently half nine on Tuesday. I’ve been asked to inform you that Col. Rhodes has returned from Washington and has volunteered to lead all reconstruction projects for the Compound. He’s also asked me to keep you updated and will be coming to see you this afternoon.”

Tony sighed. “Thank you. Wait… that means Rhodey came back early?”

“He did,” FRIDAY replied simply. Her voice sounded like what a nod looked like as she continued. “Would you like me to tell him that you asked about him?”

“Sure, but don’t bother him. He doesn’t have to rush to see me,” Tony replied, knowing that Rhodey would probably come anyway. He was maybe the one exception to what Tony had told Stephen earlier, before…

“Col. Rhodes will be here within the hour,” FRIDAY announced.

“Thanks Fri.”

Peter, who had started pacing on the ceiling again, asked what Tony had been wondering since he woke up. “Where’s the Doc?”

“I dunno, Pete. I’ve been wondering that myself,” Tony admitted. “Fri, you wouldn’t happen to know… would you?”

“As far as I can tell, Doctor Strange returned to the Sanctum following the… altercation… on Thursday,” the AI reported.

“What? Altercation? What happened?” Peter landed on the floor again, looking more worried than Tony thought he deserved to.

“There was just a small wizarding mishap, don’t worry about it,” Tony said. He shrugged, trying to reassure Peter as much as he could. “Not even an emergency, Underoos. We would’ve called for you if it was.”

Tony also didn’t want Peter to see what happened. Maybe he was sheltering the kid, but he didn’t want Peter to ever find out about the attack on the Compound. It was bad enough that the team, even in their varied states of consciousness, saw what they did. They saw the fear in Tony’s eyes, saw him slowly surrender to Stephen’s ruthless attacks until he just stopped trying to fight the sorcerer. Tony knew he couldn’t parry these magical attacks, couldn’t break the spelled restraints… but he didn’t want Peter to see how easily he’d given up.

If Peter had more to say, he simply chose not to ask about it. Instead he just shrugged. “Glad you’re okay, Mr. Stark. May heard from Pepper that you got hurt, so I wanted to swing by… no pun intended.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that calling me ‘Tony’ is fine?” Tony asked, rolling his eyes warmly. “I’m fine, Pete. Not up for working in the lab today, I’m afraid, but—”

“That’s okay! My suit isn’t going anywhere, we can upgrade anytime,” Peter replied. “I promised May I’d be home for movie night, but I just wanted to come see you.”

Tony smiled softly. “You’re a good kid, Son. Get home safe, and I’ll give you a call when I’m back in working condition.”

“Thanks IronDad!” Peter was gone in a second, leaving Tony in the quiet with his thoughts.

“Fri?” He asked after a few minutes.

“Still here, Boss.”

“Will you… will you tell Stephen I want to see him?” Tony asked.

Maybe he was the spoiled brat everyone believed, or maybe he was exhausted and touch starved and showing signs of an addictive personality. Tony didn’t know, he didn’t care, and he just wanted his sorcerer back.

“I’ll let him know,” FRIDAY replied, softer than normal.

++++

“Stephen, it’s been days. Days since the attack, days since you holed yourself up in my library like you’re going into hibernation—”

“Good morning to you too, Wong.”

Wong may have laughed at Stephen’s attitude if he didn’t feel so bad for him. Stephen was completely out of it, so much so that he didn’t even realize how late in the day it was. “It’s almost eight, Strange.”

Stephen just sighed. “Did you need something from me?”

“Stark is asking for you again. I think you should see him.”

“You said that yesterday,” Stephen muttered.

“I’m saying it again now. I know you, Stephen, I can read you like any book in here.” Wong began. “You’re trying to outrun your guilt but you know it’s not that easy. Ignoring Tony isn’t going to make things go away, and it’s not going to make either of you feel better. He misses you, and I know you miss him too.”

“I don’t know how I can even look at him after what I did… he trusted me,” Stephen whispered, looking down at his lap. “I broke his trust.”

“Not willingly, and he knows that,” Wong reminded him. “It wasn’t you, Stephen.”

Stephen ignored him, beginning to tremble as he thought back to what Tony had said to him. “He told me he wouldn’t hold it against me… that I wasn’t the first of his loved ones to hurt him. I don’t know what I could do or say to prove to him, let alone to the team, that I’d never hurt them again.”

“Hiding away in here isn’t helping to prove that,” Wong said.

“You just want your chair by the window back,” Stephen accused him.

“Of course I do! But I also care about you and your happiness. If you need anyone to vouch for you, I’ll be here,” Wong replied.

“That sounds like you’ve made up my mind for me.”

“I have. Go now, before it gets too late.”

Stephen opened a portal to the tower, just outside of the lab. “I doubt Tony would be asleep, he’s always awake.”

His suspicions were confirmed as he closed the portal. Tony was in his lab where Stephen thought he’d be, a mug in one hand and a pen in the other.

Stephen’s entire body trembled with nerves as he opened the door, the cloak knocking loudly and dramatically to make his presence known.

“FRIDAY, Quiet Place Protocol please,” Tony said. He looked up and smiled sadly at Stephen as the lab’s usual blaring music shut off. “Hi.”

“Hey.” Stephen suddenly didn’t know what to do with himself. He was too scared to get any closer to Tony, afraid to hurt him, but at the same time all he wanted was to hug him.

The cloak made the first move, flying off of his shoulders and resting on Tony’s.

“Aww, hi Levy.” Of course Tony had a nickname for the relic, he had nicknames for everything and everyone.

Stephen found it annoying in the most heartwarming way, and he couldn’t help but smile as Tony sat down at his workbench.

“You can come over, you know?” Tony asked, half teasingly. “I told you I don’t bite, Steph.”

Stephen felt like a marionette again as he walked towards his boyfriend, but his heart was in control this time. He wanted to protect, to cherish, and to spoil the man in front of him with nothing but love and attention. He was just afraid, still unsure of himself as he studied Tony’s face. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey… I know.” Tony opened his palms on his lap, silently asking to hold Stephen’s hands.

Stephen let him, trembling harder as Tony held him gently. “I don’t know what happened, Tony. Something took over me, and I couldn’t stop it. I’ve never been overpowered like that before, and I didn’t know what to do. But please listen when I say that I promise it’ll never happen again, I mean that’s a given if you leave me, but—”

“I’m not leaving you,” Tony said firmly. “I know you weren’t voluntarily doing all of those things.”

“I never, ever wanted to hurt you. I still don’t want to hurt you.”

“You didn’t.”

“Tony…” Stephen took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Tony I could’ve killed you. The entire time I was trying to break the curse, to get that thing out of my system, I almost killed you. And you almost let me do it.”

“I did.”

Stephen didn’t know what to say. Tony had that calm, accepting look on his face mixed with a kind, trusting expression. It was the same look he’d given Stephen in the ruins of the Compound, and it hurt. It didn’t feel like an apology would be enough to make things right, but what else was there to do now? “I’m sorry, Tony.”

Tony slid his arms around Stephen’s waist and pulled him into the hug they’d both been needing. “I’m fine baby, it’s okay. It’s over.”

Stephen knew it wasn’t just over, and he knew Tony knew it too. But in the moment he was too fatigued to fight about it and let Tony hold him closer. “Have you been sleeping?”

“Trying to,” Tony replied. “Not to be cheesy or whatnot, but I do sleep better with you next to me.”

“May I take you to bed?” Stephen asked, sounding even shyer than when he normally asked that. “Please? I know it’s early, but I wouldn’t object to a nap.”

Tony nodded, shifting to press a chaste kiss to Stephen’s lips. “That sounds nice. FRIDAY, save and shut everything off please.”

“Engaging ‘You Shall Not Pass’ protocol, Boss,” FRIDAY reported dutifully.

Tony scoffed. “Remind me to never let you and Peter give Fri name suggestions again.”

“You could just change it if it bothers you that much.” Stephen chose to remind Tony of that instead, even though they both knew Tony was secretly fond of the movie references hidden in his protocols. “Besides, that serves you right for calling me Gandalf all the time.”

“If the shoe fits, babe,” Tony said. He stood up, keeping an arm wrapped around Stephen’s waist as they left the lab and headed for the elevators.

Despite feeling safe and loved in Tony’s arms, more than he could have ever hoped to be and probably more than he deserved, Stephen was still anxious. He felt out of place in the Tower, never mind the fact that he usually spent half of his time there, and he felt even more out of place amongst the team.

“How are the others?” He asked quietly, afraid to hear the answer.

“They’re getting better.” Tony saw no point in sugarcoating the truth. Stephen would see right through it, and that wouldn’t help him process everything. “Carol and Thor are both bored of training with each other, but no one else wants to spar with either of them yet. Or with Natasha, for that matter.”

“Does anyone ever want to spar with them on a good day?” Stephen asked, trying to keep the mood light.

“You’re all a bunch of sore losers who can’t rise to a friendly challenge” Natasha quipped, suddenly materializing in front of the couple. “Tony, what’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why is he here?”

“Natasha, I—”

Natasha pointedly ignored Stephen. She never disliked the sorcerer, she was actually indifferent and had no issues telling Tony that, but Tony’s trustful, rather soft nature was a concern of hers. It worked in her favor, sure, but she was really trying to be a better friend to Tony and look out for him more. It was this concern that motivated her to look at Stephen with disgust. Natasha wasn’t scared of him, she took heavy damage in the attacks but it was more minimal compared to some of the things she’d put his friends and family through.

Tony was acting as if none of that happened, and that couldn’t stand.

Natasha frowned and glared at Stephen as she addressed Tony. “Tony what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t play dumb and tell me you’re not following. What are you still doing with him? You barely sleep more than an hour without waking everyone up screaming from phantom pain and nightmares! Do you think we can’t hear you yelling and begging for Stephen to stop torturing you and just kill you? Because we all do!” Natasha took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. “And after all that, you’re holding him like nothing is wrong? I don’t understand how you can be so forgiving sometimes.”

She stormed off before Stephen could defend himself or before Tony could respond. Her words echoed in Stephen’s head as Tony continued to lead him down the hallway, into the elevator, and into the penthouse.

Stephen sat dejectedly on the bed as Tony shuffled around the room, grabbing a few blankets from the closet. He didn’t say anything as Tony made a little nest of pillows and blankets, the cloak joining the haphazard pile the minute Tony curled up under a throw. Eventually Stephen allowed himself to lay down, offering no protests as Tony hugged him again.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized again, mumbling into the soft fabric of Tony’s shirt.

“I know,” Tony said simply. “Relax sweetheart, it’s okay.”

He was still tense, curling up smaller in Tony’s arms. “Are you okay?” The sorcerer asked.

“I’m fine,” Tony reassured him. That was half true. He was fine, to a point, but there were things bothering him that he had no idea how to tell Stephen about.

Eventually they would have to face the music and talk about everything, and they both knew it. For now, Tony was somewhat okay with ignoring it, clinging to the hope that having his Stephen back would keep the memories at bay.

Tags: @stark-strange-love2 @salty-ironstrange-shipper @funkylittlebidiot @richieleeparker @chocopiggy @hatakehikari @taruyison

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spicykoreantatertots · 3 years

Text

Fractured Hearts & Floral Lungs - Part One

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader x Jungkook

Genre: hanahaki, angst, established relationship

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 2400

Warnings: blood, choking, coughing, vomiting, hanahaki disease, relationship issues, fighting, mentions of cheating, mentions of sex, mentions of hospitals

A/N: this is my first fic in a while and i’m happy to finally be able to share something again. i’m determined to finish this series by the end of may and finish my soulmate series this summer.

thank you to @shadowsremedy for this banner and to @thesoftsoobin for beta reading for me.

this was meant to be a gift for @dee-ehn, well it still is a gift, but it should’ve been posted a long time ago. i’m happy to finally be able to present you with this gift, i hope you enjoy part one of Fractured Hearts & Floral Lungs!

~~~~~~~

[Thursday Night]

Tonight isn’t the first night that you’ve shown up at Jin’s door sobbing. At this rate, it probably won’t be the last. He still hasn’t read your texts about needing a place to stay, so he’s probably asleep.

You knock loudly a few times, careful not to disturb the floral wreath hanging on the center of the door. And after a few moments you can hear some footsteps inside the apartment. There’s some more silence and then you can hear hushed whispers.

The door creaks open and Jin’s boyfriend Namjoon is standing before you.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” Namjoon sighs sleepily.

“You scared us! I even got my old tennis racquet out of the closet!” Jin complains before he pokes his head around Namjoon’s broad shoulders. The tear stains and redness of your face instantly catch his attention. “Oh no, what happened?”

For a moment, you can’t say anything. Your chest fills with emotions. Pain, frustration, sadness, heartbreak. The words can’t get past your trembling lips, and soon you feel Jin’s arms envelop you, his sweater absorbing your burning tears.

Somehow, through all your blubbering, Jin has been able to understand what happened with Yoongi. He’s rubbing soothing circles on your back, guiding you to the couch that will be your bed for the next few nights. Namjoon has brought over a pillow, blanket, and a glass of water for you.

“Why don’t you lay down and try to sleep now? This isn’t going to be resolved tonight, unfortunately,” Namjoon interrupts Jin’s comforting whispers.

“He’s right, Y/N, I can tell you’re exhausted. Try to get some rest.” Jin helps you get settled in bed before following Namjoon into their bedroom.

Jin was right. You are completely exhausted, emotionally drained. But every time you attempt to close your eyes, all you can see is him, the flowers, and the blood.

~~~~~~~

[Thursday Evening]

Something is off. He’s been coming home late everyday for the past few weeks. You hoped that today, of all days, he would make an effort. But here you are, alone, surrounded by a table full of his favorite foods. From the moment you got home from work, you’d been on your feet cooking. As if your job waiting tables wasn’t strenuous enough.

Lately it feels like you’re the only one making an effort in this relationship. He leaves for work before you wake up, returns after you’ve gotten into bed for the night. He doesn’t even take the lunches you pack for him to work anymore. You never would have suspected Yoongi of cheating on you, but his behavior is making you question everything you thought you knew.

Today will be the final straw, you told yourself. If he didn’t make it home in time for dinner on your three year anniversary, it would be time to confront him. But as six turns into seven and seven into eight, you decide to pack the meal into tupperware.

You expected tears to come, but they didn’t. Your cheeks are bone dry while you pile the rice into a slightly warped plastic container. You’re in disbelief, or perhaps you just expected this all along. The containers of untouched anniversary dinner stack neatly in the refrigerator.

The sound of keys jingling against the door signals his arrival before he opens the door. You lean yourself against the kitchen counter, grounding yourself.

“Hey babe, happy anniversary!” Yoongi’s smile shines, like it always does, but his eyes aren’t as bright. He’s carrying a bouquet of small sunflowers.

“Happy anniversary.” A faint smile crosses your face as he hands you the bouquet. He looks a little puzzled by your lack of gratitude. But then he notices the pile of dishes in the sink.

“Oh, did you make dinner?” You nod silently as Yoongi shuffles the pots and pans around in the sink. “I made us reservations at The Table. Did you eat already?” Your eyebrows shoot up.

“No!” You try again, this time suppressing the surprise in your voice. “No, I haven’t. That sounds really good.” Maybe things aren’t as bleak as they seem; at least he didn’t completely forget.

The ride to the restaurant is nearly silent, some tacky radio advertisements playing quietly. He’s holding your hand, but you’re looking out the window, focused on everything but the uncomfortable quiet. Yoongi breaks the silence and mentions something about the project he’s working on at the studio.

The studio, you think to yourself. Of course that’s all he can talk about. His passion has always been music. You were both thrilled when he got an entry level job at a music studio, and at the beginning things were good. But Yoongi always strives to be the best, and he moved up the ladder to Assistant Producer in less than a year.

Whatever album he’s working on now has kept him away from you for far too long.

“So when is that album releasing anyway?”

“Later this summer, but our work on it is almost done.” He says, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“So you’ll be back home at normal times?”

“Well...” Yoongi glances over at you. “Jungkook wants me to work on another project with him when this one’s over.”

“I’m glad your boss likes your work, but hasn’t he ever heard of a work-life balance?”

“Jungkook is NOT my boss. He's-” Yoongi starts.

“Well he’s not your girlfriend either!” You shout. “You’re never home anymore Yoongi.” Your hand slips from his and you cross your arms.

“This is my career.” Something catches in his throat, he coughs a little. You knew he loved his job, but you never heard him get emotional about it.

“So I just need to accept that I’ll never get to see you again?” Yoongi pulls up to the front of the restaurant, in line for valet parking.

“Do you want to go home and keep fighting or do you want to get dinner?” He asks, still trying to clear his throat.

The restaurant is very nice: a robust wine selection, a pianist playing in one corner, and a sleek menu. The other tables are talking in quiet voices to retain the romantic ambiance of the place. You and Yoongi are doing your part by not speaking at all.

He’s making it tough though; he keeps coughing. You hope he’s not getting sick.

“Are you okay?” You ask, passing him a tissue from your purse, trying your best not to sound angry.

“Yeah I’ve just got something stuck in my throat, excuse me.” Yoongi snatches the tissue from your hand before walking toward the restroom.

When he returns, he looks a little worse for the wear. His skin looks paler, his hair mussed, and a wet spot on his shirt.

“Are you getting sick?” You have to ask him now. “What’s that?” You point to the wet spot just below his collar.

“I got some spit on my shirt. I do think I’m coming down with something, but I’ll be fine.” Something doesn’t seem right. He looks more than sick, almost paranoid.

Through the rest of the night he coughs here and there, but he seems to regain his composure. His long dark locks get tucked behind his ear, and for a moment you can forget how hard things have been lately. He asks about your work friends and hobbies and seems to listen intently. The curve of his smile draws a smile out of you too.

Between dinner and dessert, Yoongi reaches across the smooth table cloth to take your hand in his. His thumb gently strokes your fingers.

“You know that I love you, right?” He asks, his smile faded to a straight line. You squeeze his hand.

“You’re going to have to do a better job of showing it.”

~~~~~~~

You’re not sure if it’s the best move, but you want to show him that you haven’t given up yet. When you step out of the bathroom, wearing a revealing chemise, Yoongi is sitting on his side of the bed, facing away from you.

“How are you feeling?” You ask, climbing onto the bed. He sighs, and you reach for his shoulders. You begin rubbing his shoulder muscles, feeling the tension in them slowly releasing. Kneading his back muscles with your fingers, you lean forward to lay kisses along his broad shoulders.

“Baby, can we not tonight?” You freeze, not sure you heard him correctly. “I know it’s our anniversary, I just don’t feel good.” You remove your hands from his body.

“Yeah, of course. There’s some cough medicine and painkillers in the bathroom if it will help.” You reply, leaning back against the headboard, scrolling through your twitter feed so you can hide your embarrassment.

“I’m going to take a shower. You don’t have to wait up for me.” He gets up from the bed and enters the bathroom without glancing your way. You settle into the blankets and try to relax.

You can hear him coughing again once the shower turns on. You turn over in bed, his sudden cold demeanor reminding you of the trouble your relationship is really in. It’s hard to fall asleep to the sound of your boyfriend coughing violently, but you manage to drift away.

~~~~~~~

[Friday Morning]

The sound of Namjoon leaving the apartment wakes you. It must be around 7:30 or so. Jin is in the kitchen quietly making coffee, still in his pajamas.

“Jin, are you not going to work today?” You say in a half-whisper, not wanting to startle him.

“I called in sick. I wanted to stay with you today,” Jin explains, walking over to the couch with two mugs of coffee. He made yours just the way you like it, almond milk and a little bit of sugar. The warmth of the drink momentarily soothes your sleepy body.

Jin reaches across the coffee table and picks up the tv remote. He turns on a morning talk show, some washed-up celebrity talking to slightly less washed-up celebrities about what projects or life events they have going on.

“And later on in the show we will be joined by Jackson Wang, who will share his story of heartbreak and unrequited love that ultimately lead to the creation of his latest single, 100 ways.” The audience cheers for a moment before Jin switches the channel.

“Sorry.” He sighs.

“I don’t think that’s what the song is about...” You joke, sarcasm seeping through the pain in your chest.

Jin chuckles at your remark, but he sits uncomfortably at the end of the couch picking at his fingernails.

“Listen I wanted to say something...” He starts.

“Jin, do you think I could shower before we get into anything? I just need a minute to wake up and I feel kind of gross.” The mascara stains from the night before are beginning to irritate your skin, and a hot shower could do wonders for you. But truthfully, you just aren’t ready to talk about it yet.

“Sure, I’ll grab some sweats you can borrow.” Jin sighs, getting up from his seat.

The hot water melts away the tension in your muscles, but the tension in your mind remains. It’s difficult to keep the images of Yoongi coughing up dozens and dozens of yellow and orange petals from flooding your mind. The drops of blood on the petals and the floor just showed you how far the disease had progressed. How long he’s been in love with someone else.

The floral scent of Jin’s lavender body wash is a little too reminiscent of the smell from the night before. Sickly sweet flowers with a hint of acidic bile and metallic blood. The clean water rinses the suds but the scent remains on your skin.

When you close your eyes to rinse shampoo from your hair, the scene from the night before plays out in vivid detail.

~~~~~~~

[Thursday Night]

You had been awakened by the sounds of Yoongi retching in the bathroom. You called out for him, but he didn’t answer, so you let yourself in.

He is doubled over the toilet. A dozen or so brightly colored petals scattered around him, some smeared with watery blood. The moment you burst in, he tried to hide the extent of it, tried not to let you see but he knew it was useless. He let himself lean against the wall in defeat.

The violent episode he was experiencing seemed to come to a halt.

“Are you...” You pause, there are too many questions to ask, but you know there is only one you can ask in the moment. “Are you okay?” He closes his eyes and nods slowly. You take a moment to examine his face. It’s red, and there are tear streaks clear down his chin. There’s drops of blood and sweat on his bare chest. His heavy breathing is slowing back to normal.

And then you have to leave. You can’t stay and look at him and his flower petals any longer. It looks like he’ll be okay for the night, so you grab your purse and phone and walk straight through the door.

~~~~~~~

[Friday Morning]

Bumps rise across your skin as you exit the shower and step onto the cold floor tiles. You wrap a towel around your body and sit on the edge of the bathtub. Your phone, face down on the counter, buzzes again, and you decide to face the messages you ignored last night.

You scroll through the usual email and social media notifications to get to the dozens of texts and missed calls from Yoongi, still unsure if you should even hear him out. How can he still be in love with you when he’s been growing flowers for someone else?

A phone call interrupts your thinking. The number has a local area code. A sudden feeling of nausea tells you that something is wrong.

“Hello?” Your voice echos against the tiled walls.

“Hello we are trying to reach Ms. Y/L/N Y/N.”

“This is her.”

“You are listed as an emergency contact for Mr. Min Yoongi. He has been admitted to the ICU at Grace Regional Medical Center, how quickly can you get here?”

~~~~~~~

A/N: thank you so much for reading. check out my master list here, and check back in for part two. it will be posted by the end of april 2021!

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liquidheartbeat · 3 years

Text

She Didn’t Choose This Life: Flashback

Barry’s fork and knife clink loudly against his plate, as he scoots his chair backward, hands perched on his inflated abdomen. “God, I am stuffed,” he says, already regretting finishing off four T-bone steaks and all the rich, decadent sides that rounded off the meal.

From across the table, the eyes of the woman responsible for his predicament widen, as she cuts into her barely-touched steak. “Oh, really?” Iris asks, chuckling.

“What?” Barry asks, tilting his body forward.

“Well, we’ve been dating for almost a year and this is the first time I’ve ever seen you full. Like actually satiated.”

Barry chuckles as he nods, slight unease shooting through him. It’s a simple explanation, really, but he can’t tell her that being The Flash has increased his caloric requirements, because he hasn’t figured out how to tell her that he is the Flash.

And it’s not because he doesn’t want to, it’s because, everytime he scrounges up the courage, he finds out another unsavory secret about her lifestyle.

When they first met, she’d introduced herself as an art buyer, but conveniently left out the part about also international money laundering. That discovery had come months later, in the dead of night, when she’d slipped out of the bedroom for a phone call with one of her partners but wasn't nearly as quiet as she’d thought.

Of course, that led him down a rabbit hole where he also found out about the tax fraud and other financial crimes that would put her away for life if she was ever caught. Crimes that, if committed by anyone else, he’d gladly help prosecute as a member of the police department. But she’s not anyone else, she’s Iris, the first woman he’s ever fallen completely, wholeheartedly in love with.

And yes, her misdeeds probably should make him love her less, but his heart doesn’t abide by common sense. Even from across the table, as she hides a lifetime of secrets under her smile, he knows the same lips that lie to him about her whereabouts and the source of her wealth tell sweet truths to him in the middle of the night. About how much she loves him and needs him.

The same hands that gleefully count dirty money, help massage away aches she doesn’t know the truth origins of at night. The same hands that consort with criminals bring his body to romantic peaks, over and over again.

And the same eyes that stare into him before he leaves her apartment each morning, connect with his soul, and let him know her love is real.

As real as his is.

“Barr,” she says sweetly, as she dabs butter from the corner of her mouth. “Did you hear me?”

“Hmm?” He asks, snapped back to the present.

“I said...I’m glad you enjoyed dinner, because it’ll probably be a few more months before I sweat out my hair to cook again,” she says as she stands to gather her half-empty plate and glass.

Barry laughs, gathering his hands on the table as she walks over to the counter. “It’s a shame a cook as good as you hates it so much.”

Iris returns to the table, walking over to where he’s sat. “I don’t hate it, it’s just time consuming, and my jobs…”She pauses, playing off her flub with a smile, “I mean job ...is very demanding. Doesn’t leave much time to cook.”

Barry frowns, nodding slowly. Another lie, and an unnecessary one at that. But she doesn’t notice his disappointment as she gathers his empty plate and saucers. “If I wasn’t with you,” she continues as she walks his dishes to the sink,” I probably wouldn’t cook at all.”

His smile returns slowly -- a truth, however small, makes him feel special. “Oh, really?”

“Pretty sure. But my man likes to eat,” she says with a smile as she turns towards him, “So I have to oblige him from time to time.”

“So you cook...just for me?”

“Duh.” As she nears him, she pushes her slightly frizzy hair behind her ears,.

“Well, what else are you willing to do just for me?” He asks, eyes sparkling with mischievous intent as she stands over him.

Iris rolls her eyes fondly. He’s so stinking cute, extra cute when he’s confident, but she doesn’t have time. Not tonight.

After their dinner, she has another engagement with a potential business partner that could potentially double her income for the year. Of course, she can’t tell Barry that. He’s a sweet, by the book CSI, who definitely won’t take kindly to her extracurricular activities.

Shaking her head fondly, she steps backward, but he catches her by the skin of her flowy cotton top and pulls her into his lap. “Barry,” she protests, but only for a moment because his hand shoots to the base of her head and guides her open mouth down towards him.

For a skinny guy, he’s way stronger than his physical makeup should allow for. He effortlessly twists her legs around his waist, and pushes their bodies together. But she doesn’t question it. She embraces it, moaning harshly as he kneads her ass in his hands.

They haven’t had sex in a few days, and not just because of her schedule. He works long -- sometimes odd -- hours. But she assumes it’s par for the course, for a CSI. And she’s this close to putting on a show for her kitchen appliances, especially as he slinks his fingers towards the seat of her cotton shorts, dipping one near her slit. But that little touch of pleasure snaps her back to reality. Dinner and a little makeout sesh is the only thing she can offer him tonight.

“Barr,” she breathes, as she catches his hand. But he’s defiant as he curls his finger against her.“I can’t,” she whimpers. “Not tonight.”

“Why not?”

“I gotta...prepare for work tomorrow.”

He lets out a loud sigh, face wrinkling in dissatisfaction. It’s a look she's becoming increasingly familiar with, appearing any time she mentions work.

It should strike her as odd, but doesn’t. “Oh, babe,” she says with a pout, as she runs a hand through his hair. “Don’t be mad, please.”

He sighs again. “I’m not mad. I’m…” Disappointed. Wish you would tell me the truth , “ he thinks, but he actually says: “Upset. You've been ‘working’ so much lately. And Friday nights are supposed to be our uninterrupted time.”

Iris pouts, hating when she disappoints him. Hating that she has to keep such a huge part of herself from him. Of all the men she’s ever dated, no one has ever made her feel as loved, as safe, as desirable as Barry Allen.

And yet, she feels she doesn’t fully deserve the love he gives so easily. Love -- true love -- isn’t shrouded in secrecy and shadow lives. But what will he think of her if he finds out who she really is?

Just cancelling an overnight date has him looking like she punctured his lungs, and she can barely stand it. Biting her lip, to quell the trembling, she brings her other hand up, and rests them on his shoulders.

He’s so tight and fraught with tension, and her touch seems to intensify it. God, he’s really mad at her. She tilts her head, managing a soft smile as her hands move in tandem across his shoulder blade, increasing the pressure as she moves. His eyes flutter closed, defiantly, her hands attempting to squeeze the displeasure from his body. And then she leans down, pressing a soft kiss just underneath his earlobe. “I promise, I will make this up to you,” she says, softly, “Okay?”

She lifts her head up to meet his face, still rife with displeasure.

“When?”

“Tomorrow-- promise.” In actuality, she has another client meeting tomorrow, but it doesn’t have as much riding on it. And she can’t possibly stand to see Barry look at her like this twice in one week. So she’ll have to reschedule.

“Fine,” he agrees.

Iris smiles, and thumbs his chin, happy for the compromise. “Thank you, baby, for being so understanding. I’ll make it worth your while.”

"Any time with you is worth my while,” he says earnestly, his words nearly drawing tears to the surface of her eyes.

But she sniffs, hoping to keep them at bay. She can’t close this deal if she’s an emotional mess. And then she smiles, offering him one last kiss for the night.

Though the need in his return drags one kiss into four, five, and six kisses. At least until she manages to snap her neck backward and pry herself from his lap.

As she stands, she fixes her clothes, which almost ended up in a pile on the floor. Her eyes catch the time on the clock and she realizes she has less than 25 minutes to get ready before her business meeting.

“So,” she says, casually, “Do you want me to walk you down to the lobby?”

“No, that’s alright,” Barry says as he stands. “Unless you want me to beg you to change your mind in front of your neighbors.”

Iris laughs softly. “No, definitely not.”

Barry stills, taking in the sight of her. She projects an effortless beauty, even with no makeup, slightly frizzed hair and pajama shorts. He takes a step forward and leans down to kiss her on the cheek, knowing that if he aims for her lips, he might not be able to stop himself.

And while he’s not happy she’s working on a Friday night, at least she’s cleared Saturday for them. She leans up into his kiss, softly palming his shoulders with her hands. When they part, she holds his gaze.

Two beautiful, chestnut brown eyes looking up at him sweetly. “I love you,” she says softly.

His response is effortless. “I love you too -- now, tomorrow. Forever and ever.

She squeezes her hands together excitedly, and does a little sidestep. It’s an obvious attempt to make fun of his saccharine tone, but he doesn’t mind -- in fact, he welcomes it, shaking his head from side to side.

“Anyway,” he says through a growing smile, “I’m going to head out, and let you handle your business.”

She nods. “Okay.”

“Just please... be careful. I don’t know what I’ll do if something happens to you.”

His words are weighted with hard truths she doesn’t yet know he knows, yet his tone still uneases her. “What could possibly happen?” She asks, feigning obliviousness. “I have like the safest job in the world.”

He sighs, loud and hard, but goes forward with her charade anyway. “By the time you return from the museum, it’ll probably be really late. Dangerous. You have to be careful.”

“Oh,” she says, eyes widening. Of course, he thinks she’s going to the museum. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be careful.”

“You are going to the museum, right?”

She pauses, just long enough for him to prepare for the lie to come.

“Uhh...yeah.”

His brows furrow as he crosses his arms across his chest. “Are you sure?”

She forces out a laugh, hoping to quell his rising concern. Because if she doesn’t get him out of here now, her entire evening will fold.

“Yeah. I’m sure.” She smiles fluttering her eyelashes “Come on, honey. I gotta get ready.”

He takes a moment to contemplate whether or not to call out her obvious lie, but ultimately decides against it. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

She smiles wider. “Bright and early,” she says, as she glances at the clock, growing wearier of his presence.

“Yeah,” he deadpans, out of options. “Bright and early…”

************************

Five minutes later, Barry swivels absentmindedly in his office chair, chewing on the dead skin of his thumb. Caitlin, who’s been watching his skittish display, glances over to Cisco, who pretends he doesn't notice her pleading gaze. Eventually, he sighs and begrudgingly casts down the chain of sour straws he’s snacking on, and scoots forward.

“Dude. Just go talk to your girlfriend," he replies, voice filled with disdain.

Barry shoots him a warning glance, in no mood to deal with his best friend's judgement over his choice of partner. “Don’t.”

“Fine.” Cisco throws his hands up. “Then do...that...all night. But I’m going home.”

Barry sighs. When it comes to his relationship, talking to Cisco is like talking to a brick wall. He turns to Caitlin, hoping his other best friend can offer some advice.” Caitlin stews in silence a moment, carefully gathering her words. The things Barry uncovered about Iris are damning, and a stark contrast to the straight-laced businesswoman persona she presents outwardly. But she’s also seen the way Iris looks at him, those rare moments they all hang out, like he hung the moon just for her with his bare hands.

Yet, still, she has to ask: “Do you think she could be seeing someone else?” Her words are careful, knowing how touchy of a subject this is.

Barry huffs. Almost offensively. “No.” At least he hopes. “But she’s definitely still lying about her plans for tonight. Probably another dirty deal she doesn’t want me finding out about.”

Unable to resist, Cisco presses a hand into his chest. “Iris West? A LIAR?” He gasps. “You don’t say.”

Barry shoots up from his chair, a second away from lunging at Cisco but Caitlin blocks him with her body. “Cisco. Please,” she scolds him backwards, gently pushing Barry in the chest.

That seems to calm him, as he flops back into his seat with a sigh. But Cisco pushes forward.

“Cool it, Cait. Alright. I’m not the one who’s leading on our best friend -- she is.”

“She’s not leading me on!” Barry yells, scooting to the edge of the chair. “She’s just…”

“...Not just an art dealer, apparently, not in good standing with the IRS -- or at least she won’t be--and in no danger of becoming a Girl Scout troop leader. Or a nun either,” Cisco retorts.

Barry shrugs, unphased by his recounting of events. “So she’s not perfect. But I have my own secrets. “

“Yeah. You’re the Flash, but, she's a criminal, who lies to you constantly. About what she does, where she goes. How many times, since you found out, have you had to save her from the trouble she’s gotten into?”

Barry sighs; he’s almost lost count of the number of times Flash has scooped Iris from the pits of danger, during a business deal gone bad. Shadowy figures, unrelated to her business dealings, looming in dark alleys after she’s left some abandoned building, scorned men whose pockets she’d bled dry, but who couldn't pursue legal action due to their own dirty dealings, who took things into their own hand.

One by one, he’d laid out anyone who crossed her path and had the audacity to even breathe at her wrong, which all amounted to silent acknowledgement between her and Flash. Because she damn sure hadn’t told him -- Barry Allen -- about these chance meetings.

Another reason he had to be cautious around her. She held her cards too close to her chest.

Cisco takes in a sharp breath. “I just want better for you man. You deserve someone who doesn’t lie to you.”

Barry holds Cisco’s gaze. “She might be a liar, but when she tells me she loves me, it’s not a lie. And because of that, I can’t just throw away our relationship -- we can get past this. I know it.”

Cisco rolls his eyes and twirls his hair round and round his finger. “Whatever.”

Caitlin, who’s grown tired of Cisco’s negativity, faces him. “If you’re not going to offer Barry any understanding, you should probably excuse yourself.”

“Fine,” he says as he shoots up, “’I‘ll go.” But when Barry finds out something else about Iris that he can't handle, I can’t be the person he vents to anymore. ” He pauses and turns towards his friend, who’s struggling to bite his tongue. “It hurts to see you like this, man.”

With that, Cisco makes his exit, leaving just Barry and Caitlin in the room. Awkward silence fills the space he leaves, as those little stubborn nuggets of rationale, in between Cisco’s snark, tries to penetrate his brain.

Slowly he looks up at Caitlin, a fervent lea in his eyes. “What do you think I should do?”

“I think you and Iris need to have a talk. A long talk, about what you know about her. How dangerous this game she’s playing is. But most importantly, what you need from her, going forward if you’re going to work, romantically. Which I imagine is total transparency.”

Barry nods slowly, taking in her advice. These are things he already knows he’ll eventually have to do, but he still still isn’t ready, He doesn’t know how Iris will take him knowing the truth about her, and he’s not ready to deal with any potential fallout. “You're right,” he says, the only answer he can scrounge up. “I wish you weren't, but you are.”

Caitlin tilts her head sympathetically, unspoken words fighting to be free.

“What?” “

“You….also... need to tell her you’re the Flash. I know, you have reservations. But if you’re willing to stay with her, through all she’s doing, she deserves to know who you are as well.”

Barry sighs, letting his head fall into his hands. There’s a universe of lies between them, and he worries their relationship is too new to handle such added weight. But he can’t continue to live like this, and can’t let her continue to live like this. They’re either going to be together, without secrets, or...He pauses, unable to let the rest of the sentence form in his head, then shoots up. “Okay. I’m going,” he says, finally. “I’m going to go talk to her.”

“Goo-,” Caitlin starts, but he’s gone in a flash of lightning, before she can finish her statement.

************************

Iris steps out of her bathroom, with barely a minute to spare before Randolf Helming, the owner of the Helming Hotel chain arrives. He’s looking to cut his tax bill in half, by funneling some of his cash into a few high end art pieces, and he thinks Iris can assist him. What he doesn’t know is that the pieces she’s going to sell him are forgeries that only 1/10 art experts can spot. So she’ll pocket his commission for her time and also the value of the real paintings she’ll sell again to an unsuspecting schulub, later in the year.

Probably to some secluded older gentlemen, who buys art for social prestige, thousands of miles away in Prague or Berlin.

A hefty journey to travel, but a necessary trip if she’s going to do better at covering her tracks. Over the past few months, some of her old dealings have started to catch up to her, and she’s had more than her fair share of brush ups.

Oddly, though also fortunately, enough, she was saved each time by Central City’s guardian angel: The Flash. Though, at this point, it almost felt like he was her own personal angel, always seeming to be in the right place when she was in the wrong place.

She’d think it strange if not for the multitudes of people he saves everyday.

As she makes her way into the living room, she takes one last look at her appearance in the big mirror hanging over her fireplace. Her previously frizzed hair has been tamed into a low pony-tail, and her face has been painted with a light dusting of makeup. But it’s her attire, a chic red, high-waisted skirt and black fitted blazer blazer that's sure to wow any potential business partner.

A knock at the door pulls Iris away from her thoughts. She pulls at her skirt, not wanting to give Randolf the wrong idea -- she might be dressed to the nines, but this is not a romantic engagement; she has to work to do-- then waltzes over to the door.

“Mr. Helming “ Iris says warmly, as she opens the door. “I’m glad you could make it.”

The silver haired man, who hovers around around 5’10 and is dressed in a light gray suit, lets his eyes travel unabashedly down Iris’s body before he greets her. “It is my pleasure, Ms. West.”

He takes a huge step into the apartment, nearly brushing his body against hers. Uncomfortable with the closeness, Iris steps backward, letting out a nervous chuckle. She doesn’t usually entertain her clients -- legitimate or otherwise -- in her home, but she figures that someone as high profile as Mr. Helming has too much to lose to act out of turn.

Still, the hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention as her attempt to create distance does nothing to soften his gaze. “Well,” she says, running her hand over her hair, “Let’s get down to business, shall we?”

“Oh, yes,” he mimics, seemingly remembering the reason for his visit. “Business. Lets.”

Iris smiles politely and steps aside to give him ample room to enter further. He strides past her, and heads for the couch, taking in the sight of her place as he walks. “Wow. The art world has treated you quite, well, huh?”

Returning from closing the door, Iris walks over, proudly. “Yeah, I guess you can say that."

At the couch, Randolph takes a seat in the middle of her cream colored sofa, and spreads both arms across the back. Iris, who was gearing up to take a seat next to him, pivots and takes a seat in the black recliner sitting adjacent to the couch.

He frowns and scoots his body towards the end nearest to the chair, seemingly oblivious to her discomfort.

“So. I hear you’re trying to lessen your tax burden,” Iris says, diving straight into business."

“Yeah.” He crosses one leg over the other. “My hotels are doing well. But as it goes, I owe the government 10s of millions this year in taxes and so I need a tax write off. And a big one.”

Iris smiles. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. I just so happen to have a direct connection to the Murdock Estate, who handles affairs for the late oil painter, M.N. Murdoch. They’re looking to unload a couple of pieces for the right buyer.”

“And when you say right…”

“Well, aside from the assets to afford the seven figure price tag, they’re deadset on selling it to an astute businessman -- someone who understands the value of fine art.” But who can’t tell a forgery from a real pieces.

He nods, pleased with her response. “Well, let’s see these paintings.”

Iris pulls her phone from her pocket, and opens up the PGN files of the paintings, still on display at the Central City Art Museum and hands it over to Mr. Helming. He takes the phone, finger sliding haphazardly across the screen, sending him back to her home screen.

“Oops,” he chuckles. I clicked off of the screen. Can you fix it?”

“Of course.” Iris reaches for the phone. As he releases it, his fingers graze over hers, sending a wicked chill through her.

His skin is somehow cool, yet sweaty at the same time. Iris draws her fingers in awkwardly as she retrieves the phone and reset the screen. From the corner of her eyes, she sees him wipe his palms on his pants leg. Her return is smoother; managing to hand over the phone without making skin to skin contact.

Randolf takes a moment to look over the pieces, genuine contemplation painting his face. His concentration on the task at hand eases her growing anxiety a tad, though the silence that settles over the room still tickles her nerves.

She glances over to the table, where the unfinished bottle of wine she and Barry had for dinner sits, and her mouth nearly waters for a glass. But she doesn’t drink while doing business -- at least not this kind.

When she looks back over to Randolf, he’s done with her phone and also eyeing the wine. “I could go for a glass, myself,” he says over a prickly laugh.

Iris opens her mouth to respond, then realizing no words are coming out, pushes out a choked response. “Right. Of course. Is Merlot okay?”

He nods. “That’s just fine. Though, if you have something a little stronger, I wouldn't object.”

"No,” she says quickly. “Just the Merlot -- I’m not much of a drinker.” She stands and smoothes down her skirt, and walks across her living room, towards the kitchen.

Iris had already cleaned up from dinner, so she goes to the cabinet to retrieve two wine glasses. Even though she doesn't drink on the job, she has to at least pretend to indulge him if she wants to close the deal.

Glasses in hand, she turns for the island and lets out a loud shriek when she notices Randolf is standing just feet away, at the other side. “Sorry. I didn’t hear you walk over,” she quickly offers towards his slightly offended expression.

“Oh.” He relaxes some. “I am quite light on my feet -- blame my wife.”

Iris quirks a curious brow. “Your wife?”

“Ballroom dancing,” he says, settling his weight over the island. “She makes us go once a week. On my one off day too.”

She smiles politely. “That is very sweet. I’m sure you two have a lot of fun.” Feeling more comfortable at the mention of his wife, Iris walks past him towards the table where the wine is sitting.

His shoes scuff her floor as he turns, a sound that easily penetrates her eardrums. Iris turns just in time to see his outstretched arm, reaching for her. She pulls away right before he lands and steps backward. He presses forward, trapping her between him and the table.

“What are you doing?” She asks, now on high alert.

He sighs harshly, his body drooping from the aggravation as his face contorts into a frown. “Oh come on; surely, you know how this works, Iris.”

“How what works?”

“I could get art from any buyers in the city. Men much more accomplished than you. If I came to you, it’s because of an added incentive.”

“Which is?”

“ You.” He tries to press his body into hers, but Iris pushes him in the chest. He stumbles, but only barely, as Iris rushes to the other side of the table, grabbing the half-empty bottle of wine as a weapon. “Get out. NOW,” she commands voice loud and firm.

Much firmer than her nerves on the inside. There’s no way she can overpower him, physically. And this high up, no one will hear her screams from her penthouse.

“Or what?” He asks, casually rounding the table, completely unphased.

“Or I will bash your fucking skull in.”

She raises the bottle higher, hoping to appear more threatening. He chuckles, nearly spits at her attempt. “Oh, you’re not going to hit me. Not if you want to keep doing business in this town. Remember, I have a lot of rich friends. One word from me, and you’re toast.”

“Excuse me?” She asks, overcome with offense at his audacity.

“You heard me!” Randolf yells as thrusts himself towards her, and tackles her to the ground.

The bottle of wine falls from her hand, shattering into a million pieces on the floor around them. He tries to kiss her and Iris squirms underneath him, fighting to free from his grip, shards of glass digging into her exposed flesh. She yells, the stinging pain piercing all her nerves.

“Shut up!” He yells, wedging his leg between hers as he plants a firm hand round her neck.

Iris freezes, pinned in place, chest heaving up and down as his tar-black eyes singe a hole through her.

“There.” His smile is dark and haunting. “This isn’t so bad is it?”

Unwilling to let the last sight of her be a disheveled, powerless woman, Iris spits clean on his face. His hand shoots to the spot in disbelief, face as red as the blood trickling from the wounds on her leg, “Oh, you’ve done it now!” He yells, drawing his hand backward. Iris presses her eyes shut, preparing for the blow. But where she should feel stinging pain, possibly a broken nose, she only feels a gust of wind and the relief of Randolf’s body no longer being on top of hers.

The crash that follows is deafening as the force propels Randolf into her walls. And that’s when she sees a red blur, wrapped up in blazing lightning, delivering the final blow that knocks Randolf clean out.

His limp body falls to the floor, his skull cracking against the luxury vinyl tile that covers her kitchen floors. The masked hero, who she now registers as The Flash, comes into focus. She watches him watch look over Randolf's unmoving body, making no effort to check on him.

Iris uses her depleted strength to stumble upward, grunting as fresh shards of glass pierce her hands. She lets out a guttural cry, nearly tumbling over from the pain.

From the shock. From the devastation.

He runs over and catches her, letting her body crash into his soft, open arms. She can’t even scrounge up the energy to wonder how or why The Flash has yet again saved her from herself. She’s completely overwhelmed at the fact that this night couldn't have ended so much worse.

And then come the tears, a ravenous stream down her face. Iris presses her hand into face, to block the sight of her

“Oh, God. Are you bleeding?” Asks the masked man in panicked frenzy, though his voice unmasks him immediately.

Slowly, Iris raises her head, every odd encounter with the Flash she’s had over the past few months settling into place like a finally-finished puzzle. All the she time she almost met her demise, but didn't.

He looks at her, fear coursing, over the lingering anger in his eyes, but that voice is unmistakable. It’s the same voice that awkwardly asked her out nearly a year ago, and grew giddy when she agreed. The same voice that’s crooned sweet “I love you’s” in her ear since that first night he nervously admitted it, over frozen yogurt.

“B-” Her throat is dry and ragged. “Barry?” She pushes out.

With a sigh, he tears his cowl off, revealing fully the face of the man she loves more than she knew was possible. His cheeks are bloodshot red, his eyes puffy, and glossy, a clear sign his own tears will soon spill forth.

“Oh, Iris,” he groans, sweeping her up into his arms.

Now knowing this masked hero is the man she loves, has been the man she loves, she melts further into his chest, every bit of hesitation to maintain an air of control falling away. She cries, shamelessly, unabashedly, into his chest as he rocks her.

She has a thousand questions, and knows he does too, but she can’t scrounge up a single one, only caring that he’s here now. That he’s saved her. Again.

As Iris goes silent, Barry’s mind races a thousand miles a minute. He’d taken Caitlin’s advice and headed here to talk to her about her lies, never imagining the scene he’d walk in on. He can’t think straight, can’t even worry about his former objective, he’s only grateful that he got here in time before…

“Fuck!” Yells. Iris jumps against his chest, but he’s unperturbed. “You could’ve. He could’ve…” He continues, trying to push past the ugliness these sentences conjures in his brain, but the defeated shame on her face stops him.

He kisses her cheek, and stands, lifting her in his arms, bridal style, though the apartment is devoid of the the joy of a burgeoning marriage. The air is heavy, as heavy as both their hearts, as her body in his arms. Yet he soldiers on, through the resistance. When he arrives at her bedroom, he kicks the door open with one foot and carries her over to the bed, covered in the black, floral comforter he’d bought her as a gift early in their relationship.

Before he knew of the lies and deceit.

As her raw skin makes contact with the bed, she hisses in discomfort. “I’m sorry!” he’s quick to say, swiping a comforting hand over her head.

“It’s okay, Barr,” she croaks Her voice is thin, barely meeting the air. She's afraid to bring up the obvious, knowing now that the sweet, gentle man she’s been getting to know over the last year is The Flash. A masked hero, a force of nature, keeping the city from descending into anarchy. But she has to express her gratitude somehow. “Thank you.”

He swipes a gentle hand down the side of her face, lingering on her beauty, then leans down, planting a soft kiss on the side of her face. “You don’t have to thank me,” he says, as her straightens his posture. “Now, I’ll be back.” He turns away from her and heads to the bedroom door.

Iris sits up on the bed. “Where are you going?”

“To see if that asshole is still breathing. Hopefully, he’s not. But if he is, I have to drop him off at Iron Heights.”

His response is dry, matter-of-fact, and it sends a tingle down her spine. “But. You can’t. He’ll talk.”

“It’s okay.” Barry continues to walk away from her. “He didn’t see my face.”

“But. Still. I don’t think jail is the right path for him.”

She isn’t saying what she wants, and he knows it. But he’s too amped up to care. “So I’m supposed to let the man who almost raped my girlfriend go free?! Is that what you want?”

“No. I…”she sighs, long and hard. “I just…”

He turns, the painful implication settling inside of him. Even after all of this, she’s worried about her dirty business deals. “What? You’re worried that the police will find out what you’ve really been doing all this time? How can you afford to live like this?” He motions around the apartment.

Iris gulps, the judgement in his tone hurting more than the gashes on her legs.

“Well, newsflash: the police -- me, I -- know, and have known for months. And what you’re doing, honestly? You deserve to be in jail.”

“Well why didn’t you say anything?” She croaks. “Why haven’t you turned me in?”

He chuckles, offensively. “Because...I love you more than your mistakes. And I was trying to give you time to either stop this or be honest with me.” He shrugs, painfully. “Guess it’s too late for that.”

“Barr, I’m sorry. I--.” She sighs, letting her head fall forward in shame. “ I’m sorry.”

Barry sighs. “Yeah. Me too.” He casts one final look of disappointment over her, one that softens ever so slightly when she raises her head and he meets her sad, concerned eyes. “Look, we can talk about all of this later. All that matters right now is that you're safe."

Iris nods meekly.

"I’ll be back in a sec to help clean you up,” he says, before flashing away, leaving her alone in the room....

#The flash #westallen #fanfiction #archive of our own

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deitysnips · 3 years

Text

Regrettably Attached Pt. 1

Stark!Reader x Loki

Word Count: 2958

Authors Note: I wanna thank you guys in advance for reading this. I haven’t written anything in probably 6 years so it might be a little sloppy. I am open to suggestions and any fixes you guys can bring to my attention!

Summary:; You’re Tony Stark’s younger sister and you are somewhat part of the Avengers, but behind the scenes, not necessarily on the front lines unless you’re needed. This is an UA where Loki is living in the compound living under strict supervision and the reader slowly starts falling for the God of Mischief after hating him due to, yaknow, trying to kill her brother and some of her closest friends, but that quickly turns into lovers(obvi)

Growing up as Tony’s sister was and still is kind of terrifying. Tony has always been such a “smarty pants” for lack of a better phrase. Even with him being a child prodigy, you two have always been close and you would want it any other way. You grew up following in his and your fathers footsteps.

Years past and you have graduated with multiple engineering degrees and even though your mother and father weren’t here to see it, Tony always made sure you knew how proud they would be of you. No graduation, presentation or ceremony went unattended by the now Iron Man. So it was no surprise when Tony asked you to join him and the other Avengers at the compound to help with logistics and help Tony and Bruce create safer suits.

“Hey Kid! Get down here, we need your help!”

It’s been 5 years that you’ve been living with Tony and still, nothing surprises you.

“Hold on! I just got out of the shower!” You shouted from your cracked bedroom door. You quickly put on some extremely worn jeans and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt that you MIGHT have stolen from your older brother. You cracked open the door once more and yelled to Tony

“Is this a no shoes project?!” You sat with your head out the door tapping your fingers along the door frame when someone threw what seemed to be a wad of paper at the back of your head. You groaned and sucked air through your teeth. “I swear to the gods, Rogers, if you don’t stop throwing shit, I’m gonna curb stomp you” You said as you turned your head to send a glare towards Steve. To your unpleasant surprise, it was not Steve, but the annoying, somewhat attractive God Of Mischief, Loki

“Oh, my dear, Mr. America isn’t the only one who likes to get under your skin” Loki said very nonchalantly while leaning against his own door frame. “Now if you don’t mind. Stop that obnoxious yelling. Some of us are actually trying to work and not be babied by their dear brother.” Loki glared at you from where he stood with his arms crossed over his chest.

You and the god have never been on good terms, even after the pleading Thor gave you when he brought him back from Asgard after its destruction. You wanted to believe him when he said that his brother had changed and was working towards being a better ‘person’, but it still left an unpleasant taste in your mouth since, you know, he tried to kill your brother.

“Get fucked, Loki.” You stepped out of your room, body completely turned towards the man in front of you. “I have told you multiple times to leave me alone. Tony might be okay with you being here, but I certainly don’t give a shit what happens to you.” You spat at him with venom and malice in your voice. Tony told you time and time again to try to be civil with Loki, but you never listened. You just couldn’t.

You continued to stare at the slimy, yet oddly handsome man-god thing in front of you and if looks could kill, he wouldn’t be breathing.

“Hey, kid, did you not hear the urgency in my voice or do you enjoy giving me a heart attack?” You jumped when you felt your brother out his hand on your shoulder. “I told you that yes, you did need shoes. Bruce and I really need your help on the Mark VII suit- wait, sis, are you alright?” Tony studied your face after turning your shoulder towards him with a worried expression

“Yeah, I’m fine Tony. Let me just grab my shoes and I’ll be down” You pulled away from your brother and ran into your room, slamming the door behind you. You sit with your back against your door and hide your face in your hands, groaning loudly.

“Why can’t he just leave me alone?” You whisper softly to yourself. You’ve been at such a crossroads when it comes to the trickster god. You hate him for what he did to Tony and your friends, but at the same time, you can’t help but have this… attraction to him. The sharpness of his jawline, the softness in his bright blue eyes, or the way his lips curl up into a cheeky little smirk when he does something that riles you up. It’s been a year and a half since Thor brought Loki back, and you still haven’t adjusted.

You let out a long sigh of frustration as you stand up and walk to your closet pulling out a loved pair boots. After you pull your shoes on, you finally find the strength to walk out of your room and start heading towards the workshop to find Tony and Bruce. You make a pitstop to the kitchen to grab some coffee and a small snack

“Hey FRIDAY, can you ask if Tony and Bruce want anything?” You call out into the empty room while making a PB&J sandwich”

“They both say nothing at the moment other than your presence, Miss. Stark. Mr. Stark said it is very urgent and they need you down there quickly”

You groan as you toss the butter knife into the sink and start walking down the stairs to the workshop. Once you enter you see Bruce leaning over one of the tablets with his hands running through his hair.

“Alright, what did I miss?” you say as you take a bite of your sandwich, causing the men to look up at you, seemingly irritated. “Whoa whoa boys, what the hell?” You raise an eyebrow at your brother who’s sitting across from Bruce, impatiently tapping his fingers on the desk. Tony sighs and stands up to walk over to his computer, pulling up the internals of the suit

“For whatever reason, the suit keeps overheating after about 10 minutes and we cannot for the life of us figure out why” Bruce says while Tony is flipping through all the internals for you. You can’t help but smile and giggle a little bit.

“Alright kid, what's so funny? Tony asks, slightly glaring in your direction.

“Oh no, nothing. Nothing at all. But, uh, unrelated, how long have you guys been working on this?”

“A couple h-” Tony goes to speak but is interrupted by the suit powering up, seemingly without issues.

“Big brother, you’re a terrible liar. When I woke up yesterday morning, you both had already been down here working on it. It was a simply missing variable and a loose connection.” Tony and Bruce both keep switching between the suit and their respective computers trying to figure out how they missed such a small thing.

“How the fu-” “LANGUAGE!” Steve yells out as he stares coming down the stairs. Tony rolls his eyes and starts going through the internals again before smacking his palm to his forehead. “Thanks kid”

“No problem old man, now go get some rest.” You say, patting Tony on the back.

“Hey, can I talk to you really quick, Squeak?” You groan loudly at the nickname that the team gave you when you first showed up. You were so nervous about making a good impression, that when you started to speak, all of your words got stuck in your chest and all that came out was a little squeak.

“Yeah Cap, maybe if you stop calling me that god awful nickname, like I've told you to do multiple times!” You both start walking up the stairs and you playfully push Rogers shoulder, knowing it won’t do much.

Once you make it up the stairs, Steve leads you to the living room and sits at the couch across from your favorite chair

“Alright, if this is an intervention, I’m leaving. I get I shouldn’t be smoking bu-” You stop talking when Steve lifts his hand up and just stares at you with a dumbfounded look “This isn’t an intervention, but maybe it should be- yo- what?!” Steve gets a little loud at the end of his sentence, catching the attention of Tony and Thor who are in the kitchen making some lunch

“STEVE SHUT UP” You blush slightly and hide your face in your hands again.

“Conversation for another time, anyways” Steve pulls your hands away from your face and makes you look at him and quietly says your name “What was going on earlier when Tony came up stairs? I was in the bathroom down the hall and I heard you yelling at someone? Was it Loki again?” You avoid eye contact but nod slightly. Steve lets out a small sigh and sits back

“What he did wasn’t even terrible, Cap. He threw a ball of paper at me and basically told me to shut up. I just get so irrationally angry at him for what he tried to do to my family. Tony is all I have left. I know that everyone has told me to make nice and just fake it for the sake of all of us being here almost all the time, but I can’t. I'm just so confused and..” You stop yourself and look up at Steve who is intently listening.

“What are you confused about, doll?” He raises an eyebrow and you start blushing again.

“I- I don’t wanna talk about it..” You whisper softly and glance over to where Tony and Thor are at. As much as Tony begs you to be nice and try to be civil, he would not hesitate to beat your ass if he found out that you were harboring a crush for the trickster. Steve leans in and whispers

“I think I know. I may be from a different time, but I know a crush when I see it.” He pulls back and smiles at you and for whatever reason, this makes you angry.

“WHAT?! You think I have a little schoolgirl crush on that fucking murderer?! HE TRIED TO KILL TONY MULTIPLE TIMES!” You yelled at Steve as you stood up, tears stinging your eyes “I would NEVER mess with the likes of Loki, whether he's a God or a prince of whatever the hell he is!”

“Squeak, now hold on-”

“No, Rogers- Leave me alone!” You storm away from him and go up the stairs leading to your bedroom. Once you get to your door, another wad of paper is thrown in your direction, but this time you catch it. Turning towards where the paper had come from, was he himself.

“Hello, darling. I heard you and Rogers speaking about me” He smirks ever so slightly and starts slowly sauntering over to you. Once he gets close to you, you pull a dagger out of the sheath around your thigh and press the tip to his chest

“I suggest you leave me the hell alone, you psychopath.” You grit your teeth as you finish your sentence and Loki puts his hands up in defeat and takes a few steps back

“My my, little one. I didn’t know you could be so feisty.” He chuckles slightly and crosses his arms over his chest. “I just wanted to have a civil conversation and see if we can come to an understanding about where my loyalties lie and try to get your tiny Midgardian brain to understand that I’m not the same person I was.. Before”

You sheath your dagger and pinch the bridge of your nose hopeful to fight off your frustration.

“Look, Loki. You may not realize the severity of what you did, but that doesn’t mean I’m just gonna accept that you’re some righteous person-god- whatever the hell you are.”

“Oh, good heavens, no. I’m not righteous whatsoever, darling. Never have been, never will be. But” He points a finger at the ceiling and smiles “I can promise you that I do not plan to murder anyone… in this building”

You smirk softly at the humor in the tricksters voice and cross your arms over your chest.

“So how about that conversation?” You gester to him to come in your room but when you look back at his face he has a rather dumbfounded look on his face

“What a minute, 45 seconds ago you had a bloody dagger to my chest, ready to skin me alive, but now you want me to come into your room with you?” Loki walks closer to you slowly still with that dumb look on his face.

You place your hand back on your dagger and laugh “Just because I’m inviting you into my room, doesn’t mean I won’t hesitate to stab you if you give me a reason to.” You wink at him and walk into your room, where you kick off your shoes and lounge in the recliner at the far corner of your room.

The rooms at the compound were not small by any means. Each room has a giant California king size bed, a double walk-in closet, its own little mini fridge, plus enough room to have 2 Hulks lay side by side on the floor.

You have yours decorated in your signature color, with white accents on the furniture as well as copious amount of liquor bottles on the top of your bookshelf.

Loki saunters in after a few seconds and takes a seat on your bed, directly in front of you. It seems like he’s… admiring you? He won’t look away and seems to be studying your face, how your wavy hair falls softly from the messy bun on the top of your head, how your eyes sparkle with the sun coming through the windows, how your lips are just a subtle rosy color, indicating that you either suck of chew on them when frustrated.

“Are you gonna say anything or are you just gonna sit here and stare at me all day?” You blush softly and stare right back at him

“My dear, if I may be rather brash, it just seems like something seems of worry to you, my apologies. But, yes, where would you like me to begin?”

You and Loki sat there for 3 or 4 hours talking about what really happened when Loki invaded New York, what happened to his mother and how Asgard was completely destroyed by his and Thor’s elder sister. Half way through the conversation, you had pulled down a rather nice bottle of Whiskey and two rocks glasses, pouring both of you a drink while Loki was reliving what he described to be the most painful part of his life. There you sat with the man you had sworn to hate until your last breath, actually feeling sorry for judging him so harshly. But who can blame you?

“Wow” You said after he had finally finished. You looked down at your glass and it was empty. While Loki was explaining everything to you, you had finished 4 or 5 full glasses of whiskey and were starting to feel a little tipsy

“Loki, I am so indecently sorry. All of the times Thor and I had talked about what happened, he never once told me how hard you took everything.”

Loki scoffed a little and looked at his glass “Well, my story really isn’t for my brother to tell, and he never really understood my feelings on the matter. I never really spoke to him about it. It was really only me on my own.” He shrugged softly and finished what liquor he still had in his glass “I really hope this changes your viewing of my, darling. I truly meant what I said. I have zero intentions of harming anyone in this compound.”

You shook your head a little and pushed the hair that had fallen into your face back “But why tell me all of this? Why tell the one person who probably hates you the most in the tower all of your worries and how at fault you feel?” You looked up from your glass when he chuckled.

“My dear, I know you don’t truly hate me. You hate what I did to your brother and the Avengers.” He leaned forward to be at eye level with you and spoke very softly “Do not forget, little one. I can read minds, you know” He winked at you and sat back in his chair

“I- you what now?!” You sat up straight and your face became very flushed. How could you have been so naive? Thor had mentioned it a couple of times that he believes his brother could read thoughts, but you never took it to heart.

“Miss. Stark, it seems as so Mr. Stark is worried about you. He has no idea where you are and I didn’t think to make him privy of your location.” FRIDAY interjected before you or Loki could say anything regarding the mind reading matter.

“Thanks, FRIDAY, can you tell him I’m up in my room? I don’t think I’ll be able to walk after the amount of alcohol I’ve drank” You chuckled slightly and rubbed your face with your hands.

“Right away Miss. Stark. Oh, it seems as if your brother is coming to see you.”

You internally began slightly panicking because as much as Tony wanted you to be civil, I don’t think he would want you damn near wasted with the God Of Mischief in your room.

“I shall be on my way, darling” Loki stood up and walked over to you. He rests his hands on the back of your chair and soon your face to face.

“Conversation for another time” He quickly places a kiss to your cheek before disappearing in a green cloud.

What the fuck is happening?

#loki imagine #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki #new writers on tumblr #marvel #alternate universe

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heylookafanfic · 4 years

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Title: What Could Go Wrong?

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x daughter!Reader,

brief summary: With your dad, Aaron Hotchner, being the BAU unit chief, he did whatever he could to protect you. When you get invited to a party for the first time, sneaking out doesn’t sound so bad. What could go wrong?

word count: 3,706 words

requested: Nope, original! (send in those requests!)

warnings: cursing, getting roofied, getting yelled at, predatory men

Your dad, Aaron Hotchner, was extremely protective over you not only because his job can put you and your brother, Jack, in danger but he already lost a family member and refused to lose another. Having an overprotective father meant you had a list of rules.

The door was to remain completely open when your significant other came over and no sitting/laying on the bed

No leaving the house after sundown

You can’t sleep over at anyone's house, they had to sleep over at your house

You have to ask to go somewhere

If your dad wasn’t home and the doorbell rang, you couldn’t answer it

And that is just the surface. You understood why your dad was so strict but you never got to have a life. To make things worse, your friends always post pictures from parties on Instagram and all you could do is sigh and keep scrolling knowing you’ll never get to go to one.

One day, you were in communications class listening to the professor lecturing about the upcoming semester project. Luckily, you got to pick your group for it and when they dismissed the class to find partners, you quickly turned to your best friend,Vanessa.

“I guess we’re partners, huh?” you chuckled

“Of course!” she said

“So, what do you want to make our project about?”

“I have no idea. I barely paid attention this chapter”

“Try to think out of the box a bit. What’s gonna make ours stand out?”

“Since the class is about communications, how about human interaction?”

“What about it?”

“Like how you haven't had any human interaction lately” she said with a smirk

“You know my dads strict. I can’t even breathe without him being on edge” you said

“You need to live a little Y/N. You’re in college and you’re still being treated like a kid.”

“I know, I know but I don’t know how to convince him to let up a bit”

“Here’s the thing, I’m going to a friend's kickback tomorrow night. This is your chance to finally hang out with someone who isn’t me, Jack or your dad ”

“He’s gonna say no regardless even if I tell him that you’re going with me.” you said

“I’m not saying to sneak out but...” she said with a shrug

“You know he has cameras around the entire perimeter of the house, right?”

“Just say you’re sleeping over at my house”

“Can’t do that either, remember? All sleepovers have to happen at my house”

“I understand having to be cautious because your dads in the FBI but doesn’t he realize that you’re in college?”

You thought about it for a second.

“That’s it! How about you sleep over but I’ll say that you forgot your meds. That’ll give us an excuse to leave”

“Won’t he be suspicious though?”

“Probably not. He trusts you out of all of my friends”

“You’ve got a point. What time am I coming over?”

“What time does the kickback start?”

“9 pm”

“Come over at 7. We’ll be finishing up dinner and it’ll give us time to get ready”

“Awesome”

The both of you packed your backpacks and went home. This would be the first time you’d be sneaking out and you were pretty nervous because so many things could go wrong but you’re with your best friend so, what could possibly go wrong?

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*Hotchner Household- The next day*

You were in your room finishing up your psychology homework when your dad called you and Jack down for dinner

“Y/N and Jack, come down for dinner” he yelled from the kitchen

“I’m almost done! Give me two more minutes!” you shouted

“Come down now before it gets cold”

You sighed and closed your laptop. As you were walking out of your room, you saw Jack coming down the hall.

“I’ll race you to the dinner table. Loser has to wash dishes tonight” you challenged

“You’re gonna lose like you did last time” he said

“That’s only because you pushed me, short stuff” you chuckled

“I won fair and square though, didn’t I?”

“Anyway…ready, set, go!”

The both of you raced down the hallway and downstairs. Your dad heard all the stomping and already knew what was up. You lightly pushed Jack and he tumbled towards the couch by the living room. Your dad had his hands out by his sides, waiting to see who would finish 1st. You ran and tagged in, winning.

“You pushed me!” Jack complained

“I won fair and square though, didn’t I?” you chuckled

“Dad, Y/N cheated and they said that I’d have to wash dishes after dinner”

“Karmas a bit-” you were cut off

“Enough you two. Go wash your hands and make your plate” your dad said

*During dinner*

“So, how was everybody’s day?” he asked

“I found out that we’re dissecting a frog in class next week” Jack said

“They still do that?” he asked

“Yeah, everyone in my class thinks it’s cool but I’m not looking forward to it”

“Why is that?”

“Because, it’s gross. I asked if I could do an extra credit project instead but my teacher said no”

“Sorry bud. How about you Y/N? How was your day?”

“It was okay. We were assigned a group project yesterday so Vanessas coming over later to study. Is that cool?”

“Which Vanessa?”

“Dad. You’re kidding, right? The same Vanessa I’ve been best friends with since kindergarten?”

“Oh, her. Yeah, she can come over. What’s your project about?”

“It’s a research slideshow about human interaction”

“If you have time, you should drop by the office and ask your aunts and uncles for help. Especially your uncle Spencer. He’ll tell you everything you need to know; easy A” he said

Suddenly, his phone chimed.

“Work?” you and Jack ask

Your dad shook his head and took one last sip of his drink before getting up from the table. He was running around the house grabbing his go bag and work essentials.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back but if I’m not back later tonight, Y/N you know the drill” he said

“Close and lock all doors and windows, don’t answer the door, Jack is to be in bed by 9:30 and lights out at 11” you recited

“And Jack?”

“No video games or TV until homework is done and Y/N is in charge” he groaned

“Good. Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Vanessa is the only one permitted in the house. Understood?”

“Yes sir”

“Alright, bye! I love you two!” he said

Your dad rushed out the door, hopped in the car and sped off to work. Your dad pretty much being on call can be annoying sometimes because he’s usually away for a few days and misses out on family time. Usually, it’s a bummer but tonight, it was working in your favor.

“Now what?” Jack asked

“How about we finish up dinner and I’ll help you with your homework so you can have the rest of the night to yourself?”

“Sweet!” he responded

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*Later that night*

Vanessa had already been at your house for 2 hours and while Jack was getting ready for bed, you were about to leave for the kickback.

“What time did you say your little brother goes to bed?” Vanessa asked

“9:30”

She sighed

“We’re going to be late by then. Can’t we leave earlier?”

“We can’t. If I’m not here to make sure he’s asleep, he’ll be up all night”

“Jacks like what, 10? He’ll be fine. Plus, it’s a Friday night. It’s not like he has school tomorrow.”

You gave it a second thought. Jack is old enough to put himself to bed and the party wasn’t going to be worth going to if you were late.

“Fine. Give me a second and then we can go” you said

You walked down the hall to Jack’s room and knocked.

“Come in” he answered

“Hey bud, are you almost ready for bed?” you asked

“Yeah, I gotta brush my teeth though.”

“Listen, Vanessa and I are going out for a bit tonight. Would you be okay if you were by yourself for a few hours?”

“You can’t leave! Remember what Dad said? ‘No leaving the house after sundown’ ?”

“I know, I know but it’s only for tonight and since Dad’s out at work, I’ll let you stay up and play video games until I get back”

“Won’t we get in trouble? If he finds out, we’re gonna be grounded”

“He won’t find out unless we tell him….which we won’t. Right?”

Jack thought the situation through for a second.

“Right” he said

“Cool. Vanessa and I are leaving in about 5 minutes. Rules still apply to you though. I don’t care who rings the doorbell. If it’s not me or Dad, don’t answer it. Understood?”

“Yeah”

“Alright, all the doors and windows are locked so you’re safe here as long as they stay closed. I’ll be back in a few hours. Love you!” you said

“Love you too!” Jack responded

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*At the kickback*

This was your first time sneaking out of the house and honestly, you didn’t think your plan would work. You thought that by now you’d be at home getting an earful from your dad because you got caught but, what perfect timing?! Your dad getting called into work the same night?! It’s actually kind of funny how things work out. What could go wrong?

You and Vanessa pulled up to the party and parked in the driveway

“You ready Y/N?” she asked

“Yeah. I just can't believe our plan actually worked”

“I know right? You’re old man needs to let you live a little. You deserve to enjoy your youth. Now c’mon”

As you two walk in, loud music blares from the speaker and there’s people everywhere. Beer cans on the floor and furniture, red solo cups spewed about the floor, the smell of weed in the air and you can tell every guy is wearing cheap cologne because of how musky it is. You thought parties like this only existed in movies.

You knew a few people but due to not being the biggest social butterfly, you decided to cling to Vanessa all night.

“Y/N, this is my old theatre buddy, Vaughn. Vaughn, this is my best friend Y/N!”

“Hey, nice to meet you!” he welcomed

“Nice to meet you too!”

“Vanessas told me all about you”

“She has?”

“Yeah! Best friends since kindergarten?! You two go way back”

“Definitely!”

“This is actually Y/N’s first kickback!” Vanessa chimed in

“Your first? You’ve never been to a party?”

“Not really, my dad’s very overprotective so I never get the chance to really hang out”

“What changed his mind?”

“Actually, he’s out of town at the moment so, he doesn’t even know”

“Ahhh, sneaky you!” he chuckled

“Hey, I’m gonna go get a drink really quick. You guys want anything?” Vanessa asked

“I’m good but thanks” you said

“I’ll go with you” Vaughn said

“Y/N, I’ll be right back but in the meanwhile, go get out of your comfort zone a bit” she said

“Nice meeting you….”

“Y/N” you said

“Y/N! Right. I’ll see you later” Vaughn said

Vanessa and Vaughn made off into the kitchen and that left you to your own devices. You still weren’t comfortable enough to go and be social so you made your way to the couch. Luckily, you spotted the host’s dog and whistled at it. It trotted over to you and jumped up into your lap. This would be your comfort zone for the rest of the night.

*An hour later*

The host's dog had surprisingly fallen asleep while you scrolled through your phone. You weren’t gonna lie. You were sort of envious that it could sleep through all the noise. As you continued scrolling you noticed someone heading your way.

“Is anyone sitting here?” a voice asked

You looked up to see a tall figure with broad shoulders.

“Uh, no. You’re good to sit”

“Thanks” he said

You resumed scrolling on your phone

“Nice dog” he said making small talk

“I’d say thanks but it’s not mine. It just curled up next to me and fell asleep” you spoke

“With all this noise?”

“Exactly what I’m saying!” you chuckled

“I’d kill to be a heavy sleeper” he said

“If only, right?!”

You two sat in silence for a second

“I’m Brady”

“Y/N”

“Nice to meet you. So, how’d you find out about the kickback?”

“My friend is friends with the host so she invited me”

“That’s a good friend!”

“Yeah, this is my first party actually”

“Really? How?”

“Overprotective parent”

“Ah, I know your struggle. Well, if you don’t mind, how ‘bout we drink to that?”

“Uh- okay. Thanks!”

“What’s your poison?” he asked

“I’ll take a beer please”

“A beer? Ooh, so you like to play it safe huh? I’ll be right back”

Brady got up and walked into the kitchen. You were actually excited because not only is this your first party but someone came up to you instead of the other way around.

“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” a voice said

You turned your head and it was Vanessa

“What took you so long?”

“I was getting a drink, remember?”

“It took you a whole hour, 60 MINUTES, to get a drink and find me?!” you joked

“This place is huge”

“It’s a condo ‘Nessa”

“Anyway, you’ve been sitting by yourself this whole time? I thought I told you to go and socialize!”

“I did! I met this guy, Brady, and he’s getting us drinks”

“Oooo! I know you had a little game in that beautiful brain somewhere. Well, let me go before I ruin your moment. I’ll be in the living room if you need me” she said

Vanessa ran off again. Just as she left, Brady came back with drinks.

“Una cerveza for the party virgin” he said

“What?” you chuckled

“One beer like you asked” he chuckled

“Oh, thank you!”

“To your first party and to many more” he toasted

You two clanked your cups together and took a swig

“For someone who seems to be so sheltered, you sure downed it with no problem” he said

“Well, my Uncle Dave is italian so everytime we go to his house, he cohearses my dad into letting me have a little wine. He says the drinking age in Italy is 16 so, why not?” you chuckled

“Lemme guess, he’s the crazy relative in the family?”

“No, that’d be my aunt Penelope but he’s a close second”

The two of you talked about family, your dream career and your taste in music for about an hour. You were starting to think that maybe it was a good idea to sneak out. You would have never met Brady and the more you found out about him, the more you started catching feelings for him. Or maybe that was the beer talking. Speaking of beer, you were starting to think that that beer didn’t sit right with you. You started feeling dizzy and sick to your stomach.

“Hey Brady, I gotta go talk to my friend really quick but I promise I’ll be right back”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m just not feeling the best”

“Do you want some water?” he asked

“I’m fine. I need to find Vanessa though”

You stood up and immediately sat back down

“Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want to lay down?” he asked

“I’m fine” you said

You didn’t notice but you started slurring your words. Things were going downhill and fast. Brady didn’t….no, he couldn’t have. Things were going so well with him and you thought you could trust him. He couldn’t have possibly done that to you. You couldn’t yell for Vanessa over the loud music let alone stand up without falling over. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all.

“Come on. I’ll take you to one of the bedrooms and you can lay down there until you feel better” Brady said

Fuck. You knew what you wanted to say but you couldn’t speak without slurring your words. Everything you said came out as incoherent. Brady stood up and helped you stand up, using him as a support. He started walking you towards the back until you felt a hand yank your hand

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!” a voice yelled

Vanessa. Wait.. the voice was masculine.

Vaughn.

“I’m just helping them lay down. They’re tired” Brady said

“Leave them the fuck alone” Vaughn said sternly

“Mind your business dude” Brady retorted

“I know them so it is my business. I’m not going to tell you again. Leave them the fuck alone”

Brady dropped you but Vaughn quickly caught the rest of your body.

“Have fun with them, douchebag” Brady stormed off

Vaughn fireman carried you into the living room and sat you down

“Hey Y/N. It’s Vaughn. Are you okay?” he asked caringly

“Mmmrrmgh” you slurred

Shit.

“I’m gonna get Vanessa. I promise I’ll be right back, okay?” he said

Your head lulled around and you couldn’t move your limbs. All your energy was draining. This made him panic. As he tried to get you to squeeze his hand to get a response out of you, everything faded to black.

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*45 minutes later*

You woke up but everything was blurry and everything sounded muffled. You were laying down but your sickness was worse because you were being jostled around.

“There they are. Hey sweetheart. Sir-” a voice said

You looked up and saw a dark figure. Your head was on someone's lap.

“Y/N? Come on sweetheart, keep your eyes open for me” the voice said

You took a few shallow breaths before attempting to sit up

“No no, stay still, okay?”

That voice was way too familiar and it made you feel at ease. There was only one person that could clear the clouds out on a rainy day with just their voice

“Aunt Penelope?” you softly spoke

“At your service!” she said

“Y/N?” another voice said

“Dad” you cried

“How’re they doing?”

“They opened their eyes a bit and heart rate is still pretty high but they’re stable” Penelope sighed with relief

“Dad? What’s happening?”

“Y/N? Can you hear me?”

You nodded your head.

“That’s an affirmative” Penelope relayed

”Listen, we’re heading to the hospital right now. You were drugged and you stopped breathing. We’re almost there so just hold on for me, okay?” he said

His voice was borderline quivering. He was scared but wanted to stay strong for you and the team. He already lost Hailey and lord forbid he was going to lose you too

Penelope rolled the window down a bit so you could get some air but right before she could touch the button, your eyes closed again.

“Sir-”

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*At the hospital*

You opened your eyes and saw a handful of blobs that got clearer as your eyes adjusted to the light.

“There they are!” said Rossi

“It’s about time” said JJ

“You were scared us for a second there, kid” said Morgan

Your whole family was there, excited for you to finally pull through

“Y/N!” Jack said excited

He hugged you and you had no choice but to hug him tighter. On any other day you’d be wrestling him for the remote but considering what happened to you tonight, you needed a hug from him

“For the record, I didn’t tell dad” he stated

Everyone laughed

“I got you lavender and chamomile tea, your favorite” Reid said popping his head in

“Uncle Spence!” you said

As you grabbed your tea, you saw your dad out the corner of your eye. Uh oh.

“Can we have a moment, please?” your dad asked

Everyone filed out and the door closed. He walked over to the blinds to close them.

“How’d you find out?” you softly asked

“Vanessa called me practically screaming that you were dead! You’re lucky that the case we’re working is local! What were you thinking?! You lied to me, waited until I left the house to sneak out to a party and thought ‘what could go wrong?’ ?!” he raised his voice

“Dad, I’m-”

“What? You’re sorry?! Y/N, before we got there, you died in Vanessa’s arms! How do you think I felt? I couldn’t get to you fast enough. I had to push my way through a bunch of teens just to find my kid dead”

“What do you want me to say dad? I’m sorry that you’re still dealing with trauma from mom dying, so much so that you’ve become a helicopter parent over Jack and I? If that’s what you’re looking for, it’s not my fault that she’s dead. ”

The room went so silent you could hear a pin drop.

“I didn’t mean-”

“I know”

Your dad started tearing up

“When I saw your body laying there, all I could see is your mom all over again. I was afraid that I’d have to tell Jack that his only sibling is gone, plan another funeral, and spend a lifetime beating myself up for not being there quick enough.”

“Dad, it wasn’t your fault though. It’s Foyet’s. He’s long gone now and you did what you could. This? This was my fault. I never should have snuck out. I never should have lied to you. Had I listened, none of this would have happened”

“None of this is your fault. It’s whoever did this to you’s fault. The sneaking out part, I would have found out eventually and you would’ve been grounded until eternity but to find out this way? I could care less about punishment right now, all I care about is that the Hotchner kids are safe. The BAU might be my job but being a dad comes before anything”

He hugged you and squeezed you tightly.

“I love you more than you’ll ever know Y/N. Don’t you ever scare me like that again”

“Yes sir and I love you too”

A knock came from the door before being slightly opened

“Garcia wanted me to let you know that Quantico PD has the perp in custody and he’s being processed at the station” Prentiss softly said

“You hear that?” your dad said

You smiled

“I get to have a field day with him tomorrow. He has no idea what he has coming to him”

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner imagine #hotchner!reader #Aaron hotchner x daughter!reader #hotchner x daughter!reader #criminal minds imagines #cm imagine #Spencer reid x Reider #spencer reid #reid imagine #spencer reid imagine #matthew gray gubler #thomas gibson #garcia x reader #Criminal Minds #hotchner angst #hotch angst

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bruh--wtf · 4 years

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Trust Issues

Masterlist

Part 2

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Stiles Stilinksi x Reader

Later, at home, you hear a knock on your brother's window while he's at work and go into his room. You see Stiles and raise an eyebrow as you open the window. "Can you come with me?" He asks. You freeze.

"What?"

"Can you come to my house, like now?"

"You have my number, Stiles," you say.

"Would you have agreed?" You clench your jaw and shake your head.

"No," you say.

He smirks. "Exactly. Now come on," he says. You close the window and he hits it as you grab your jacket and go downstairs.

"Stiles!" You yell. He turns to you and smiles as he climbs down.

"Alright, now come on," he says, grabbing your arm and pulling you to his prized jeep. You sigh and sit next to him.

"What's this about?" You ask. "Scott isn't even here, so-"

"Just shut up," he says. You look at the boy surprised.

Stiles drives to his house and when you try to get out he locks the door.

"My dad's home," he says. You nod.

"Okay? And?" He turns to look at you.

"Well, he might assume something because I've never actually had a girl over. Well not in a long time," he says.

"I've been here before, Stiles," you say. He nods.

"Yeah, but with Scott," he says. You sigh and sit back.

"So do you want me to wait here, or...?"

"No! No. Ugh, fine, come on," he says, unlocking the door and letting you out. You get out of the car and go up to the house. Sheriff Stilinksi was at the door ready to yell at Stiles when you walk in first.

He freezes and looks at Stiles. "Uh, Y/N, what are you doing here?"

"I have no idea," you say honestly. He gives his son a confused look. Stiles sighs and grabs your wrist.

"Y/N and I have a project together. We need to work on it," he says to his dad. His dad nods and waves the two of you off. Stiles pulls you to his room and you laugh a little.

"Okay, what is going on?" You ask. He barely looks at you and you look around his room. It was more organized than you thought it would be. Granted, you hadn't been in the room in years. You sit on the boy's bed as he brings his laptop over to you. He sits with his back to the headboard and you sit beside him.

You sat close to him to look at the laptop. You look up at him as soon as you see what's on it.

"You can't be serious," you say. He sighs and points at the screen.

"Just hold on, it makes sense." You press your lips together, and put your head on the boy's shoulder to read what was on the screen.

The more and more he explained his theory the more it made sense.

"Were you kidding earlier? When you said Friday is a full moon?" You ask. He shakes his head. "Well, what's gonna happen to Scott?" He presses his lips together and shakes his head.

"I don't really know. But I'm gonna help him," he says, looking at his laptop again, probably looking something up. You just studied the boy for probably to long. He looked at you again, looking over your face.

You quickly shift your head to look at the laptop again, curling up, closer to the boy. He looked at you for a moment.

"Are you cold?" He asks. You give him a small smile.

"I'm fine," you say, holding onto his arm. He nods and the two of you continue researching. "Stiles?" It'd been at least an hour.

He hums in response.

"Were you talking about me this morning?" You ask. He looks at you.

"What?"

"I mean, I heard you and Scott say something before you know he pulled me over," you tell him. He shifts a little.

"Oh, uh, yeah." You look up at the boy to see him uncomfortably avoiding looking at you.

"If you don't want to tell me, that's fine," you say. No. No it isn't fine. Stiles was talking about you and you want to know why.

Wait. Stiles and Scott. It wasn't just Stiles. Well, from Scott's reaction, it kind of was jist Stiles.

"Um, no, I was just you know, saying how crazy the body thing was. And well, that's the craziest thing to happen since you were born." You hit the boy's chest.

"I'm not crazy," you say. He chuckles.

"I disagree," he says. You roll your eyes. "But in a good way," he adds. He smirks at you and a small smile plays at your lips. You hold onto his arm a little tighter, looking back at the screen. "Crazy... and the best thing to happen to this town." Your gaze snaps back up to him. He looked a little nervous about your reaction. You studied the boy for a second.

"You really think that?" You find yourself asking in a whisper tone. He nods.

"Yeah. I do," he says. You press your lips together. What do you say to that? And why did it give you butterflies in your stomach hearing it from Stiles? That scared you. You just stared at him for a minute before turning your head back down.

"Thanks," you mumble, trying to hide your blush. And the small smile creeping on your lips.

Eventually it gets late and you grow tired. You shift a little, laying down a little more, still holding onto Stiles arm. He looks at you and then the time.

"I can bring you home if you want," he tells you. You chuckle and look at the time to see how late it is. 12:30. You shake your head, turning a little more towards the boy.

"I've gone to parties with Lydia, Stiles. I'm fine," you say jokingly. He studies you for a moment before continuing. It doesn't take long for you to fall asleep though.

Stiles looks down at her, realizing something and sees Y/N asleep on his arm. He lets out a breath, looking down at his laptop. He carefully closes the laptop, not wanting to wake Y/N up. He moves it.

Then, he pulls his arm away from Y/N slowly. She adjusts and snuggles up to the boy's chest. He was a bit unsure if he should wake her up or not.

"You're going to be the death of me," he whispers. He carefully shifts to be laying down and she buries her face further into his chest. He wraps his arms around her, and reaches up to turn his light out.

The next day, you wake up in Stiles' arms. You shift a little, confused. Stiles was heavily asleep, and still had an arm around you. You look around a little and your eyes land on your phone.

You grab it, and see that it was a little past seven. You quickly sit up.

"Shit," you say, putting your phone down.

You shake Stiles a little, and the boy rolls over, groaning. You sigh pushing the boy back over.

"Stiles, we're going to be late. And I need to go home and change. Stiles!" He waves you off and you huff. You climb over the boy and pull him out of the bed. He groans as he lands on the floor.

"Really?!"

"We're going to be late! Get dressed!" You say. He gives you a confused look and grabs your phone, checking the time as he hands it to you.

You walk out into the hallway and hear shuffling.

A few minutes later Stiles stumbles out with new jeans on and a half buttoned flannel.

You follow him out to his car and youu stop by your house. You change and grab your backpack.

When you get to school Stiles immediately runs up to Scott.

But Jackson stops you.

"What's up with your brother?" Jackson asks.

You raise an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. Scott can't play for shit. Him, and his little friend, are losers. So what happened?" You knew your brother and Stiles weren't popular. Or good at Lacrosse up until yesterday. But Jackson being the one to point it out ticked you off.

You slap the boy.

"Just because Scott's a better player than you, doesn't mean you get to be an asshole. Don't talk about my brother or his friends like that again, you hear me?" Jackson scoffs and smirks at you, taking a step closer to you.

"Or what?"

"Or I'll do a hell of alot worse than slap you," you snap. You push past the boy, going towards your first class.

Later, in the hall, you see Jackson and Scott.

"My mom does all the grocery shopping," Scott says. Jackson had him pinned against the wall. You march up to them. You push Jackson back, glaring at him.

"What did I say about talking to my brother?" You say. He smirks.

"You said talking about your brother, nothing about talking to him," he says. You glare at him. "You know he's on steroids, right? Imagine what coach will think."

You punch Jackson. He puts a hand to his nose and you see a bit of blood start to drip down.

"You don't know shit, Jackson. You're a complete idiot. And if you actually like Lydia, you're not going to say anything," you say. He glares at you, knowing if you said anything to Lydia she'd talk to him.

He glares at Scott. "Y/N won't be around all the time, McCall," he says. You scoff and push him.

"You're all talk," you say. He glares at the two of you and walks off.

You find out Scott is going to the party with Allison and nearly scream at him.

You were happy a girl finally liked your brother, but yeah. No.

Friday night you go to the party.

You were sitting there, watching your brother have fun, avoiding looking at Lydia and Jackson practically having sex infront of everyone, and being by yourself. When you see Derek. You walk up to him.

"What the hell do you want from my brother?" You ask. He smirks at you.

"Our brother now," he says. You scoff and shake your head.

"No. He is my brother. You don't know him. And I don't know why you did what you did, but I know that I'm more scared of a puppy than I am of you," you say. His eyes turn a sort of yellow shade and your eyes widen.

"Are you sure about that?" He asks. You swallow.

"Positive. Is that like an anger thing? Should I be looking forward to seeing Scott doing that when I piss him off from now on?" He grabs your wrist and you try your best not to wince.

"You'll see. I only want the best for Scott. He needs me. He however, doesn't need you or your little boyfriend," he says.

"I don't know who your talking about, because I'm single. But Scott does need me. And I'm going to be right there when he realizes it," you say. He smirks.

"You'll see," he says. He lets go of you and you look down at your wrist to see that it's red.

"If this bruises I'll find you and punch you," you tell him. He chuckles.

"You'll be fun," he says. You raise an eyebrow at him, but he just walks somewhere else in the party.

To say running between your house, Allison's house to make sure she's alive, and looking for Scott all night in the woods in detail is alot. But you get the gist.

After school you see Scott talking to Allison and smiles, which is a good sigh.

You feel a hand on your wrist and you get pulled into a corner.

"Oh my God, Stiles! I'm going to kill you!" You say, hitting the boy's chest. He chuckles and shakes his head.

"Last night was... crazy," he says. You nod in agreement. Then you realize who is against the wall. And you realize that he has his hands on your hips still. And you realize the way he's looking at you.

You smirk at the boy. You lean up and kiss his cheek. He looks down at you in shock.

"I'll see you later, Stiles."

You start walking towards Lydia's car, seeing as she usually was the one to drive you to and from school.

Once you get in the car, you look over at your brother who looked like a deer at headlights looking at Allison's car.

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