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sweetrevxnge · 2 years

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Like Phantoms, Forever

Chapter Eight | Play Stupid Games

Pairing: Ben Solo x Reader

Summary: Your destiny had never been clear to you, only becoming so when it led you to leaving behind the life you knew to train with the galaxy's sole Jedi Master, Luke Skywalker. His Jedi Academy became your new home, bringing with it the promise of someday becoming a Jedi Knight. While navigating the ways of the Force, an inexplicable connection forms between you and a fellow student—the heir to the legendary Skywalker bloodline, Ben Solo. Together, the two of you must face your destinies and forge the path to your true selves.

What to expect: fluff, violence, sexual content, general angst, mentions/descriptions of injury and death

Additional info: this story is set in 28 ABY, six years prior to the events of TFA

*concurrently being published on AO3 and Wattpad as well!

Masterlist

Word count: 4k

A/N: I'm sorry for the late update! I'm in the middle of starting my new job, so I don't have as consistent of a writing schedule anymore. I promise that new chapters will be uploaded somewhere in the beginning of the week from here on out!

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The sky was a brilliant shade of gold when your eyes finally fluttered open. Warmth radiated through your cheek as your head rested on Ben’s chest, his arm wrapped behind you and draped loosely over your frame. The weight of it was comforting, securing you against his side.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see rays of sunlight washing over his face, bathing his closed eyes and aquiline nose in a soft glow. You buried your face into his skin in an attempt to escape the harsh light, grumbling as you did.

“Hmph.”

“Good morning,” he whispered, his voice deep and smooth. Either he didn’t suffer from morning grogginess like the rest of us did, or he had been awake for some time.

“G’morning,” you mumbled into his chest, fighting your body’s instinct to wake up.

Ben reached his free hand up and ran it through your hair, trying his best to gently detangle the mess with his fingers. To say that you had bed head was an understatement. For a brief moment, you were embarrassed to be so disheveled in his presence, but at the end of the day, he was the reason you looked this way.

The world around you was hazy as you willed your eyes open, blinking away the remnants of sleep. The dull drone of Ben’s heartbeat pulsed against your ear, steady and slow. You were so entranced by the sensation of waking up beside him that it didn’t even occur to you that you were still in his bed, laying next to him as the suns were rising.

You scrambled to sit up, pulling the rough blanket up to cover your chest as your eyes darted around the room frantically.

“Shit, I never went back last night?!”

A frustratingly calm chuckle passed through Ben’s lips, only serving to fuel your panic.

“This isn’t funny!”

“No, it’s not funny. But there’s no use panicking now, we’re going to be late regardless.”

“How are you so calm about this?” you asked, already halfway off the bed and gathering your wrinkled clothes from the ground.

“Because there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

He sat up on his palms, causing the blanket to tumble down his bare chest. Images of last night flashed across your vision—him above you, beads of sweat forming at his hairline as he chased his pleasure, the ache between your legs demanding the same. You squeezed your eyes shut in an attempt to refocus on the problem at hand.

“Okay, that’s great and all, but how am I supposed to get out of your hut without being noticed? I really doubt that me getting caught leaving your quarters in the morning would go over well.”

He smiled, evidently amused by your panic. “We’ll just wait in here while everyone else goes to training. And if we do get caught, it’s not a big deal.”

You blinked at him. “In what world would it not be a big deal?”

“Because it’s attachments that are forbidden, not sex.” The emphasis on the word made your stomach churn, an unfriendly reminder that what you felt for him was entirely wrong. “We’re not the first—or the last—students to hook up at the Academy.”

It was as if he had reached through your ribs and clutched your heart, ripped it free from the wiring of your veins, and sent it plummeting through your chest. Now, it was settled uncomfortably in your stomach, drenched in corrosive acid that was slowly eating away at the memory of last night.

The words rattled around your skull, clashing and clattering into your thoughts, sending them to far away conclusions. While yes, that was technically what had happened last night, hearing him use such casual terms to describe it sent insecurity coursing through you like voltage.

“Oh, that’s…reassuring.” The words passed through your lips like a ghost, devoid of any emotion that would support your statement.

“See? There’s nothing to worry about,” Ben said as he crawled out of bed, his focus occupied with pulling on a new pair of briefs rather than conversing with you.

Had he glanced up for even a second, he would have seen the turmoil in your eyes, the rigidity of your jaw, and maybe even sensed that his statement had upset you. But he didn’t.

Instead of continuing to stand there, covered only by your undergarments in the center of his room, you pulled your gaze away and worked to redress yourself, swallowing the lump that was forming in your throat.

It didn’t occur to you how fragile you might be after sharing something as intimate as you had with him. Throughout your entire life, you had kept everyone at an arm’s length away as a means of protecting yourself. Protecting yourself from what exactly? You weren’t sure then, but now, you knew.

You didn’t allow your mind to linger on the possible interpretations of what he had said, instead trying to distract yourself as a means to preserve your fractured pride, as well as squandering the embers of affection that remained from his embrace just minutes ago. The same embrace whose intentions you could no longer be certain of.

After securing your robes with a tight knot around your waist, you were quick to turn heel away from him and towards the door. The sound of your boots receding was enough to pull Ben from his task, looking up at you with curious eyes.

“Hey, where are–”

“I think everyone’s at training by now. I’ll see you there.” Your tone was flat, just a thread away from detached, as you pulled the door open without so much as a glance behind you.

“No, don’t go. Wait for–”

The door closed with a thud, effectively silencing him and separating the two of you.

Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes as you set off towards the temple, unsure if they were a result of the icy wind or your heart slowly splintering. You trained your eyes on the ground below you, anything to focus on besides what just happened.

As you passed your hut, the allure of changing into a fresh set of robes called to you, so you did, taking an extra minute to comb out your hair as well. It was for the best, both in anticipation of earning your classmates’ attention when you entered late, as well as to remove the subtle reminder of last night from your body. Not to mention the scolding you would be receiving from Master Skywalker for your second tardy offense.

Scaling the stone steps felt more arduous than usual—whether that was due to the tightness in your lungs from the cold air, or the unexpected soreness splitting your legs—you weren’t sure. Once again, you pushed aside the memory of last night, trying to forget the way Ben’s lips skated across your body, how his fingers dug into your hips as he drove into you, the feeling of being pushed over the edge repeatedly by his touch.

Stop it, you scolded yourself as you stood outside the temple doors, trying to catch your breath before entering. Hobbling in late and completely out of breath was not high on your list of grand entrances.

Tentatively, you pulled the doors back, scanning the cavernous room for the group of students. The lights were particularly dim this morning, something you were grateful for as you stepped inside. But that didn’t stop Master Skywalker, as well as the rest of the students, from spotting you.

Your Master watched as you sat down, your spot as far back in the group as you could possibly manage. To no surprise, you had interrupted his morning announcements, leaving the room in stilted silence.

“Nice of you to join us,” he said, an irritated expression on his face.

“My apologies, Master.”

He held your gaze for an unsettlingly long moment before returning his attention to his pupils. The tension in your shoulders released when he started speaking again, informing the class of the day’s plans.

As he continued to address the group, you did your best to focus on his words, until you noticed someone scooting toward you in your periphery. Your eyes widened at the realization of who this person was.

“Voe?!” Your question came out as a low hiss, trying not to disrupt your Master again. “When did you get back?”

She held a pointed finger against her lips and nodded towards Master Skywalker. You trusted that she would fill you in on the details of her journey after the group had split off for the day. Selfishly, you were thankful for her unexpected return, serving as both a comfort and a distraction.

A moment later, Master Skywalker dismissed the class, allowing the students around you to leave for their respective training sessions, including Voe. Before you could move to join them, Master Skywalker signaled you over to him. You obeyed, your cheeks growing warm as your feet carried you to where he stood.

He greeted you with your name, nodding at you as he cleared his throat. Your heart pounded against your ribs, sweat beading at the nape of your neck.

“I’d like to address this problem before it gets out of hand. What seems to be the issue?”

You nodded in agreement, desperately hoping that he couldn’t somehow sense your elevated heartbeat through the Force. You searched your mind for the most diplomatic response in this situation, honestly just any excuse that wasn’t ‘I’m sorry, Master, I woke up late because your nephew and I shared a romantic and wildly intimate night together, one I considered to be more than just a hookup, but from the sound of it, was just a hookup to him. I swear that I left as soon as I could to get here, but unfortunately was still late because nothing seems to go right for me.’

“It’s my watch. There are days where the alarm just doesn’t go off. It’s really frustrating, actually.” A weak excuse, but the best that you muster at the moment.

He huffed, clasping his hands behind him as his eyes burned holes into your skull. “If you’re going to lie, at least try a little harder than ‘my alarm didn’t go off.’”

You were, unsurprisingly, speechless. Were your lying skills that bad? Or was the Force just an undeniable measure of truth?

You swallowed thickly, prepared to say anything to move past his scrutiny and be given your punishment. “I’m sorry, I don’t–”

“I may be old, but I am no fool,” he said bluntly, surveying the dwindling number of students in the room before returning his intense gaze to you. “Where’s Ben?”

The sound of his name set your nerves on fire, not in a particularly bad way. “I-I don’t know, Master.”

He sniffed loudly and shifted his weight to his other hip. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that he could sense your spiking anxiety at the mention of his nephew.

“In the future, just bring him with you next time, okay? It saves me the trip to his quarters to tell him his punishment.”

You only nodded in response, trying to save face in front of your Master who, by the sound of it, had a suspicion about the true reason for your tardiness.

“One week on the steps starting tomorrow. Rain or shine.”

With that, the Jedi Master turned on his heels and left the temple, leaving you alone in the hollow chamber.

The rest of the afternoon was spent moping around your quarters and dealing with a pounding headache, one of an entirely mysterious etiology. If you were lucky, you had caught a cold and could spend a few days hiding out in the infirmary. But you were asymptomatic otherwise, which meant that the medical droids would likely send you away after a quick assessment. Maybe you could makeyourself sick. Drinking the creek water or eating some wild berries would probably do the trick. Anything to avoid a full week of scrubbing the steps from dawn until dusk with Ben.

The throbbing in your skull amplified at the thought of him. Rage boiled within you as you dissected his words, but your heart betrayed you, forcing you to relive the tender moments you shared with him. Recounting the sweet nothings he whispered to you, the blissful escape of his lips, all things whose validity was now in question.

Who’s to say that he hadn’t brought other girls out to stargaze with him, or that you were even the first girl to sleep with him? The thought of him lying to you about such an intimate thing filled your throat with bile, but the thought was relentless. Men have lied about more for less.

But, the two of you were practically dating. Well, you never officially established a label, but your actions would indicate so, the logic in your mind argued back, trying to maintain its grasp on rationality and what you knew to be undeniably true.

Men will say and do anything to get what they want, isn’t that what Eilia had said when she had her heart broken? As shattered as it was, your heart presented fair evidence. You remembered the look on your friend’s face when she showed up at your door, hot tears running down her face. You comforted her, sympathized with her, and allowed your heart to ache for her. After witnessing that, you decided that you didn’t want to be like her—no, you couldn’t allow yourself to be like her. It made sense now, why attachments were forbidden by the Jedi. The splitting of your own heart told you just how dangerous losing someone could be to the balance of one’s mind.

The sound of knuckles rapping against your door pulled you from your spiral. You stood from your seat in front of the fire pit and opened the door, unsure of who to expect behind it.

Voe’s vivid green eyes were wide—almost frenzied—as she pushed past you into your hut.

“Um, come in, I guess,” you muttered, closing the door behind her.

She wasted no time with pleasantries. “Where the hell were you this morning?!” she demanded. She was fuming, like a mother scolding her disobedient child.

“What?” Your face contorted in confusion. “Does this have to do with me being late? Because I’d really rather not talk about it–”

“I came by this morning to surprise you with some fresh meiloorun, and my arrival at the Academy, but instead, all I found was an empty hut and you missing from the grounds.” Her eyebrows were raised now, her tongue prodding the inside of her cheek.

You opened your mouth to speak, but before you could utter a word, she continued.

“I nearly organized an entire search party to go looking for you!”

“Okay, can you please not yell at me about this? I already have a splitting headache and this really isn’t helping. I don’t need to be lectured by you for what I choose todo,” you spat in defense.

She ignored your words. “For all I knew, you had fallen in a ditch and injured yourself out in the middle of nowhere, or gotten lost on a path and froze to death.”

Your patience had reached capacity, and now you were fully irritated with her. “Well, as you saw at the temple and can still see now, I’m alive and well,” you said, motioning to your intact body. “I’m terribly sorry for the scare I gave you, but yelling at me isn’t going to change that.”

With that, you brushed past her to sit on your bed, bumping into her shoulder as you did. The hammering in your skull hadn’t subsided, only becoming more unbearable as the conversation progressed. You dug the heel of your palms into either side of your head, hoping to smother the pain with counterpressure.

“As much as I’d love to catch up with you and hear about your adventures with Lor, I’m not really in a great headspace right now.”

“Whose hut were you in this morning?” she asked plainly, raising an eyebrow at you in a way that, if you hadn’t been getting yelled at twenty seconds ago, could almost be described as playful.

You clenched your jaw, a sting of anxiety shooting through you. “I wasn’t in anyone’s hut, I was just showering. Stars, can you just–”

“C’mon, you can’t just do the ultimate walk of shame into the temple and not tell me who it was,” she said, a tiny smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. She moved to sit next to you, her shoulders relaxing as she settled into the mattress. “Was it Tai? Or Cassus? Cassus has been telling everyone on the planet about how he’s going to win you over, did he finally–”

The comments were disorienting to say the least. Less than a minute ago she was yelling at you for being irresponsible, and now she was trying to extract information about who you had slept with? Not to mention the revelation about Cassus, a student who you’ve maybe spoken to once or twice in passing. That was something to address later.

“Wait, are you being serious? I didn’t sleep with anyone.”

Her head cocked to the side in disbelief. “It’s okay if you did. There’s no rule that says Jedi can’t live a little, so to speak. We’re all guilty of it.”

Unease settled in your stomach at her flippant attitude about sex. Not that you were opposed to people hooking up with no strings attached, and for all you knew, you might enjoy it too. But not with Ben, at least not after you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with him. Did he believe the same as Voe, that sex was just an indulgence that the Jedi could partake in?

“What do you mean ‘we’re all guilty?’”

“I mean exactly what I said,” she said. “I’d bet money that everyone here has hooked up with someone and probably regretted it to some extent.”

Regret. The perfect word to describe the feeling that was gnawing a pit into the lining of your stomach. An overwhelming curiosity to know who Voe’s “regret” was creeping in, demanding an answer. Besides, if she was going to press you about yours, she should share hers first.

“Do you have someone you regret sleeping with?”

She let out a groan as she flopped back on your bed, her hands covering her face. “Of course I do,” she mumbled into her skin. “I’ll tell you mine, if you tell me yours.”

Everything inside of you was telling you to stop this conversation right now. To laugh it off and move past the subject. But the whirlwind of emotions stirring within you was becoming too much to bear, maybe being able to talk to someone would calm it.

“Deal.”

Voe shot up, her enthusiasm all too evident on her face. “Really? Oh stars, who was it? Was his dick bi–”

“No, no, no. If you’re going to barge into my hut and start accusing me of sleeping around the Academy, you’re sharing first.”

“Okay, fine,” she groaned, releasing a sharp exhale after. “A while back, I hooked up with Amir.” She paused, as if she was waiting for you to react to the name. Given that the entire time you had been at the Academy your attention had been trained on one boy in particular, you struggled to match the name to a face.

Noticing your confusion, Voe took the liberty of filling the gaps in your memory. “You know…tall, dark, and devastatingly handsome?”

“Oh, yeah…him,” you said with a nod, not because you actually knew who she was talking about, but more so to move the story along. “How was that?”

She pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a long sigh. “It went about as well as you could imagine it would for two clueless Jedi,” she said, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “He didn’t know what he was doing and just kind of…flopped on top of me for what felt like forever, but was probably less than a minute. He had no concern for me or my enjoyment.”

The visual she painted caused laughter to bubble in your throat, but you suppressed it into a quiet chuckle. “Sounds romantic if you ask me.”

The dichotomy of how caring Ben had been with you was not lost on you, but you quickly dismissed it.

She snorted. “Oh, so romantic. Later on, I tried to rectify the situation with someone better, but it never worked out.”

The ambiguity of her statement felt intentional, so you didn’t pry. “Well, I’m sorry you had to go through that. There’s better dick in the galaxy, I’m sure of it.”

She waved a hand playfully. “Don’t worry, I get along just fine by myself.” At least the Jedi Code doesn’t forbid that. “So, now it's your turn to spill.”

Still hesitant to verbalize what you had done, you picked at your nails, buying yourself a few seconds to compose your thoughts. Your throat felt tight as you swallowed a dry gulp.

What if this was a mistake? A small, desperate part of you wanted to cling to the version of Ben that you had created in your mind, the caring lover who would scale the entire galaxy at your request. But that wasn’t reality. The reality was that you projected something you could never have with him, and as anyone could have predicted, suffered the consequences of falling in too fast with someone. The two of you had hooked up, that was the truth. Just say it.

“I hooked up with Ben.”

As soon as the words left your tongue, you wished you could’ve scooped them up and put them back in your head.

She was eerily quiet, subverting your expectations of the reaction you thought you would receive. While Voe had made it plenty clear that she didn’t like Ben, you at least thought she could commiserate with how regretful you felt.

“You slept with Ben?” Her words were as sharp as a razor’s edge and laced with venom. The delicate skin under her eye twitched slightly as she watched you, an incredulous look on her face.

The signals running between your brain and your mouth stopped working, leaving you a silent idiot beside her. After a moment of sifting through possible responses, you decided to double down on your statement. She was already pissed off at you, and you planned to take any evidence of your feelings for him to the grave, so what did you have to lose?

“Yes, I did.” The words were slow to leave your lips, each one dripping off your tongue like molasses. “But it wasn’t–”

Before you could defend yourself, she stood and faced you. A dismissive scoff left her mouth as she shook her head. “Ben would only want to play with the new toy.”

You were taken aback at the comparison. “Hey! What the fuck?!”

“Don’t be stupid,” she hissed your name. “Your novelty will wear off, too.”

Whatever Ben Solo had said or done to that woman remained a mystery to you, but it was becoming easier to piece together now. All you knew was that in your attempt to be honest, you had completely ruined the one friendship you had here, all because of a boy.

The cracks forming in your heart spread as you sat there, replaying her words in your head.

You flinched as the door slammed shut behind her, your eyes still fixed on the fire in front of you. Shame washed over you, burning your skin and flooding your mind. The pounding in your head resumed, now worse than ever, and you buried your face into a pillow in the hope of escaping the horrid day that was unfolding before you.

#sleepy ben has my entire heart <3 #ben solo #ben solo x reader #kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x y/n #kylo ren x you #ben solo x fem!reader #ben solo x you #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars self insert #kylo ren smut #ben solo smut #my writing

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knowltonsrangers · 3 years

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Alphabet Prompt: Benjamin Tallmadge

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

I’d say a solid 7/10. Affectionate in private, but by that means he’s still a bit hesitant in his actions. Regarding how he shows it, he does it in smaller actions, maybe an arm around your shoulders while walking or while on the couch. He loves it when you initiate acts, because he feels as if he’s on cloud nine.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Ben is the ultimate best friend. Loyal, understanding, quite the sense of humor-he’s got everything you seek out in a friendship. The friendship would start maybe over a mutual friend, or through a shared job? Or maybe in a class where you both don’t know anyone.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

UH-HUH. Ben really enjoys it, but would never say it out loud. Imagine his sassy ass walking into the room and just standing there. And you’re like “…hi Ben.” And he just opens his arms, and you know what that means without him having to say anything.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Yes. He does, tremendously. He enjoys domestic life and craves it when he’s at work and away from you. Ben would run home if it meant he would be back in time for dinner, not wanting you to have to wait an ounce of time for him.

Ben appreciates a clean space. His side of the room may appear on the surface as clean, but when he gets into his groove books, pens, and papers are known to accumulate.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

In person, and with his entire heart on his sleeve. He’d probably cry, too. [🥺]. It would really take something explosive and upsetting to get him to want to end things. He’s loyal, but not enough to a fault-he’d know when it was time to end things.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Oh? Probably right when he trusts his gut. He’ll know the exact moment when he decided that he was hopelessly in love with you, and it would always get him with butterflies in his stomach.

I wouldn’t say he’d be ready to drop to one knee right away, but soon enough. And he wouldn’t flake either, when he asks you to marry him, he’d want to get married right away.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

THE GENTLEST PERSON. Soft when he needs to be, stern when he has to be. He’s gentle physically when it comes to all things you, and is known to wear his emotions like a book. So he understands and is almost always the first to understand. I almost classify Ben as an empath, because he can tell when things have gone wrong even as best as you try to hide it.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

To be in Ben’s arms is like in my top 3 things I’ve ever wanted in my entire life. He’s so good at giving hugs, but he may be a little indifferent to receiving them. It’s not that he hates them, but has he ever really gotten hugs before?? Probably not. He envelops you and smells like the outdoors after a morning shower.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Not very quickly. He knows when he loves you, but he has to be certain that you and him are on the same wavelength.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

A bit. A bit more than he’s willing to admit. Maybe you’ve been hanging around Caleb or Nathan too much. Or Lafayette gives you a hug as a greeting. Or his boss gives you a warm smile when he introduces you to him.

He doesn’t do anything. His stomach twinges, and he knows it’s jealousy, but he trusts you. He knows that you’d never do anything to double cross him.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

I’ve mentioned Ben’s smooches before, how giggly and bashful he gets when it comes to them. His kisses are like spring, beautiful and warm and full of love.

Ben likes to kiss you on your eyelids, but he loves placing little pecks on your cheeks.

Ben loves to be kissed on his knuckles, and his hands. Your butterfly kisses tickle him and he can’t help but smile as you ‘kiss’ his injuries away.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Mediocre, average. Doesn’t actively seek out to babysit or anything, but isn’t opposed to it. Children do love him, however, and as much as he says he is “meh”, you can’t help but smile as he swings a giggling baby around in his arms.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Sleepy and loving. He kisses you good morning and rolls right out of bed for coffee. If you have to be up before him, you usually try and slip out without waking him (‘cause he needs his sleep), but he’ll groan and pull you close to him until you give him morning kisses.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Board games, [comic] books, and vhs tapes. Ben enjoys anything that he gets to do with you, and is awesome at trivia. He’d spend hours scouring the internet for a new sort of game or something to do with you.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He doesn’t really have much to hide, truthfully. Ben enjoys sharing his interests, and that follows with his college friends and other friendships he has. He would start revealing things as soon as asked, or maybe a little strained, depending on level of privacy.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Admittedly has a small temper. But it’s nothing that needs to be worried about, it’s only when he’s reached his absolute breaking point and can’t take another moment more. If you drop a pan while he’s concentrating or accidentally trip him up while he’s walking, he won’t even bat an eye.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Every.thing. You can tell him once your favorite candle scent and he’ll buy it for you when your birthday comes around. He nearly has a photographic memory, I’d say. Writes things down on calendars (anniversaries, birthdays, pets birthdays, etc,) and jots notes when necessary.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

When he came home after a long day (usually he beats you home) of work and agony. You had dinner on the table and a record on the machine, humming a low tune that makes his heart flutter. He felt so loved at that very moment, and it was hard for him to choke back tears.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Very. Ben defends you to the day he dies, and he does so in very lowkey ways that you much appreciate. Taking phone calls for you when you ask, and stepping into public situations when you beckon him close with a warbly voice.

Ben loves feeling protected, especially by you. When you squeeze his hands in affirmation, or stepping in between him and his work to get him to get some rest.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

A lot. He can’t get over the idea of getting to see you cry of happiness/thoughtfulness when he watches you take something out of wrapping paper that you offhandedly mentioned once. Ben loves putting the effort in because he’s always so surprised when you return it tenfold, no matter how many times he tries to outdo you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Duplicate buying. I headcanon Ben as a collector, so whether it be comics or memorabilia, he’s known for an accidental duplicate buy every now and then.

He’s also guilty of leaving pens and pencils in bed. Oops.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Like literally 0%. He’s so effortlessly flawless, and a beautiful human being.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes. A billion times yes. You are accepted into being a part of him when you exchange “I love yous” and feels so lonely when you aren’t around. His heart is fragile and much more so than he’s willing to admit, so when you aren’t with him he looses his own sense of wholeness.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

While Ben is by no means scary-looking, he can be very intimating. He does not hesitate to get someone to back off when he feels it’s right to step in.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Ben admires people who share his interests, and can’t stand when people don’t take time to at least understand a tad bit of what he enjoys. There’s a difference in respecting each other’s space and things, and actively seeking out to disregard them.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Ben sleeps in socks.

#sul writes #benjamin tallmadge #turn washington's spies #turn amc #benjamin tallmadge headcanons #turn Benjamin tallmadge #alphabet prompt

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frunbuns · 4 years

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Fics that punched me in the face and stole my lunch money

one more time with feeling by Soulykins (Not rated, 4009 words)

When Five Hargreeves is four-years-old, he discovers his power.

He also discovers a whole lot more than that.

They’re all figuring out their powers, and as a consequence they all move out of the nursery into their own rooms after a somewhat unfortunate incident regarding the discovery of Six’s powers. Regardless, Five isn’t very fond of the new arrangement because he’s lonely.

He can’t sleep without the sounds of his siblings around him. One’s sleepy whuffling and Four’s random exclamations, Six shuffling around and Two kicking his blankets off in the night. It’s too quiet.

That is, of course, when the man falls into his room.

Probably one of my all-time favourite fics. It hits hard and is honestly the reason this rec list was made. I swear the ending knocks the breath out of me every time I read it.

little white lies by Soulykins (General Audiences, 3750 words)

The first time Five lies, really lies, he's four-years-old and taking the blame for something he didn't do.

And then he doesn't stop.

Five lies to everyone. He lies to his father, to his siblings, and even to himself.

(Five has broken himself apart and put himself back together so many times over the course of his life. When you're broken, you use whatever is at hand to glue yourself back together. Love and loyalty and determination, of course. But hate and spite and fury all work as well.

Five never noticed when he started gluing himself together with lies. Lies are not very good glue, they come apart too easily.)

Five protecting his siblings? Angst and hurt? Yes. It hurts, but in a good way. Like all good angsty fics do. The ending? My god. A very nice way to end all that angst. Thank you very much.

Delusions of a Practical Nature by KnightNight7203 (Teen and Up, 5045 words, 3 chapters)

This wasn’t how today was supposed to go. He was supposed to get through the next layer of his equations, finally narrow down the limits he’s been searching for for the past month and a half. But maybe he should sit down with his family more often. For the first time in a long time, he feels something akin to peace.

In which Five doesn’t always have to make it through an apocalypse alone.

You think this is nice. A few things that make you go “That’s weird”, and then it punched you in the gut with the ending and you realize; “oh shit” and it’s actually really sad. This is yet another one of the fics that made me make this list lol.

Don’t waste your time (or time will waste you) by rosewitchx (Teen and Up, 4408 words)

He was an old man. He is sixteen. Ben dies next week. How does he know that? “I think I broke it,” Five stutters, and for the first time in her short life Vanya sees absolute terror in his eyes.

- Or, Five travels back again. Something goes wrong.

Heartbreaking in all the best way. This one hurts, but it wraps up nicely at the end and I like that in a fic (or anything tbh). It kinda feels like one long gut punch at times.

losing you to the gutter by tiesmp3 (Teen and Up, 2328 words)

fire, it burned my skin but i still want to play with it. - “baby boy”, mother mother

or, five is teetering on the edge of a very steep cliff—or, maybe he always has been, but no one’s ever really cared about it, anyway.

Hurt and comfort. Five’s PTSD being adressed. Getting the help he needs. All the good stuff.

and i'll be back (again and again and again) by artfulacrostic (Teen and Up, 3560 words)

Five stumbles to his feet and looks up at his family.

They seem so...startled. Staring, like they can't believe he's back, even though he's been back over and over and over.

Of course, they don’t know that. They never do.

Five relives the eight days before the apocalypse over and over again in a whirlwind of equations, alcohol, and failure.

This one’s a ride, y’all. Oh my fucking god. It’s so good. The feels, holy shit. I have no words. Just read it. This was also one of the fics that made me make this list.

Bolt from the Blue by TheArchaeologist (Mature, 84665 words, 39 chapters)

When they were sixteen Klaus successfully escaped for the night, and to celebrate went to the disco with a girl he barely knew. He was young, terribly misguided, but overall the night had been amazing.

He just didn't expect to have a baby dumped in his arms nine months later.

Or,

The author takes a throw away joke in the show and runs with it.

This is a looong one, I have to be honest with you all. It really is. It’s so good and heart wrenching and sweet and oh so sad. In an Alternate Universe Five is Klaus’ son and we follow him and Ben as they try their best to raise him with the little they have, until it all goes to shit. It’s part of a longer series and let me tell you; It’s a wild one.

And I Will Run Fast, Outlast by beastboy12 (Teen and Up, 27345 words, 7 chapters)

Five is fine. Getting his siblings to see that is a different matter entirely.

In which Five has a very difficult time accepting that he may not, in fact, be okay.

This one’s also on the longer side, but not terrifbly so. It’s another fic where Five struggles with his trauma and gets help. Some recovery. A very nice read. Make sure to read the warnings though, as it covers some difficult things. Be aware of that when reading this.

Side Effects May Vary by CivilBores (Teen and Up, 6565 words)

Allison crosses her arms. “Five,” she says firmly, “when was the last time you slept?”

“I don’t know,” Five says honestly. At Allison’s expression, he quickly adds, “But it doesn’t matter. I don’t know what it’ll take for all of you pea-brained idiots to realize that.”

“We may not be as intelligent as you, Five,” Allison says, “but at least all of us are smart enough to know how to take care of ourselves.”

A week after the world is saved, Five convinces himself that he is still experiencing lingering side effects of paradox psychosis. His family has something to say about that.

Five’s falling apart and he thinks it’s paradox psychosis. The siblings try to help him. It takes some time, but eventually they get through to him. Turns out it’s not that serious, but Five is a disaster so what do you expect?

we are alive, here by pilotpoison (General Audiences, 1364 words)

The Apocalypse was diverted, and Five finally gets to feel.

Probably one of the shortest ones on the list. Five has a bit of a breakdown after finally stopping the apocalypse for good. Angsty with a hopeful, nice ending.

(i heard a rumor) i put a band-aid on a bullet wound by telm_393 (Teen and Up, 3220 words)

Allison tries to figure out who she really is. Allison tries to calm her brother down. There are no quick fixes.

Allison centered fic where she struggles with the loss of her voice and powers. It delves into Allison’s feelings towards the sitauation and her siblings (mostly Vanya). Basically she kinda learns how to live without the use of her voice, which has been such an imprtant part of her before and she also has a nice moment with Five where she calms him down after a nightmare. It’s also an interesting look at what Five’s trauma might look like from an outside perspective.

Derivation by obvious_apostate (General Audiences, 3199 words)

Grace wants to give the children something special for their birthday. She succeeds for six of them.

Your typical fic of the siblings recieving their names, expect in a slightly different direction. Grace sends out letters to the sibling’s mothers to ask what their names should have been and Five’s the one that never gets one. It’s sad and it hurts, but it’s so good.

#tua #Umbrella Academy #The Umbrella Academy #tua netflix #tua fanfic #tua fic rec #allison hargreeves #five hargreeves #number five hargreeves #number five #tua five #tua allison #fanfics #fanfic recs #fic recs #mine

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chilly-me-softly · 4 years

Text

Every Little Thing’s Gonna Be Alright • Chapter 7

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6

Jack sighs as he opens his eyes still sleepy, taking a few seconds to connect his brain and remember where he is. He doesn't remember falling asleep, but he probably must have closed his eyes after Ben's teammate Marc left and he put his phone away.

The room isn't as dark as before, the TV isn't on and there's no one around, so he wonders where everyone is and why they didn't wake him up sooner.

His left arm is numb and he wonders how he really slept to end up in that state. It hadn't seemed that uncomfortable to him when he woke up, but he was obviously wrong. He rotates his shoulder slowly as he sits up on the couch and groans at the obviously strained muscles.

"Sorry about that" his head turns immediately following the voice, finding Ben a few feet away.

"My sister fell asleep on you, I just took her in her room" he explains to his friend's confused face.

"It's okay" he forces himself to give the boy an answer while his mind is picturing the scene. Evelyn had fallen asleep and he had seen that as well as everyone else, but from what he remembers it was only her feet that had brushed against his leg in a vain attempt to lie down at some point. How she could have ended up turned the other way around he can't explain.

"I should go" he yawns getting up, glancing at the time on his phone. It's not exactly late but he's got a long drive ahead of him to get home anyway.

"You can stay if you want. Plenty of space" Ben shrugs while Jack runs a hand through his hair and nods. "I owe you one"

The next morning, waking up is not so traumatic as he remembers almost immediately where he is. The phone tells him it's relatively early, but by now he knows he won't be able to sleep, so he stays staring at the ceiling for a few minutes with his ear eager to pick up some noise.

It's the part he hates the most when he's a guest in someone's house. If he wakes up early, he doesn't want to be snooping around or acting like he owns the place; but he also doesn't want to wake up too late and give the impression of taking advantage of the people who live there. It doesn't matter who the owner actually is, a family member or a friend.

He doesn't hear anything in particular, which makes him think that Ben and everyone else is still blissfully asleep. But he decides to get up anyway, careful not to make any particular noise when he has to use the bathroom.

He rinses his face before leaving the bathroom and when he closes the door behind him, a sharp noise comes from the room not far from where he is. The door is half open and his feet start to head towards it without him taking notice.

He can't see anything through the small gap, so he pushes the wooden surface aside with the palm of his hand, widening his view. The soft light of a lamp on the bedside table illuminates Evelyn, who is folding clothes with her back to him. A suitcase at the foot of the bed, perhaps the cause of the noise from earlier.

She moves her head to the rhythm of the music, totally lost in her own world. And Jack is lost observing her. Seen from behind, no one would think the girl is pregnant, or very far along in her pregnancy anyway; her hair reaches halfway down her back and is tied up with a muffler so as not to bother her; on her feet a pair of socks that barely reach her ankle.

He should go, for someone who doesn't like to pry he's been standing there for a long time now. But before he can even think about doing that, Evelyn sees a shadow out of the corner of her eye and turns around just to make sure that no one is really there, sometimes the dimness can play tricks on you. Instead she brings the image of the boy into focus and startles, the headphones are quickly pulled out of her ears, her heart racing for a moment and a rush of chills running through her entire body.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you"

"Um it's... it's fine" she stammers, hinting at a smile and trying to appear as normal as possible. The boy is leaning against her doorframe, shirtless, with his usual seemingly calm expression on his face. And she tries not to stare at him for too long, hoping that in the semi-darkness of the room the slight blush growing on her cheeks at the fragmented memory of the previous evening is not noticeable. She falling asleep, she squinting her eyes only to close them once she's reassured that Ben is the one taking her away. Those arms so big and comfortable and....

Evelyn shook her head slightly, returning her focus to what she was doing, when suddenly she clearly felt the boy's presence closer.

"What are you doing?" he asks curiously, sitting cautiously on the edge of the bed next to a small notebook and a pen.

"Tidying up, seeing what I'm missing"

"Now? I mean this early?"

"I couldn't sleep, might as well get on with the work" she shrugs and Jack smiles.

"Why are you up instead?"

"Oh it just happened. Habit I guess"

"Yeah"

"So can I help you with anything?" he takes that notebook in his hands in such a casual way that she's just left looking at it for a moment.

"Oh... no. I'm just trying to remember what I forgot. Hmpf I swear I hate pregnancy brain" she complains puffing up her cheeks and releasing the air gradually looking around, hoping to magically remember what she was doing before it all vanished into thin air.

"Diapers x100?!" he reads a spot on her list tapping the pen on her notebook and giggling.

"Dude newborns poop. Like a lot" she emphasizes so much that he lets out a laugh, "Better to have an almost unlimited supply, you never know"

"I see. The baby might starve but oh hey at least you have nappies"

"You got the point" she states seriously as he chuckles again shaking his head.

He looks at her blatantly as she's lost in her own world, her eyes moving along an imaginary path trying to remember what she was doing when she had that idea. And then all of a sudden her face lights up, something like a squeak fills the room as she hurries to snatch the notebook from his hands and ride the wave.

"Buy cot blanket. You made all this fuss over a blanket?!" he jokes as she hits him with the notebook. "Shut up"

"And I have something for you to do, actually"

And he never imagined he would find himself cleaning the inside of a cabinet when the day before Ben had called him asking if he had anything to do. Watching a stranger fold clothes, chatting with her and helping her and gushing over them for how cute and small they are. All in all having a good time. Well that said, nice way to spend a day off.

----

Tag: @emwritesfootball @alexajanecollins

Chapter 8

#every little thing's gonna be alright #my writing #original #football imagine #football imagines #jack grealish imagines #jack grealish imagine #ben chilwell #ben chilwell imagines #ben chilwell imagine

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pcrscuswriting · 3 years

Text

Forget Me Not Spotify Playlist

EDIT 8/12/2021: I took down my fic Forget Me Not yesterday since I had no intentions of updating it again. If I do, I'll put it back up but I'm not as big on MCYT anymore. Sorry.

Hello! I've not updated my fic in a while, I know, but exams have finally finished and I'm ready to write. To help me with this process, I've made a Spotify playlist to listen to in the background. Each song is connected to a plot point and a character/set of characters. I'll explain which songs are whose and vague purposes. Enjoy! 1. Elsa's Song by The Amazing Devil

The song that inspired the fic, all of the chapters are lyrics from it.

Phil's Songs

2. Little Lion Man by Mumford & Sons 3. Hello My Old Heart by The Oh Hellos 4. In Case You Don't Live Forever by Ben Platt 5. One More Light by Linkin Park 6. Wait for Me (Reprise) from Hadestown

Phil's songs represent his arc throughout the entirety of the fic, most of which isn't published yet. He also struggles with understanding that he is no longer in control of his own life.

Interlude 1: "Band of Heroes' Ballad"

7. Soldier, Poet, King by The Oh Hellos

There's quite a bit of The Oh Hellos on this playlist, as they have songs perfect for a DnD-inspired world, but I thought this one represented the three brothers well. I imagine Phil would sing the ballad long after his sons are gone. Techno is the Soldier, Wilbur is the Poet, and Tommy is the "Ruler". It goes in the order of their births and aligns with their DnD classes/arcs. I will not explain Tommy being a ruler at this time.

Tommy's Songs

8. Passerine by The Oh Hellos 9. Ship in a Bottle by fin 10. Theseus by The Oh Hellos 11. Constellations by The Oh Hellos 12. Ain't No Crying by Derivakat 13. It's Alright by Mother Mother

I felt off adding Passerine and Ain't No Crying because the former is connected to another Sleepy Bois fic and the latter is a fan song that I felt related mostly to Tommy in the c!wars. But, in the end, they still suited my Tommy. He feels like he's been trapped behind some glass display case his entire life, everyone treating him like he could break at any moment. He's actually quite mature under all of the lighthearted jokes, and he keeps the other three together. He's the glue, and arguably the most vital person to their "party".

Interlude 2: "The Mark"

14. Rains of Catamere by Peter Hollens and Jonathan Young

This will make sense in Chapter 4: like flowers, bodies tumble. This is a major plot point in the story.

Techno's Songs

15. Burned Out by dodie 16. Hit The Road Jack by 2WEI, Jon, & Bri Bryant 17. The Horror and the Wild by The Amazing Devil 18. Take Me to Church by MILCK

Techno is a very conflicted man. He loved his mother but resented his father for some time after her death. He was a child and assumed his father could have done more to save her. As he grew up, he realized he was wrong and was finally developing a good relationship with his father. Then, he watched his father die on the battlefield. He resented him for coming back and not understanding what he was feeling. Phil didn't even realize Techno saw his death.

Interlude 3: "Forget Me Not"

19. The Night We Met by Lord Huron

The second plot point which will make sense in chapters four and five.

Wilbur's Songs

20. Dear Fellow Traveller by Sea Wolf 21. Home by Cavetown 22. Tightrope from The Greatest Showman 23. Ramblings of a Lunatic by Bears In Trees 24. Achilles Come Down by Gang of Youths

Wilbur is one of my favorite characters to write. I've made this clear many times, I know, but he's a complicated man. He has the capability to perform even more complex magic than his mother had, yet he chose to become a bard. He strikes fear into a man with a single note on his lute. And, despite how he may try to convince himself otherwise, he enjoys doing it. He tries to hide this part of himself from his family, and only wants the best for all of them - especially Tommy.

Potential Sequel Songs

25. Captain's Call by Derivakat and CG5 26. Daughter of the Sea by Sharm and Alison M. Sparrow 27. War of Hearts (Acoustic Version) by Ruelle

A bit of inspiration for a possible piratey sequel... I have plans, guys.

#playlist #dreamsmp fanfic #fanfic #sleepy bois inc fanfiction #sleepy bois inc #sleepy bois au #music recommendation #dnd playlist #d&d playlist #fanfic playlist #fanfiction #fanfiction playlist

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ironfidus · 4 years

Text

Every Fifteen Minutes (3)

Summary:

“In honor of Peter Benjamin Parker,” the obituary reads. “2001 - 2017. Peter B. Parker, 16, died on the 5th of February, 2017, as a result of injuries sustained in a car crash involving a drunk driver…”

Tony can't finish reading. He swears his heart stops. “FRIDAY,” he croaks.

He doesn’t have to finish the order; FRIDAY, as if reading his mind, activates his Iron Man suit and sends it to envelop his body. Tony is shooting through the skies before he even fully realizes it.

OR: Peter Parker was in a car crash—except... he wasn’t. One forgetful Spider-Kid, one sleepy best friend, and one misleading post on social media all lead to a disastrous turn of events, culminating in the arrival of an unexpected guest at Midtown High.

Read here on AO3 (@a_matter_of_loyalty)

:::

Chapter 3: the sky’d be falling (and I’d hold you tight)

Chapter Summary: Peter wakes up.

Or: Tony and Ned finally realize Peter is alive and there was never any car crash at all.

:::

Tony’s heart thumps loudly in his chest.

Peter.

Thud. Thud. Thud thud thud—

He whirls around so quickly he nearly falls and suffers from whiplash, Douglas Fitzpatrick and Principal Morita immediately forgotten. The rest of the goddamn world falls away, out of sight and out of mind.

The groan was quiet, barely even audible, but Tony would recognize that voice anywhere.

For the umpteenth time today, his heart stutters, suspended in time, and then stops. “Peter?” he trembles, the kid’s name no more than a whisper on his tongue. Tentatively, haltingly, he abandons Fitzpatrick and Morita both, making his way back to Ned and Peter—Peter, his stupid, reckless, self-sacrificial, brave kid who is still lying on the ground, a sight that predictably sends a shot of pain piercing Tony. But beyond the instinctive pain, a glimmer of hope balloons in his chest, too, spreading through the rest of his body with unrivaled warmth. “Pete.”

“Peter…? Are you… Can you hear me?” Ned chimes in from beside him, and Tony knows then that he can’t be hallucinating. It feels like a dream, but the same hope he feels is painted across Ned’s face, too.

Right in front of their eyes, Peter’s face muscles twitch.

Tony’s heartbeat picks back up at a hundred miles per hour.

Watching Peter wake up feels like watching the birth of a star. Peter yawns, stretching his limbs like a cat that’s been curled up for too long, and all the while, Tony watches in breathless awe. After a few heart-stopping seconds, Peter sits up, and his eyes instantly catch sight of the scene they make, his best friend and his mentor looming above him with equally hopeful expressions on their faces—

And then Peter beams, hand lifting up in a wave, laughter erupting from him like a shower of protons—a supernova. His smile is dazzling, and it feels a little like watching the sun come out from behind the clouds. It’s like a burst of fireworks splashing across the midnight sky. It’s like the comfort of chocolate and marshmallows, like basking in the hot glow of a campfire.

It’s like hope rising up from a sea of misery.

(Tony never again wants to see Peter's brightness fade, to see the stars in his eyes die out.)

Ned pushes forward first, forcefully slotting himself in front of Tony. Tony doesn’t mind; he’s content with watching and waiting, now that he knows there is a Peter to wait for at all. Besides, he knows what this means to Ned; he knows Ned’s heart broke just as his did.

Ned grips Peter tightly by his shoulders, frenzied eyes meeting his best friend’s. “Peter… Peter. Peter Peter Peter,” Ned chants breathlessly, Peter’s name falling from his mouth like a litany of prayers all blurring together. Ned blinks, once, and the tears overflow his cheeks in a series of cascades. “You’re awake. God, you’re okay.”

“Ned?” Peter blinks, too, but instead of tears, there is only confusion and incomprehension in his eyes. Still, despite his own bewilderment, there is a reason he and Ned have always been best friends: no matter what, they are invariably there to support one another. For Ned, Peter doesn’t hesitate to ignore his budding uncertainty and reach out with his own arms, enwrapping his friend in a soft yet solid embrace, wordlessly providing the reassuring presence Ned needs even without knowing it.

“Ned,” Peter whispers in a hushed, gentle croon, a murmured lullaby to soothe Ned’s frayed nerves. “I’m okay,” he echoes Ned’s near incoherent babbles without prompting. “I’m okay, Ned.”

Ned doesn’t hesitate to enfold Peter in his own arms, crushing Peter to him with an urgency that transcends speech.

Peter swallows, repeating his comforting whispers despite the unease that filters through him. Ned has always been his proverbial rock in the midst of disaster, his anchor to normalcy—to the life of Peter Parker, not Spider-Man. It’s unsettling to see Ned like this: devastated and crying in his arms, shoulders convulsing with the force of his sorrow.

(He became Spider-Man to protect families like his own; to prevent the tragedy that stole Uncle Ben from him from happening to countless others. He became Spider-Man to provide the people with a sense of safety, a sense of security, a sense of comfort.

How can he hope to comfort his neighborhood when he can’t even comfort his own friend?

Ned was never supposed to know sadness like this, grief like this.)

“Peter,” Ned snivels, burying his face in the crook of Peter’s neck. The collar of Peter’s shirt grows damp beneath his face. “You can’t – you can’t leave me, Peter. You’re my best friend. You’re my brother.”

Unbidden, tears spring to Peter’s own eyes, drawn out by the raw anguish evident in his best friend’s entire demeanor. He may not understand, but he doesn’t have to understand to know that Ned needs him right now. “I know,” he whispers. “You’re my brother, too. I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I’m right here.”

Peter holds Ned, keeping him close, for a few minutes longer, unwilling to draw back before Ned does. He’ll stay like this for as long as Ned needs it.

Eventually, as the minutes tick by, Ned’s whimpers quieten and his shoulders stop shuddering. When he finally—albeit reluctantly—pulls away from Peter, it’s with a shaky smile and reddened eyes. Thank you, his smile says, more effectively than words ever could.

Peter smiles back, understanding that Ned’s gratitude extends far beyond the impromptu hug.

It’s only now, after Ned has visibly calmed, that Peter allows his initial confusion to resurface.

“Ned, what’s going—” he freezes suddenly when his eyes catch onto something, or rather someone, over Ned’s shoulder. Ned had blocked his view of their surroundings earlier, and his concern for Ned had clouded his attention anyway, but now that Ned has retracted himself somewhat, Peter can see the familiar outline of his mentor against the backdrop of his high school.

His mentor. Mr. Stark. At his high school.

“Wha – Mr. Stark!” Peter squawks, voice strangled and high-pitched (read: embarrassed) as he meets Tony’s eye—oh, that’s right, he said his classmates don’t believe he knows me, as if he’s the lucky one, Tony recalls faintly—but it does nothing to tame the pleased, albeit shy, smile that crawls up his lips. “Oh, my god. Mr. Stark, what are you doing here?”

The question comes like an accusation, tinged with both confusion and worry.

Tony isn’t worried. How can he worry about anything when Peter’s awake and whole? Maybe that’s why he says in response to Peter’s question, heart on his sleeve: “I came here for you.”

Peter blinks once. Twice.

And then, as the words sink in, as Peter wraps his mind around the quiet admission, he chokes. “Mr. Stark!” he splutters, embarrassment growing as he becomes abruptly aware of where, exactly, he is. Ned’s distress had blinded him to all else earlier, but now, with no distractions to redirect his focus, he feels the presence of his entire student body all too distinctly. Under his schoolmates’ palpably shocked and interrogatory stares, Peter feels naked and defenseless, vulnerable before the world.

The realization that his classmates, people he sees and socializes with everyday, not only witnessed a private moment between him and Ned, but is also now privy to him interacting with Tony Goddamn Stark in all his grandeur, punches into him with the force of an asteroid. Peter blanches visibly, struggling to find words as he valiantly tries (and fails) to ignore his classmates’ piercing gazes, “Why – I thought – I don’t—”

“I thought you were dead,” Tony interrupts, a mere whisper, thick and stained with the lingering fears of the day.

Peter falls silent, his voice stolen from his larynx. Embarrassment and mortification deflating immediately, he gawks, openmouthed and uncomprehending, at Tony.

Tony’s jaw shifts. When FRIDAY first alerted him of the dreaded post that spurred him towards Midtown High today, he cursed himself for never letting Peter know before it was too late—know how much he’d come to mean to Tony, how deeply he’d snuck his way into Tony’s life, how he’d redefined love and family as Tony sees it.

Now that it turns out it’s not too late—now that Peter is breathing and awake and alive, chest rising and falling with the proof of it—Tony won’t let Peter doubt his place in Tony’s life ever again. He’s done hiding, done pretending.

Life is too short, and he has too much to lose.

(It’s a lesson Peter learned early—far earlier than him—Tony thinks. He should have realized it from the very beginning, when he barged into a homely apartment in Queens and met Peter Parker for the very first time, small and timid and startlingly determined in his cramped room, the brightest fire burning in his eyes as he stared Tony down and said, unwavering:

When you can do the things that I can, but you don’t, and then the bad things happen... they happen because of you.

Tony had never forgotten those words.

Even back then, Peter had known the fragility of life and the importance of making every second count—while Tony had been clueless. For so long, he’d taken things—people—for granted; he’d simply assumed Rhodey and Pepper and Happy and later Peter would stay in his life for as long as he wanted.

It is a fool’s assumption. Because sometimes, it’s not up to you. Sometimes, choice doesn’t weigh in.)

(Tony is scared of letting people in. Has always been scared, ever since his father and Obadiah Stane taught him the taste of betrayal.

But he’s more scared of not letting Peter in, of losing Peter, he finds.)

“I thought you were dead,” he repeats, and there is something too honest—too exposed—in his voice to deny. He meets Peter’s eyes and lays his heart bare: “I thought I’d lost you.”

Peter blinks rapidly, eyes pooling with tears. “Mr. Stark,” he says with a weak laugh, voice watery with choked amazement, “you’re going to give people the wrong idea if you keep talking like that.” A tentative grin curls on his face. He jokes, “God forbid anyone realizes Tony Stark has a heart.”

Tony laughs, his first since this morning. It feels freeing, like a vice grip has been released from around said heart. “Let them,” he says when he’s stopped laughing, warm eyes turning fierce and steely. Peter blinks, startled, and Tony smiles, soft but determined. “Let them.”

Peter resembles a deer caught in headlights. “B-But—”

Your reputation, he doesn’t say. He doesn’t need to; Tony can read the worry in his eyes. You’re Tony Stark. What about your company? What about the press? What if they—

Oh, Pete, Tony thinks. You precious, precious kid. Peter was always worrying about others; he was always putting others first. Putting Tony first. Tony shakes his head in disbelief, because—As if I care what they think about me. As if any of that matters more than this, more than you.

He doesn’t care. Nothing matters more.

“I don’t care,” he murmurs aloud resolutely, taking another step towards Peter, hands twitching with the urge to take his kid into his arms, to press two fingers to the side of his neck and feel Peter’s pulse—Peter’s life—beating against the pads of his fingers. “I just spent the last hour or so”—has it really only been an hour? It feels like a lifetime has passed—“thinking you were dead.”

Peter blinks again, the words Tony didn’t say echoing loud and clear in the air between them. His tears spill over in a rush at last, tracking their way down his cheeks. With a startled, nasally laugh, Peter reaches up and rubs at his cheeks with the undersides of his wrists, brushing the tears away.

The motion of Peter’s hands finally redirects Tony’s attention to the side of his head—or rather, to the blood that smears it. Oh, my god. His stomach twists in horrified realization.

“Oh, shit.” Tony’s heart lurches to his throat as his single-minded focus on he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive dwindles slightly, replaced by reawakened fear for what he almost lost and could yet still lose. How could he have forgotten? Stupid. So stupid. In his defense, he’d been too caught up by the fact that Peter is actually alive and breathing to pay attention to the obvious bleeding wound on his head, but still—

He’s a terrible mentor, he thinks. Shit. How long has it been? What if he has a fucking concussion, Stark? “Peter,” he chokes out, voice strangled with urgency, “you need to… you need to get to the hospital, or the medbay, or—wait, the paramedics are already here. Shit, we’ve wasted so much time already and your head—”

Red. So much blood. Tony’s stomach turns. He’s seen a lot of injuries in his time, both due to his wild past and his occupation as Iron Man, but Peter’s wounds have always affected him in ways no one else’s can.

This is Peter, and he’s bleeding from the head. Tony should have flown him to the nearest hospital ten minutes ago.

But for reasons he cannot discern, Peter doesn’t seem to share his concerns. “What?” Peter’s brows furrow. He looks at Tony like he’s grown two heads, instead of the other way around. “Mr. Stark, I’m fine,” he protests.

“You’re not fine,” Tony hisses, his heart racing in his ribcage. Thoughts of head wound and concussion and internal bleeding sweep through his mind, like vultures looking to feast on the nearest rotten carcass. “Fuck. You need medical attention now—”

Speaking of which, why haven’t the paramedics loaded Peter onto the ambulance yet? Sure, Tony and Ned have been fretting over him, but it’s their job to make sure that Peter is in perfect condition.

Tony’s just about to turn and bark at the paramedics to get your asses over here and get my kid to the goddamn hospital when Peter yelps, “Mr. Stark, I’m not hurt. Really!” He gives Tony a meaningful look. “Why would I be—? I haven’t even gone on the web yet today.”

“Peter,”—he swivels around to face the kid again, eyes narrowing—“there is blood on your face. Stop pulling your ‘I’m Fine, I Swear’ routine. That stopped being believable a long time ago.”

“I don’t have a routine— and I really am fine this time!” Peter persists. “Look, it’s just—” he reaches up and swipes a hand through the blood, offering his newly blood-covered hand to Tony.

Tony stares. He resists the immediate, instinctive urge to recoil, instead trying to assess the situation and figure out why the fuck Peter is holding out his blood-covered hand.

“See?” Peter huffs, and Tony doesn’t. “It’s not real blood, Mr. Stark.”

Wait, what. Tony’s brain short-circuits. Now that Peter’s mentioned it, though, Tony considers the notion and realizes that Peter’s supposedly blood-covered hand is missing the distinctive smell of blood, of rusted copper and iron. What the fuck.

Peter smiles far too triumphantly at the dawning look of realization on Tony’s face. “I wasn’t even injured,” he insists.

“B-But— I—” Tony stammers incredulously. “What is all this, then? Why were you…” he trails off, not quite able to make himself voice the words, and instead simply gestures at the scene around them—the cluster of paramedics and police officers looking skittishly from Tony to his Iron Man suit and back again, the handcuffed teenager cowering against one of the police cars, the gathering of students, Peter with (fake?) blood still on his face.

Tony swallows once, and then clears his throat forcefully. “I thought… I thought you were in a car crash…?”

Peter’s eyes widen as the first drops of understanding finally sink into him. Oh. Oh! “Oh, my god. Oh, my god. I wasn’t — Mr. Stark, I wasn’t actually in a car crash. I promise. Wait, is that why you thought I—? That’s why you’re here?”

Tony nods hesitantly, still reeling from shock.

Peter mouths one more oh, my god as he shakes his head frantically, waving his arms back and forth as if to discourage that belief. He looks like he isn’t sure whether to bemoan their luck or giggle at the insanity of their situation. “Mr. Stark. Mr. Stark. This is just a simulation. It’s all part of an educational program Midtown is participating in.”

Tony makes a guttural, dumbfounded noise at the back of his throat, so taken aback that he can’t even find the words to respond to that. A… program?

Peter finally gives in and snickers lightly, equal parts amusement and sheepish regret on his face. “It’s called Every Fifteen Minutes,” he explains apologetically, registering now why his mentor appears so haggard before him, as if he’s been through a war. “It’s meant to raise awareness about the dangers of drinking-and-driving and stuff. I’m sorry if you’ve been…” he shakes it off with a grimace. “I would have told you earlier, but I kind of – heh – fell asleep.”

Tony instinctively takes in the entire scene again, his gaze absently drifting back to the car wreck, the lineup of emergency responders, the gaggle of students and staff. He should have realized the second he appeared that there is something distinctly wrong about an honest-to-god civilian crowd gathering to goggle at a crime scene.

He shakes his head and zeroes in on the handcuffed student for the umpteenth time—only this time, he pushes past the haze of anger and considers all the facts through an impartial lens. He remembers, abruptly, his jarring realization that the student seemed to show no signs of intoxication whatsoever. In light of his newfound perspective on the situation, Tony can only think: oh.

“Oh,” he repeats aloud, half-ashamed. The other half of him is still far too relieved to care about his mistaken assumptions.

Peter gives another giggle. “Yeah, oh,” he mocks.

Tony’s heart skips a beat. Despite knowing full well that Peter is making fun of him, he can’t help but smile contentedly at his stupid, stupid kid, eyes crinkling at the corners. Call him biased, but Peter’s laugh is the best sound in the entire world.

Peter presses his lips together to muffle the rest of his laugh before he tilts his head, searching for his best friend once more. The second he locks eyes with Ned, he raises his eyebrows and aims a questioning gaze at the other boy. “And why were you crying, Ned? Did you... did you think this was real, too?” He looks endearingly confused. “The teachers handed out pamphlets weeks ago, remember?”

Ned flushes when Tony turns to stare at him, visibly unimpressed. “How was I supposed to know that was today?” Ned protests, grumbling under his breath. After a prolonged moment, he scratches his cheek sheepishly and admits, “I completely forgot about that. I didn’t even connect the dots until you mentioned it.”

Peter squints. “Ned...” he draws out and proceeds to list, the teasing grin on his face growing with every passing second: “Mr. Harrington told us it would be today. Principal Morita sent out emails in advance—both to us and to our emergency contacts, to make sure we’re all informed. One of the officers literally came into our class and notified us that I’d be the ‘casualty’ from our class.”

“Oh,” Ned mumbles to himself, even more embarrassed now.

“Leeds,” Tony groans, eyes slitted in incredulous disapproval, “really?”

Ned splutters incoherently, trying to defend himself to the sound of Peter’s suppressed giggles.

:::

After the initial rush of adrenaline has faded from all of their systems, Tony dusts off his pants, briefly eyeing the dirt-stained patches at his knees with resignation, and beckons for Peter to stand. “We’re leaving,” he announces in a voice that dares anyone to disagree. He shoots Principal Morita—who is still standing a few feet away from Fitzpatrick, posture ill at ease although comprehension (dazed comprehension, but comprehension nonetheless) seems to have finally dawned on him after witnessing Tony Stark’s reaction to Peter’s awakening—in particular, a pointed glare. “Let’s go, Pete.”

Naturally, no one disagrees.

Peter shrugs, rising to his feet from where he’s been sitting cross-legged on the ground. “Good thing I’ve been excused from the rest of my classes,” he says, knowing better than to argue with Tony right now.

Tony nods jerkily. He turns to Peter’s sidekick with a questioning look. “Ted, you coming?” he offers graciously; he knows he certainly wouldn’t want to be separated from Peter after the roller-coaster of a lunch hour he’s had.

Tony’s prompt return to using the familiar nickname Ted startles Ned for a moment, but he’s too relieved by the reason why Tony’s calling him ‘Ted’ again to care.

Ned hesitates, conflicted gaze darting to Peter—hungrily drinking in the sight of his best friend, alive and well—before he sighs and declines, audibly disappointed, “I can’t. Unlike someone,”—he shoots Peter a mock-annoyed glare that Peter promptly responds to with a self-satisfied grin—“I actually do still have to attend my last classes of the day.”

Tony nods in sympathetic understanding.

Ned faces Peter with narrowed eyes. “But you and I are going to have a long, long call tonight. Don’t even think of skipping out,” he declares decisively, not giving Peter any choice in the matter.

Peter laughs, nodding easily. “I’ll hold you to it,” he agrees readily.

Ned relaxes minutely and nods, an expression of immeasurable gratitude rising in his eyes.

“Okay, kid, come on,” Tony breaks the moment, being the first among the three to finally remember all of the eyes on them. “I think we’ve all had enough of being stared at for one day. I grew up hounded by the media circus and even I’m fazed by all of this gawking,” he jokes.

Peter nods in agreement, shuffling closer to Tony self-consciously. Tony obligingly shifts so that he’s covering Peter from the prying stares as best he can.

“Where are we going?” Peter asks, privately grateful for Tony’s unspoken show of support. He knows he can always count on Mr. Stark to try to shield him from the rest of the world. “Is Happy picking us up?”

Tony sucks in a sharp breath. Absolutely not, he wants to snap. You aren’t going anywhere near a goddamn car if I have anything to say about it.

Of course, he knows now that it was all just part of one elaborate educational program. He knows that Peter was never in any danger at all.

But that knowledge doesn’t erase the hour in which he’d existed in his own personal limbo, suffering under the impression that Peter is dead. It doesn’t erase the panic, the fear, the grief. It doesn’t erase the fact that he can’t bear the thought of Peter getting within ten feet of a car.

He also knows, logically, that he can’t keep Peter sheltered forever. Peter will have to get back in a vehicle eventually, whether it’s a school bus or Happy’s—technically Tony’s—car. There’s nothing he can do about that.

But for once, he doesn’t want to listen to logic. For right now at least, he can prevent Peter from climbing aboard a car. For right now, he can do something about it.

“Nope,” Tony decides, reaching out and gripping Peter by the shoulders. Unapologetically, he turns Peter around and steers him down the street, away from Midtown High, smothering his amusement as Peter half-twists in his hold and waves a cheery see you later at Ned. Fortunately—for everyone’s sake—no one tries to stop Tony from leaving with Peter in tow (likely still too shocked to do anything but gape uselessly). “We’re going to walk. Think of it as extra exercise to keep your blood flowing. Your growing teenage body needs to stay active, you know. Keeps your immune system strong and all that—”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter interrupts, completely deadpan, and pauses long enough to look around in search of eavesdroppers before he continues, voice lowered, “I’m literally Spider-Man.”

“—So! Exercise,” Tony concludes loudly, expertly ignoring Peter. He’s only vaguely aware of his Iron Man suit silently trailing after them in the air, FRIDAY intuitively steering the empty armor.

Peter just sighs, accepting it for what it is. Still, he makes one last attempt to make Tony see reason. “Mr. Stark, my bags are still in my locker. I need my books for homework.”

Tony is suddenly and vividly reminded of sitting beside Peter on his cramped twin bed, trying to convince the kid to join him in Germany only for Peter to argue that he had homework. It’s such an insignificant, silly detail, but it’s a response that is so perfectly Peter that Tony is abruptly struck by how precious Peter is. It reminds him, inexplicably, of Peter’s unwavering sense of responsibility.

Oh, kid. And just like he did last time, Tony waves it off. “Don’t worry about it,” he says. “We can come back to take your bags later.” And by “later”, he means: after he’s fussed over Peter a sufficient amount.

Peter seems to understand his unspoken implication, giving Tony an unamused look. “So how are we going to get to the Tower?” he asks, bypassing the issue of his missing books for the moment.

He’s been around Tony far too often, if he can read Tony this easily, Tony thinks. He should probably be concerned, but he finds he doesn’t really care. Peter seems to be the exception to all of his rules.

“Unless, of course, you plan on walking the entire way there,” Peter adds skeptically.

Tony simply raises his gaze to the sky, where Iron Man hovers above them. “Have you forgotten that I have a flying suit?” he says.

Peter follows his gaze expectantly and laughs, shaking his head as if to say I should have known.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Tony coaxes, trying to make light of the situation and ignore the elephant in the room that is his irrational fear of letting Peter get too close to a four-wheeled vehicle (or any wheeled vehicle, period). “Just think of it as express delivery service.”

Peter snorts. “You’re impossible, Mr. Stark,” he complains, but he indulgently follows Tony further away from his school, so Tony counts it as a win. “So, where are we walking to now? Or are we headed to the Tower directly?”

Tony considers it. He really, really doesn’t want to return to the reality of Tony Stark, owner of a multibillion dollar corporation, just yet. For at least a while longer, he just wants to stay like this: relaxed in the presence of his kid, where he doesn’t have to be anything or anyone but Peter’s almost-father as he reassures himself of Peter’s continued existence.

He makes up his mind. “No,” he says. He doesn’t hesitate to change direction, luring Peter away with the promise of a treat—“You’ve been wanting to visit that new ice cream parlor near your school, right? You mentioned something about that last weekend.”

Peter stops short, staring at Tony in unmitigated awe. “You… you remember that?” he whispers.

Tony pauses, too, glancing sidelong at the kid. He huffs as if offended. “Peter, some people would say that I’m the smartest man alive,” he reminds Peter with an arched eyebrow. “Of course I remember. Or do you doubt my memory capacity?”

“No! That’s not… that’s not what I meant,” Peter stammers. “I just thought… I guess I didn’t realize you were actually paying attention. I know I ramble a lot, so…”

Tony softens. “Of course I listened, kid,” he says, and somehow, he sounds even more offended than when he thought his intelligence was in question. At the same time, though, he sounds immeasurably fond. Adoring, even—the way Peter sounds, sometimes, when he’s gushing over an endearing kitten. “I always listen to you.”

Peter sniffles. Tony graciously ignores it and urges Peter along once more with a murmured come on. Peter hastens to follow and falls into lockstep with his mentor.

In the end, they walk away together, side-by-side, as the Midtown High students and staff watch on in openmouthed shock.

:::

“Don’t ever do that to me again, or I swear, Peter, a drunk driver will be the least of your worries,” Tony threatens once the Midtown High gaggle of gawkers are out of earshot, but the still-present tears in his eyes and the disbelieving—awed—smile on his lips betray the truth. He has no room left for anger when all he can feel is relief. Relief and so, so much gratitude. Thank God you’re okay.

He squeezes his eyes shut and slings an arm around Peter’s shoulders, tugging him close. His body seems to be acting of its own volition as he ducks his head slightly and presses a kiss to the crown of Peter’s head.

Peter flushes bright red, but beyond the embarrassment, there’s something giddy about the bounce in his step and the way he burrows closer to Tony’s side.

Tony’s heart swells. This kid. “I can’t lose you, kiddo,” he murmurs.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark,” Peter says meekly, guilt flashing across his eyes and drowning out his quiet elation at Tony’s blatant show of affection. The last thing he’d ever wanted to do was add to his mentor’s burdens. “I swear I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“You better not have meant to. You know I have heart problems, kid,” Tony accuses, and though he means to come across as playful, the words reveal something raw and broken inside him, reflected in the scratchy quality of his voice.

A pause. And then, like the first ray of sunlight after a tumultuous storm, Peter teases, “I knew you cared.” But despite his mirthful facade, a hint of sincerity shines through as Peter grips Tony’s hand in his own, like a terrified little boy hanging on to his lifeline—a guiding light in the dark, someone to look up to and someone to follow.

(It’s easy, sometimes, to forget that Peter is still just a teenaged boy, lost in the real world.

Other times, it’s impossible to forget it—to forget that tragedy took Peter’s innocence from him far too soon; to forget that despite his maturity and strength and sense of responsibility, Peter is only a child.

In times like these, Tony can’t forget. All he can do is hold on tight and hope he can keep Peter grounded. Hope he’s enough to remind Peter that he isn’t alone.)

Tony is tempted to play along, to laugh and dismiss Peter’s words with a roll of his eyes and a “get real, kid.” But the memory of Peter’s blood-splattered face is still too fresh in his mind, so instead, he blurts out, all too honest, “Of course I care about you. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

Peter falls silent, wide-eyed as he stares at his mentor.

Tony swallows, squeezes Peter’s hand tightly in a moment of comfort for the both of them. “You’re – you’re like… like Sullivan Junior.” Young and pure. An innocent child—my innocent child. “You know?”

“Uh,”—Peter raises an unimpressed eyebrow, his stunned awe momentarily back-burnered—“I have no idea who that is, Mr. Stark. If he’s from one of your old movies, then I’m going to need some background context.”

Tony shoves Peter with a huff. “They’re not old!” he protests, the beginning of a familiar argument buzzing between them. It’d be so simple, so natural, to fall back into their usual back-and-forth, their easy banter. But he’s tired of running away from this—from the pride and fondness and affection he feels for Peter—and so he pushes the beckoning urge away and says, “You’d be Simba, if I were Mufasa—that’s a reference a kid your age can understand, right?”

Peter sniffles. “Makes sense that you’d make yourself a king,” he jokes reflexively, even as his mind buzzes with the implication of Tony’s words.

Tony snorts a laugh, quiet but unfeigned. He lets himself enjoy the comfortable atmosphere settling around them—enjoy the reassurance of Peter’s warm hand in his, the steady heartbeat pulsing in Peter’s wrist tangible against Tony’s thumb—for a moment or two before he clarifies, so plainly that there can be no mistaking his meaning: “You’re like my kid, Peter.” And then, because he always calls Peter ‘kid’ and he doesn’t want there to be any doubts left—“Like my son.”

Peter’s vision blurs with tears. “Mr. Stark—”

“And you’re such a good kid, Pete,” Tony breathes, and the praise washes over Peter like the sunset. Inevitable. Real, natural, genuine. It settles like the truth. Perhaps the truest thing Tony has ever said to Peter.

There’s so much more Tony wants to say, too.

Maybe:

I’m so lucky to know you. More than that—more than just knowing you—I’m so lucky that I get to have this. That I get to have you in my life.

Or:

You’re the best person I know, Pete. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you, but I promise I’ll do everything in my power to one day become worthy of you.

Or:

Thank you for being here. For being you.

Or:

You’re not allowed to ever die, you hear me? You can’t ever leave me.

Instead, Tony looks Peter in the eye, basks in the warm hot chocolate hue that feels like home, and simply settles on:

“I love you, kid.”

Because this – this is the most important thing. This is what matters most. And as long as Peter knows that, as long as Peter knows his place in Tony’s heart… the rest will follow.

They’ll find their way.

As if to reaffirm Tony's thoughts, Peter subconsciously steps closer towards his mentor, like a child blindly reaching out for their parent in a crowd full of strangers. “I love you, too, Mr. Stark,” he whispers, breathless as if he’s caught in a dream—but despite the awed disbelief in his voice, there is also certainty. Conviction. Peter doesn’t need to think about this—about what Mr. Stark has come to mean to him, beyond his initial starry-eyed impression of the famous Avenger. It’s been a long time since he’s seen Mr. Stark as just a hero, as just Iron Man, as just anything. “I've thought of you as a father figure for a while now.”

Tony, unable to help himself, drops another kiss onto Peter’s forehead. Peter blinks rapidly and clutches his mentor’s hand—his dad’s hand, he thinks giddily, because he can call him that now—tighter, feeling rather than seeing the tender smile on Tony’s face.

“I’m glad,” Tony murmurs, and his heart feels like it’s about to burst from all the joy and bliss flooding him. Peter beams up at him in response, and as Tony imprints the sight of Peter’s happiness in his memory forever, he can’t help but think, again:

This is the most important thing.

:::

They get their ice cream eventually, Peter eagerly and unashamedly wolfing down half a dozen scoops as he recounts the day’s events with animated gestures and infectious laughs.

All the while, Tony watches Peter over his own scoop of ice cream, his gaze openly affectionate and doting, his heart rate gradually slowing and settling with the reassurance that Peter is right here.

(The Iron Man sentry watches, too, FRIDAY’s sensors online and on the alert for potential dangers to Peter Parker’s person. Peter has never felt more safe.)

:::

Once they’ve devoured enough ice cream to satisfy both their appetites (which unsurprisingly takes a lot more scoops for the growing Spiderling than it does for Tony), Tony leaves a wad of cash on the table and shepherds the kid out the door.

The glass doors swing shut behind them. Tony beckons the Iron Man armor to him and, once re-suited up, promptly opens his arms in a wordless invitation.

Peter rolls his eyes in exasperation, but obligingly steps into the space between Tony’s arms with nothing more than a tolerant huff. Tony absolutely does not sigh in inaudible relief as he grips Peter tightly and blasts off into the skies.

As the familiar neighborhoods of his hometown begin to shrink in the distance, Peter’s reservations gradually leach away into the open air. He lets out an involuntary yawn. Eyes helplessly drooping closed, Peter nestles his head more comfortably against Tony’s metal-plated chest.

Within seconds, he’s out cold again.

Shaking his head in amused disbelief at the kid dozing off in his arms, Tony inwardly melts at the implicit show of trust. Granted, Peter could probably fall asleep anywhere—as evidenced by his earlier untimely power nap in the middle of the road—but still. Just the thought that Peter feels safe and secure enough to drift off as they hurtle through the air at high speed, Tony’s arms the only thing keeping Peter from plummeting to his death?

Well.

Peter’s faith in him will never stop leaving him breathless.

The thing is, Tony doesn’t have any of his biological family left.

Truthfully, he’s never even known family, not really—or, at least, he’s never known the type of family Peter and May represent, bound together by unconditional love and trust, existing in a pocket universe of their own making, a safe haven closed off to the rest of the world.

Tony’s own immediate family is nonexistent. He barely remembers his grandparents; he has no siblings to call his own; and as for his parents, well—he lost them long before fate and the Winter Soldier took them from him for good. He lost them to his mother’s neglect and long absences, to his father’s harsh disapproval and cutting remarks, to years of silent suffering behind closed doors.

He used to think he barely knows what family even means.

But when he looks at Peter now, unashamedly snuggled up to him, face open and vulnerable and trusting even in sleep, he thinks he might finally understand. He doesn’t need blood to tell him that this is what family should feel like: warmth and safety and a home away from home.

He thinks he might have found family in Peter—in late night dinners with the two of them trading half-baked ideas for quirky gadgets and suit modifications over the kitchen table; in working side-by-side with Peter in comfortable silence, a well-oiled machine; in movie marathons spent crowded on the couch, Peter’s head on his chest and Pepper’s hand in his; in lab sessions filled with them hollering at each other across the room, Peter diligently working on calculations or doing homework on the floor; in long car rides across the bustling city, Peter rambling in his ear and Happy chuckling from the driver’s seat; in weekend sleepovers and early morning runs with Peter and Rhodey on either side of him; in watching baking competition shows with Peter and his aunt in their pajamas, Peter sandwiched between the two adults on the Parkers’ beaten couch.

A family forged through an eternity of contented moments, away from the glaring, unforgiving media spotlight that accompanied every waking moment of his childhood.

He may not have the DNA to prove that there’s love there, but he doesn’t need it. This is his family—they are all his family—and he belongs to them more than he has ever belonged to his parents.

He glances down at Peter, tucked securely in his arms, unguarded and trustful as Tony flies him across the New York skies. All at once, Tony feels so much love swell inside him that he thinks he might implode from the enormity of it.

Peter is his family, and Tony loves him fiercely. It comes naturally, then—the realization that he’d do anything for this precious kid draped across his arms.

I’ll protect you always, he thinks, a promise burning bright in his chest. It’s a promise he means to keep, for the rest of his life. No matter what struggles you have to face—whether it be gun-toting criminals or drunk teenagers behind the wheel—come rain or shine, I’ll be here.

I am here, kid.

Forever.

:::

BONUS #1:

Tony does, eventually, agree to accompany Peter back to Midtown High—ostensibly to retrieve Peter’s bags and books, but in reality for his own ulterior motives. As Peter makes his way to his locker, Tony makes a detour to a different locker, having discreetly consulted FRIDAY for the name and identity behind the Twitter account that posted Peter’s obituary earlier that day. With all the resources at his disposal, it takes him no time at all to locate Flash Thompson’s locker.

That’s where Peter finds him a few minutes later, schoolbag slung over one shoulder. Peter narrows his eyes at his conspicuous mentor. “What are you doing in front of Flash’s locker, Mr. Stark?” he asks suspiciously.

Tony just smiles, but there’s a wicked gleam to it. “Nothing,” he lies, thinking of the passive-aggressive (read: aggressive as hell) letter he’d printed on official Stark Industries stationery and slipped into the offending locker, in which he’d not-very-subtly threatened to completely obliterate Flash’s academic career and generally make his life miserable if he even looked at Peter the wrong way again.

His smile widens as he ushers Peter away without so much as a backwards glance. “Absolutely nothing at all.”

:::

BONUS #2:

(If Tony Stark goes home that day and immediately messages May to badger her to get him listed as Peter’s second emergency contact in Midtown High’s system—just to prevent another misunderstanding like this, he pleads, and he isn’t lying, but that isn’t his only reason, either—well, that’s his business.)

:::

BONUS #3:

When the time to participate in the Every Fifteen Minutes program rolls by once again the next year, students are expressly banned from taking pictures during the event to prevent another fiasco (ft. another Helicopter Parent, even if not Tony Stark).

Notably, Peter Parker is not asked to be one of the casualties again.

:::

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

#marvel #mcu #iron dad #irondad and spiderson #spiderman #iron man #peter parker #tony stark #marvel fanfiction #iron dad fanfiction #ned leeds #flash thompson #irondad fluff #trope: presumed dead #faye writes

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from-a-reckless-writer · 4 years

Text

Okay so I wrote a thing. Well. Actually I got a writing prompt and thought hey, why not? And SO JUST A HEADS-UP THO, THIS ISN'T SIX RELATED LIKE ALL OF MY OTHER POSTS THIS IS JUST ME WRITING A SHORT STORY AND SEEING HOW IT GOES. SO YEAH. btw, @timetoriseabove thanks for the push.

HERE GOES NOTHING...

Who? Who could I call?

I looked at the time, 2 fucking o’clock in the morning. What a great time to deal with this kind of bullshit. So right, who could I call? I can’t call Dad, because if I call Dad I’m pretty sure that in less than 30 minutes the whole family would know what kind of shit I landed myself in again. No, actually not just my family but our entire family tree including that one cousin I hate. I also can’t call Joel, if I call Joel and then he would tell Dad and again, we can’t let Dad know. Oh I know! I could call Aunt Hazel, after all she’s my favorite aunt for a reason.

We can’t call Aunt Hazel, remember that incident last Sunday, the one where you played your I’m-Your-Favorite-Niece-So-Please-Help-Me Card?

Fuck, right I forgot about that, and yeah Aunt Hazel has done me way too many favors, more than I can count. How about Cathy though? I could call Cathy right? No, no, I can’t call Cathy because Cathy’s got a flight tomorrow and that flight was the sole reason why we went celebrating and what inevitably landed me here. So yes, call Cathy and tell her it’s her fault.

You do know it’s not her fault right? How about you call Ben?

Right, Ben have I mentioned Ben? See, Ben was actually the first choice I had in mind, before remembering that yeah, I never really did choose Ben first. Ben. Ben, who is the perfect person to call right now because Ben wouldn’t call my dad and tell my whole family. Ben, who would know what information he has to write down in the forms because he goddamn knows everything about me. Ben, who wouldn’t mind doing me a hundred favors. Ben, who I haven’t talked to in 2 months. My Ben-“So uhm, did you finally reach your emergency person?” my train of thought was cut down when the nurse cleared her throat and spoke to me, the police officer behind her also waiting for my response. God, who knows how long I’ve been here, surrounded by white tiles, blue curtains and the smell of hospitals that makes you sad. “Uh yeah, yeah I know who to call, he’ll be here in a minute.” The nurse nods and they both leave while I try to process the words I had just said. I don’t know who to call, fuck! I can’t believe this, I’m hiding again, hiding the pain. The shock actually came first before the pain, the pain that slowly seeped in and then the fear, because-God, that is way too much blood.

I take a deep breath, grab my phone and finally dialed a number

_____________________________________________________________________________________

“Hello?” I groggily answer, I didn’t look at the caller I.D because who the fuck calls at, I steal a glance at the clock on my nightstand-at 2 fucking 15 a.m-what the hell?

“Ben-“ one word, just one syllable really and I instantly know who was calling, Grace. Just like that, all traces of my sleepiness was gone. My mind instantly counted how long it has been since I last spoke to her. Two months, five days and-yeah it was probably a bad idea, but this was Grace. Grace! Godsake it only took one second for her to mess up his life again.

“Hi-uh-you there? Uh I’m sorry to call you I know it’s the middle of the night and-“ she mumbles, “Grace what is it?” I cut her off. “I uhm-I’m in the hospital.” I freeze “What? What hospital?” I’m fully awake now, immediately dressing up and instantly grabbing my green jacket in a hurry. I quickly get my keys, lock the door and by the time Grace has told me the full directions to the hospital, I was already starting up my car.

Just like that, just one word from Grace and all my attention is back on her. Everything is revolving around her again.

What do you mean again? “Again” is a word that implies you stopped. But you never really did stop did you?

“Hey, I’m really really sorry to bother you, promise it won’t take long. I just need someone to assist with the med forms and you can go quickly-“ Grace said through the phone, she was rambling, apologizing but there was something different in her voice. Hesitation maybe? “I promise it’s going to be quick and you don’t have to worry at all.”

I don’t know who you’re trying to convince, me or you.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

“Hello,” he answered groggily. God Ben, do you always have to answer this quick? You didn’t even give me time to breathe.

It only took a couple of words from me and suddenly I can hear rustling from the other end. I can picture him, immediately grabbing his green jacket. His green jacket that I’ve worn way too many times, hung inside his room, his room that I’ve also been to, way too many times.

I hear the jangle of his keys and just like that my heart is beating even faster now. What will I say to him? I am so not ready for this. Hey thanks for saving my ass yet again? Thanks for doing this even if you shouldn’t really be doing this?

“Hey Grace you still there?” he asked, “Yeah, yeah I’m still here.”

He asked, and I can hear the fear in his voice. You know Ben, I can feel it too the fear, and I keep fearing that my answer to your question will always be “I’m here.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________

When I got out of the car, I went straight to the Emergency Room. There was a nurse near your bed and a police officer and the driver of the car that hit you. He looked young, like really young. He looked like he would shit his pants if I told his Dad that his car hit somebody.

When the officer saw me then the nurse and then you. They started to talking to me and handed me papers but it was hard to take my eyes off of you. There was a bandage wrapped around your entire left leg. A few bruises on your arm and a small cut under your eye. You looked bad. So bad that I now realize why you called me first. Yeah, because I know that you don’t want your family to know. I know so many things about you, but right now I don’t know what to say to you.

Because what the fuck do you say in a situation like this?

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Step.

Dizzy.

Step.

Head-spinning.

Step-

Flashing lights-

Whoosh! BANG!

Oh, shit.

Pain-

Black.

“Here, coffee.” You gave me the cup, it tasted bland. Oh god, don’t even try to complain that it doesn’t taste like coffee. I know that you got the coffee from the vending machine down the hall. I don’t know what to say, because what to say in a situation like this? You can’t joke lightly, you can’t hug him, you can’t touch him. I can’t do anything right.

“Thank you-“ I started, “Pfft-it’s just coffee you don’t have to thank me.” you answer, you’re wearing the green jacket.

“No-I mean for coming and helping me and everything.” The coffee was hot that was why my hands were sweating. The coffee, not because he’s near me again and not because he’s running his fingers through his hair. It is also not because of the fact that you’re trying to avoid my eyes.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

There are 120 tiles inside this room.

Yeah because counting tiles is more interesting than her? Very convincing Ben.

“Why were you out so late? Why didn’t you just sleep at Cath’s?”

“Peter was there, it was their last night before Cath flies out tomorrow. I wanted them to-“

“Yeah, of course that’s it. Of course you want them to have that moment.” You sigh and shake your head.

“ You never drink.”

“What? Am I not allowed to drink all of a sudden?”

“You’re not allowed, if it’s just going to land you in situations like this! And I end up the one to pick it all over again, clean the mess!”

Whoa, and I thought breaking my left leg was painful enough, I guess it’s not. I stay quiet at your little outburst, I can hear you breathing heavily, I can hear you breaking.

“Then you shouldn’t have come.” I finally say.

“Then you shouldn’t have answered the phone in the first place.” I finish.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

“I can’t.” I answer her.

I can’t because if I don’t come then, Grace that means it’s over.

“You didn’t really mean it like that, do you?”

“Mean what?” I ask playing innocent.

“It’s a quarter past 3.” There you go again, changing the subject, running, hiding. That’s what you like, that’s what you were good at. Asking me vague questions and giving me vague answers. Well, now it’s my turn to give you vague answers, it’s my turn to ask you vague questions.

“Grace what’s gonna be the ending?” I ask.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

“The sun will rise.”

I answer, I never really liked giving straightforward answers. I prefer the safety of mysteries and vagueness. But of course you already know that. You know everything. That’s why you asked me that question.

So, how will this end? I never liked these kind of situations, because they require the truth.

I never did like truths. But I guess a part of me doesn’t want to answer because maybe, I don’t want it to end. Not yet anyway. What I said was true though, the sun will rise and a new dawn will break. I wonder where will we find ourselves then?

SO YEAH IF U REACHED THIS PART THANK YOU FOR READING. LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS, OR IF I SHOULD STOP, IF U WANT TO GIVE ME A PROMPT. I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU GUYS.

Love from a reckless writer. 😘

#should i write more?#PLEASE PLEASE BE KIND IM KIND OF NEW TO ALL THIS.#Writing #Original characters.#Original story

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its-r-i-d-i-c-u-l-o-u-s · 5 years

Text

Call Me A Freak- Chapter 3: Auradon Prep

Words: 2,263

Warnings: mentions of death, anxiety, mentions of violence, swearing

Ch 2 | Ch 4

~ ~ ~

As we got deeper into Auradon, my heart rate increased. I knew nothing about this place. I could name every street, building, and person on the Isle, but here? I was lost. And I felt utterly alone.

I had known Evie, Jay, and Carlos for so long, practically my whole life, and I had never entrusted anything in them. All my secrets were my secrets.

It was all because of my mother. I knew her plans (not that I had believed she would ever complete her dream of getting off the island) and they didn’t include Jafar, Cruella, or the Evil Queen. No… they were all expendable. And so were their kids.

If I got close, I would just end up losing them, I was sure. And tears over spilled blood would simply make me look more expendable to her, too.

It was once we approached the school that I realized how awful going to Auradon Prep was going to be. The kids all cheered outside as our limo approached. Some had banners or flags, others simply waved to us as we drove by. At the front of the school, the band played a quick celebratory piece, in full uniform.

We were the center of attention. The main attraction. They’d probably be watching our every move while here. How could we pull this off?

The driver pulled open the door for us. There were a few hesitant looks. No one wanted to get out.

Jay grumbled something, before pushing past Carlos and getting out of the car. I was quick to follow, with Evie and Carlos behind me.

As soon as I stepped out I had to cover my eyes with the back of my hand. It was so bright outside. Evie was also shading her face, while the boys squinted and locked their eyes to the floor.

As the band stopped playing, they parted and out walked an older woman in a light blue outfit and two kids our own age.

I rubbed my eyes, trying to dull the aching in my head as I adapted to the strange new surroundings.

“Welcome to Auradon Prep!” this new woman announced in a modulated voice. The entire group in front of us had on wide smiles. “Are the four of you alright?” she added, when she noticed how very uncomfortable we were.

“It’s never this… sunny on the Isle,” I muttered through gritted teeth. My hands found their way to my hips as I tried to act powerful. My mother was indeed quite the legend and even if I didn’t want them to think I was a bad guy, I wanted their respect.

From the corner of my eye, I could make out Jay looking the girl to the right up and down.

The woman in the middle must have noticed too, because she cleared her throat before saying, “I am Fairy Godmother, headmistress.”

My eyes narrowed. It couldn’t be that easy, right? The others also shifted uncomfortably, looking between them.

The boy on the left stepped forward, politely. “It’s so good to finally meet you all. I’m Ben.”

“Prince Benjamin,” said his female counterpart, who stepped forward with him. “Soon to be king!”

He looked down, the smile on his face becoming a bit tighter as she spoke. My eyes drifted between them, noticing some sort of tension there.

Evie leapt forward slightly at the mention of prince. “Oh! My mom’s a queen as well, which makes me a princess,” she flirted.

The girl’s face scrunched up almost immediately. “The Evil Queen has no royal status here,” she informed. “And neither do you.”

Evie’s face dropped. She backed up beside me as Ben chuckled nervously.

“This is Audrey,” he introduced.

“Princess Audrey,” she butted in once more. “His girlfriend.”

I bit down on the inside of my cheek. She was his girlfriend. That might explain her sense of superiority. But not his tension as she grabbed his hand and swung it around.

“Ben and Audrey are going to show you all around,” Fairy Godmother smiled. “And I will see you tomorrow.”

She reached down, putting her hands over Ben and Audrey’s. It could have been a comforting gesture if she didn’t push them apart a second later.

“The doors of wisdom are never shut!” she announced. “But the library hours are from 8-11 and as you may have heard I have a little thing about curfews.”

We all nodded, unsure what else there was to say.

She scampered away, followed by the band.

Once we were the only ones left outside, Ben clapped his hands together, a smile gracing his face once more.

He walked around to shake all of our hands, approaching Jay first. “It is so, so, so good to finally meet-” his voice cracked a minute as Jay punched his shoulder rather than shake his hand. “-you all.”

I shook his hand quickly, not interested in making friends with the boy for any reason, but he paused once he reached me, his eyes lingering for a moment too long, almost as if he recognized me.

“This is a momentous occasion,” he continued, moving onto Carlos. “And one that I hope will go down in history as the day our two peoples began to heal,” he finished, shaking Evie’s hand and backing away.

“Or the day you showed four people where the bathrooms are,” I replied, snarkily.

He chuckled, looking at me. “A little bit over the top?”

“A little more than a little bit.”

His face was soft. Much more kind than anyone I’d ever encountered before. Part of me was on edge, knowing that sweet talkers often had ulterior motives and yet, a part of me was comfortable around him.

“Well, so much for my first impression,” he laughed and you found yourself joining in slightly.

“Hey!” Audrey interrupted. “You’re Maleficent’s daughter, aren’t you? Yeah, you know what? I totally do not blame you for your mother trying to kill my parents and stuff.”

I almost choked on my own saliva, my eyes widening immensely.

Ben was also obviously very unhappy that Audrey had decided to bring this up and his eyes dropped down to his shoes once more.

“My mom’s Aurora,” she boasted. “Sleeping Beauty.”

I had to keep myself from leaning away from her… or punching her in the face. Both of them were tempting.

“Yeah,” I responded. “I’ve heard the name.”

That’s all that I could manage to say without my anger getting the best of me. But I did notice Jay and Carlos closing in around me. Perhaps a warning or getting prepared to hold me back if needed. Whatever the matter, I was glad to have them there.

Ben clapped his hands together once more. “Okay! So, how about a tour? Yeah?” He turned on his heel, gesturing to the school in front of us. “Auradon Prep! Originally built over 300 years ago and converted into a high school by my father, when he became king.”

Audrey quickly latched herself onto her boyfriend’s arm and followed him around campus. The four of us shared a look of unease, before moving on. We didn’t exactly expect to meet the spawn of our parents’ sworn enemies so soon.

But I did my best to reassure them that I would be fine around her and proceeded to follow Ben through the front garden.

~ ~ ~

“So,” I started, trying not to look impressed by the detailed architecture of the dorm rooms. “You guys can use magic here, huh?”

Behind me, Jay was making mental notes of everything valuable and Evie was just about to puke from elation.

“Yeah, it exists.” Ben stopped to face us. “But it’s pretty much retired. Most of us here are just ordinary mortals.”

I couldn’t help the grimace that graced my face. He was trying to be humble, but a king isn’t on even ground with the poor, no matter how much he tries to convince them that he is. “Who happen to be kings and queens,” I grumbled.

“That’s true!” Audrey claimed. “Our royal blood goes back hundreds of years.”

I was starting to regret reassuring the gang that I wouldn’t happily throw her to the ground. I could really use someone holding my arms back right now.

“Doug!” Ben exclaimed, dropping his arm from Audrey so that he could meet up with the band member who was distractedly walking down the steps to meet us. “Doug, come down.”

The boy met Ben at the bottom of the steps, turning to face us. He had a kind face, similar to Ben’s, however I found myself appreciating Doug’s a bit more. Doug just seemed like the kind of person who would care if you were an asshole, whereas Ben wouldn’t be able to find a bad bone in someone’s body. So, when Doug smiled at us, I saw someone who genuinely thought we were good people. At least… for now he did.

“This is Doug. He’s going to help you with your class schedules and show you the rest of the dorms.” He walked back to Audrey’s side and said, “I’ll see you later, okay? And if there’s anything you need feel free to-”

“Ask Doug,” Audrey interrupted.

I would have socked her right there and then, if it weren’t for the fact that I realized something. I was the one who was setting her off. I thought she just had the worst personality in the world, and she might, but this wasn’t just… Audrey. No, this was Audrey when she’s upset or uncomfortable. Angry, even. And suddenly, I liked being around Audrey. Because it meant I was doing something evil while I was stuck in this hell place.

She smiled and dragged Ben off without another word.

“Hi guys. I’m Dopey’s son. As in Dopey, Doc, Bashful, Happy, Grumpy, Sleepy…” Doug trailed off and I turned to find his eyes locked on Evie. “Hi ho,” he mumbled.

“Evie,” she smirked, glad to find someone impressed with her charms on this island. “Evil Queen’s daughter.”

It was almost poetic. We just couldn’t escape our parents’ pasts. But at least Evie got some geek who didn’t seem to care for where she came from. My goody-two-shoes counterpart wasn’t exactly jumping to be my friend.

Doug looked down at his clipboard, trying to distract himself from the girl now poised in front of him, eyes wide. “So, about your classes. I, uh, put in the requirements already: History of Woodsmen and Pirates, Safety Rules for the Internet, and, uh, Remedial Goodness 101.”

I scoffed. “Let me guess. New class?”

He nodded, glancing between us and stopping once more on Evie, who was now twirling her hair between her fingers.

He cleared his throat, looking away once more. “Here. I’ll show you to your dorms.”

~ ~ ~

After we had set our stuff in our own rooms, Evie and I made our way over to the boys’ new room. They had already made themselves at home, Carlos playing some sort of game on the tv and Jay sorting through all he had collected on the way over.

“Jay,” I called, making my way over to the bed he had everything laid out on. “What are you doing?”

“Stealing,” he admitted, pulling out a laptop and flipping it open.

“Okay. So, you could do that or you could leave all of this here and pick it up when we take over the world,” I said slyly.

Evie, who sat on the edge of Carlos’s bed, gasped. “You sound just like your mom.”

I muttered a quick, “Thank you,” in response, knowing I should be proud, but I couldn’t care less at the moment.

“You do it your way and I’ll do it mine,” Jay responded, but I shook my head.

“Uh, uh. You don’t get to jeopardize the rest of us for your dad’s dumb store, alright? People are going to notice their missing stuff pretty fast and who are they going to blame?”

Jay threw the laptop on the bed, sighing. “We’re bad guys. They must have expected this.”

“Seriously Jay, we can’t give them any reason to send us back. Think about what our parents will do to us if we don’t break that barrier.”

Carlos jumped down from in front of the tv and laughed. “More like what your mother will do to you.”

I sent him a glare and he shut up immediately. I knew none of their necks were on the line like mine was, but they still were being pressured. Their parents also wanted to escape the Isle.

“Evie, mirror me.”

We sat at the table and Evie pulled out the small hand mirror her mother had given her.

“Mirror, mirror on th- In my hand,” she corrected. “Where is Fairy Godmother’s magic wand… stand?”

The mirror shifted, focusing in on a plaque located outside a building. The sign read, “The Museum of Cultural History”.

“Can the mirror tell us where that is?” I asked, but Carlos was already on it. He pulled out the new laptop Jay had scored and looked it up.

“2.3 miles from here.” He showed us the map between the school and the museum, all laid out neatly.

I looked over the screen, shaking my head. “This place is surrounded by forests and hills. There’s no way we could walk it.”

“So, we find a ride?” Jay suggested.

Evie was quick to agree. “Tomorrow we can ask around and see if there’s an easier way to get there.”

“Great,” I groaned. “Now we have to go to school tomorrow.”

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imaginesandideas · 5 years

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Hii so I saw you were taking requests so I thought of requesting something it crossed my mind the other day, can you please do a Ben x Reader where the Reader is also a actress/singer and they date but Ben was away because of work so they haven't seen each other in like 2 months, so when the reader starts to get very close to her best friend/co-star he starts to get insecure because of what gwil or joe once told him about "The ones who doesn't make themself present aren't needed" ? Thank you!

I’m so so so so so sorry for coming with this only now, but I hope it’s worth the wait! ❣️🙌

I changed the request a bit, but the main idea remains.

Missing you

you two meet during some audition

it went bad, oh so bad

you were still relatively new to this business, so your stress wasn’t helpful either

you were paired for a improvised scene and the thought itself had you biting your bottom lip in attempt to calm your nerves

the man was breathtaking to look at, not to mention that he seemed just as stressed as you

that is, until he looked at you

his attitude mellowed and soon you two chatted loosely, forgetting about your audition completely

by the time you were supposed to start your line, you were totally messed up by Ben’s 3rd or 4th petty joke

“Hey, hey. You know how can you tell when a plane is full of actors?”

you try to stifle another wave of giggles as your mind already imagines the answer

“Uhm, no?”

“When the engine stops but the whining continues.”

Ben can’t help but laugh as you snort, hiding behind the script in your hands

it’s at that moment that he knows that no matter how much you two are about to ruin this audition, he has to get your number

and then ask on a date

and several other dates

and then ask you to move in with him after few more months as you lay tangled in duvets one day

many auditions later, you’ve gotten used to having to race constantly between sets

many times you ended up going straight from the airport to Ben’s set, just to see him before you’d have to return for additional shots

he’d do the same thing for you

if one of you doesn’t not have any upcoming projects, you’d join the other on set

you two would spend every spare moment talking plans, practicing lines, cuddling, making out

making up for all of the lost time

sometimes you’d join Ben on occasional hangouts with his co-stars, some of them quickly becoming your friends too

when you met Joe you two clicked momentarily

it was easy since you shared similar sense of humour

Ben loves watching your interactions and reading the inside jokes you’d exchange every minute

after all you and Joe are his favourite people on the whole world

“Alright, maybe I’ll just leave you guys since I’m clearly not needed here?”

“Oh Benny. Jealous cause I get along with your girl better than you do?”

“Yeah but guess who’s taking her home smartass.”

“I can be very convincing, right _____?”

“Oh I don’t know Ben, America seems nice...“

“That’s it, we’re going home!”

over time it became harder for you to see each other for longer than just a few weeks

there were times where you’d barely exchange few hurried kisses before you had to be off to some party, despite just coming back from long weeks of shooting

he wasn’t mad, not a bit

all of all the people you knew, both your family and friends, he’s the only one who actually understands the scenario your life revolves around

it’s only on lazy days, when he’s not making a film, or when he’s finally alone in his trailer when it dawns to him how much he misses you

he misses how your eyes lit up when you’re telling him about your day

or how you laugh when he’s telling you about his own

so when one time he’s back home from filming much sooner than you, he’s missing you more than ever

daily calling and FaceTiming don’t help much, because you haven’t been around each other for two months now

“Baby I miss you so fucking much.”

“Ben, baby... You know I’d be there in a heartbeat if I could.” you can hear him exhale on the other end. Rubbing his thigh, he continues.

“Y’know... I could always fly myself up there.”

“Honey...”

“I’d be useful! I could rub your shoulders? I bet you’re bloody tense after all those reshoots.” you sigh into the phone, because he has a point, again “And then, I could edge you off some more...”

“Christ, Ben! Don’t get me all flustered when I need to be back in front of the camera in 3 minutes.” you hear him chuckle and smile creeps on your own face too.

“Love you.”

“And I love you too blondie.”

over weeks you stopped calling as often, only texted him from time to time

but he knows it’s not your wish but the circumstances obligating you to set your work first

luckily Joe had a visit planned out, so you know Ben is in good hands

you realise how good ones, after you check your notifications the next day, and find loads of sweet declarations of love

but like, in every app you two have accounts on

and they’re all full of misspellings, but your heart immediately melts

you also get some videos

but it’s mainly Joe recording as Ben is doing a semi-coherent monologue about how much he misses you, or generally Joe and Ben singing some serenades

most likely Love Of My Life or Somebody To Love

you’re having fun with your co-stars too, often ending the day with a drink or two at a nearby bar

you realize something’s off because Ben’s messages are more distant

even when you talk on FaceTime he seems more tense

you’re just hoping it’ll change once you’re back home in his arms

but when you see him, he seems upset by something you can’t quite put into words

of course he’s all smiles when he holds you at the airport, covering your entire face with loving kisses and holding you so tight against him as if you could disappear any second

he says it’s the stress, but deep down you know it’s more complicated than that

you don’t continue the conversation and wrap the day up with Italian takeaway on the couch as you show him pictures from the set and sightseeings

mouth filled with pasta, you explain every photo, especially if there’s a fun story behind it

but he’s not remarkably invested in the slideshow

his eyes almost always dart to you and how corners of your lips ride up at the hilarity of clips

it’s the next morning that he finally lets it all out

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking pathetic.”

He nearly breathes it and it takes your sleepy head a moment to catch what he meant. You frown and turn around to face him. The warmth of your bodies tangled in sheets makes it incredibly hard to start such conversations so early.

“What do you mean Ben? I never said-“

“_____ I know, it’s just... you’re out there, having fun, making friends. And I’m not there. And I feel left out, which is fucking silly because you could say the same thing when I’m gone but-“

You place a finger on his plump, trembling lips.

“Are you seriously jealous?”

He lets out a sigh, eyes locked with yours, though he’s desperately trying to avoid you seeing through him. But it’s too late and you’re already placing a hand on his cheek, thumb caressing his cheekbone. “Ben I love you. Why would you feel like there’s a reason for you to be jealous?”

His gaze lingers lower, to your neck and he’s trying to own up to the thoughts he’s been having. His fingers are gentle, unsure even, as if the bond you’ve built has suddenly became fragile like glass.

„I saw the pictures with that guy you’ve posted while Joe was still here, and I thought that you don’t need me. Cause I’m always away, and when I’m not there’s always something else going on anyway, and ugh... ‘The ones who doesn't make themself present aren't needed’ and all that shit.”

“Who told you that?” he’s rubbing his neck now, a nervous habit of his.

“Uhm, J-Joe?”

“Oh come on! He’s such a dumbass for making you think like this! Oh my god, I’m gonna call him right now!”

At an instant you’re pulling off the sheets to reach for the phone on your nightstand, but he’s quick to catch you by your waist to draw you closer to him.

“Oh fuck Joe, it’s not about him. I just...” he sighs again.

“He’s making you think that I’d dump you for people I barely met.” You look into his baby-blues again, sure to drown in their depth any second. He’s clearly apologetic but you can still see the glimpse of insecurity in his gaze. You place a gentle kiss on his lips. “That’s just fucking stupid. I love you like crazy Ben, and there’s no other person I’d rather spend my time with.”

You let your fingers trace over his exposed collarbone and up to his jaw. “Sometimes I hang out with others of course, but that won’t change anything between us. Cause we’re stuck together. I want to be stuck with you till my bones grow old.” you exclaim sweetly enough to make his whole expression soften. You leave a trail of kisses on his cheeks, jawline, one on the nose and forehead.

“Marry me.” you abruptly stop.

“W-what?”

“Marry me _____. Not now, not tomorrow, but let me love you forever” a kiss “and ever” another one “and ever.” You breathe out and return the kiss, only intensifying it, almost losing yourself in his warmth.

You pull away, vision a but blurry and lips pink and swollen. His entire face is glowing, redness taking over his features. You can feel how his heart sped up, just in time with yours.

“Only if I can return the favour.” you cuddle into his side and he wraps you in his arms and kisses the top of your head.

“Any day doll, any day.”

“But I’m gonna kick Joe’s american ass anyway!”

“No doubt about that.”

~~~~~

Ooof, that went further than I planned , but I regret nothing

Comments, ideas and words of notice are always appreciated 💜

#ben hardy #ben hardy headcanon #ben hardy fanfiction #ben hardy fluff #ben hardy fic #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy x you #ben hardy x reader #full fic #asks #request

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sapphiclecterarchive · 5 years

Text

the babysitter - fic

Fandom: MCU, Spiderman

Character(s): Peter Parker

Desc.: In which Peter is trusted with a child.

A/N: i’ve never posted any fics on tumblr so i thought i’d give it a shot! this will also be on my ao3 if you fancy sending it some love over there. SORRY if this is indecipherable, it was written in 3 days in amongst a mad panic to finish art coursework

WARNING FOR ENDGAME SPOILERS. SO MANY SPOILERS. OH MY GOD THERE ARE SO MANY SPOILERS IN THIS

Peter really isn’t expecting the call.

May is working a late night at the shelter, which she’d explained with a concise note left in the middle of the kitchen counter, underneath a twenty dollar bill for takeout. The takeout guy is the only person he’s expecting to encounter this evening, besides the Instagram group chat which buzzes every two minutes and John Mulaney on Netflix. That’s until his phone rings.

The number isn’t saved on his phone, so he almost doesn’t answer it. It’s only when he realises that it could be May calling in an emergency, or Ned or MJ or anyone else, that anxiety forces him to pick the phone up. The line between his Spidey senses and generalised anxiety disorder is a thin one that he treads very carefully.

“Hello?”

The woman on the other end of the line sighs in relief, “Peter, thank God you picked up.”

He recognises her voice instantly - from the news, from the battle, from the funeral. He scrambles to find the remote and pause the TV.

“Mrs Potts? Why are you — what is — uh — how are you?”

They haven’t spoken since the wake, when she’d hugged him and let him cry into her shoulder. His heart seizes at the memory of her calm composure, supporting a boy she barely knew while he fell apart over the death of the man she loved.

“I’m doing alright, thank you,” she answers. “I have a favor to ask.”

“Okay.”

“Would you be able to babysit Morgan for a few hours?” Peter’s hand freezes on it’s way to the bag of Cheetos next to him on the couch. “I wouldn’t normally ask with such little notice, but I have to do some stuff for the Foundation launch, and our regular sitter fell through.”

“That’s no problem at all,” Peter says, without even thinking about it. “I didn’t have plans, anyway.”

Pepper exhales with relief, “That’s amazing. I’ve sent Happy to pick you up, he should be there soon. Thank you so much, this is such a big help.”

As soon as he places his phone down, Peter realises that he knows absolutely nothing about taking care of a kid, and that he’s currently in nothing but ratty sweatpants and an old sports jersey.

He practically launches himself over the back of the couch, abandoning his show and his takeout to race into his bedroom. His pyjamas are replaced with black jeans and a thick wool sweater over a tshirt, and he just manages to comb through his hair and spray himself with deodorant before his phone chimes from the couch and he races to check it.

Unknown Number: Outside. – Happy

He texts May to let her know where he’s going while he bounds down the stairs. Sure enough, Happy is waiting on the sidewalk, leaning up against a black car.

To Peter’s surprise, Happy ignores his offered handshake and instead pulls him in for a hug. The embrace lasts a long few seconds before Happy pulls back, his hand lingering on Peter’s shoulder. “How you holding up, kid?”

“Okay,” Peter says. Happy opens the passenger side door for Peter and rounds the car to get in behind the wheel. The doors slam, and Peter talks over the starting of the engine. “School’s getting intense, and — uh — everyone’s getting excited for prom. But, uh… Yeah, that’s sort of it.”

Happy glances at him out of the corner of his eye as he pulls the car out into the road. “Prom, huh? You got your eye on anyone? Planning a…. what do you call it? A promposal?”

Peter thinks about MJ, about Ned, about Betty, about the guy in his physics class who always lets him share his textbook when Peter forgets… “I haven’t really thought about it, uh, with everything going on.”

“I getcha, kid.” They come to a slow stop at a red light. “These past months have been pretty intense… I haven’t really known what to do with myself, to be honest.”

His voice has grown quiet, and the last word of the sentence almost dies completely. Peter looks over at him as he scrubs a hand over his face. Is he crying?

Happy is covering his face with one of his hands, now, shoulders shaking minutely. Peter has no idea what to do. What are you supposed to do when your dead mentor’s assistant who hated you not that long ago is suddenly crying in front of you?

“Uh… Happy?” He gets no reply. “Happy?”

“Yeah, kid?” Happy looks up at him, his eyes tear-filled and puffy but a supportive smile on his face all the same.

“The light’s green.”

As if on cue, the car behind them beeps it’s horn, spurring Happy into moving the car forward.

Pepper Potts is waiting for them when they arrive at the house. It looks no different to how it did at the funeral, and it upsets him a little to look at the front porch and the small dock where they’d stood to say their final goodbye. She gives him a very brief tour of the house, and an explanation of Morgan’s bedtime routine. Apparently, she has already had her bath and her dinner, so the only thing Peter has to do is put her to bed by eight.

“There’s enough food in the refrigerator and the pantry for you to make yourself something to eat, feel free to watch whatever you want on the TV, and I should be home by eleven, but if you’re tired by then you’re welcome to sleep in the guest room.” She pauses, taps her fingertips together as if checking off a list, and then drops her hands and smiles warmly at him. “I really can’t thank you enough for doing this.”

How could he have said no? He understands more than anyone what grief feels like, and if the obvious exhaustion underlying her composed expression is anything to go by, being suddenly thrust into single parenthood has taken its toll on her. He remembers May wearing the same expression after his Uncle Ben died, and he knows now how much she’d needed an extra pair of hands.

“It’s really no problem, Mrs Potts.”

Her petite hand brushes his elbow, “Please, call me Pepper.”

She then crouches down to say goodbye to Morgan, and he politely looks away, for some reason he feels like that moment deserves privacy.

“You’ve got my number, so if there’s anything you need you can either call me or Happy, okay?” she assures him.

“Okay, Mrs — Pepper.”

She smiles, nods, and gives Morgan one last kiss on the cheek before leaving.

“We’ve got about forty minutes to kill before bedtime.” He looks down at the young girl. “What do you want to do?”

“Cartoons!” she exclaims, a gleeful grin on her pudgy face.

“Cartoons?” He turns toward the couch, expecting her to follow him. She grabs three of his fingers with her small hand and walks ahead of him, as if guiding him to the couch. He doesn’t have to wonder where she gets that from.

“Cartoons,” she clarifies, jumping up onto the couch with a huff.

He sits next to her and picks up the remote to start looking for the kids’ channels. “What’s your favorite cartoon?”

“Spongebob!” she says around her thumb.

It takes him all of five minutes to scroll through the entire TV guide and finally assess that there isn’t one channel currently playing an episode of Spongebob. Or any cartoons, it seems. He’s about to give up, when she holds out her hand.

“Remote.” The ‘R’ is more of a ‘W’, and she makes a grabby hand toward the remote until he passes it to her.

“There are no channels playing cartoons…” he begins to explain, bracing himself for a five-year-old temper tantrum. Instead of screaming or crying, however, he’s greeted with the familiar opening note of the Spongebob theme tune.

When he looks at her, she’s looking back at him with a cheeky grin. “How did you figure that out?”

“Mummy got it on the TV for me.” Her speech is pretty advanced for a five year old, but it’s obvious how hard she’s working to get her words right. “She said so I can watch it when I’m sad.”

His eyebrows knit together, and he fears sounding like a counsellor - or a parent - but he can’t help but ask, “Are you sad a lot?”

She shrugs, jams her thumb in her mouth and talks around it, “I watch Spongebob a lot.”

He ends up watching her more than he watches the cartoon, mesmerised by her starry-eyed expression as she watches the bright colours flash across the screen. They reflect in her big brown eyes, which he knows that she inherited from her dad. She also inherited her stubbornness, apparently, because even when her eyelids begin to droop and she can hardly sit upright for sleepiness, she doesn’t give in. She refuses to doze off until the end credits of the episode are rolling, and then she almost instantly collapses, snoring lightly, onto the couch cushions.

Careful not to wake her, he slips his arms underneath her armpits and lifts her. Her arms and legs wrap around him sleepily, making it much easier for him to carry her upstairs without fear of dropping her. He pushes the door open with the heel of his shoe, uses his right hand to continue supporting Morgan’s weight while his left pulls back the covers on her small bed. Once he’s placed her down and tucked the blanket up to her chin, he follows Pepper’s instructions of shutting the blind, turning on the nightlight next to her bed, and leaving the door slightly ajar when he eventually steps back out into the hall.

The TV is still displaying the paused credits of Spongebob when he sits back down on the couch. He wants to go onto Netflix and carry on with what he was watching earlier, but he feels like it might be a bit of an intrusion to use Pepper’s personal Netflix account, so he settles on a channel that seems to be only playing reruns of Family Guy.

His phone buzzes, and he glances at where it sits next to him on the couch.

Ned: Deathmatch?

Peter can’t help his smile. After Thanos, and everything else that’s followed, the simple things like playing Overwatch with Ned - even if he loses every time - make him so much happier than they would have before.

Peter: can’t tonight, am babysitting.

The next message from Ned comes through almost immediately.

Ned: Who tf trusted U with their kid?

Peter: ikr

Peter: pepper needed an extra hand w morgan

Ned doesn’t reply, so he assumes that the match has started and settles down onto the plush couch cushions. He scrolls through his Instagram feed, through photos posted by people from school and the odd celebrity. Until, eventually, he dozes off with his phone still in his hand.

A loud bang makes him start awake what feels like five minutes later. His phone slips out of his hand and onto the floor, the bang it creates making him startle again. He sits up blearily and stretches until his back pops. Through the windows, he can see nothing but black. His phone screen, when he picks it up to check, tells him that it’s just past nine-thirty. He hadn’t planned to sleep at all, let alone for an hour and a half.

Everything in the house still seems intact, and it doesn’t seem like Pepper is home, so he assumes that the bang was caused by the dog door, or something similar. Nevertheless, a residual anxiety forces him to his feet. He rubs the sleep from his eyes as he trudges up the stairs toward Morgan’s room.

The door is still slightly ajar, and the light from the hallway illuminates a strip of her polka dot duvet cover. He pushes the door open more, expecting to see her still tucked up tight and fast asleep.

She isn’t in her bed.

Peter’s stomach flips.

“Morgan?” he calls, hoping that she’s just hidden somewhere and will pop out giggling.

She doesn’t. He flicks the light on.

“Morgan?” He rounds the bed to check the other side, which is also empty.

She’s not hiding underneath the bed or in the wardrobe, and he checks every single room upstairs for her. But, she’s not in Pepper’s room, the guest room or the bathroom.

“Morgan!” he calls again as he races down the stairs. The downstairs bathroom is also empty, and she isn’t in the living room or the kitchen.

As he races back into the living room, his eyes lock on the front door. He can’t remember locking it behind Pepper, and he’d been woken up with a loud slam…

He throws open the front door, looking out onto the lake and the front garden, until there’s a small cough to his right.

There she is, her small form curled up on the rocking chair, thumb in her mouth and eyelids heavy with

He softens his voice to try and mask his panic. “What are you doing out here?”

“I can’t sleep,” she explains quietly. Her body seems to betray her there, though, because she lets out a yawn almost immediately.

He really doesn’t know how to get a stubborn kid to go back to sleep. He thinks back to when he was a kid, and how May would convince him to go to bed.

“You can have milk and cookies if you come back inside.”

She shakes her head.

“Juice pops?”

He remembers seeing them in the freezer earlier, and he assumes that she’ll be moved by the offer. She isn’t, and shakes her head again.

“I want to talk to daddy,” she says.

Peter’s brain takes a second too long to reboot, because she rolls her eyes and continues like he’s missed a very obvious point. “Mummy says that daddy can hear me if I sit here and talk to him.”

This is the first time this whole evening that Peter realises how much she must miss her dad. For the past few weeks, he’s felt like he’s been on autopilot, like there’s a vital part of him missing. So he can hardly imagine how she feels; she probably doesn’t even understand that he’s never coming back.

He doesn’t remember when his parents died, but he remembers asking May about them. He remembers the frown that would tug on her mouth every time he did. He remembers how much that frown would confuse him. They’re in a better place, she would say, so why would she look so sad?

He understands the questions she probably has, he understands how overwhelmed she must feel, surrounded by sadness and falseness and feelings that she doesn’t yet understand. All she needs is some normality.

“I think daddy would want you to wear a jacket outside.”

She pouts indignantly and crosses her arms to let him know she isn’t going anywhere.

Knowing now that she isn’t being moved, he grabs the hem of his sweater and tugs it over his head. The hair on his arms immediately bristles against the cold, his t-shirt doing nothing to keep him warm.

He crouches in front of the chair so that he’s level with her, sweater held between them.

“This sweater belonged to my uncle Ben. He’s in the same place as your dad, but before he went, he gave me this sweater. Do you know what he told me when he gave it to me?” She shakes her head. “He told me that it would protect me against anything, and it can protect you, too.”

He remembers Ben passing it to him while they were queueing for the Haunted Mansion at Disney World. Peter had forced him and May to queue for almost two hours, only to get too scared and start sobbing as soon as they got closer to the ride. The sweater was supposed to be a mode of persuasion for a then nine year old Peter, but it’s his most treasured item, and memory.

After Ben had died, the only thing Peter wanted to keep was the sweater, and ever since, he has worn it whenever he needs extra comfort.

He’s been wearing it a lot recently.

“Anything?” Morgan repeats, eyes wide. “Even monsters?”

He laughs, “Even monsters. Do you want to put it on?”

She nods enthusiastically, and he silently praises himself for his quick thinking as he helps her pull it over her head. It’s too big for him, so it covers almost her whole body, and the sleeves are about twice the length of her arms. She looks a lot warmer and happier, though.

She reaches out to him, and he doesn’t understand what she wants until her hands pop out of the sleeves and open and close sporadically in a move which he reads as “pick me up”.

He picks her up around her waist, her arms wrapping around his neck, and then turns to sit on the chair. She shifts around until she’s sideways on his lap, facing the lake, her head cushioned on his shoulder and her hands pulled up under her chin. The sweater cocoons her like a swaddle.

“Can you tell me a story?”

He doesn’t know any stories for kids, unless the classic, Disney movie fairy tales count.

“Do you want a story about your dad?”

She nods, the movement clear against his shoulder.

“Okay.” He wills himself not to cry immediately at the memory of his mentor, not wanting to freak the kid out or undo the hard work Pepper has undoubtedly done on making this whole situation seem lighter for her. “When I met your dad, I’d just gone through a big change…”

He recites the story of Germany, and then, when she asks for another, the stories of the boat and of Titan. They’re shortened, censored, and the latter is missing the part where he turned to dust for five years, but they’re true. Calmed by the stories, and smiling at the talk of her dad, she eventually falls asleep soundly against his shoulder. He looks down at her serene face, and he hopes that she remembers the good things about Tony, he hopes that she’s dreaming about him. He hopes that she dreams about building pillow forts with him, about him carrying her on his hip while doing important research, about him tucking her into bed and kissing her forehead.

Pepper gets home not long after Peter has tucked her back into bed.

“Was she okay?” she asks in a whisper, although the house is definitely big enough to talk at full volume and not wake the sleeping girl.

“She was a dream.”

A small, relieved sigh stirs her fringe. “Good. I really can’t thank you enough.”

“It’s honestly fine,” he says. “I had fun.”

When he unlocks and pushes open the door of the apartment, May is in her pajamas on the couch, watching some reality TV show. She looks over the back of the couch when she hears the door close, and smiles. She seems tired, as she always does after working overtime, but she’s wearing her fluffy pink socks, which means that she’s happy.

“Good night?”

He sits next to her, slowly tipping sideways until his head lands on her bent knee. Her hand automatically goes to his hair, stroking the top of it like she used to when he was small and would sit on the floor between her knees while her and Ben watched TV. Then, she moves her hand to his upper arm, and her palm feels boiling hot against his skin. “You’re freezing.”

As she tugs the throw blanket over him and pulls him closer to her side, he realises that he didn’t take his sweater back.

#endgame spoilers #endgame fic #peter parker #morgan stark #peter parker and morgan stark #peter parker fic #mcu #mcu fic #may parker #bc i love her #i'll definitely write more ft these two soon bc i love these siblings #tom holland #tom holland gif #spiderman #pepper potts #happy hogan

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ladymercytaylor · 5 years

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All in - Chapter 2 (Joe Mazzello x Reader)

Chapter 2 y’all!!! If you like it please reblog (it would make my little heart so happy <3)

Summary: You and Joe were in a blissful relationship for 4 years. It seemed as though everything was perfect. You’d moved in together and all of your friends were taking bets on when he’d finally put a ring on your finger. That is until it all fell apart. Now, 1 year on you’re thrown together at a mutual friend’s wedding and it changes everything between you. Previous chapter can be found HERE

Chapter 2 – 5 weeks

“You have to tell him” “I know” “I’m serious. You have to tell him” “I fucking know, Flick” you groaned from your place on your bed. “Just telling me the same thing over and over again isn’t helping, you know?” “Well I’m sorry, but I’m still trying to wrap my head around the ‘I had a sloppy one night stand with the guy who tore my heart out a year ago’ part of the story” she snapped back, fiddling with the strings of her hoodie. You scrunched your eyes shut as the reality of what you’d done was presented to you. Why couldn’t you have been better? Why couldn’t you have not gotten mixed up in the romantic atmosphere of the goddamned wedding, kept your head and not fallen back into Joe’s arms? If you had then everything would be as it always was. You’d probably be sitting on the couch with your best friend watching a shitty Netflix movie and eating popcorn. Instead you were quickly spiralling into a crisis as you stared at the ceiling of your bedroom, uncomfortably aware that a new life was growing inside you.

“I don’t blame you, you know” Flick murmured, interpreting your silence as offence. “You and Joe. You had something I’ve never seen before” you closed your eyes even tighter until neon lights danced across your eyelids. “I’ve known you for 10 years and I’ve never seen you that happy” “And I bet you’ve never seen me as destroyed either” you muttered, slapping your hands over your face. “Why did I sleep with him?!” you groaned, rolling over to squash your face into the covers. “Because you’ve never really stopped loving him” Flick replied simply and your whole body froze. Wrenching your face out of the green covers, your eyes narrowed dangerously. “I hate it when you do that” you grumbled but she simply stuck her tongue out at you from her perch on your windowsill. “Sorry, babes, still true” she shrugged nonchalantly. Another groan escaped your lips as you flopped back down. “Do…do you know what you’re going to do?” Now that was the million dollar question that had been rolling around your head for the last 2 weeks, ever since your doctor’s appointment that concretely confirmed the pregnancy. What on Earth were you going to do? Flick had made it clear that there was no way to get out of this situation without talking to Joe, and you knew that there was no point in dropping this bomb on him until you’d figured out what you wanted. Children had always been on your radar. Your nieces and nephews were one of the favourite things in your life. The day your first nephew had been passed into your arms, wrapped in the blue blanket you’d gifted your sister a few months prior, was the day that cemented it for you. You wanted to be a mum. But your original plans for that had been derailed a year ago when Joe left your life. And now your 33rd birthday was creeping up. And there hadn’t been anyone of interest since Joe. It almost felt like a sign. “I’m” you started, your heart rate soaring, “I’m thinking I’m going to keep it” “Holy shit” Flick breathed out, wobbling slightly on the windowsill. “That’s huge!” “I just feel like that this is my shot” you continued, the words tumbling out of your mouth “Like yeah, it was an accident. But if parallel universes do exist there’s a not so different world where Joe and I are still together and have a family. So why can’t this version of me have it too?” “You had me up until you said ‘parallel universe’” Flick chuckled. She pushed off the ledge and came to sit on the edge of your bed. “You’re allowed to want it, hun” she said softly, resting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “It’s a big fucking deal, yes. But if you really want it and you think you can handle it then you don’t need to justify it to anyone” God, you loved her. “I know I can do it” the determination was clear in your voice and it brought a smile to your best friend’s face. She’d known you for so many years and she knew that as soon as you set your mind on something there was no stopping you. “Then I’ll be here to help you however I can. And I know Joe will too” you groaned at the mention of his name. “Don’t bring him up” you whined and Flick laughed again, rubbing your shoulder gently. “Sorry, love, but you’re going to have to talk to him about it. And soon” she added, pointedly. “The last thing you want to do is to rock up, show him your giant stomach and yell ‘Surprise!’” “I dunno, that’s definitely a hilarious way to announce a pregnancy” you chuckled, heaving yourself up to sit cross legged on the mattress. You both sat in silence for a moment, Flick staring out of the window at the cars lazily trundling down the street and you tracing aimless patterns on the covers. “Strange isn’t it” you whispered, feeling your throat constrict, “Just over a year ago Joe and I were literally in here talking about kids”

“Come look at this one!” Joe’s shouts echo down the hallway from the bedroom to reach you in the kitchen. “Just a second!” you shouted back, grabbing the two steaming cups of coffee before heading towards your shared bedroom. “Where is it?” “Brooklyn. Close to the bridge though!” he added quickly, spinning his silver MacBook around to show you the latest listing he’d found. It was the perfect Brownstone building, perfectly maintained with little flower boxes on the window ledges. “It’s gorgeous” you murmured, eyes raking down the page. Joe grinned beside you, bouncing in excitement against the mattress. That was when your eyes found the price. “Jesus, Joe! It’s like 3 times our budget!” you exclaimed, pushing the laptop away from you. “But it’s so pretty!” he whined, flopping dramatically onto the covers. “It has 4 bedrooms! There’s only two of us” you reminded him, sitting back against the headboard and taking a sip of your scolding hot drink. “But…it might not always be just two of us” he murmured, his cheeks flushing a bright pink. A crippling silence fell, Joe staring unblinkingly at the ceiling and you stuck with your cup half way to your lips. He hadn’t meant to bring it up like that. He’d been hoping to have a little more tact but the idea of buying a house with you had his little heart fluttering like a butterfly and he couldn’t keep it in any longer. Marriage had occasionally been tossed around so you knew that was on his mind, but kids was a new topic entirely. “Huh. Is this something you’ve been thinking about for a while?” you asked gently, the gentle thud of your mug against the wooden night stand the only sound in the room. “Would you be mad if I said yes?” Joe replied softly, the back of his neck prickling uncomfortably. “How long, Joe?” you murmured. “If I had to put a finite timestamp on it” he mused out loud, his confidence growing, “I’d say it was when you met my family” “We’d only been dating for 6 months!” a slightly shrill laugh escaped your lips, betraying the cool exterior you’d been trying to present. “Yeah well you looked so cute with my nieces and nephews I just couldn’t help it” he chuckled, propping himself up on his elbows so he could see your face. “Have I completely freaked you out?” “You’ve taken me a bit by surprise” you admitted, feeling your cheeks burn under his gaze. “I mean I’m not surprised by any means! You’re amazing with kids” you blabbered, your face feeling burning hot. Joe couldn’t help but grin at your nervousness. “You just never said anything and now you’re telling me this and we’ve been together for nearly four years and this is kind of the first time I’m hearing about it-” Joe shuffled forward to gently press his finger to your lips. “Calm down, love, calm down” he chuckled, hazel eyes shining brightly in the dim evening light. “But I have to ask…is that something you see with me?” The words seemed to be stuck in your throat so you simply nodded, tears springing to your eyes as well as Joe’s. “Really?” he asked gleefully, a grin blossoming on his face. “Really”

“Universe just likes to keep you on your toes I guess” Flick shrugged, hopping off the warm windowsill. “I’ve got to head to the restaurant, but you’re going to call him, yeah?” You nodded as she crossed your room. The affirmation seemed to assuage her concerns and she gave you a supportive smile before stepping out into the hallway and leaving you alone.

Across town, Joe was sitting at his grey desk, a new script just dropped off by his agent clamped tightly in his hands as he scanned the pages. It was good. Not something he’d ever done before, but what actor doesn’t want to give a rom-com a try? He was just turning the page of a particularly intense love scene when his black iPhone vibrated loudly against the wooden table top. Sighing softly he put down the document to peer at the screen. His heart stopped as he read your nickname that he hadn’t had the heart to change in the message bar.

Sweets <3 Hey, any chance you want to meet up next weekend? I’ve got something I’d like to talk to you about.

Completely abandoning his work Joe unlocked the screen, immediately dialling the only person he could talk to about this. “Hello?” came Ben’s sleepy reply from the other end of the phone line. “I’m going to get her back” Joe beams, pushing out of his office chair to pace around the living room. “Going to need a little more info there, mate” the Brit chuckled, loosing focus as his adorable puppy padded into the room, her long ears flopping with her bouncing steps. That was when the damn broke. Joe’d been trying to keep the details of his night after Ben disappeared with his bridesmaid to himself, but now he was too excited at the prospect of seeing you again to hold them in. “You fucking slept with her?!” was his friend’s elegant response but Joe flew over the judgement in his voice. “And now she wants to see me on the weekend! She absolutely wants me back, yeah?” The silence that met his question was not reassuring. “Possibly. Or she’s going to tell you that it was mistake” Ben offered and Joe felt like a lead weight had just dropped into his stomach. “You don’t really think that, do you?” Ben couldn’t help but sigh at the despair in his best friend’s voice. It’d been like this ever since the break-up. No matter what Ben did to distract him it never worked. No matter how many perfectly lovely single girls he set him up with the response was always lukewarm at best. And now that he had one sliver of hope of fixing his mistake he wasn’t going to let it go without a fight. “I’m just saying that you shouldn’t get your hopes up” Ben explained measuredly but it only made Joe roll his eyes. But despite his confidence, there was a tiny dark thought niggling at the back of his mind. What if Ben was right?

TAG LIST! Just message if you want to be added!! @briarrose26 @mrsmazzello @escabell @yourealegendroger @sincereleygmg @zvzxs @dramatique-moi @borhapqueen92

#joe mazello #joe mazello x reader #borhap cast x reader #borhap cast

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xxfuckmecalumxx · 6 years

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Empty Space (Part 2)

A/N: Okay you can thank @boytoynamedcalum (and my two friends who I showed part one to and said they needed more) for this because it was all her idea for a part two lol. Also, everything in italics is flashbacks (Part one if you missed it)

“Babe its only two months in Europe without me, you’ll survive” You laugh watching him pack.

He groans “You came with me all over the US, why can’t you come to Europe with us” He pouts “this is going to be the longest two months of my life”

You laugh at his dramatic tone “My love you know I can’t come with you, I have work. Plus you have the boys to distract you, Just make sure you send me postcards”

He laughs knowing how much you love getting the postcards from him when he’s away “I won’t forget I promise”

It had only been a week since Calum broke it off but you were still crying yourself to sleep every night. Calum had called while you were at work. You knew if you answered you’d fall to pieces right then and there so you let it go to voicemail. When you had finally gotten home you allowed yourself to finally listen to the message Calum left you. When he slurred out those seven words your heart stopped, you didn’t know what he meant when he said: “How do I make you love me”. You never stopped loving him, not even after he broke up with you. You knew he was drunk so you didn’t even bother to call him back and when you checked the mail and saw the postcard, it was the straw that broke the camels back causing you to spiral. A few days ago you had found a pack of Cal's cigarettes and you were tempted to try them. You hadn’t stopped since. You were also drinking nearly any opportunity you got to, so tonight was no different.

Your lying on the living room floor of yours and Calum’s apartment, if you could still call it that. Drinking white wine straight out of the bottle, smoking a cigarette. You sigh picking up the postcard you had just received, a picture of Big ben plastered on the front. You knew he’d sent it before he broke up with you, but you couldn’t get yourself to turn it over to read it. You couldn’t even think about him without crying or downing a gallon of wine. You were trying to hold on to the good memories but it was too hard to. All you could think about were the harsh words he said to you the night he broke up with you.

You and friend Josh were out shopping for his six month anniversary with his boyfriend. The two of you had been friends for years and you were very close. You had no idea fans had seen you until you went on twitter that night. You thought the pictures were harmless, they just showed the two of you laughing with Josh’s arm around your shoulders. But when Calum called you later that night all hell broke loose.

“I can’t believe you’d cheat on me!” he yelled harshly as soon as you had picked up

“Calum let me explain—“ he cut you off before you could tell him who Josh was.

“If you couldn’t handle me leaving you could’ve told me y/n! You didn’t have to go fuck someone else and I sure as hell didn’t need to find out from fucking FANS” he yelled, you could hear a big thump in the background.

Tears pricked your eyes, you couldn’t believe what you were hearing “Calum if you can’t trust me then I don’t want to speak to you right now”

“How about this, you’ll never have to talk to me again, if you can’t keep it in your pants then we’re over” and with that the phone line was silent

You didn’t understand what went wrong that night and it tore you up inside not knowing. The other boys had tried to contact you a few times but you didn’t have the energy to answer.

At some point, you fell asleep on the floor holding the postcard close. You were woken up by your phone ringing loudly, without even looking you answered.

You grumble out a sleepy greeting to whoever was on the other side.

“Y/N? Its Ashton” You could already hear the worry in his voice.

You sat up looking at the TV box for the time, 3:45 am. You groan loudly into the phone “Ashton what could you possibly need right now?”

he sighs “y/n What happened to you two? Calum won’t tell anyone and now it's affecting him on stage. please tell me you have some insight.”

You get up getting water from the kitchen “I can’t tell you, Ash, because I don't know either. I'm here in our apartment…alone drinking every night wondering what went wrong” Tears fall from your eyes as you sip your water.

“Let me fly you out here, I really think you two need to talk. something seems off.”

You scoff “I’m not coming out there for him to accuse me of cheating to my face instead of over the phone”

Ashton goes quiet “…he did what? I'm going to kill him”

You sip your water not saying anything. you know how much Ashton cared for not only Calum but for you as well. You heard Ashton sigh and Luke in the background asking who he was talking to.

“I'm gonna text you once I have plane tickets for you and not coming isn’t an option”

You didn’t think you could face Calum but you knew Ashton was serious. If you didn’t show up in Europe Ashton would personally come to find you and drag you by your ear to Calum. So when you got the text about the flight he booked for 7am you immediately texted your boss telling her you were sick. You find a random duffel bag in the closest and threw anything you could find in there. Most of it was Calums stuff that you had adopted as yours but you didn’t have time to be picky. By the time you had to leave you had barely gotten any sleep or time to change your clothes.

The first few hours of your flight you stared out the window trying to think what you’d say to Calum once you saw him. Finally, you couldn’t keep your eyes open any longer and you let sleep take over you and didn’t wake up until you were nearly landing. You texted Ashton and he told you what car to look for after you had gotten your bag.

You were expecting a random driver but when you came out of the airport and greeted with Ashton your anxieties melted slightly. He hugged you tightly after seeing your tear stained face.

“damn you reek of smoke” he sighed putting your bag in the car before you and him hop in.

“Sorry I didn’t have time to change before I left…I probably should I don’t need to give him more ammo”

he sighs pulling away from the airport “I think he’ll be happy to see you no matter what”

you laugh not hopeful “Yeah okay”

The rest of the car ride was spent in silence, the only noise was soft music playing from the radio. You still had no clue what you’d say to Calum. Ash pulled up behind the hotel and it suddenly sinking in what you were doing. When you got out of the car you couldn’t move, just staring at the hotel.

Ashton puts his hand on the small of your back guiding you inside “Don’t lose your nerve now”

You sigh following him up to Calum’s room knowing you can’t chicken out now. You stand in front of the door frozen with fear. Ashton knocks on the door walking away before Calum comes to the door “Thank me later”

You grumble to yourself mentally slapping him. Calum opens the door and suddenly all your other thoughts slip away. You look up at him noticing he’s lost weight since you’ve last seen him, the bags under his eyes are prominent, his eyes puffy from crying and he smells of alcohol.

He blinks a few times making sure you’re real “w-what are you doing here?”

You swallow hard, all you want to do is hug and forgive him but you knew you couldn’t “I came to talk to you” you say softly noticing the bruising on he knuckles. You realize that was the thump you heard in the background the night he broke it off.

He motions for you to come in and you do so watching him shut the door behind you guys. “You smell like cigarettes,” Calum says softly.

You nod ignoring his comment, turning to face him “Why’d you do it?”

he sights sitting on the bed shrugging “I—“

You cut him off “You didn’t even give me a chance to explain myself” you start pacing “You called me a cheater without knowing the full story and then left me to be confused and hurt without a real fucking explanation”

He sighs watching tears fall down your face “I wasn’t thinking…I don’t have any real answers besides I was jealous. But I fucking regret everything that happened” he scratches the back of his neck “If I drove you to smoke I’m sorry”

You sit next to him hesitantly “It wasn’t you specifically, I found them and wanted to feel close to you”

He shifts himself to face you “I'm sorry I didn’t listen to you…it was really shitty of me.”

You nod agreeing with him “…He’s gay you know. He has a bigger hard-on for you than I do” You laugh softly

He sighs loudly getting up “I fucked up big time, I know and I know a simple I’m sorry won’t fix everything but I’m hoping maybe you’ll take me back.”

You look up at him “I want to forgive you, its all I want right now but I can’t do that if you’re going to act like this anytime a fan spots me with a guy”

“That was the first and only time I promise I'll never make you hurt like that ever again”

You can see the truth in his eyes and you knew if you didn’t forgive him you’d regret it. So you did what your entire being was telling you not to do. you got up and nearly ran into his arms, hugging him so tightly that he might pass out. He hugs you back, just as tightly and you didn’t even mind that he smelled of alcohol and not his usual cologne.

Masterlist

#calum hood #calum hood angst #calum hood imagine #ashton irwin #ashton irwin imagine #ashton irwin angst #luke hemmings #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings angst #michael clifford #michael clifford imagine #michael clifford angst #5sos #5sos imagine #5sos angst #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer imagine #5 seconds of summer angst

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thelazyeye · 6 years

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3, 24 and 25, please ? 🌈

I’m not sure what ask game this is from so I’m gonna go out on a limb and say its the End of the year fanfic ask game! Jesus, these are hard to answer but I love it to death.

3. favorite line/scene you wrote this year

This is so fucking hard. I’m looking at my a03 and I’m looking at every single fic thinking about my fav scene from each of them and its really hard to narrow it down to one fic with one favorite scene so I’m going to give you two.

Fall Away From Me, Chapter 4, the Bathroom Fight, where Eddie finally breaks down after he realizes his FWB situation is just FWB and after he called it off Richie started sleeping with someone else. Because, you know. They were never exclusive. They fight in the bathroom and Richie says, “For whatever it’s worth, I never fucked anyone else while we were hooking up.” and walks out. I love angst and that fight was really fun for me to write. I had the idea for it while I was making hoagies at my job in the middle of lunch rush.

War Dogs, Chapter 3, The Nightmare. This entire chapter was so fucking fun for me to write. Its part of why I wrote this fic. This was the first scene I had plotted out and my goal was to see how many people could figure out it was a nightmare before I revealed it. I have no clue how I did but it was fun and I hold it close to my heart.

24. Favorite fic you read this year & 25. a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read

I’m combining these and I’m doing a little fic rec because I can’t pick a favorite but I can rec the hell out of some of my favorite fics. I purposefully tried to pick fics that I don’t think have as many hits as they deserve. They are some of my all time favs but they’re not the ones you see on every fic rec list (I’m looking at you, Lovesong Wax if you see this I love you). Some of them might be on the popular side but I tried.

Dig Your Grave by @cryingbilldenbrough The memories don’t go all at once, but they are gone eventually.Richie forgets.

A Playlist for the End of the World by @redactedrichie It's been a year since the zombie outbreak started, and Eddie and Richie are all that's left of the Loser's club. Eddie's not sure if he can handle it anymore, but Richie's convinced almost anything can be fixed with a little music, an abandoned mall, and a whole lot of terrible dance moves.

Into the Dark by nb_Richie - Richie and Stan have seen and dealt with a lot of cases in the years they’ve been working together, from cults to cartels. A case in Derry, Maine, proves to be one of the most horrific for them and for the two local officers they’ll be working with. And on top of it all, Richie keeps remembering things he’d rather forget.

Saturday the 14th by @tinyarmedtrex The losers are returning to Camp Sapphire Lagoon, this time as counselors. Except there’s someone else there too, and he’s not interested in arts and crafts.

The Purge by @aizeninlefox In 2014, following an economic collapse and rising social unrest, a political organisation named NFFA (New Founding Fathers of America) formed and overthrew the Government, becoming voted into office. In 2016 the NFFA devised a plan to help stabilise the American society and then in 2017 the 28th Amendment was added. The amendment established a twelve hour event called the purge which would start at seven in the evening of March 21st to seven in the morning of March 22nd where all crime was made legal and emergency services were unreachable.

We Happy Few also by @aizeninlefox but this is Stozier - Derry's not like any other town you've read about. The residents are forced into a sleepy state of hypnosis and faked happiness due to a drug called 'Pennywise' code named: Vitamin P. But what happens when you stop taking the medication and the bright colours and noise fade away? Stanley Uris has always taken the medication without question like a good boy. Richie Tozier has never been on it and somehow managed to convince the world around him that he's just like them. The day Stan bumps into Richie into the school bathroom is the day that Stan finally starts to question everything; starting with what happens when you don't take your medication.

Stay by Buttercup12 - There is no formal description but basically Eddie is a divorced father and he hired Richie as his nanny and its literally so fucking amazing please go read it.

Intercept Message by Bawling (I know this user as a tumblr but they changed their URL if you know it LMK and I’ll tag them!) We're sorry. You have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check the number and try your call again. (A forgetting/getting back together before IT fic, which I LOVE)

Queer Eye for That Weird Tall Guy by @stellarbisexual “Who’s our next victim, Haystack?” Mike calls over his shoulder from the driver’s seat.“One…” Ben flips through his folder of blueprints and invoices with strong, deft fingers until he finds his prize. “...Richie Tozier! Richie is thirty-three, six-foot-four, a hundred and seventy-five pounds--”

Blackbird by @michellejones “Ho-ly fuck,” Richie whispers, and Eddie has never been so fucking scared. Not when he saw the leper, not when he confronted his mother about his pills, not when they fought It in the sewers. Never. Eddie screws his eyes shut and clutches at the material of his jeans.Please be too high to notice, please be too high to notice, please be too high to notice. “Eddie?”

Scorpion Grasses by Pimpedoutgreenears - “Tell everyone… Tell everyone I’ll miss them. And Eds, tell him… Just promise to call him Eds for me every once in a while. So he won’t forget me.” On his last night in Derry Richie shares a bottle of red wine with Beverly. He makes promises to send letters he knows he won't remember to write, cries a lot, and then ends it with the boy he loves who's just dumb enough to love him back.

Some of these are super fluffy, a decent amount of them are pretty angsty, and all of them deserve love, shares, and comments, So please, go forth. Read them, and then tell the author what you think. Even if its just an ! in the comment section, you could inspire someone to write another amazing work.

#fic rec #pastecactus #Em Answers

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oneunicornaway · 6 years

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Hey! I was supposed to do a thing but my class got cancelled and I still have to do the thing but my sense of responsibility is tied to facing people so instead I wrote another thing, as in... a Penumbra fanfic thing. It’s like, entirely self-indulgent so it’s not really well written but I decided to get over my hang-ups about posting things so here it is anyway.

(clem if you wanna read it its spoiler free, except for the presence of one character you havent been introduced to yet <3)

Please enjoy my Ben is alive AU born from procrastination:

Ben opens the door slowly, looking blearily at him.

“Juno? Are you okay?”

Warmth and guilt surge inside of Juno, battling for dominance. He feels bad for contributing to the dark circles developing under his brother’s eyes, but he can’t help but feel incredibly grateful for the way Ben steps aside, silently inviting him.

“What time is it?” Mumbles Ben, as he puts water to boil.

“’Round two I think.” Seeing Ben so tired reminds him of the hell of a day he just had, and suddenly, he feels like he might use some sleep; or a blackout, Juno Steel isn’t choosy.

“I didn’t know you were coming by.”

It’s not sarcastic or even accusatory, because Ben is too good at not pushing on his buttons, but Juno feels guilty anyway.

“You left me a message and then didn’t respond when I called you back… I was worried.” It’s a weak-ass excuse, especially for disturbing Ben’s well-deserved sleep, and Juno knows it.

His brother doesn’t comment on it though. Just places a mug full of fuming tea of front of Juno and sits across from him.

“Sorry about that. I probably didn’t hear the com’ ringing.”

It probably makes sense that Juno would be a fuck up, considering Benzaiten got all of the qualities to be a perfect human being. That’s why Juno doesn’t complain about the beverage not being coffee and sips at his scalding hot tea.

“Juno.” Says Ben suddenly “What are those?”

“What?” Juno follows his brother’s look and notices the blood smeared on his hand. “Oh that? It’s nothing.” He’s mumbling guiltily and that, Ben doesn’t let pass.

“Like hell it’s nothing.” Ben groans and gets up. “Come on. We’re bandaging it.”

“What? No it’s okay, really.”

“My house, my rules.”

Ben’s tone is unflinching, and Juno knows he won’t win this argument, so he follows him in the bathroom. The overhead light is violent for his dark-adjusted eyes.

“Did you get into a fight? Take your shirt off too.”

“Come on, Ben, I’m fine…”

“Take. That Damn. Shirt. Off.”

Juno sighs, but doesn’t protest further and unbutton his shirt while his brother roots around his expansive first aid kit.

“Who was this time, the Kanagawas?” Ben asks as he wipes Juno’s hand with sanitizer. It stings but Juno deserves it and besides, he’s used to it.

Juno makes a non-committal sound as he watches Ben work. When he’s finishes with cleaning the cut on his hand, he examines Juno’s torso and tuts disapprovingly when he sees the collection of bruises his brother is sporting. But there’s no cuts to clean so he comes back to Juno’s hand, beginning to bandage his knuckles.

Ben is pointedly looking at his work when he asks, in a small voice.

“It wasn’t anyone from the HCPD, was it?”

Juno grimaces and looks away, even though Ben isn’t currently looking at him.

“No, it wasn’t.”

“I’m serious Juno! If it was Diamond or some of their goons…”

“It was just some dudes, okay? They wanted to mug me or something I guess.”

Ben deflates at that but tightens the bandage around Juno’s hand more strongly than is strictly necessary.

Juno sighs.

“Don’t worry about me, okay?”

Ben looks back defiantly.

“Of course I worry! You…”

He’s interrupted by the bathroom door opening.

“Hey babe, everything okay?”

Mick looks even more sleepy than Ben does. His voice is quiet and rough with sleep, and looking at him makes Juno wants to find his own bed and never leave.

“Hey Jay.” Mick mumbles, while passing a tender hand through Ben’s hair. “Got into a fight again? You okay?”

“I’m fine.” He responds, looking pointedly at Ben, who makes a face at him but doesn’t protest.

“Cool. I’m gonna set up the couch.” He plants a kiss on top of Ben’s curls and disappear.

Ben’s gaze lingers fondly after him for an instant, and it takes a bit of effort for Juno not to feel left out.

It’s not that he’s jealous of Ben, exactly. Mick is a great friend, but he’s also kind of a dumbass, and to be completely honest, much too sweet for Juno’s taste. As experience has proven many times, he prefers people that are violent and bad for him. Besides, even if he was interested in Mick, the poor bastard doesn’t deserve to be saddled with Juno’s disastrous parody of a functional human being. So Juno isn’t jealous, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t sometimes envy the relation Mick and Ben had together. And sometimes, it feels as though the trust and love they manage to share is just another proof that Juno well never manage to be as good as his brother.

Ben hands him a tube of gel.

“And this time, use it.” He’s saying. “That way, when you get into another fight, those first bruises will have healed, got it?”

What Juno mumbles could probably be interpreted as an agreement, so Ben doesn’t push. When they come back to the living room, Mick has deployed the couch so it now looks like a queen sized bed. Juno knows from experience than protesting against his brother’s hospitality won’t get him anywhere so he doesn’t comment, and picks up his cup of tea. It’s still pleasantly hot, and Juno wouldn’t know how to tell those two how much he’s grateful to have them both in his life right now.

“I should get back to sleep.” Says Ben. “I’ve got miss Swampson’s case to work over tomorrow.”

The icy grip of guilt takes hold of Juno’s belly. He knows he shouldn’t have come. He always messes…

“Juno, don’t.” Ben interrupts his train of thought with a cutting tone and a glare. “By the way, tomorrow, if you’ve got the time, I’ll need your help to track down someone in old town. Would that be okay?”

“Oh. Uh. Sure.”

“Great.” He plants a quick kiss to Mick’s cheek. “You can beat him unconscious if he refuses to go to sleep.”

“Hey!” Juno protests but it’s half-hearted at best, and Mick chuckles as Ben disappears into their bedroom.

“So…How are things?” It’s nice, imprecise, perfect for Juno to shrug off or ignore. Sometimes he forgets just how nice Mick is.

“Not worse than usual.” He responds. It’s not even a lie, it’s just that Juno’s usual sucks. Mick seems to pick up on it, too, if the grimace he makes is anything to go by.

“Any reason you were out at two in the morning? That you want to talk about?”

Juno doesn’t. It’s mostly easier to talk to Mick about those things, because, contrary to Ben, they’re both fucks up who can’t hold onto a job, but easier never means easy.

Mick sighs, but doesn’t push, and takes a sip of his drink.

“I got hired to coach a hockey little league.”

Juno squints at him.

“How?”

Mick chuckles instead of taking offense.

“One of Ben’s client: he didn’t have anyone so when he heard I needed a job he couldn’t find anything too bad with me.”

Juno snorts at that.

“They win any game yet?”

“No. But we’re having a lot of fun! I think this one’s a winner!”

Juno smiles but doesn’t say anything. If it was anyone else, he would happily believe that his friend had secured a job for a while, but with Mick there’s no telling what might happen. Sometimes Juno can’t help but wonder how his best friend is still alive.

“That’s a good thing too, cause Ben’s job is kind of crazy these days.” Mick sighs.

Juno squints.

“Please don’t tell me he hasn’t taken any free case again.”

“He didn’t!” Mick protests. “Well, just the one, and okay it took him a while, but mostly I think he feels… I don’t know.”

Mick is a terrible liar, but Juno isn’t about to call him out on it. They both know Ben loved being a cop. Loved the idea of helping people and standing up for the poor and the helpless. But Juno had had to go and ruin it. Of course, he knows it’s not entirely his fault and that the HCPD isn’t blameless and well, helps the mafia as much as it does the needy, he’s had this conversation with Ben enough time to recognize it. But it doesn’t change the fact that Ben loved the job, and that because of Juno he is now stuck doing a job he feels wholly inadequate for.

“Juno… I think he wants to ask you to help him.”

Juno snorts.

“Of course he doesn’t, I’ll just manage to fuck it up for him.”

“That’s not true!” Mick protests, even though they both know it is. “I’m sure you can help him help other people: you’re good at investigating! And… and… you’re better at him in fight and stuff!”

“I’m also better at making enemies and fucking up things he loves by bringing him all of my troubles. How do you know that won’t happen again?”

Mick deflates a bit at that.

“Juno… you know it’s not your fault…”

“Let’s not talk about that.”

Juno’s tone is dry as the Martian desert, and Mick stops arguing. He just pouts and bring his cup of tea to his face.

They let a few minutes go by, sipping tea and listening to the distant noise of the city. Mick is the one to interrupt it.

“It’s just… I’m worried about him, ya know?”

He knows. He’s worried too. Always. And the fact that Ben seems to constantly manage better than him has never changed that. But it’s just that Juno has never known how to make thing better. Somehow, everything he touches seems to turn to vinegar, so he won’t blow another thing up for his brother.

“You should go to sleep, Mick.”

Mick looks at him and sighs.

“Right.” He gets up and collects both their empty mugs, putting them in the sink. As he passes Juno, he pats his hair gently. “You should too, or you know Ben will knock you out for real.”

Juno hums, and Mick doesn’t insist. In seconds, he’s out of the room.

If you want to comment stuff or point out mistakes or ask questions (maybe?), pls feel free to send me a message or stuff.

Also for some reason I know have a lot of ideas about this AU so uh... this might become a thing

#tpp #the penumbra podcast #my writing #benzaiten steel #juno steel #mick mercury #junoverse fanfic #i feel like there should be more tag but idk what #:x #ben is alive au

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