#the Whole World (or at least thousands of teenagers) keeping their eyes on you seems so. 😟

[backseatloversz]

sorry for ryan pete posting to main they make me sick what was their deal

[moosemonstrous]

I never write in the second person, but it seemed to fit, so 🤷

Ghost Rider Pacific Rim AU - Yegor Ivanov's edition

Say, you're in charge of security on a large, well-appointed quasi-military base housing twenty thousand people - mostly J-techs and their families, but also a sizeable assortment of soldiers, scientists, medical staff, relief workers and support crew. It's the most stable job you've ever had. The general populace is just so grateful for the giant robots you deploy to fight the ever-nastier demons crawling out of The Breach, you barely have to pay any attention to actual security part of it. Your subordinates haven't reported a single issue they couldn't deal with themselves in years. The eggheads fight between each other to secure your approval. You have the respect of the international leaders for keeping Hong-Kong off of their priority list. Somehow, in this beautiful, messed up world you managed to carve yourself out an existence most people can only dream of.

And you got there by making a hard decision once, ten years ago. Eli Morrow was a dangerous psychopath and once his usefulness ran its course, it was your responsibility to put him down. Sometimes, one man has to pull the trigger for the good of the many, and that day you pulled the trigger. Figuratively. It was a regrettable situation, but you don't really regret it, because you gave Eli every chance under the sun to pull himself together.

You said it broke your heart, to see what he did to his brother, but secretly you were relieved. You've done many terrible things together, before the monsters stopped being just men in a different uniform. You had a good handle on Eli for so long, you almost forgot that rabid dogs will bite their master's hand given half a chance. If it hadn't been poor Alberto, it would've been you.

You didn't believe for a second Beto's kids turned up on base purely by accident. Call it fate, or karma, or whatever you want, you can't pretend seeing a mirror image of a young Eli in your own damn hangar doesn't strike a chord deep in your chest. It's not a pleasant sensation.

You have no idea what their mother told them - she was smart enough to get out before all hell came loose, so maybe she was also smart enough to keep her mouth shut. The younger one is a non-issue, at least. You forgot he had the--the whatsit, some condition the medical was working on, the hook you had on the Reyeses to keep them on base. You should dig into the files, see if the same hook will work on the older one.

And you need all the hooks you can think of, because you fucked up. You panicked and figured, well, he doesn't know his old man's jaeger is a goddamn death trap kept only because it would be more expensive to take it apart. He doesn't know it killed every recruit to ever step a foot in it. And he's as sentimental as his father was, all wide-eyed at the sight of the machine making up a good portion of your nightmares.

Only Robbie Reyes is a little too much like his uncle, too, because he doesn't. Fucking. Die.

The whole K-Sci department is very excited, of course. The techs aren't. You should've timed yourself better, made sure Canelo and the rest of the old guard were off-shift when you brought Robbie to The Charger. Now they're watching your hands and lowering their voices whenever you step into the hangar. You can't make the problem disappear without someone starting to ask questions. You need to be smarter than that.

If you can't get rid of him, you must learn to control him. He's no Eli Morrow - and you kept a lid on that can of worms for nearly a decade, from boot camp through black ops to TJP. One scowling teenager is nothing. He needs a strong hand and a little misdirection, that's all.

He watches you too, though. Like he already knows. He can't--can he? How? Who would've told him?

That broken eye of his is tripping you up, that's all. A strong hand, and a promise of medical support for the younger one - you will have him asking 'how high' before the next demon is due.

Besides, piloting jaegers is such a dangerous job. Anything could happen out in the sea. You can live through another regrettable loss. You don't think you can live through whatever Robbie Reyes is planning when he looks at you like that.

[heliads]

Tom!peter x male reader where reader is a powerful magic user and senses some magic on his memories after stranges spell and undoes it and confronts Peter why he didn’t make him remember (ISNT THE BEST BUT HEY)

but hey indeed

masterlist

Something is wrong. You can feel it, this wrongness, lurking somewhere in your mind, coiling around your heart, making you doubt what’s real and what isn’t. You don’t know what the problem is, only that it’s there, and there so strongly that it’s messing with your head.

That’s the worst part, you think, the uncertainty. If you just knew what the problem was, you could fix it. You’ve been fixing the bits and pieces of yourself that have fallen off for years now, medicating by throwing yourself into the whole hero/vigilante business that everyone seems to have going on these days or tracking down a certain Dr. Stephen Strange and making him deal with you instead. This, though, is a problem that even he can’t solve.

You’re no stranger to unnameable difficulties. Ever since your magical abilities started manifesting themselves some years back, you’ve gotten to know the more supernatural side of the world like the back of your hand. Spellbooks were just as common in your house as textbooks, and you see visions of runes whenever you close your eyes as opposed to the normal mathematical symbols haunting most teenagers.

Strange has been a great help, obviously, but even he can’t do everything. You were all but dropped on his doorstep when you entered junior high. Your parents had enough of your magical nonsense and went to the nearest source of inhuman knowledge. At that point, Stephen was just figuring out the whole Master of the Mystic Arts thing himself, but no one really paid much attention to that. You were magical, and even if you weren’t a sorcerer yourself, Strange was close enough and so you were put under his semi-watchful eye.

You’re definitely not bitter about that. Your magic is different from Strange’s, but that doesn’t matter, only a chance to get rid of you and pawn your enchantment habits onto someone more capable of tackling them.

Still, it clearly worked out. Strange may master a separate dialect of magic than you, so to speak, but it was close enough. He taught you control over your powers, sarcastic one-liners, and how to save the world while exerting the least possible effort to interact with other heroes. All good things to keep in mind when you’ve got spells running circles around your head like a song stuck on repeat.

You’ve had the whole magic thing under wraps for years, to keep a long story short. That means this sudden issue is baffling. It almost reminds you of what it felt like to lose control over your magic in the early days, when it was your master instead of the other way around, but your hold on your spells hasn’t slipped in a very, very long time.

If it isn’t that, then what could possibly be the problem? You just don’t know, which is the worst part. Hanging around with Stephen for this long has also given you a bit of an ego problem, you can admit that freely. You’ve spent all this time being the boy with magic, the unstoppable teenage wizard who could destroy an enemy alien spaceship with one powerful blast of sorcery. You are certainly not the type to be the victim of his own mind.

Yet the problem persists. It gnaws at your insides, whispering secrets that your hold over your own sanity is fracturing by the hour. For someone with the raw capabilities that you entertain on the regular, losing one’s mind isn’t an option that you can pick. Everyone knows S.H.I.E.L.D. is already frothing at the mouth at the chance to lock you up for further study. All it takes is one mistake on your end and they’ll swoop in for the kill.

No, you’ve got to figure this out on your own time. No matter how much you wrack your brain, though, you can’t seem to conjure up a single solution. Every time you try to think about it at all, your head explodes into a thousand migraines. It’s almost as if something out there wants you to stop thinking about it at all. It’s impossible to ignore the gaping hole in your brain, though, the empty space where you swear there was something. If only you could remember what that something was, you’d really be getting somewhere.

Problem is, this whole remembering business is hell. You try to pretend as if nothing is the matter, but you can’t help letting your frustration seep into your daily life. You stalk from home to class to the New York Sanctum then back again. You’ve already snapped about half a dozen pencils, crumpled countless failed essays into tight balls of paper, and glared at scores of hapless grandmothers for taking too long to cross the road.

Stephen, ever hostage to your various mood swings, has already picked up on the change in your mental state. He’s waiting for you when you make it to the Sanctum one afternoon, and raises an eyebrow when you all but slam the door shut.

“Do you have something against my front door?” He asks pointedly, “or are you trying to ruin the hinges for no reason in particular?”

You smile sarcastically. “Just me, I’m afraid.”

You start to move past him in the hopes of finding an empty room to practice, but Stephen holds up a hand. “Not so fast. I want an explanation for why you’re acting so weirdly.”

“Can I say ‘normal teen angst’ and call it a day?” You ask hopefully.

Strange shakes his head. “You’re angstier than normal. Why?”

You sigh. “Something’s messed up. I feel like someone’s poked around in my head without telling me. There is something very wrong, but I have absolutely no idea what it is.”

Stephen frowns. “That’s certainly a predicament. Did you accidentally cast a spell on yourself? Don’t tell me you believed Wong when he said you could enchant yourself into remembering chemistry, that was a joke. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

Your brow furrows at that. “You have? Anyway, no, I haven’t done a single spell on myself, I know better than to try that. You haven’t done anything to me, have you?”

“Not that I remember,” Strange says doubtfully, “Regardless, I hope you figure it out. The Sanctum doors are praying for it.”

You make a face at him as he leaves. Even after Strange returns to his own studies, though, you’re still mulling over something he said. Stephen doesn’t remember casting a single spell, but a spell would certainly explain why you feel the way you do. Plus, one of the worst parts about the weirdness currently going on in your head is that you can’t remember a single thing that would have caused it.

Now, if you don’t remember a spell, and Stephen Strange, former Sorcerer Supreme, can neither remember nor detect it, that’s certainly an indication that no spell occurred at all. However, the possibility of a spell is too likely. And, if someone cast a spell with the caveat that no one would remember the spell at all, that would cover all your bases. You could be going mad, but then again, you already feel like that. Sometimes, insanity is your best bet.

You continue puzzling over the spell until long after dark. The only possible path you can see is to remove the damned thing, and although you don’t have that much experience with spellbreaking, you also know your own mind. You are made of magic. Removing someone else’s attempt at controlling you is like second nature.

Sitting cross-legged, you close your eyes and prepare yourself. Usually, you’d be back at home by this time, but you figured you might as well stay at the Sanctum so you could involve Strange if something went terribly wrong. You don’t think you’re going to mess up, though.

You stretch your hands out by your sides, palms up, and call your magic forth. It answers instantly, swirling around your fingers and spiking through your heart. You breathe out; it follows suit, chasing the exhalation around the room until the entire space is filled with your power. One conscious thought, and it dives back towards you, channeled towards your mind.

Now that you’re following the path of your own magic, the foreign spell is far easier to identify. A few more moments of searching, and there– locked around your brain, visualized in your mind’s eye as encircling golden bands, just like the magic of the Masters of the Mystic Arts.

You curl your hands into fists at your sides, and your magic cuts through the spell. At first, it resists you, but you’re not the type to flinch back from a challenge. What could be minutes or hours later, it snaps, and your eyes fly open with the sheer force of what you’ve just remembered.

Memories flash through your head, one after another. You’re left reeling. Strange doesn’t remember the spell because he cast it. There was a fight that involved the fate of the multiverse, and although you remembered that just fine, you didn’t remember the boy at the center of it all. You can see him swooping through the streets now, the vigilante known as Spider-Man. Back before the spell, you knew him by a different name. You knew him as Peter Parker, and he meant the world to you.

Peter. More memories hit you like a tidal wave. You grew up with him, fought crime with him, died with him when you couldn’t stop Thanos. You fell in love with him. No wonder your mind was fighting so hard against the spell; living without Peter would kill you just as certainly as Thanos’ snap.

You’re on your feet before you know it, still dizzy and stumbling from the memories colliding in your head but determined to find him, and find him now. Peter had explained the spell just before it happened. Although you hated the thought of it, the memory spell was the only way to save the multiverse. You had held him close, choked with sobs, and made him promise to find you again.

Peter found you again, but he found a loophole in that oath. He had the chance to make you remember– he’d been at the coffee shop, he’d seen you and Ned and MJ, and he had looked at you with the saddest expression you’d ever witnessed in your life before turning around and heading out again. You had thought the interaction was odd, but thought no more of it.

Now, you know it for what it was– Peter giving up on what you’d have, choosing to leave you forever in the dark without him. Knowing Peter, he probably did it for some stupid self-sacrificing reason, like danger followed him wherever he went so keeping you out of his life would keep you safe, but that’s nonsense. Danger is a part of your life, just the same as magic, and you are not losing Peter because of it.

You throw open the window in a heartbeat, jumping out into the cold night. Strange may have the Cloak of Levitation, but you taught yourself a few basic flight spells during your first few lessons. You use them now to soar through the air, searching for Peter. He’s out there somewhere. He has to be.

Your intuition pays off when you see a masked figure perched on the roofline of a nearby building. As if Peter could ever let his guilt rest long enough to take a break from patrolling. Even now, too far away to make out any details on his countenance, you can guess that his eyes are rimmed by dark circles, proof that he’ll wear himself to the bone before he takes a day off.

Peter looks surprised when someone lands on his rooftop, but even more so when he realizes it’s you. The eyes on his mask open comically wide, but you hold up a hand before he can say a single thing.

“Peter Parker, how dare you try to cut me out of your life?” Your tone increases in volume with each word, and by the end of it, Peter has taken several steps back.

He holds up his hands in mock surrender, but they drop slowly as he realizes what you’ve said. “Wait. You’re not supposed to know who I am.”

You fold your arms across your chest. “No, I’m not, right? I would know if you had talked to me like we agreed, but you didn’t. I had to take matters into my own hands and remove the spell.”

Peter raises a trembling hand and pulls off his mask to make sure he’s not seeing things. His eyes are wide and glassy, and he stares at you like he’s seeing a ghost. Maybe he is.

“You knew there was a spell?” He asks feebly.

“I knew there was something wrong, and I used my magic to figure it out. You’re not answering me, though. Why didn’t you make me remember? Didn’t we love each other? Didn’t we promise to find each other again?” Your voice is quiet at the end as the force of what he didn’t do weighs on you. If Peter truly loved you, wouldn’t he have kept his promise?

Peter opens his mouth, closes it again, then gives up and pulls you to him. You freeze for a moment, then return the embrace. After so much time apart, it feels like coming home.

He speaks at last, the words muffled against your shoulder. “The people I love die because of me. I couldn’t lose you. I thought that if I kept you out of my trainwreck, you’d stay safe.”

You laugh bitterly, holding him even closer. “Not possible. I make my own danger, thank you very much. All I want is you, Peter. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Peter leans back slightly so he can look at you again. “Then don’t leave. Stay with me. We’re good now.”

That you are, you decide. No spell can keep the two of you apart, and certainly not the fate of the multiverse. You’ll have your boyfriend whether the world likes it or not. They can certainly try to take you on, although you’d have to warn Fate that you’re not one to lose.

requested by @fadedver, i hope you enjoy!

marvel tag list: @namoreno, @thatfangirl42, @rogueanschel, @mycosmicparadise, @ellobruv, @callsign-scully, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @amortensie, @23victoria, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @gods-fools-heroes, @w1shes43, @deafsuperhero

[am-i-obsessed---maybe]

42, 50, 52 on prompt for Damian Wayne?

Thank you even if you don't answer my ask! ☺️

Is That Was This Is? Attraction?

Absolutely!

Sidenote, I keep trying to write these as drabbles and they always turn into proper thousand word long fics

I don't remember the whole list so when I checked what the actual prompts were I smiled cause that is so cute!

42) Is that my shirt?

50) My friends get annoyed by how much I talk about you sometimes

52) No one's ever made me feel like this

Reader and Damian are teenagers of an unspecified age. I don't like age ups for shipping but this is small and sweet so just keep in mind that in cannon this boy is like 12.

You'd known damian since the both of you were kids, two young heroes displaced form the worlds they've been raised in. For Damian it was his mother and grandfather in the League of Assassins and for you it was the Amazons on Paradise island. Two kids guided by their mentors to find themselves. Since Diana took you from Themyscira and to man's world multiple years ago you've fought crime along many young heroes as Olympian, the only true son of Themyscira while Damian became Robin, the boy wonder and heir to Batman. You had much in common from upbringing and life experience to your formal speech patterns. Jon often laughed at how in sync the two of you seemed to be. You and Damian were close to say the least.

The other night you had been awake till the early sunrise helping Damian investigate and rescue a kidnapped city council member and when you went to fly back to your apartment in D.C Damian stopped you.

"It's late, we've been up all night, you can stay the night at the manor" He said and you smiled.

"That's sweet Robin but I am quite capable of staying awake enough to fly back home" You tried to explain but instead Robin grabbed your wrist.

"It's not about capable, you and I both need rest." He said and you sighed, he was not often like this so you agreed. It's not like you were in a hurry to get back anyway.

You spent the night at the manor, in a guest room. Damian even gave you an old pair of Tim's PJs to sleep in so when you walked out of your room the next morning wearing one of his shirts and an old pair of sweatpants that were probably Tim's Damian was very confused.

"Is that my shirt?" He asked as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and looked down.

"Is it? It was laid out for me on the desk, I simply assumed Alfred left it for me" You explained as you joined Damian in the kitchen.

You nodded a hello to his brother Dick as you passed him and went to make yourself something to drink.

"Thank you for inviting me to stay the night Damian, it was definitely better than flying back to D.C" You said and sipped your hot chocolate. That caught Dick's eye.

"You stayed the night... At Damian's request?" He asked and you simply nodded.

"We were out until Sunrise Grayson, it would have been irresponsible to allow him to fly back on his own after such a long patrol" Damian supplied and quickly changed the subject to the events of your recent rescue mission.

You simply leaned back against the countertop and watched Damian animatedly retell the night's events.

"-And then Y/N broke down the steel door to the bunker, deflecting the goon's gunfire as I untied Mr. Wilpon-" You smiled as you noticed Damin's body relax as he talked to his brother. He didn't often allow himself to relax and you adored seeing him whenever he did.

"Y/N?" Damian asked and you snapped out of your daze realizing he asked you a question.

"What?" You asked and Dick had to hold back a snicker, did he notice you staring at Damian?

"Are you coming? I am going to train." Damian asked and you nodded, smiling.

"Of course" You said, putting down your cup and following after Damian.

The two of you changed back into your superhero uniforms and you joined him in the batcave.

"Are you alright? It isn't like you to space out" Damian mentioned as he sharpened his batarangs.

That isn't completely true, though it was unlike you to be caught gazing at at Damian. You weren't quite sure what it was, you'd never felt this way with anyone else. Your stomach fluttered when Damian was around and your cheeks heated up.

"I'm tired is all, last night's mission must have taken more out of me than I thought" You explained.

"Target practice?" You asked and it was as if your stomach filled with butterflies when you saw the smile that only you and Jon got to see. Only his friends.

"You're on" Damian said and you adjusted your arm guards, smirking.

You and Damian often played a game to test his aim and your reflexes.

Damian prepared his batarang, took aim and threw it.

You smirked and easily deflected it with your arm guards.

"My reflexes are better than that Damian, do not aim for my arms." You instructed him and he threw another batarang, this one aimed for your chest.

"Better." You said as you deflected it. Damian smiled and threw another one. He loved spending time with you, you understood him, you didn't question his past or his abilities and he adored being around you. You made him feel at ease. In fact if it weren't for his brother's pesky meddling and remarks he would invite you to sleep over every time you were in Gotham.

After almost an hour of target practice and sparring you sat with Damian on the roof of Wayne manor as you watched Gotham from afar.

"Thank you for inviting me to stay Damian, I enjoy spending time with you like this" You said and Damian could feel the butterflies in his stomach flutter.

"Of course, I also enjoy our time together" He said and you smiled as you watched him lay back against the roof.

"I always enjoy our time together" Damian admitted and you noticed his cheeks redden.

"As do I Damian. It's strange, we've always been close but when it is only the two of us together my heart- it flutters" You admitted and Damian's eyes were trained on you as you spoke.

"I admit I'm not quite sure what this is or why but no one has ever made me feel like this" you said and you looked away from Damian and to the view of Gotham. This was one of the only times the city has ever looked peaceful.

"I am not quite sure what this feeling is but I like it" You said and Damian's own heart fluttered at your words. He felt the same way and the thought that you felt the same made him giddy- not that he would ever admit it.

"I feel the same" He admitted and you turned your head to him in surprise.

"You do?" You asked and he smiled, just a tiny bit at your reaction.

"Yes, it's- it's why Grayson made the comment he made this morning. You are the only person I have ever invited to stay the night" He said and you simply watched as he spoke.

"I- I like you and I was not sure if you felt the same. I have never felt this way for someone of my own gender so this is all still new to me as well" He explained and you simply blinked in confusion.

Damian liked you? He felt the same and he liked you? Was that the strange fluttering in your stomach? attraction?

You looked at Damian in confusion before bursting out in laughter. How could you miss this? You've read all the great poets words of love and yet you could not recognize it in yourself!

Damian looked at you in confusion and some hurt, did he misunderstand? did you not feel the same? Was this the end of your friendship? That's not what he wanted to achieve with his confession.

When you managed to control yourself and quiet your laughter you wiped a stray tear from your eye.

"I apologise, I- I have read all of the great poets songs of love and yet I could not recognise it in myself and with my best friend" You said and smiled.

"So you do feel the same? You like me back?" Damian asked and he cursed himself, he sounded so childish. Of course he was, this was childlike admiration. His first love.

"Yes Damian, I do reciprocate your affection, I was simply too blind to realize it and for that I apologize" You said and scooted closer to the now very flustered boy.

"And it is alright if this is the first time you've had these emotions for another man, we will learn together" You said reassuringly and carefully placed your hand on top of Damian's. He never was one to easily show physical affection but he appreciated the small gesture.

"If you wish to keep this private in the beginning-" You tried to tell Damian that was fine, after all as long as the two of you were together you were happy but he quickly cut you off.

"No!" He said, much louder than he intended.

"No, I- well unless you wish to keep it private. In that case I understand" He said and you smiled.

"no, if I'm being honest I feel much more comfortable in a same sex romance than I think I would be in aa heterosexual one" You admitted and leaned your head on Damian's shoulder.

"How come?" Damian asked and you smiled thinking of seeing your fellow amazons with their girlfriend's and wives back on Themyscira.

"Well, there really was only one option on an island full of woman" You joked and Damian chuckled lightly, nodding.

after a small silence you asked.

"Are you embarrassed? being together with a man for the first time. I know in man's world this is much less common" You asked and you were fully expecting for Damian to agree in some way.

"No." He said and you brought your head off his shoulder to look at him in surprise.

"This is all new to me but if I'm being honest, my friends get annoyed by how much I talk about you sometimes. I don't think it will surprise many" He explained and you smiled.

"You never were one to fear what others would say" You joked and laid your head back down on his shoulder.

"I love you Damian Wayne" You whispered and you caught the tiniest bit of a relieved smile on his lips.

"I love you too" He said.

[spenciegoob]

Swing to the Stars

this fic swap is for @reidgraygubler​ ... I really hope you like it, shadow :)

A/N: AAAAH! this is my first fic swap and I’M SO EXCITED!!!!

Summary: Spencer meets someone in his little hiding spot, and desperately hopes to see them again.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral!Reader

Category: fluff with a dash of angst

Content Warnings: mentions of Maeve & William Reid, talk of a case involving teens, mentions of bullying, mentions of guns and pepper spray (not used)

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4K

___

The first time I climbed that treacherous hill, dirtying my converse for all to see what my night activities truly consisted of, I was alone. I enjoyed it like that, I came here by myself, and I intended to keep it that way. When I sat on the swing dangling by two dangerously flimsy ropes, I thought how ridiculously large the slap of wood used to make it was. My elbows were bent a little over a 90 degree angle just to reach both sides, but I never thought past it. I had other things on my mind that night.

I thought about my mom. I knew she would have loved a secluded, little space like this. She would’ve probably read to me here, using different voices that held deep emotion to convey each story with a precise amount of dedication and love. Each story to her was special, and I silently thank her every day for passing that trait down to me. 

Unfortunately, if I thought about my mom, I thought about my dad. William was never a kind man, and I could pride myself on one thing; I would never be like him. He didn’t deserve to know a place like this. It was too serene, too beautiful to house a man so willing to abandon the two people who should’ve been the most important to him. I was glad he would never get the chance to sit on this swing.

I thought about my family. How Garcia would jump with excitement at the prospect of having a picnic overlooking the city, yet quiet and missing the sounds of cars zooming by or overlapping chatter. I thought about JJ, and how Henry would beg her to push him in the swing, because to a little kid, it was perfect. He didn’t look at the frayed rope and fear that it would snap. I hope he never starts to fear the world like that.

The second time I found myself back at the bottom of the hill, I made it halfway to the top before seeing a couple getting up from the swing they were sitting together on. I realized then why it was so comically large; it was meant for two people. Thankfully when I reached the top only half out of breath, the two were starting their descent to where I came from.

This time when I sat down, I thought about Maeve. I would’ve brought her here, shared the little secret corner of the world I built for myself. She would’ve loved something like this, and I know if life wasn’t so cruel, and I was given the chance to show her, we would’ve talked for hours. So that’s what I did that time; I talked to Maeve. To anyone else, I probably looked like a crazy person talking to himself, but much to my delight, not many people made the trip up the hill to find this place.

Now I go whenever I need a break from my mind, which unfortunately is more times than my schedule allows me to take that leisurely walk. I spend my nights sometimes after a particularly hard case there no matter the time, using the ropes that scratch my hands as my lifeline down to Earth. I watch the stars, screaming and cursing at the world in my head and waiting for the sky to respond. It never did, and the next case always came in the following morning.

This particular time that I found myself at the bottom of the grassy hill waiting to be climbed, the case I just returned from involved kids across the board. A teenage unsub was killing his fellow classmates that have wronged him. Unfortunately, the BAU had to witness his stressor recorded for the whole school to see. It involved vile insults being thrown at the young, defenseless boy only for the bullying to escalate to violence.

It was awful.

As I trudged up the hill with less excitement to look into the vast unknown than usual, I couldn’t stop thinking about the unsub. All he wanted in life was a friend, someone to talk to, laugh with, share memories together. No matter how wrong it was, I saw myself in him. Our souls held the same scars given to us by people who had no right to go digging for such a deep part of ourselves. If I didn’t make it, would I have turned out like him?

When I reached the top, completing my journey once again, I saw them. Sitting there, staring out into the sky, mimicking my thoughts to do the same on the jet ride home. I could only make out half their face lit up by the light casting down from the full moon, but I didn’t need to see more to know they were breathtaking.

I would have turned around to return home to nothing more than books reread thousands of times and stale coffee, but I already made the mistake of stepping on a rather large branch that broke in half. The crunch coming from their right immediately had them on edge, and reaching for their bag that I could only assume had some sort of weapon inside. I hope it was legal.

I felt terrible for breaking them from the trance they were in. They were deep in thought about something that was probably going to become a solution if I hadn't interrupted their musing. 

“H-hi, I’m sorry to scare you. I didn’t expect anyone here this late. Not that you being here is a problem! I didn’t mean to disturb you,” I frantically shouted, although there was less distance between us than I originally thought, and probably seemed crazed by my volume level.

They just giggled at first, but upon seeing my distraught expression, their face turned more kind than humorous.

“That’s okay. I’m just glad I didn’t jump so fast to pepper spray you. That would definitely be the worst case scenario.” I let out a breath of relief for some reason. Here I was, in front of a total stranger thankful that their weapon of choice wasn’t a gun. I’ve been on the wrong end of too many during my years.

“Did you know Chemical Mace, more commonly known as pepper spray, was invented in the 1960s by a man named Alan Lee Litman and his wife Doris Litman at the time. Their reason was actually because one of Doris’s female coworkers was attacked and robbed, so they thought to create a nonlethal weapon with easy accessibility and use, considering not everyone is able to use a gun. It wasn’t until 1987 however that the Litman’s sold their creation to Smith and Wesson where it was mass produced and later sold to law enforcement.”

“Wow, I don’t think I did.” They laughed again, but something in my heart told me it wasn’t meant to come with malicious intent. “Do you do that a lot?”

“Do what?” I asked, even though I had some inclination of what they were referencing.

“Spout random facts. I’m not complaining, that was very cool, but I am fully intrigued.” They smiled again at me fondly, the kind of smile that left me a little breathless, even more so than the 45 degree incline I had to climb to find myself in front of them. There was nothing to convince me they weren’t authentic in every word they stated.

“I do it quite often, yes. It gets annoying after a while though.” It was true, I was told on many occasions that my rambling got old very fast. I suppose that’s what happens when you’re close to me for too long. I tend to stop being the awe-striking genius, and become the nagging, walking encyclopedia.

“I don’t see how that could become annoying.” It sounded sad coming from them, like I had insulted their oddity. I would never, and I was really hoping to find out what it was.

I had nothing further to say that would express my shock, and slight fondness over their praise, wary of its honesty even if it did come from them. I hadn’t known them for more than 4 minutes and 36 seconds, but it was enough to figure out that they weren’t a liar. It wasn’t from profiling either.

“You know, there is room for two people here if you wanted to join me. I’m sure you didn’t climb that hill for nothing.” They continued for me. If they noticed my surprise, they said nothing about it. 

Usually, I would be skeptical of being in a close proximity with a stranger, but as I approached them carefully, even if their hand was no longer reaching for mace, I felt the passing between our eyes. It was as if we had shared every part of ourselves with eye contact, and as crazy as it sounds, I felt the somber thoughts that lingered from their previous reflections.

So I sat down, grabbing onto only one of the scratchy ropes, and enjoying the way I could rest my elbow against my side now that I was using the swing to its fullest potential. I stopped caring about the probability of the ropes snapping under our combined body weight. The worst that could possibly happen was I bruised my tailbone a little bit, but I wouldn’t care past the initial embarrassment. At least I had someone to show that with.

“Do you ever think about what’s out there?” They asked once I was settled on the wood slab as comfortably as I could muster. Being boney didn’t necessarily help. Before I could answer, they continued. “I can tell you’re a man of science, if the fact dump wasn’t any indicator, but I mean beyond the facts, and the known.”

“No, I don’t think about it.” It was a lie, I think about it every time I’m here, but I wanted nothing more in this moment than to know how they saw the stars.

“I do. Quite frequently, actually. I mean, I’ve read every book there ever was about the stars and space, but there is still no answer to my question.”

“What question?” I had to know.

“What’s exactly written in the stars,” they replied, using their hands to showcase the sky above us. I sat back and thought for a while. Like the books they’ve read, I too didn’t have the response to their question. God, how I wish I did.

I don’t know how long we sat there quietly. One of the perks of total darkness in the dead of night is that the moon couldn’t tell time the way the sun did. We got lost in the cosmos together, contemplating sharing our own troubled thoughts with each other. It would have felt right if we did, but alas, the ringing of my cell phone dropped a pin in our reflections.

“I- I’m sorry, I have to take this,” I rushed out before standing up and accepting the incoming call from Penelope. I knew it was a case before her bubbly voice rang through my celular. I allowed the disappointment to bleed through my tone when I told her I would be back at the BAU shortly, hoping that the small release of the emotion would be enough to ward it off in time to turn back around. 

It didn’t.

They were already looking at me expectantly when I made my way back to the swing, bending down to retrieve my satchel I had abandoned on the ground. The amount of guilt on my face must have been enough to tell them I had to leave abruptly, despite the fact that the only thing I wanted to do was stay for even just a second.

“That’s okay,” they spoke softly, giving me a tight lipped smile. “We’ll see each other again.”

“How do you know?” I couldn’t help but be skeptical. Life never did work out in my favor. They looked up at the sky once more before answering.

“Just a feeling.” I let a full grin break out at their response, the first one I’ve had when visiting this place. I turned around to start my journey back to the office where dark, and twisted things lurked behind manilla folders. Before starting my descent however, I spun around quickly, almost losing my footing and taking a tumble.

“Woah there tiger, don’t hurt yourself,” they giggled at me, one that I returned with my own breathy laugh.

“I just don’t know your name.” It baffled me a little bit that I hadn’t thought to ask before this, but they just gave me one last smile, tilting their head in faux contemplation.

“Ask me next time.” I will.

***

It’s been a year since I met them, and I haven’t seen them since. Not for a lack of trying however. After that case, I went there every night until a new one arose, this time taking me to Oregon. They hadn’t been back, and part of me wondered if it was because of me. Did I not try hard enough the first time? Should I have ignored my ringer until my phone had 5 missed calls from Penelope?

But then my eidetic memory swooped in to save me from going down that road, one of the only times it wasn’t the cause of my self destructive thoughts. Because while I replayed the conversation over in my head wondering where it went wrong, I remembered their eyes, and their smile.

I remembered what it felt like to sit with them, and thankfully that was enough to convince myself our meeting wasn’t in vain.

I never was the kind of man to believe in the universe. The whole notion that “everything happens for a reason,” felt like a lie created to somehow blame an external force on the chaos in one’s life. There were so many things in my life that had no reason for happening, and to blame that on anything or anyone but myself would be a cheap excuse of a way out.

But for some odd reason, the universe aside, I believed in them, and strangely enough, I don’t think they would have blamed me for the life I had to live. So, as I sit down tonight on this familiar piece of wood, I choose to stare at the stars instead of the ground, and believe that if I spoke aloud, maybe they would hear me.

And they did, because my efforts to sit on one side of the swing in case they returned to me were not in vain. I didn’t look over, I didn’t have to to know it was them. I had already relaxed once their presence was known in my peripherals.

“Y/N,” they spoke, causing me to change my view on the stars to their side profile. It wasn’t all that different than staring at the constellations spread around us. “My name’s Y/N.”

___

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[squishneedsahero]

Without Direction

The Lost Padawan Part 1

Word Count: 1842

You were raised in the Jedi order, Padawan of Jedi Master Obiwan Kenobi.

You were breathing heavily, heart beating out of your chest as you could only pray no one noticed. You had no idea what was happening, but the Clones had all turned, suddenly going and killing all of the Jedi in one swoop. Master Kenobi had left you at the temple while he went after general Grievous and that was apparently too dangerous for a Padawan. This of course had you upset and feeling useless, so you had been messing around when everything went down. This messing around had ended up saving your life, why you had access to Clone armor wasn't important, but you deciding at that moment to try it on had saved your life.

Now you were still in the armor, but on a ship going who knows where as you just needed to get away from Coruscant as fast as you could. No one questioned why a Clone was on a passenger ship off world but you could only be grateful that they didn't. You could only stand there, stiff backed and unspeaking as you traveled.

Sooner than expected you land and are able to get off of the ship, quickly getting as far away from anyone from Coruscant as you can, talking someone into giving you some clothes from their stall as you did so. You run off and change before getting out of town.

You fall to the ground as you find somewhere that seems somewhat safe to stop. You pull out your lightsaber and study the hilt as tears form in your eyes. The adrenaline was wearing off and the reality of everything that had happened was setting in. You had lost everyone in a single day. Your Master was gone and dead along with all the other Jedi, the Clones you had thought to be friends weren't, everything was taken from you just like that.

You spend the night on the ground, always somewhere between sleeping and crying as all of you just hurt and you felt lost. You were still only a child, yes you were well enough trained to be a Padawan learner but being executed alongside all the other Jedi for warcrimes you hadn't committed made no sense. It was all you could do to keep yourself from completely falling apart, here you were, the last Jedi alive in the entire galaxy and you were just a lost child.

The next day things look no better,  but you get up anyways, dumping the armor before going back into town. You luckily had a few credits in your pocket so you didn't have to use the force to convince someone to give you food. As you eat you are able to sit down and almost relax a little, unfortunately a transmission of Senator Palpatine from Coruscant begins to play across all the screens in the area.

"Citizens of the civilized galaxy," Palpatine begins, "on this day we mark a transition. For a thousand years, the Republic stood as the crowning achievement of civilized beings. But there were those who would set us against one another, and we took up arms to defend our way of life against the Separatists. In so doing, we never suspected that the greatest threat came from within."

"The Jedi, and some within our own Senate, had conspired to create the shadow of Separatism using one of their own  as the enemy's leader. They had hoped to grind the Republic into ruin. But the hatred in their hearts could not be hidden forever. At last, there came a day when our enemies showed their true natures."

Your heart is in your throat and you can hardly swallow your food as you hear him announce these things. You, y/n l/n, had been at Master Kenobi's side for years and he along with the other Jedi leaders had wanted nothing more than for the war to end. But none of that mattered now, the Jedi were gone, the Jedi Order had been wiped out, and only these blatant lies would succeed in reaching the ears of the public. You get up and walk away, back into the wilderness with your few supplies you had been able to grab, planning to just stay here on Saleucami until things settled enough you could get away unnoticed.

You spend nearly a week of your time traveling through the wilderness until you come to another town large enough to have a space port. The place is crawling with Clones but it was obvious that Palpatine was trying to gather things as quickly as possible to maintain his control over the galaxy, meaning the Clones weren't paying any attention to a random teenager. At this point your face is coated with a layer of dirt, which you don't mind since it adds to hide your identity.

Your first stop is to once again get some food and replenish your supplies as well as find a way to earn a few credits for later. It's as you're looking over a fruit stand that you feel a nudge from the force and two men talking nearby catch your attention. It doesn't take you long to recognize the faces, or face, the one face you had to have seen thousands of variations of, many the same but each with a different person behind it. They were clones.

The thing that had you so focused on them was the fact that they weren't wearing their armor, along with the fact that anytime other clones passed by they hid their faces from view. You try not to stare but you keep an eye on them, something was drawing you to them but you couldn't bring yourself to trust a couple stray clones on the spot like that.

Following them from a distance you are able to see that they are avoiding the other clones and one of the two you feel you recognize. He has a tattoo covering nearly half his face and you know you had fought beside him at one point, not that that meant a whole lot at this point. They stop and you can hear them talking about getting off world, they clearly don't want to be caught and it is as they are leaving town that you decide you can trust them.

You follow from a distance, trying to stay undetected, not sure how to approach them but the force was pulling you to do so. It isn't until you are well out of town that you begin trying to approach them, and it isn't until you get close to them that you realize something is off, they had realized they were being followed.

"Who are you?" The tattooed one asks loudly as they turn to face you, guns drawn.

Your heart is yet again in your throat as you step out into the open, both hands in front of you in an attempt of showing you mean no harm. You don't want to answer their question so you make a statement of your own, "you're clones."

You can see their grips on their guns change and you raise your hands a little higher, "I promise I don't mean any harm- I'm just wondering why you two aren't helping the others," you quickly explain, praying they won't shoot.

"Answer our question and might answer yours."

You take a deep breath, okay you can do this, it's just a matter of trust, and your life. Leaving one hand up in front of you you use the other to remove the hood you were wearing and then reach into the folds of your cloak to take out your lightsaber, holding out the hilt without igniting it, simply showing it to them. "I just need to know why the two of you are different."

The two men are more than a little surprised to see the lightsaber in your hand and share a glance between themselves. The fact that you were willing to show your face and the fact that you were one of the Jedi truly meant that you meant no harm.

Hunter looks at Cut for a moment and in almost a whisper says, "I recognize them, they're a padawan." From there he looks back to you and more loudly says, "come closer and we can talk," seeing as you were nearly a hundred feet away.

You take a breath as you move closer, hoping they wouldn't mind the tight grip you had on your saber, considering that they still had yet to put their guns down. You do a decent job at keeping your emotions down and hidden but the two clones know that you're scared, only a few years older than the children they had waiting for them.

Your eyes are locked on Hunter as you get closer, finally placing him and saying softly, "you're Hunter," you glance at the other but know you haven't a clue who he is, "with clone force 99... right?" you ask gently.

Cut nods and puts his gun away, "don't worry kid you don't have to hold your lightsaber so tight, we aren't going to kill you. And yes this is Hunter," he answers you, recognizing how sacred you really were, "I'm Cut, can I ask who you are?"

Your grip relaxes as he holsters his gun, then nudges Hunter to do the same with his gun. You can't bring yourself to let go of the hilt of your saber but you do at least let it drop to your side in a relaxed position. "I'm y/n l/n, Master Kenobi's padawan learner."

That's when Hunter nods, realizing that was when he recognized you from, he and the others of the bad batch had sometimes reported to Cody, the commander under General Kenobi. "So, why were you following us?"

"I- uh-" you stutter a bit as you try to get your thoughts together. You pause another beat before deciding to just share why it was you had followed them, "all of the clones turned against the Jedi and exterminated them, I lost everyone I knew and the two of you are different, you didn't kill me on sight... you were hiding from the other clones... like I am."

Thats when things begin to click for Hunter, while he had lost a close friend he still had the others. You on the other hand had lost everything and everyone, having nothing but a lightsaber and to be killed if recognized. "Okay kid, we aren't sure why the others turned but we are trying to figure it out. We're getting Cut and his family off this planet, then leaving ourselves."

Cut looks at Hunter for a moment then says, "you're welcome to come back to my family's farm with us, take a moment to relax, I'm sure you're tired."

You look at the two, and it's a moment before you accept the offer. There was still hesitation and fear running through your veins, but you had survived a war, you had grown up on the battle field, you could survive this too.

[thefirsttree]

A personal update + my next game

OK, time to do this. I’ve been meaning to do a big DAVID WEHLE™ update for a while now and explain why I haven’t released a new game yet, but you know how life gets in the way. Especially when life is a quarantine hellscape, you have three beautiful, amazing, exhausting kids to raise, a spouse’s job you support, a viral YouTube channel that turns your brain to mush, a thousand emails waiting in your inbox since your game is free on the Epic Games Store (with an impressive number of redemptions too! … meaning lots of emails and customer support issues), etc., etc. What also contributes to my lack of updates is because… I just don’t really like posting online. Fascinating correlation, I know!

Don’t worry, this isn’t going to be a venting/ranting blog post (well, maybe a bit), because my life is seriously AMAZING and INSANELY BLESSED and LUCKY. I can’t believe how many dreams keep coming true, so much so that I feel I don’t deserve it and I really pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes… but I did want to at least be honest, because I owe that to myself.

Wow, where do I even begin? Well, how about we start with the reason I’m even a full-time indie game dev now: The First Tree. This small hobby project I worked on at night morphed into this gargantuan beast (or fox) that took over my life the past 5 years. Which is great! I’m living the dream! And yet, I really didn’t expect it to do as well as it did. At its core, my game is a slow-paced, sad walking simulator (ahem, I prefer the term “exploration game,” but you know what I mean) that somehow seemed to launch at the right time to the right audience. It resonated deeply with some of you, and for that I’m eternally grateful. I still get emails almost daily how my game changed their lives in some formative way. I’m beyond honored.

However, with that spotlight came criticism and demands from the ever-present, insatiable internet. I would randomly be surfing the gamedev subreddit trying to decompress, and I would see a comment by some rando saying how much I didn’t deserve my success, and how it was all one huge lucky fluke. And I believed them!

And to add to it, some devs considered me an indie marketing “guru”, which I was uncomfortable with. I worked hard to market my game every week, and after my GDC talk, people assumed marketing was my passion; the reason I got up every morning. Just to clarify… NO, I don’t like marketing, and I hate being the center of attention. I don’t like asking people for money and wishlists. But I did what was necessary because I was passionate about telling stories, and I wanted to give my story a fighting chance to be seen on the crowded pages of Steam.

So now, you’re probably wondering “well then David, why did you make fancy YouTube videos showing off your success? Not very modest if you ask me.” This honestly could be a long blog post all on its own, because my experience of putting myself in the spotlight and becoming a “content creator” is… complicated. It was an unusual step for me, especially since I never even showed my face online (as a game developer) until my GDC talk.

First off, I always wanted to teach and start a YouTube channel. I love video editing, especially since I’ve been doing it longer than making games! It’s a huge passion of mine. And teaching people who didn’t know they could make and finish games was a huge motivator (and it’s been so rewarding already). But the second reason is, I was scared. I was self-employed, and I was riding the success of a “huge lucky fluke” that would probably not happen again. I wanted to make sure I could provide for my amazing family, and give them food and health insurance and security in these tumultuous times. I was turning my lifelong passions and hobbies into a business, and it wasn’t as simple of a mental transition as I thought.

So, I went all in on YouTube and the accompanying online course called Game Dev Unlocked. I spent years editing the scripts and videos, and polishing them to a shine. At first, no one watched my videos, no one was buying… and in the blink of an eye, the YouTube algorithm picked up my main autobiographical video (“How Making Indie Games Changed My Life”), and I started getting 5,000 subscribers a day. Right now, I’m at 150,000 subs, which is still hard for me to believe. I always had a dream of earning 100k subs on YouTube, so I was pretty happy with the whole thing. Sales were OK, but mostly people didn’t want to buy the course. Then the emails came in…

Something you should know about me: I am a textbook “people pleaser,” and if someone asks for my help, I take it very seriously. If someone is mad at me, even if I didn’t do anything wrong, it’s all I can think about, and it ruins my day. So, taking an onslaught of people begging for help and multiplying that by an impossible amount of people for my brain to truly comprehend thanks to the internet… and let’s just say it wasn’t a healthy mix.

I received thousands of emails from people who were begging me for some kind of reassurance that everything would be OK. That their dreams would come true too. And I wanted to help every single one of them. I went from a nobody working on a game for fun to becoming a spokesperson for the indie game dream. I couldn’t even get a shake from the Chick-Fil-A drive-thru without someone recognizing me and asking for game dev advice. And it didn’t stop there… I would get emails from suicidal kids asking for help, teenagers from Afghanistan asking me to get them out of their country, and on one occasion I received an email from a hopeful game developer in a war-torn country who had just experienced a bomb blowing up their neighboring village. His friends were dead, and he was hoping he could finish a game before he died too, and he needed my help. How do you say no to something like that? Didn’t I owe it to everyone because I was lucky with my hit game and I needed to “pay it forward”? (Something people constantly reminded me of)

And then to top it off, after you’ve given everything you’ve got to other people in need… you get hate mail in your inbox. You spend the whole day serving your children and strangers on the internet, then when the kids are finally asleep, you hit the bed to relax and take a look at your phone to decompress, and you randomly come across an angry gamer in your Twitter mentions telling you your game they got for free sucks, and that you took away a potentially great game from them and that your apology isn’t good enough.

Long story short, I went to a mental therapist for the first time in my life. I was broken trying to care for two toddlers and a new baby in a pandemic (which is very, very hard), taking care of my course students who gave me their hard-earned money and demanded results, and the countless people begging for help on the internet. I was this introverted, internet-lurker trying to take on the weight of the world. I was so tired and hurt that no one cared about me and my needs… only what I could do for them.

Quitting my day job and making this hobby my full-time job has stirred up… mixed emotions. This statement may disturb some of you, but I was definitely 100% happier when I had a full-time job and I was working on my game at night. I missed working with the amazing team at The VOID, working on Star Wars… back when the success of my game was this abstract thing I could only daydream about. Mostly, I was making my game for me with no outside expectations to pay the bills or satisfy the ever-demanding internet, and that brought me a lot of joy.

It’s not all doom and gloom though! I’m actually very happy now and in the best shape I’ve been since the pandemic started. I’ve had to confront my weaknesses and personality quirks, but I’m a better person for it (and I’m sure these issues would’ve come out eventually). I hired an awesome community manager for Game Dev Unlocked who is helping SO MUCH with the emails, I can’t even tell you the mental burden it alleviates. I even leased a co-working office to help separate work from my home, and that’s been a huge help too. I’ve decided to work with my old friends from The VOID on a cool, new VR experience. It will take me away from my projects a bit, but I’m ecstatic to work with a great team again (and not manage anything, whew).

These are all things I would’ve never guessed I needed, because I thought I knew myself pretty well… turns out I didn’t.

The reality is: running a business is HARD. Running it solo is even harder. You have to remember, I was burnt out on The First Tree well into the Steam release in 2017, but I kept working on it for 4 more years due to my fears of failing again and not earning enough money for my family.

So, I was wrestling with the age-old concept of commercialism and art. There was this dichotomy of doing whatever I wanted and being true to my vision (what most people assume the indie dev dream is like), and doing only what customers wanted to buy. This is something that has killed me with YouTube… in one specific instance, I was super excited to make the exact video I wanted to make. I loved every part of its creation, and I thought it had a message that would inspire everyone. I lovingly edited it over several weeks, posted it, and excitedly waited for the stats… and it was by far my worst performing video.

This is not a new problem. Even the Sistine Chapel by Michelangelo was a commission forced upon him by the very violent Pope Julius II. My wife and I regularly talk about the fine balance between artistic integrity and commercialism, a problem she is very familiar with as an artist who constantly needs to balance what she wants to make with what the customer wants to hang up in their home.

For The First Tree, I was lucky. It was pretty much what I wanted to make (I had to compromise a lot of things of course), and it turned out millions of people wanted it too. Recently, I thought the safe business decision would be to do it all over again, so I started work on a spiritual successor to The First Tree (an idea that I may revisit one day since I do love the story idea). But that isn’t happening anytime soon. Trust me when I say I am now currently burnt out on animal exploration games.

So that realization left me with a question: what do I do next?

I’ve decided I need to make a game that I want to make, for me. It will be a bit different and I’m almost certain most fans of The First Tree will not love it… but it’s an idea that gets me super excited. It’s an idea that could help me fall in love with game development again.

A few more details: this game will be story-driven, first-person, and will use the Unreal Engine. That means development is gonna be slow going, because I have to learn a whole new tool. The “smart business” decision would be to make something quickly in Unity which I’m already familiar with… but I want to do this for me, and UE5 looks like a lot of fun. I’m also shooting for an early-ish release date so I avoid burn out and I keep the game short: I want to release it in Fall 2022, but knowing game development, it will probably take longer.

With the help of my therapist, I’ve also concluded that I’ve been too accessible on the internet and that my self-worth isn’t determined by the amount of people I try to help online. Of course, I love helping people and seeing them succeed, but I need to step back and focus on my family and myself. I will delete my social media apps on my phone (I will still post big updates occasionally) and stop responding to most emails, tweets, DMs, etc. It’s not that I’m ungrateful… in fact, if I don’t say thank you or at least acknowledge the incredibly nice people who share a sweet message about my game or want to tell me how I inspire them (still hard for me to believe, lol), I feel a ton of guilt… but I need to let that go. Please know I’m extremely grateful to all the fans who follow my work, so even if I don’t thank you directly, I truly mean it: thank you.

I will still post and stream occasionally on YouTube when I want to (and I still do live Q&A’s for my GDU students). The online course sales will help support my family as I work on a potentially risky game idea (and my new job will help alleviate the risk too). I’m gonna try one more marketing experiment and sell a mini-course soon (and add an Unreal section), and after that I’m done working on it. A gigantic thank you to the people who bought my course and are part of the amazing community, it has helped me and my family tremendously, and it’s inspiring seeing the games you make!

I’m a bit worried about the whole thing since this new game idea could flop, which could definitely affect my family. But a sappy, high-school yearbook quote is coming to mind…  I think it applies here: “A ship in harbor is safe—but that is not what ships are built for.”

Thanks for reading,

David

[outerbanks-fandom]

Cigarette Daydreams - JJ Maybank x female reader

Description: this imagine is based on the song ‘cigarette daydreams’ by Cage the Elephant. 

warnings: swearing, violence is you squint, trigger warning it can get a bit graphic. This imagine can be very sad please read with caution. 

Word Count: 1,434

PLEASE DO NOT USE MY WORK FOR ANYTHING THIS IS MINE AND YOU DON”T HAVE PERMISSION TO UPLOAD IT ANYWHERE ELSE. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Funny how it seems like yesterday as i recall, you were looking out of place.

Something was off with JJ. Normally when we were all hanging out as a group he was constantly touching me. If it was him leaning against me while i played with his hair or even just as simple as having his hand in mine. But, today he was next to me but it was like he wasn’t here. His replies were monotone, his hands never left the beer bottle or cigarette. He didn’t even look at me for longer than 2 seconds. 

It was like he was a stranger, when he did reply it would all get awkward. “Hey baby, wanna go get some more beers with me?” he shrugged and got up. Walked ahead of me, something he only ever did when we argued. Any other time he was right next to me, holding my hand or his arm wrapped around me. 

We walked inside the chateau's kitchen area and he grabbed the fridge door, “Jay, what’s wrong” again he shrugged. “JJ! what is wrong, words please” 

“Can’t i just have a off day damn, not everyone is fucking perfect Y/n!” I scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he threw one of the beer bottles at the wall behind me. I never ducked so fast in my life. “I mean I’m fucking sick of you expecting me to be someone I'm not. Well I hate to break it to you but I have fucking negative feeling. I have off days more than I have happy days, but for you I try and hide it. I’m suck of it! I’m not perfect and I hate to break it to you but neither are you!” I felt tears in my eyes but momma didn’t raise no bitch. 

“Who the fuck told you to be perfect? and when did I say I was? I practically beg you to tell me when something is wrong, but no. JJ Maybank has to put on the tough guy act and pretend like you do shit for me? No JJ you act this because you’re terrified of the truth.” If anyone walked into this room right now the pure anger radiating off JJ and I would of sent them right back outside. “And what’s that Y/n, what’s the truth?” 

“That the big and bad JJ Maybank is actually a broken teenage boy.” he had a sick laugh leave his mouth. “Fuck you Y/n Y/l/n, fuck you. You need to leave because if this keeps going like this I'll do something we ‘ll both regret.” 

The color drained from my face and I think he even surprised himself. “You... you would hit me?”  his hands ran through his hair pulling as the roots. “Like I said, I'm fucked up. I’m not perfect.” “I’m not either but I still would never put my hands on you.” 

He quickly walked up to me hands still in his hair. I felt fear cursing through my veins but I wouldn’t show him that. “Do it JJ, show me that your no better than the very man you’re scared to be like.” granted what I said was fucked up but it made him realize what he was doing. He didn’t respond he just looked at me with regret in his eyes. I grabbed my bag that was on the counter and walked back out the door. “Call me when you figure your shit out. I’ll be here when you’re ready to talk about whatever is worth threatening your girlfriend.”

That last line caused him more pain than any hit he’s ever taken.

Gathered up your things and slipped away...

JJ broke down the second she walked away. Thousands of thoughts was running through his mind. ‘I was gonna hurt her’ ‘she hates me’ ‘I ruined everything’ he looked at the wall and saw the wet stains from the beer and followed it the dripping stains and saw the broken glass. ‘that could of hit her.’ ‘I could of caused the person I love the most physical pain’ ‘I caused her emotional pain’ 

Y/n walked out the chateau and immediately grabbed her skateboard off the porch and went home without an explanation. She texted Kiera telling her she started to feel sick and needed to go home. She got home about 15 minutes later, and immediately went in her room to get my stuff together and shower. 

She thought about all the things that went down and what could of gone down. She loved JJ with her whole heart and wasn’t ready to let him go but if she had to worry that every time they fought, he would hit her. 

Cigarette 

Whenever she got out the shower she checked her phone and had 3 missed calls from Kiera, 1 from pope, missed texts from John B and 10 missed calls, 7 missed texts from JJ. Deciding to text John B back first. 

hey, are you okay? JJ is really scared since you didn’t answer anyone’s calls

no pressure but please just at least read these so we know you’re okay

switching over to JJ’s texts she read

Baby i’m so sorry

please baby, i need to know you’re okay

i know i fucked up 

i just need to know you’re safe

please y/n i love you 

you are by far the greatest thing to ever happen to me, i lied y/n. you are perfect in my eyes your couldn’t be more perfect. You’re perfect for me. I would never put my hands on you. 

baby please just answer the phone

JJ was freaking the fuck out. It was 2 two in the morning and you rode home on you’re skateboard. “Please answer you’re fucking phone baby, if you don’t call in the next 10 minutes I'm coming to your house.” 

Daydream

Y/n texted never answered their text . She actually didn’t even go home that night. That’s what JJ imagined happened when she left that night. He was worried sick though he stayed up all night thinking you were just asleep or mad. That was all until six o’clock the next day he got a phone call that will play in his head forever. 

His whole world collapsed, you didn’t make it home that night. You didn’t even make is a mile away from the chateau before a group of drunk kook’s went on a joyride and didn’t see the teenage girl riding her skateboard and texting her friend back. 

The bastards didn’t even get out and check on you, they drove away as fast as they could. You were there all night and it wasn’t until a guilty conscience ridden teenage boy went to the same spot to make sure you were gone but when he got there he saw your lifeless body. He immediately called 911, hoping there's was a chance they could save you. 

JJ destroyed everything in site. John B didn’t even stop him, he understood. Kiera and Sarah was with your mom while she cried in your room. Pope was staring at the wall at the chateau. 

“She died thinking I hated her! She fucking died! She promised me forever than she fucking dies.” JJ needed a hug from you and that was impossible. “JJ you can’t be mad at her because she passed away” pope made the mistake of saying mid breakdown for JJ. “No Pope she didn’t just pass away, some piece of shit kook’s took her away. They didn’t even have the decency to call for help until the next fucking day. She could still be alive, it was up the fucking road and I didn’t know. I could of saved her!” 

 JJ’s world was over, you were far too young to not be alive. You had so much life to live, you wanted to go to college, you wanted to get married, live somewhere with snow, have kids and 2 dogs. JJ wanted to give you all that but now he can’t.

He walked into the room he stayed in at John B’s and was immediately met with the picture frame you gave him for your two year anniversary. It held two pictures, one from when you first got together. It was you two on the beach during one of the many keggers y’all attended together. He arm wrapped around your waist while you hugged his. The other one was you two on John B’s boat, you sitting on the boat floor and his back against your chest, the biggest smile plastered on his face as you looked at him with pure love and admiration. He saw the tears hit the picture frame.

“You were only seventeen” 

[hwrryscherry]

 The one where the reader meets Harry as Jack

characters: HARRYxREADER!FEM

blurb: Harry is filming Don't Worry Darling in Palms Springs while Y/N is moving in in her new house in the neighbourhood where the movie is being filmed. Turns out the fate wanted to cross Harry and Y/N's way as a box full of books is very intriguing to Harry and Pride and Prejudice becomes Harry's new favorite.

word count: 2.7K

author's note: Heyy guys, it has been SO LONG and honestly I don’t think this is best work yet lol but anyway, I had the worst writer’s block of my life so it was so hard for me to write a single word. Honestly, I felt kinda pressured to write. I felt like I was pressuring myself for that so I had to take advantage of this block and take this idea out of my mind. I want to say something important too; I really want to say that the only story of mine that I’ll keep the face claim is HARRYxMODELY/N, just because I like to use the photos to make instagram posts sometimes. I will no longer describe types of hair as I used to say ‘’long strands of hair’’, it will be neutral for you to imagine yourself in the story. It’s all about you guys and how you can visualize the story and the character, if you want to imagine a face claim that’s cool but if you don’t want to it’s cool too. Feel free to read and visualize, it’s all about you. Thank you for the support on my account and my writing. I’m aware that I’m not the best lol, but I also think that I have so much to learn from you just as I have to teach. I’m so grateful for everyone who reads and like my stuff. Never forget that you’re unique, you’re loved, you’re so golden and treat people with kindness always.

   "Why is it so hot in here? It's fucking December!", you'd think to yourself as you drove your new car through the streets of Palm Springs. The thing is that after you moved from Columbia to reside so many years in New York while you were studying English Language and Literature in Yale, you just got so used with the usual colder weather from NY and it's just a different vibe from California. You had such a hard time to decide what you wanted to do after graduating, though. And after a few weeks and some long conversations with your family, you decided you would go to California. Palm Springs, to be more specific. You decided that because you remembered all the times you went there when you were a kid because your grandmother lived in there before she passed. You remember spending your summer vacation with her and how cool it was. It was in the early 2000′s and there was many kids on your age that lived on her street. You remember playing with them all day and then getting back into your grandma’s house and feeling that cinnamon scent that for some one only her house had. It wasn’t a usual cinnamon scent. It had something special in it. It made you feel so warm and welcomed. You remember helping her to bake the most delicious cookies, brownies and cakes in her kitchen. You remember the kitchen had a yellow counter, but the entire kitchen was white. All very pale and then the cheerful yellow in the kitchen that colored everything. You remember going to play bingo with her and how it made her happy to having you around. You both were so close and you had such a hard time when she passed, but the most important was she taught you so many things during your time together, and you’d never forget those things and her.

    As you drove, you’d remember those streets vaguely. You’d pass through the soccer court you typically used to go with the other kids and spent hours playing in there. You were vibing with the song in the stereo as you started getting closer to your new house’s street. It was Carolina by Harry Styles; you have to admit you’re not the biggest Harry Styles fan in the world, but you were definitely a One Direction fan when you were around 16, but you couldn't be considered a directioner either. You just listened to a few songs and thought it was good. But anyway, this specific song is one that you particularly like. It may have something to do with the fact that you’re from Carolina, of course. But it’s more about the vibe and the melody that by being animated it could actually cheer anyone up and the lyrics were undeniably good though, a little sexual, but good. It’s more about the vibe and the melody that by being animated it could actually cheer anyone up and the lyrics were really good though, a little sexual, but good.

    When you turned the right way into the street of your new home, you came across much more than you expected to see on your moving day. There were, as it seemed, paparazzi. Apparently they were shooting a movie right in your street, and it had also many people with many cameras and trailers that probably were dressing rooms. Naturally, you knew that thousands of films were shot in California, that’s obvious. But you didn't expect one to be shooting exactly on your moving day and specifically in your street, let alone that the street would be this crowded since the world is experiencing a global pandemic, ironic. You observed some of the people walking down the street, or should you call it a set? You don't know, but there were many people and many cars, at least they were all wearing masks. It had many classic cars, probably in the 40s or 50s style. They were colorful; vivid colors, though. Colors like yellow, blue and lilac was really present. To resume, the whole street looked like a movie from the 50s and for sure that was the intention because you could notice some extras walking around the set dressed up as 50s people used to.

    As you carefully drive through the street, you’d notice that from what seemed like a divine miracle, there was a vacant parking spot right in front of your house and you can’t help but smile when you see it. The first time you came here to see the house. You were with your family, and that was about four months ago. You just loved the house completely as it had such a different vibe from the place you used to live in New York, and honestly, just the thought of the house made your creativity activate as it had some really cool colored walls and you bought some colored mobile as well. Anyway, you stopped the car right in front of your house finishing the engine and grabbing your mask and putting it in your face as you'd use your hand to get rid of the seat belt and your other hand to open the car door and get out of the car.

    After closing the driver's seat door, you go around the car walking to the trunk where you use the car key to open it. When you open it, you are faced with two cardboard boxes. One was full of books. Books of all kinds, books of period novels, books of suspense, books of investigation and etc. Books that piqued your curiosity and made you want to finish reading it as quickly as possible. The other box was already full of clothes, those last clothes that you would finally be taking home. Your mother has done the biggest job in the moving issue; she was the one who was bringing the furniture and your things while you finished packing the rest of your things to leave New York. You try your hardest not to pay attention to the set of recordings and the people who walked back and forth, at the same time that you tried hard not to make any noise, because if you accidentally disturbed a scene, you would feel extremely embarrassed and would probably not even show up at the gate until the end of filming, but that was not the case. You removed the two boxes from the trunk just before closing it completely. You chose, perhaps, to enter the clothes box first. You bent down taking the box in your arms and walked to the door of the house where you used the key you received from the real-estate agent to unlock it before entering. You immediately noticed that some sunbeams reflected on the living room floor due to the white linen curtain that covered the glass windows. You observed the contrast of the sofa in such a light tone with the lilac wall just behind it. You walked with the box in hand by the door extension to the room where you placed the box on the small coffee table in front of the sofa. Returning out of the house, you can see the figure of a tall man dressed in a brown suit crouched in front of the box of your books. He had brown hair and properly cut. It didn't look like he was messing with your books, but he was definitely looking at them and it seemed like he was trying to read the covers of it for some reason. You slowly got closer to the man's body without making too much noise while you analyzed him, you crossed your arms upon your chest as you noticed the book cover he was looking at: Love is a mixtape by Rob Sheffield.

— This one is amazing! — You said, surprising the man that stand up fastly with the book in his hands connecting his green gaze with yours. He was tall, really tall by the way. His suit seemed perfect, just as his hair. He had a black mask on as a protection but the 16 year old teenager inside of you could never mistake those eyes. It was Harry fricking Styles. You considerated being quiet as you, yourself were pretty surprised now, but then you took your gaze to the book in his hand and then back at his face — It's like comparing love to a popular song that we usually search to define love. Just to find out that love is like oxygen, or love is a kind of drug, or a battlefield for some... — You said referring to the book with a tender smile on your face that Harry couldn't essentially see, but talking about a book that you loved caused this on you. And as you talked you didn't notice that Harry had a smile on his face as well. Maybe it was because you completely ignored the fact that he is Harry Styles and he was messing up your books as he's on the set filming a movie, or maybe it was the fact that he loved this book just as much as you did. He'd use to say this is probably one of the books that if he had to read just one book to the rest of his life, he'd chose this one and he usually had so much to talk about this book and so much to put on an argument about it but now he was completely speechless. He was just tongue tied. He was tongue tied about your reflection of one of his favorite books and how it looked so identical to his own personal reflection. He was tongue tied for the number of great books that he always wanted to read that was on that box. He was tongue tied at the owner of those books and her beauty, her intelligence of her voice and her voice as well so he just chuckled. A nervous chuckle as he leaned his head to look at the floor for a second before looking at you and holding out the book in his hands to you that calmly took it from his hands.

— I know! It's one of my favorite books! — Harry'd ultimately manage to say it as he observed you admiring the cover and running your fingers through it as a truly book lover would do — It's very interesting the interpretation you have of it.

— Don't you agree? — You'd interrupt him rising your head to examine at his face. He seemed paralyzed by some way, little did you know that Harry was mesmerized. He enjoyed the informal way you were speaking with him, and it genuinely felt like you already knew it each for years.

— That's the intriguing part. We have the same interpretation! — He'd say serenely, and then running his hand through his hair as he frown a little because of the sun that just hit on his glowing eyes.

— Well...Maybe you're just trying to imitate me to impress me! — You'd joke, with a mocking expression on your face making Harry giggle at your words and your face. It was the sense of humor to him.

— Oh really? And what makes you think I'm trying to impress you? — Harry'd say back with the same mocking tone that you formerly used. He'd observe your face go from playful to thoughtful in just as you to come up with a response.

— I mean...you were the one looking through my stuff, mister! — You say raising your eyebrows as you utilized one of your hands to take some strands of hair out of your face.

— Right... — Harry said with a defeated voice before as he compressed his lips together and moved his suit away from his shirt a little as he places his hands on his waist — I'm sorry about it, though. There was this box hanging here and I guess I was just intrigued! — He said shyly making you start walking towards the box walking closely to him causing him to feel a hot warm from your body as you passed. You'd bend over to grab the box but was stopped by Harry taking the heavy box from your hands — Let me help you with this! — Harry said as he held the box on his arms.

— There's no need for that. It'll ruin your splendid suit! — You'd say gently to him as he was standing up in front of you carefully holding the loaded box. Legitimately, he looked hot. He properly looked like a 50s husband helping with the moving with this outfit — And if you piss off your costume designer because of me I'll die! — You'd complement receiving a loud laugh from Harry's lips that shook his head while looking at you.

— She’ll be fine! — Harry'd argue back, then get a sigh from you before nodding at him as a statement.

— My house is right there! — You'd say using your right hand to point at your house, watching Harry turn his back to you and start walking towards it. You followed him through the door that was already open. Harry looked at the house immediately. It had a good vibe, and he wouldn't deny it. The choice of colors was exceptional, but he also noticed it was not very tidy, which would probably indicate that you were moving today.

— Where do I leave it? — Harry asked, referring to the box as he went farther into the living room.

— You can just leave it on the floor — You serenely said crossing your arms together and watching as he left the box on the floor and turned around to face you, but then deflecting his gaze to the ceiling before staring at your face again.

— It's a beautiful house! — Harry said as he moved his gaze through the room. He observed everything. He likes to observe. He likes to notice things that maybe other people didn't — Just like the owner, if I might say — Harry said cheekily and charming hearing your giggle invade his ears as you started walking towards the box of books that he previously set on the floor.

— The owner says thank you — You said bending down and starting to take the books out of the box and place it on the coffee table beside you as Harry watched your movements. You shyly looked at him thinking for a second and them smiling under your mask — For both compliments! — You said getting your attention back to the books. It's not that you don't want to give him your attention. It's that you genuinely think that he's just being nice, and he's probably not even interested in anything that you say.

— So... I have to go back to the film now but maybe you can give me your number so we can talk about your interpretation of my favorite book — Harry said shyly. His words took you by surprise actually but you couldn't hold back the smirk you had under your mask as you stand up again turning to face his green eyes. You noticed that he had his phone on his hand, hoping and waiting that you'd give him your number even though both of you knew that the book excuse was nothing more than an excuse as he was truly interested in knowing you.

— Well, it depends... — you said slowly as you took a deep breath before actually saying anything — If you agree to read my favorite books too, I'll give you my number!

— I'd be honored! — Harry chuckled after letting a sigh out feeling relief that you asked for something so simple that he'd love to do if that would make you happy — What's your name? — Harry said as he unblocked his phone screen and started to save your phone number.

— Save it as Elizabeth Bennet in there! — You said fastly with a proud smile on your face as Harry giggled and did as you ask and then looked at your face as he put his phone back on his pocket.

— Only if you save my name as Mr. Darcy when I call you! — Harry said knowing that after this, Pride and Prejudice would definitely become one of his favorite books ever.

[vvienne]

TODOBAKUDEKU FIC RECS

Curse of Baytown by surveycorpsjean

With the last of his hope, Shouto stumbles into a strange town. Be it destiny, or be it fate; his life will change forever.

two whole dicks for a half and half bitch by Ascend

Todoroki stumbles his way into a threesome, Midoriya cries into his pants, and Bakugou gets cockblocked no less than twice, but eventually, they all get laid.

Of Respite and Odyssey, Balm and Halcyon, Rapture and Godot, Lear and Pierrot by JayJEx

Aizawa and All Might’s Forever Squad of Problem Children

(8:47 AM) Midorito: @/everyone this is an official callout post for @/Discount IcyHot Patch, who is returning to musutafu tomorrow and DIDN’T EVEN TELL ANY OF US!!!!! ლ(ಠ益ಠ)ლ

Shouto groans in despair. Predictably, the group chat immediately explodes.

-or-

Todoroki returns to Musutafu after six years away and his tragic inability to keep up with all of the people in his life catches up to him in the worst, most irritating ways possible.

(Though he might at least get a boyfriend or two out of the matter. That’s a plus.)

if it was only a distraction (how come I can't stay away) by Voulezvous_79

He scrolls down and his heart stops - shit, shit, shit, no. Bad Izuku. You are over this. Completely, totally, definitely over any high school crushes that were going nowhere - because it’s the photo.

The one he surreptitiously had as his phone background for his entire first year in America. The one he cried over when he got on the plane. The one he jerked himself off to - once, okay!? It was one time, and he panic-deleted it after he came, and then cried about that, so he’s not proud, okay?

---

Or: Izuku's back in Japan, and he's definitely, totally, 100% coping with his friends' new relationship.

Biology for Assholes by fruiticle

Bakugou, an omega with Pseudo Alpha Syndrome, was content to live with his heatless, smoke-scented, absolutely-not-soft condition.

Really. He wouldn’t change a thing.

JUMP!!! by cxlmberry

Izuku grew up watching Superhero Legend, the iconic, generation-defining anime series featuring the invincible crimefighter All Might. Now, he is ready to become a professional manga author himself, to inspire thousands of people with his own series for decades to come – if only things were that simple.

Weekly Shounen Jump picked up Shouto’s series when he was only sixteen, and since then, he has become one of the most accomplished authors in the magazine. He’s a teenage prodigy. A genius. Jump’s main attraction. Sometimes the stress of it is too much.

Katsuki is talented – extremely, rudely so, and he knows it. An incredible artist and master storyteller, he’s out to become the one and only, undisputed King of Shounen Jump. Now, he only needs to get published.

A story of passions and careers, talent and hard work, second, third and fourth chances, as well as recovery and growth.

---

Alternatively, a budding manga artists AU.

Fire in the Mountains by EllaBesmirched (El_Bell)

“I’ll do it.”

Enji froze, fingers curling into a fist at his side, and didn’t turn around.

Shouto froze too, feeling his own eyes widen in shock at the words that had come out of his mouth, at the fact that he had actually stood up, followed his father out of the room, and dashed after him all just to say… he’d do it? He would do it? Him. Shouto Todoroki. He would--

Enji finally turned around and fixed Shouto with an expression so scathing, Shouto had to fight to keep his chin raised. “You’ll marry the Barbarian King.”

Shouto blinked. “Yes.”

How (Not) to Bribe a Human Sacrifice by maxisnotokay

"You want to kill me?" Katsuki asked, brows raised. He suddenly looked a little less like a king and more like a man, peering at Izuku through the moonlight. "You help me make this cure, and you kill me."

"Those are my conditions," Izuku said. He didn't break his gaze. "A deal's a deal, Kacchan, and I'm trying to be a hero."

+++

[fantasy au. midoriya literally falls from the sky and strikes up a deal with an unlikely candidate. things do not go as planned.]

Guildy Pleasures by Mysecretfanmoments

As the only son of a powerful politician, Todoroki Shouto's life is just one big boring cutscene—except when he logs on to Land of Heroes, where he plays as ShoutO, slaying foes and keeping his fellow guildmates alive. It's enough fun that it almost distracts him from the fact that he's falling for two of those guildmates. Almost. But he's got to stay in stealth mode, because Bakugou and Midoriya are mega-popular streamer duo ZeroDeku… and they're already dating each other.

Shouto has managed to keep his real identity a secret from them all this time, but when he's caught on live television watching one of their streams he ends up not only pulling aggro from the whole country, but catching the attention of ZeroDeku themselves. To his shock, they actually want to meet Shouto, the politician's son—and this time there's no avatar to hide behind.

the universe must have my back, you fell from the sky into my lap by lelex

The picture looks like it was taken in a cafe, Todoroki in a light blue sweater that even from a distance looks wildly soft, seated at a baby grand piano with his short hair effortlessly tousled. It’s one of those photos where it’s obvious Todoroki wasn’t expecting it to be taken—he’s in the middle of looking up at whoever is behind the camera, a smile small on his face but delight evident in the curve of his mouth.

He’s stupidly beautiful. Looking at him for too long makes Izuku kind of sweaty.

They both sit there staring at this one picture for almost three full minutes. In complete silence. Eventually, Kacchan sighs a little bit and tips his head backwards to rest on the couch. Staring up at the ceiling, he murmurs, “Well, shit.”

Izuku can’t stop the lightly hysterical laugh that explodes from his mouth in response.

“We’re fucked.”

*

Izuku, Katsuki, and Shouto fuck up a meet-cute, twice. But everyone wins in the end.

Cinderoki, the Sweaty Prince, and the Furious Fairy by Esselle

"I wish I could go to the royal ball for Prince Izuku," Shouto finally told the fairy.

Katsuki screwed up his face. "That's it?" Shouto nodded. "Why?"

"It seems fun."

"It's not going to be fun." Katsuki scowled. "It's going to be terrible. You have to have a better wish."

"I want that one," Shouto said.

--

Todoroki Shouto is cursed. Since he was five years old, he's been locked away from the rest of the world to keep his out of control magic a secret. He thought he could be content with his storybooks—until an invitation comes from the royal palace, inviting his family to attend a ball for Crown Prince Izuku.

Shouto wants to go; he wants to be normal; he wants to leave his cage. Most of all, he wants to know what it's like to live in a fairy tale, even if it's only for one night. Fortunately, he's about to meet one pissed off fairy named Katsuki, who's been watching Shouto his whole life and waiting to make his wish come true.

Powder Keg by Ajaxthegreat

Bakugou really, really, really didn’t want to be trapped in an elevator with Todoroki and a fireproof dildo.

Sensory Input by Esselle

"Captain," Shouto says, clearing his throat. "You put in a request?"

Midoriya stands in front of the window now, staring out at the endless expanse of stars. He turns when Shouto enters. Like Bakugou, he's dressed casually, in a simple grey shirt that stretches over his chest. His green eyes blink wide as though in surprise, before he smiles. It's sheepish and shy. In front of the window, the vastness of space flung out behind him, he's as stunning as a supernova.

"I did, right," he says. "The, um, the thermostat… seems to be, maybe—"

Bakugou cuts him off with a loud sigh. "Quit wastin' his time and tell him why he's really here."

--

Shouto is a remote crew member of a spaceship—his real body is stationed on a world far away, but his consciousness is housed in a maintenance bot on board the ship. When he manages to attract the attention of the ship's gorgeous captain and fiery first officer, it doesn't take long to discover that the bot's adjustable sensitivity levels have more enjoyable applications than repair work.

[kyuublu]

Haunt me

Toji Fushiguro x reader (she/her)

Neighbor AU - angst

note: the bold passages are flashbacks + Megumi is an only child in this one lol

song inspo: How to dissapear - Lana Del Rey

Blue skies and big fields of green; the road had always stayed the same, y/n noticed as she left the bus. Once the young women made her way home, she took in all the familiar sights she hadn’t seen in years. She had missed walking through the familiar streets, despite disliking her home town when she was younger, since it didn’t have anything really interesting for teenagers around her age. There were no clubs, cool stores, really anything that was rebellious or at least didn’t look like it was owned by a 70-year-old man. Everything always stayed the same.

Y/n’s footsteps came to a halt, right before the door of her own home. Subconsciously turning her head to the side, she was suddenly aware of the presence that stood further away. The familiar figure leaned against the railing of his porch, back turned to her as he focused on something in his hands. Toji Fushiguro.

Had he stayed the same too?

For a moment, y/n had thought about greeting him but was interrupted by the sudden opening of the door infront of her.

“Y/n! Why didn’t you knock? Oh, come here-“ The older lady put her arms around her daughter lovingly and pulled them inside.

“I made a bunch of your favorites, but there are going to take a bit more time.” She pointed at the stove as both of them entered the kitchen.

“Where’s dad?”

Her mom rolled her eyes at the thought of her stubborn husband, they apparently had argued about the maintenance of their garden a couple of hours prior. Y/n chuckled at her mothers’ frustration, but went to look for her dad on her own, since her mom seemed too busy with cooking. After greeting him and exchanging a couple of words, the daughter convinced him to let her mow the lawn. “But you better not break it again like the first time!” The man teased playfully, earning an eyeroll from y/n as she ushered him inside.

“Damn it-“

Muttering under her breath, the girl almost kicked the device infront of her in a fit of rage. The lawnmower had suddenly been stuck before she could really even start, and was now only a rattling mess.

“Fuck...” She sighed one more time, putting her hand lazily on her hip and the other over her eyes, shielding her from the sun.

“For a young lady, ya do seem to swear alot.”

Y/n whipped her head towards the strangers’ voice, almost gasping as she realized who the voice had belonged to. He was the husband of the new family that had moved next to their house a few weeks ago. Before that encounter she hadn’t seen him up close, but now his appearance immediately burned itself into her brain. He was handsome, not the kind of handsome that she had seen from popular boys in school or the hollywood actors on tv, but the attraction she had to him felt a thousand times better.

“I- uhm-“ The girl stuttered as she avoided his eyes, only to look back at the problem at hand.

“It’s broken.” She pointed at the lawnmower dumbfounded, smacking herself internally at the way she was behaving like a 7-year-old.

“Let’s see if I can help, shall we?” A confident smile appeared on the mans’ face, making the girl’s knees even weaker, before he approached the device. He had quickly figured out the problem and got rid of the piece that had been stuck inside the lawnmower, but continued talking to y/n casually, throwing in a joke or two.

“I’m Toji by the way, but I’m guessing your dad already told you about us.”

She watched as the dark haired man held his hand out to her. His politeness felt strange from the start, as if he was playing a character in a movie and she couldn’t quite figure out why.

“What was your name again?”

“Y/n.” The girl shakily took his hand, getting even more nervous at the roughness that was contrasting her own.

“I also wanted to ask ya something - my wife has been buggin’ me about it for days now. Are ya any good with kids?”

That day Toji had asked her if she could babysit his 5-year old son, since he had a job that required to be available at any moment and his wife had to take night shifts at the hospital. Y/n agreed to it without any question, since her dad had taken a liking to the family and she wanted to earn some money on the side. She had just graduated in that same year and wasn’t sure as to what her next step should be in life or what her future looked like really. But right now, the man walking away from her seemed like the best distraction from the dull routine she had been used to.

Shortly after y/n finished the rest of the lawn, her mom waved her inside to eat. The dinner had tasted better than ever, y/n thought as she greedily dug into her plate and asked her mom for more. The older lady only chuckled at her antics, appreciating the sentiment behind it though.

“I really wouldn’t have thought you’d go through with it, honestly.” Her father spoke with his usual sarcastic tone as he watched his daughter take another plate full of food.

“With college? Yeah, I guess I understand what you mean. I’ve always been the lazy type.”

Y/n knew her dad well enough not to argue with him about what he believed his daughter was like. He only knew what she had let him see, and three years ago that had been an 18-year-old girl that took a year off to stay at her parents home without any plans or direction. Only she herself knew that lazyness hadn’t been the real issue, it was her fear of growing up and failing. Before they could dig any deeper into the topic, the daughter decided to ask about the one thing that had been stuck in her mind since she had seen Toji on the porch.

“So, how are the Fushiguro’s doing?” She casually picked at the food on her plate.

“I thought I’ve told you on the phone already? About Toji’s wife and kid.” The mother looked at her child in disbelief until she saw the genuine confusion in her eyes and started explaining.

“His wife died almost a year ago. She became very sick all of a sudden and then it just happened so quickly. Toji hasn’t really been the same since.”

Y/n’s eyes widened in shock, she couldn’t comprehend the fact that something did change so drastically around here, and it hat happened to the family she had wished it upon the least.

“W-What about Megumi?”

Ms.L/n eyes locked with her husband’s, both of their heads hanging a bit lower now.

“Toji gave him away for adoption. He didn’t seem to be in the right state of mind to be handling a child on his own after an incident like that.” The daughter only nodded her head slowly at her dads’ words, as she remembered the big pouty cheeks on that little boys’ face three years ago and his mother that had the same big blue eyes.

Since the very first time y/n had visited the Fushiguros’ house, the wife had always been extremely caring and sweet towards her, reassuring her that she’d be a great babysitter (and even mother someday, which always made her cringe a little). Eventhough she wanted to be grateful, she felt a tinge of jealousy, almost resentment towards her. The woman was beautiful in every way posssible and even stood up against her husband plenty of times, never doubting her confidence once - Y/n had been the complete opposite.

Especially confrontation was something she had always struggled with, even feeling bad when she overheard some of the fights that the Fushiguro’s had occasionally.

One night when y/n had been taking care of the little boy again, Toji came home earlier than expected, leaving her a bit taken back at the sudden appearance. Thankfully, Megumi had already been asleep at this point, making it easier for the parent to just arrive home without worrying about the whole putting him to bed routine. He had walked straight pass her, only muttering a short “Hey” before grabbing a beer and sitting down on the couch. The girl recalled the fight before the couple both headed off to work but didn’t expect to have to deal with his mood already.

What was she supposed to say to a man twice her age that was visibly pissed, sitting on the couch that she was supposed to sleep on tonight. She could only stare at the back of his head helplessly, wondering if she should just change into her normal clothes again and leave.

“Are ya gonna stand there all day?”

Y/n’s eyes snapped back to the man, as he streched one of his arms over the back of the couch.

“No, I just thought-“ Stopping herself from ending the sentence, she thought about actually engaging in conversation with him. The girl didn’t have the chance nor the guts to talk to him completely alone yet, since he always kept his ‘nice neighbor facade’ up around other people. Stepping closer to the couch, she could feel herself getting more tense. She knew Toji wasn’t going to give her much attention, since he hadn’t ever given her any signs of actually liking her in any way, but somehow the girl couldn’t overlook the weird tension. Once y/n settled down a bit further away from him, she noticed his eyes had been glued to her since she’d walked over.

“Wasn’t too hard now was it?”

He muttered with a slight smirk, before taking a swig of his drink. Y/n let out a nervous chuckle before leaning back more comfortably.

Just stay cool.

“So, I heard you’ve graduated not too long ago, congratulations.” It was more of a statement than a question but she still answered nonetheless.

“Yeah it’s crazy, actually- I also turned 19 a week ago too. Everything is going by so fast now.” She cringed at herself once she heard the deeple chuckle from the man beside her.

Why would you tell him that? Your age of all things?

“Well, why are ya still stuck here then? Ya should be out there in the world, not in this shithole.” Toji had his eyes back on the bottle as he tapped his finger on the dark colored glass.

“Or is a boyfriend of yours keeping ya here?” Glancing to the side teasingly, he leaned in a bit closer, making the girl’s heartbeat race even more.

“No! I’m j-just...” Y/n shook her head, staring at him with big eyes until she mumbled out

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Raising his eyebrows, he really began acknowledging her presence. The way she acted more shy around him and always seemed to be shaking a bit, making her look like a scared little puppy. Then he noticed her clothes, or rather lack there of. “What? Don’t tell me a pretty girl like you didn’t get chased by the guys at ya school.”

Does he really think I’m pretty?

Y/n almost held her breath once he lowered his eyes down her figure, remembering now that she was only wearing a top, without a bra, and shorts to sleep in, because summer had just started and the temperatures felt like hell at night.

“Not really, I guess I just wasn’t anyone’s type.”

The girl let out a nervous chuckle yet again, her body feeling like it was overheating and her brain was about to explode at any moment. It only worsened once the dark haired man loosened his arm on the couch and bend it towards her face, his hand slowly pulling a piece of hair behind her ears. Their eyes locked for what felt like an eternity; She couldn’t get enough of this feeling.

“Too bad.”

Y/n waited for something more, anything to explain what he had meant, but got startled by the sudden ringing in her pocket.

“A-ah uhm, sorry-“

She quickly picked up the phone, only to be bombarded by questions from her father. Eventually she ended the call and turned back to Toji, who still hadn’t looked away from her.

“I have to go. My dad he- he thought that I wasn’t going to babysit tonight and now he’s kind of mad, so...”

The man nodded understandingly until a smirk appeared on his face, as if he had just read her thoughts for a moment.

“I guess ya can’t keep me company then, huh?”

Y/n only shook her head, almost sighing in frustration. Tonight had already felt like a dream, but a way too short one.

Cleaning the dishes had always been a task assigned to y/n since she could remember, but hoped that she could’ve escape tonight. Sadly not though - making her the last one to go to bed. She dragged her feet up the stairs that led to her old bedroom but stopped before falling into the soft pillows. Instinctively the woman looked out her window, only to catch a glimpse of the one across from hers. Before the Fushiguro’s had moved in, it had always bugged her that the neighbors view directly faced her room. Her mom had always warned her daughter to close the curtains as much as possible and change in the bathroom instead, but like most teenagers often do - she didn’t listen, or just wasn’t planning on walking back to the bathroom for every time she had to change her clothes. But y/n did remembered the first time she had changed infront of the window on purpose.

With only a towel draped around her body, the girl quickly peaked at the neighbors house as she stood with her back to the wall. She had panicked at first, seeing the husband leaning against the window frame, a cigarette hanging on the side of his lips. Y/n didn’t know if he had seen her walk in with the towel but she was intrigued by his sight, the way he had just casually leaned forward, as the thick smoke escaped his lips. Without thinking any further she stepped away from the wall and infront of the window, her back turned towards the dark haired man on the other side.

Was he going to notice? Would he even want to see her like this?

Dropping the towel and slowly putting on the underwear that was layed out on her bed, she kept imagining what he might’ve looked like in that moment. Thousands of pictures would pop up in her head until she couldn’t help but want to see for herself. Her head moved on it’s own, as she turned it to the side, only to see that the figure was gone.

Y/n blinked a couple of times, utterly confused on how to feel, should she have wanted this? This was exactly the opposite of thing’s a girl of her age should feel excited about, but she couldn’t deny that the tiny bit inside of her that wanted him to watch, wanted to be desired by him - had been disappointed.

Y/n tossed and turned, never seeming to find any rest from her constant thinking. She couldn’t’ help but feel bad about disappearing from the small town, even though there had never been any reason for her to stay in the first place - there hadn’t been any jobs that would have been interesting to her, no new people to connect to. The deep heavy weighing feeling inside of her told her the opposite though, probably resulting in a restless and never ending night of overthinking.

I have to see him. Sitting up, her buzzing head turned to the side, she considered going with the idea that had popped into her head momentarily.

Y/n let out a huff, putting on the robe that had been draped over the chair in the corner of the room (and took the keys with her, of course) and made her way downstairs carefully, each step creaking slightly under her shaking feet. Fleeting moments of feeling like a teenager again went through her mind; even though she had rarely snuck out of the house back then, the young woman had only wished that those years would’ve been that exciting. Shrugging at the thought, she finally stood infront of the door of her home, opening it slowly. As her hands pushed the wooden surface back, she slipped through and looked to the side, towards the house she hadn’t stepped foot in in 3 years. Suddenly the pace of her heart quickened, not only by the thought of seeing the older man again, but by the figure that was leaving the house at that moment. Y/n squinted until she recognized that it hadn’t been Toji leaving the house. The long black hair immediately made her perk up and lean back, she didn’t want to be noticed by the guy - even though he might’ve been easier to approach than the man sitting in that very house next door.

It had been in the middle of the day that Mrs.Fushiguro called the young woman. Y/n had the spare time of course and agreed to come over, happy to see the little boy and maybe even catch a second to talk with Toji again. She hadn’t seen him often after that night and couldn’t quite place yet what the dark haired man thought of her now. How was she supposed to behave around him? Groaning in frustration the girl began walking towards the house, but as the door opened, the student began slowing down. An unknown man, visibly younger than the parents that lived in the house, suddenly locked eyes with her. Y/n imagined him to be around around his mid-tenties, which made her curious - Toji didn’t ever seem to invite any guests over, so why would he choose to be around a guy that young?

The stranger smiled politely, which she only returned while approaching the porch he had been standing on.

“Don’t tell me Toji has another kid he didn’t tell me about.”

Thrown off by the sudden comment, y/n’s eyes widened as she snapped her head back to the stranger. The mans’ soft laugh made her feel more at ease, ultimately making her laugh too.

“No, I’m just the babysitter slash next door neighbor.”

“I’m Geto Suguru, it’s nice to meet you.”

His smile was smug but sweet, she noted. Before Geto could leave, the girl spoke up once again, the curiosity getting the best of her.

“How do you know the family? Do you work for them too?”

The man turned, giving her his full attention.

“Oh, god no I’d never work for that idiot.” He chuckled yet again, shaking his head in the process. “I am a colleague of Toji. Sometimes I just come around, since he does have a charm that I can’t resist, you know.”

By the looks of it he had only made a joke, but to y/n, that only chuckled in response, the vibe had felt off.

“What do you do exactly? I’m not trying to pry or anything, but Mr.Fushiguro has never really told me about it, so...”

Geto quirked a brow, he had caught a slight glimpse of her in that moment that almost gave her intentions away - but he looked past it, she seemed too young to actually be interested in Toji’s personal life. “We work at a workshop not too far from here, repairing cars and all that. It’s probably not something worth mentioning to be honest.”

The girl infront of him didn’t believe a word. She didn’t have any evidence not to, but the way he talked had been so sugarcoated, that she couldn’t help but feel suspicious of him. “You’re probably right, I don’t know a thing about cars.”

Smiling innocently at the guy, she slowly began turning back to the entrance of the house.

“Well I’ll see you around then.”

Geto only held up a hand smoothly, smiling yet again - which only confirmed what y/n had been thinking this whole time. This man was too much of a flirt, a smooth talker to be around someone like Toji as a normal friend. It only raised the question as to why the father always seemed to avoided talking about his job, and what the hell it had to do with this Geto guy. Y/n shook her head lightly until she was met with the devil himself.

“Right on time as always, mh?”

Toji’s smirk only drew her eyes down his face, making her noticed the scar in the corner of his lips.

“Oh uh- yeah.”

Y/n nodded as he let her inside. She stepped in, thinking that maybe there was more to the man than she originally had thought, a side of him nobody knew about.

It took a long time before a shadow appeared at the foot of the door. To the young adult it had felt like hours until she could finally hear the lock being opened. The girl inside of her was screaming, begging to see him again - as to why she did feel that way still, she didn’t have an answer to. Then the door creaked open just a bit. Y/n could see him peak through for just a second, the dark bags under his eyes were alarming, but to be expected. He must’ve been through alot, things she wouldn’t be able to grasp at her age.

A sigh escaped Fushiguro’s lips as he leaned away from the door, only letting a crack of light fall through, contrasting the dark of the night. Suddenly the door swung open, the brightness of the light illuminating her completely now, as she squinted her eyes to adjust to it. Toji had his back turned to her, trudging towards the living room without a word. She watched as his body disappeared into the room and followed slowly after, unsure of what’s to come.

As y/n stepped in, closing the door after her, she began taking a peak at the rooms that she passed by. They had all been in the same conditions as the day she left, which made her wonder how much of that was really Toji’s doing - he had never been the one to clean the house or cook. It was always one of the things his wife had complained about the most, y/n remembered the bickering everytime the woman left for work. Mrs.Fushiguro had been right about the way her husband had never participated in doing his part, but the girl couldn’t deny that back then she would’ve done anything to be a housewife if that meant she could call the man she had been infatuated with - hers. Y/n often joked about it to her friends at school, but deep down she knew there was an inexplicable feeling she couldn’t get rid of as soon as he left her sight.

The young woman almost gasped once she stood in the doorway of the living room, it contrasting to the rest of the home so much that she almost wanted to laugh. Beer cans were scattered across the floor, half eaten food laying around on the table and in between the rest of all the mess, was Toji, his head hanging low.

Y/n had expected some sort of comment from the dark haired man that was now sitting on the same old couch that she had imprinted into her memories - but he hadn’t uttered a word.

She knew she was the one that had to initiate the conversation, but couldn’t shake off the anxiety that was creeping up. Once her feet were ready to move without shaking, she approached the man, sitting right on the spot next to him that she had been used to back then.

“What are you doing here...”

Toji’s low tone almost made her shiver. His question rather sounding like an accusation, an observation than anything else. It was the same old thing he’d always do, where he didn’t ask for the other person’s sake but rather to emphasize that what they were doing was almost a joke to him, something so obvious that he didn’t need an answer for.

She shouldn’t be here - nobody asked her to come and he was probably the last person to know what to do with her. They weren’t friends, y/n told herself as she looked at his disheveled state, she was only an old memory, coming back to haunt him.

“I just thought-“

The womans’ eyes began watering, but she swore to herself that she didn’t want to be that stuttering mess in front of him ever again. She didn’t want to remind him of that same girl he had met three years ago. Y/n was a grown woman now, and for some reason she felt the need to prove it to him.

“I heard what happened. I don’t know if it makes any difference, but I just wanted to give you my condolences.”

A creak of one of the beer cans made her look up to the man, his face unreadable. Toji scoffed as he watched the can crinkle between his fingers.

“Everyone says the same shit. It was stupid of me to think ya would be any different.”

Y/n watched as he let the empty can drop to the floor, making it painfully obvious how silent it had gotten.

“Did Geto say the same too?”

Toji finally casted her eyes towards her form, almost seeming caught off guard by the question.

“He came to the funeral after everything that happened. Suguru was never somebody I would’ve considered a friend honestly, but there he was, standing next to me in a black suit.”

The dark haired man paused for a moment as his eyes darted to the glass door that led to their garden. A sudden chuckle escaped his lips, without any certain emotion being evident on his face.

“He didn’t once pity me. The guy just padded me on the back and said he’d see me at work again.” His gaze found it’s way to the girl in the robe.

“So?”

She knitted her brows in confusion, unsure of what to say. “What?” He laughed at the quick response, turning away to shake his head.

“I never really understood you, y/n. Even before you left-“

Toji leaned forward, prompting his arms on his thighs as he looked down at his hands.

“You were always looming around but ya never got to the damn point. It was like you were hiding something in that pretty little head of yours.”

Suddenly the young woman felt defensive, finally grasping the fact that she didn’t have to stand back anymore - this was her only chance.

“And you weren’t?”

His head turned, as he looked over his shoulder questioningly. Y/n took the opportunity to go further, staring back at him intently.

“You always acted all polite infront of others, casually waved at the neighbors, talked to my parents with a friendly smile - but once you were in here...”

She scoffed at the memories flooting her thoughts again. The harsh words Toji had thrown at his wife, the way he wouldn’t as much as look in his son’s direction most of the time.

“You were awful, Toji.”

The mans’ eyes grew dark with every word she uttered, but y/n was insistent on not taking it back this time, she needed answers.

“Sure, make me the bad guy all ya want. I’ll let ya have that, but don’t act all innocent on me.”

Slowly the distance between them became smaller, as the man leaned closer to y/n with a devilish grin.

“Do you really think I didn’t notice your little attempts? Ya think my wife would’ve appreciated the way you acted around me?”

The hand that was propped onto his leg was dangerously closer to her thigh, y/n noted as her eyes flickered down nervously. He knew all along - but what did that mean for her? Y/n gulped before speaking up again and meeting his gaze.

“You were already fighting with her about every possible thing you could, but you think that the girl next door would’ve made her break? Really?”

Toji’s stare was cold again, his lips shut close as he almost mumbled to himself in disbelief.

“What did I ever do to you?”

“Nothing.” The woman shook her head as the tears slipped down her cheeks. “You didn’t even spare me a glance.”

Her voice broke as she smiled sadly, not knowing how to put into words why she had felt the way she did. Y/n couldn’t quite grasp it herself.

“I didn’t understand why even though you did everything your own way, disrespecting her multiple times and seemingly not even giving a fuck about your own family - you still never even dared to look at me in any other way than the fucking babysitter.”

A sniffle broke through the silence of the house, Toji still not wavering as he watched the woman break right infront of him.

“I know that you shouldn’t have and that it was selfish of me, childish to think you could ever see me as more, but I was so frustrated. I just wanted to be desired by you, and the little amount of attention you did give me just made it hard not to be addicted to you.”

In that moment, y/n felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She didn’t explain everything perfectly but she felt as if maybe this was the only way she could’ve made him understand, even just a little.

The girl back then already knew that her way of thinking had been selfish, and even now she couldn’t look past at how toxic it was to think that way about someone with a family, someone much older than her - but y/n still never stopped thinking about him.

Y/n closed her eyes, sparing herself the embarrassment she might’ve felt by looking at Toji’s reaction but suddenly felt his body moving beside hers. She opened her eyes as the man took her chin in his hand and looked down her lips longingly. Just for a moment, y/n thought that maybe she had been wrong all along - Maybe Toji had catched a glimpse of her when he smoked out of the bedroom window, maybe he too had wondered what it would be like to lay next to her and hold her for just one night.

Then his lips crashed into hers, softly but with a lingering determination. Before y/n could even react properly, Toji had moved back again. His eyes staying on the spot he had kissed her, tracing his thumb over it lightly.

“I can’t give you what you want. I never could.”

No. No. No.

Y/n thought back to when she had arrived today, when she claimed that everything had stayed the same. “Why?”

She pleaded with glassy eyes, her e/c ones boring into his.

“Because you don’t belong at a place like this - and I do.”

Even as the young woman sat there, watching him move away and stand back up, she didn’t feel any hatred towards him. He never did anything bad to her. He never treated her the way he had treated his wife. He never once took advantage of the situation.

But both of them knew he wasn’t a good person, and maybe letting each other go was the only way to avoid causing any more damage.

“I’m sorry.”

Y/n didn’t know what exactly she had apologized for; if it had been for leaving the town out of the blue, or for crashing into his home without any warning. Maybe even for something that only Toji could know, like what circumstances he had been in to become this way - but she did feel sorry. Toji’s steps come to a halt at the doorway, turning his head, only to give her one last smile.

He had left the room without a response.

Y/n knew there hadn’t been anything left to say - this was their last chapter and she was finally ready to turn the page.

————

My first jjk story for now, but I’ll probably write more for other characters from the show soon. Also please feel free to correct me on anything grammar related since english isn’t my first language & i’m only trying to get better. ^^

[behindheremeraldeyes]

damirae week 2021

sunday, may 9th - soulmates & wedding/ honeymoon

title: you are my secret

summary: the universe wanted her to know his deepest secret, and even if it made things easier for her to find her soulmate, his secret came with heavier responsibilities than she could’ve expected. — Soulmates AU where they know each other’s secret. Ao3

.

There are some secrets that do not permit themselves to be told.

— Edgar Allan Poe

His secret revealed itself to her like a wave that crashes against the shore— all at once, all too much.

It came in a dark nightmare, chasing her like a horrific, shadowy figure. She had tried to run, scream for help, even, but no sound came from her sore throat. There was no place where she could hide, no one who could save her, and eventually, she was captured in that thing’s tight grasp. Though she didn’t know what was happening, fighting it proved itself worthless, as her small body refused to move a muscle. An ominous force enveloped her surroundings, and she could no longer see or hear anything.

Something lurked in those shadows— something bizarre and surreal— and chills ran down her body as her small world suddenly grew silent. Might have been seconds or days, she didn’t know, but eventually, screams erupted in her ears. Her eyes widened, then, tears running down her face as a wave of emotions swept her off her feet. Raven was having an epiphany. An unannounced realization of the truth in its rawest form, and instantly, the world was not the same.

And it would never be again, no. Not anymore.

She woke up with her lungs begging the world for air, sweat soaking the covers and a heart ready to burst out of her chest. Her eyes were frantically scanning the room, her pupils still fighting to adjust to the dim light that came with the first rays of sun. Her body was shaking uncontrollably, and before she knew it, her eyes were brimming with burning tears that ran down her cold cheeks. It was the most tragic, yet bewildering moment of her young life, and though she could not deny the fear taking over her senses, her mind had never been that clear before. She had never been more alive.

So this is how it feels, she wondered. Her fingers ran through her messy, dark locks that were falling forward; and it was as if she could feel her brain pulsating under her touch. Adrenaline rushed through her veins and thousands of new thoughts were trying to find a place to settle inside her head.

Raven was confused, yes. Disoriented, even. However, at that moment— at that unique and special moment where a whole new world seemed to reveal itself to her— she was sure of one particular thing that would change everything.

She knew his secret. Finally, the cosmic forces that rule the universe have revealed his best-kept secret to a 16-year-old girl. She knew that Damian Wayne is the man behind the green mask and yellow cape.

He is Robin.

He is her soulmate.

Initially, the idea itself seemed to have been taken from one of her old fantasy books; where the world is dystopian and reality follows no rule whatsoever. She had to be dreaming. Hallucinating, even, but the information was solidified in her core as one of her most visceral memories. No matter how much she has tried to— and she really did try— not even her sharp mind could deny that new discovery. She tried not to freak out, but it was hard not to overthink when her entire lifestyle was about to be jeopardized because of that one secret that was revealed to her.

Raven was but a normal, high-school girl. She had plans to go to college after graduating, and she wished for nothing more than a tranquil life after that. Though she was already familiar with the universe’s rule regarding pairing people who are, supposedly, very compatible, having a soulmate or not has never really entered the equation of her future, especially since she was decided not to let her life be dictated by it. From the very beginning, she refused to believe fate could ever control her with trivial things such as love and understanding, and at some point in her life, the raven-haired girl was ready to do anything to prove her point.

She was ready to defy the forces responsible for selecting two random individuals to be each other’s soulmates.

She was ready to go as far as she had to, but eventually, once her teenage-ish years got behind her, and her insubordination gave place to more reasonable thoughts; Raven decided she could settle for a person who could make her smile every now and then. A person who could share with her a simple life, and eventually, a simple love.

And with or without Robin, Damian Wayne himself could never give her simple.

For as long as she can remember, he has been in the cover of the magazines with his father, Bruce Wayne. He’s the heir of one of the most successful companies in the world and the favorite target of many paparazzi because of his cold and reserved personality. His life has always been exposed to the world— or, apparently, just some of it— and she has always believed them to be complete opposites.

Their worlds were galaxies apart. He didn’t fit any of her expectations, and she was sure she didn’t fit his either. And even if sharing a secret was supposed to bring them closer, his secret identity has only served to distance them even further.

Could two people so different like them ever find common ground? She didn’t know, however; the deed was done. They were walking around, living their own lives while carrying each other’s secrets, and one day— if things worked out as they are supposed to— they were bound to meet and stay together for the rest of their lives.

They didn’t know how, where or when, but it was going to happen. The universe was going to make sure of it. Damian Wayne and Raven were bound to fall in love, just like that. And until their special day could come, she was decided to keep on living her life as she had originally planned to.

Oh, how foolish of her.

The longer it took for their paths to cross, the clearer it became for her that a secret such as Robin’s real identity came with certain responsibilities she had never really prepared for. Just by knowing it, Raven was already included in a very selected and powerful group of people, who had no idea about her mere existence, let alone her true intentions. If anyone did as much as suspect that she knew about his identity, chances were her head would be on the line and Batman would be the first to pay her a visit at night. She could get into trouble—real trouble— and even without wanting to, she would eventually end up dragging her loved ones with her.

Her family and friends didn’t deserve to suffer the consequences of her future love life. She didn’t, either, but that was never a matter up for discussion. Raven had to keep them safe at all costs, and that was why, once her high-school days were over, the girl didn’t think twice before leaving it all behind and moving to Gotham city on her own. It was a very hard decision, but it was the right one if she wanted to keep them safe. It had to be. Also, if she were to live in Gotham, she might get a chance to meet him and properly introduce herself as his soulmate.

Like that would be easy…

With her impeccable grades and remarkable school records, it was easy for her to get into Gotham College, where she began her English Major. It wasn’t her dream college— far from it— but it would have to do for the time being. She found herself an apartment, and for it was Gotham city, it was cheap enough for her to afford it on her own. It wasn’t located in a fine neighborhood or anywhere worthy of a Wayne, but according to the owner, no one had died in there, so perhaps, that was a win.

Once settled in, it didn’t take her long to get to know his city. Apart from its terrible fame, Raven eventually found some nice places spread around the city. There were good bakeries, small bookshops, and there was this one park that took her breath away. Whenever she had time, she would go there to think about life or just breathe a little.

Life in Gotham wasn’t as bad as she had originally expected it to be. After almost five years, her ears were almost used to the constant symphony of sirens, and not even the weirdos dressed as clowns robbing the bank at least once a month took her sleep away anymore. Her eyes shone a little brighter whenever she saw the dynamic duo on the cover of the newspapers, and she would be lying if she said that her heart didn’t grow worried whenever she saw a building on fire or something of the kind.

Perhaps that was their connection as soulmates making her think more about Damian. Or, perhaps, that was just a stupid reaction evoked by her own mind growing anxious. She couldn’t quite tell anymore.

After so many years without as much as an interaction, Raven was starting to grow weary. When she first thought about living in Gotham, she believed it would be just a matter of time until their paths crossed and she could tell him they were soulmates. She actually believed that meeting him would be easy, but eventually, the raven-haired girl realized that Damian Wayne was almost as unreachable as his father.

She has never seen him walking on the streets by himself. Whenever he’s out of his mansion, hordes of people surround him and setting an appointment at his father’s company is nearly impossible for a girl like her. According to his secretary, his agenda is already full until May 2034, and even then there will be no guarantee that Mr. Wayne will be able to meet her. He’s a very busy man, for sure.

Still, her name is on the list, just in case.

A defeated sigh escaped her lungs as she was making her way home from work one Friday night. It was winter, and Gotham is a particularly cold city. A black scarf was wrapped around her neck and her arms were hugging her body so she could get a little warmer. It had been one of those days, and she honestly just wanted to get home and drink a warm cup of tea.

Her heeled boots were clicking against the concrete sidewalk as she followed the masses of employees towards the subway station. All of those people, herself included, were on their way home after another long week of work, and as Gotham citizens, none of them wanted to take longer than necessary to reach their destination. Though not decreed by the mayor, the city was under constant curfew due to the elevated crime rates, and those who were smart enough didn’t dare put their luck to test.

The clock was about to strike 9:45pm and she was casually waiting for the train to arrive at the platform. Raven watched as at least 40 people surrounded her, most of them entertained by their cellphones, and she couldn’t help but close her amethyst eyes for a moment so she could take a deep breath. She was tired, cold, and her stomach was begging her to be fed. She really just wanted to get home and get this day over with.

Unfortunately, Two Face’s minions had other plans.

Once the train stopped and its automatic doors opened, at least 20 men, all armed, walked out, pointing their guns at everyone. People were startled, the tension in the atmosphere thick enough to be cut with a knife, and even if there was no hysteric reaction from anyone, it was as if she could hear the strangled screams wanting to call for help.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!” One of them started, showing off the gun in his hands. “I know you’re all dying to get home, but you’re not going anywhere until we’re finished with you.”

In all of those years she has been living in Gotham, that was the first time she was this close to real danger. Her eyes widened immediately, her heart skipping a beat as adrenaline started to kick in. There was a man at least 2 meters away from her, and if his finger did as much as slip, her brief life could come to an abrupt end. She was looking around the sea of people, and all Raven could see were hands being lifted in the air, but no one really trying to alert the authorities or call for help.

She swallowed dry, then, her mind focusing on the small girl all alone who was trembling in fear. Someone had to help them. Someone had to call the cops so they could take care of those bandits.

And apparently, that’s someone would be her.

Once she made up her mind, her icy fingers slowly reached for her coat’s right pocket and tried to get her cellphone without being noticed. Her heart was beating faster in fear of being discovered, but she didn’t stop. With her thumb, she pressed the main button, and even without seeing the device, she slid her finger to across the screen, hoping to have gained access so she could make an emergency call. She motioned her fingers to dial 911, and when she thought everything was going according to plan, one of the bandits looked at her, their eyes connecting, and she knew she had been caught.

“What do you have back there, doll?”

A smirk took over his smug face and her blood ran cold at the sight. Her lips trembled when he lifted his gun to point at her, and at that moment, she knew she was going to die. Her life was about to end and all because she was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Great timing, Raven, she thought. Or, perhaps, it wasn’t really that bad.

When the man was about to pull the trigger, his gun was knocked over his hand by a flying projectile. He winced in pain, catching everyone by surprise, and before anyone could notice, more projectiles came flying towards the other men. Her eyes followed the sound of metal hitting the floor, and her heart skipped a beat when she recognized the batarangs lying motionless on the concrete. They were here, at last. Help had finally arrived.

Before a smoke screen suddenly exploded near them, Raven thought she had seen his pointy ears and dark cloak coming from the celling and punching the one who was probably the leader on the face. At that moment, the sea of people started to dissipate as they all ran for their lives, like a scared herd of buffalos. People bumped on her shoulders as they passed through her, yet, her feet still refused to move from the spot as her eyes captured a glimpse of his yellow cape jumping in front of her.

Damian, she thought, her heart skipping a beat.

Perhaps it was the thrill of finally seeing him so close, but she just couldn’t bring herself to find an escape route. Raven knew she should be running towards a safer place, but something inside her spoke louder than reason itself. She couldn’t convince her feet to move away no matter how much she tried to, and soon, she realized why. Coming from behind the train, a new bandit showed up, pulling a smaller gun from behind his back. He was quick to aim it at the Boy Wonder, but what followed made her feel as if the entire world was suddenly trapped in a slow-motion picture.

Her eyes saw the man aiming that gun towards him while he was still engaged in another fight. An unexplainable fear took over her senses, and before she could even think things through, her body was already moving on its on. The raven-haired girl was running towards his yellow figure as fast as she could, her arms extending as she got closer. A loud shot was heard by the time she shoved him away from the approaching bullet, and as her eyes closed in pure reflex, Raven felt an arm snake around her waist, right before her feet lost contact with the ground.

She was flying. Her eyes remained closed, but during that fraction of a second, she knew she was flying.

Did she take that shot?

Was she dead?

Who was going to feed her cat?

And what about Damian? Was he okay?

Raven didn’t know. Her head was filled with all of those unanswered questions by the time she had landed, but her eyes were still closed in pure fear. Her hands were covering her face, and she could feel tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

If she wasn’t dead yet, she was definitely going to pass out real soon. Her head was spinning, her knees were about to give in and she just couldn’t find anything around her to keep her consciousness from slipping away. She was about to collapse. She was going to—

“Hey, what the hell did you do that for? Are you insane?!”

A harsh voice invaded her ears, and suddenly, she felt two hands on her shoulders. Her eyes shot open in reflex, and much to her surprise, the first thing she saw was that green mask of his. Their faces were standing so close that she could see the expression lines deforming his tanned skin as he was probably glaring at her. A scowl decorated his thin lips, and only then she realized how tall he actually is as his body towered over hers.

It was him. It was Damian, right in front of her. At last, fate had brought them together, and apparently, he was mad at her.

“Why did you push me like that? You could’ve gotten yourself killed!” He continued, her lips parting in awe. “Are you even listening to me!?”

“I-I…” She mumbled, her head still mixing all the words. “You were going to get shot. I thought— “

“I saw that guy back there. I was not going to get shot.” He released her shoulders, and she felt sparks running down her skin at the lack of contact. “Seriously, civilians these days. They think they can be heroes.”

“Hey, I was trying to help, okay!?” She answered, growing slightly irritated at his arrogance.

“Help? How? By getting killed? Thanks, I don’t need your help.”

“God, you’re such a jerk! Next time I’ll let you take that stupid shot!”

“I was not going to get shot!” He pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. “TT, whatever. I need to go back and help Batman. Get out of here and try not to get into any more trouble by saving strangers, okay?”

“I— What—?”

Her lips stumbled upon the words as she watched him turn around so he could return to the battlefield. All the anger that was taking over her disappeared and was replaced by a longing feeling she had never felt before. The cape that adorned his back swung as he walked away, her emotions growing anxious at the scene.

He was leaving. Damian was going back to his impenetrable world, and he didn’t even know her name. After almost 5 years, that was their first interaction, and however troubled it had been, it was still the only thing they had. Raven couldn’t let that chance slip away from her fingers, no. Not after everything she went through to meet him.

She bit her lower lip, then, but eventually, her eyes were filled with a confidence she didn’t know she possessed. She filled her lungs with fresh air and took a step towards him. “Robin, stop! I need to tell you something.”

“Not gonna happen.” He stated, not bothering to turn to face her. “I have a job to do and—”

“Damian, wait!”

His name rolled out of her tongue and she watched as his shoulder tensed. The world around them went mute, her chest tightening in response. His feet came to a stop, and slowly, he turned to face her once more. Raven could feel his eyes glaring at her with enough intensity to tear a hole in her skull, but she was decided not to back off. “What did you just say?”

“I-I… I know who you are.”

“You’re delusional.” He said, trying to deny her words. “You must have mistaken me for—“

“Damian, I know it’s you.” She spoke, confidently. “I know your secret. I’ve known it for almost 5 years now.”

His hands turned into fists, and in a blink of an eye, he walked back towards her. A mix of anger and bewilderment exhaled from him, and she could hear his heavy breaths moving his chest. His hands were once more on her shoulders, his grip tighter than last time in order to prevent her from escaping. “Who are you? Who told you about my identity?”

“You can call me Raven…” She started, her amethyst eyes on him. Though she knew he could end her life if he wanted to, she was not afraid. No of him. “And over five years ago, I’ve received your secret in a dream. I believe you also know a secret of mine.”

His grip on her loosened a bit, as if he was taken aback by her words. If anything, Damian is a very intelligent man, and at that moment, he certainly knew the meaning behind her words. He knew she was his soulmate. However, she didn’t know what he would do about that.

“Shit.” He mumbled, quickly taking his hands off her. She saw his eyes squinting as he observed her, his hands turning back into fists. “This shouldn’t be happening right now.”

“I know. I didn’t mean to follow you here or anything, but—“

“You have to go, Raven.”

“What?”

“Get out of here. Now!” He commanded, his voice not leaving any space for discussion.

“But Damian, I—“

“Don’t call me that!” He scolded her. “Get out of here and go home. I need to get back there and help Batman.”

“And what about us!? I can’t leave and wait for another miracle to bring us together. I know you have things to do, but we need to do something about this! Don’t push me away!”

“I’m not pushing you away, Raven! I—“

“Yes, you are! I’m not going anywhere! Not until—“

“Will you just shut up?!” Suddenly, she felt his hands pulling her closer by her coat, and in a rough move, he sealed her cold lips with his warm ones. Her heart was racing inside her chest, her mind spiraling as she tried to understand what on earth was going on.

Damian was kissing her. That or he just wanted her to stop talking, really. Still, their lips were touching and as something inside her lit up, it was as if all of that anxiety gave in. Her breath was caught up in her throat, and all the words she had planned on using to prove her point were now completely forgotten.

“Can’t you see I’m trying to protect you?!” He pulled away, his hands still clutching her coat. His cheeks were tinged in a light shade of red, as he continued to scold her. She could feel his grip loosening, and slowly, he bit his lower lip. “Just find somewhere safe, Raven… I’ll find you again, I promise.”

His voice came out as a tender whisper, knocking down whatever was left of her previous bravery. Her entire body was growing warmer, now, and even if she had been afraid of letting him go, Raven knew she should follow his words and seek shelter somewhere. He was going to find her once everything was over, he told her, and oddly enough, she knew she could trust him.

A weak nod was all she could give him at that moment, but it proved itself enough for him. He nodded back, and after holding onto her stare for a second longer, Robin turned away and ran back to where the fight was happening. She watched him as he disappeared in the distance, and though she didn’t want to see him go, her warm heart didn’t break.

He was coming back for her; she knew it. He would find her again.

And until then, Raven was going to wait for him.

Once she recovered from all the things that had happened, the raven-haired girl looked away and started to run towards the exit of the subway station. She didn’t look back nor did she doubt his words, instead; she ran away, looking for a place to hide.

———————

Waiting for him, she discovered, was a lot easier now that they had something palpable connecting them. The days went by faster. Soon, winter melted into spring, and for the first time in her life, the flowers seemed more colorful than before. The weather was warm, birds were chirping, and Gotham city seemed to welcome the sun into its dark streets.

Her world had changed after that day. It was only natural, she knew, now that she had finally met the person she was destined to be with for the rest of her life. It was weird and unsettling, at first, but she came to terms with it after she had time to sleep on it and demystify a thing or two about finally meeting her soulmate.

The first and most important thing: she was not in love with him. At least, not yet. Meeting her soulmate for the first time didn’t make her fall in love with him at first sight like some people like to say. It didn’t change her life as much as she had expected it to, and if she were to be honest, Raven was quite happy about it.

She wanted to understand why they were so compatible before giving in to fate. She wanted to understand him without anything clouding her thoughts, and she wanted him to do the same about her.

Above all, Raven wanted them to have a choice. And if they ended up choosing each other, well, then they would think about what that meant later.

For now, as she rested her elbows against the metal rail that offered her a clean view of the lake, she was just focusing on enjoying her Sunday off. There was a book inside her bag, and she was decided to read a couple of chapters before heading home and getting ready for another week of work.

Just another ordinary day, or so she thought, until he arrived.

From the corner of her eyes, she saw as the young man walked towards her, his hands hidden inside the pockets of his hood. His hair was darker than hers, skin tanner and eyes colored in an emerald green. He stood still, some good 11 inches separating them, and though his face was hidden, she knew it was him.

At last, he had found her.

“You know, you’re not the easiest person to track, Roth.” He started, his voice calm as the wind brushed his cheeks. He was looking at the lake in front of them, and unlike last time, he seemed to be at peace. “Certainly took me longer than I expected.”

“Well, I guess that’s a good thing about being a nobody, right? There are a lot of people like me out there.”

“Maybe.” He sighed, his head now turning to face her as she did the same. “Still, I’m a pretty good detective.”

“With a very good self-esteem, too.” She offered him a small smile, to which he simple smirked.

A moment of silence took over them, as both of the young adults allowed that pure moment to sink in. There was no rush or anxiety lacing their feelings at that moment, much to their contentment, for they could absorb every minor detail of what would be the beginning of the rest of their lives.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone about my secret identity?” He asked, honestly, and her brows furrowed in awe.

In all of those years that she has held onto his secret, never once has Raven considered the idea of telling anyone about it. It was illogical. Irresponsible, even. Had she spoken to the world about who’s the man behind the green mask, his life would’ve been ruined in levels she could never imagine. It could get him killed. And if anything, she didn’t want anything bad to happen to him.

“It was never mine to tell. I could never reveal your secret, Damian.” She spoke, simply, and a smile threatened to tug at his lips.

“Fair enough.” He nodded, letting out a long sigh. “If it helps, I didn’t tell anyone about your secret, either. Though I doubt anyone would be interested to know there was a girl out there who’s afraid of popping balloons.”

A sincere chuckle escaped the depths of her core, and that alone brought a smile to his face. Of all the secrets she holds, that one childish thing was the one chosen to be revealed to him. The forces of the universe certainly weren’t kind to him, even if that was probably not a common fear out there. Still, there were definitely more people who were afraid of popping balloons than fighting crime as Batman’s iconic sidekick. His secret made him unique.

His secret has brought them together.

“I guess not even your detective skills could help you on that, right?”

“It would’ve taken me a lot of time if I were to use just that information, but I’m sure I would’ve found you.”

“Oh, and how can you be so sure?”

“I just know it. We were bound to meet, anyway, so there’s no point in debating how.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” She agreed, not wanting to press on useless matters. They were together now, and that was all she cared about.

“Also, after that day, even in the middle of that crowd, I saw you first. I didn’t really understand why at first, but I guess it has something to do with this thing.”

“Probably. I know little myself, to be honest. Thought that when I found you, things would make a little more sense.”

“And how’s that going so far?”

“Honestly?” She asked, tilting her head to the right, her short hair brushing her cheeks. “I still have no freaking clue of what to do next.”

“That makes two of us, then.” He sighed, leaning forward and resting his arms over the metal rail. His hood was still covering his head, and even if she knew better, Damian looked like a normal guy at that moment. He didn’t look like the son of Bruce Wayne, let alone Batman’s partner.

At that moment, he was just a normal guy talking to a normal girl about normal things. And for a reason she couldn’t quite understand, that brought her peace. Perhaps they weren’t so different, after all.

Perhaps they could even make it work.

A tender smile took over her lips, and slowly, she took a step closer to him. Raven extended her hand towards him, and her eyes watched as he quirked an eyebrow in confusion. “Why don’t we start from the beginning, then? I know you’ve skipped a few steps when you kissed me the other night, but… Whatever. I’m Rachel, but you can call me Raven.”

His eyes watched her for a moment too long, and it was as if she could see the wheels turning inside his head. Eventually, though, a sly smile took over his lips, and he reached out for her hand. His hand was calloused, but his touch was warm; and together, they shook hands. “Damian. Nice to meet you, Raven.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Damian.”

There was really no telling what would happen, or even if anything would happen at all. Still, at that moment, both of them were ready to try it. They already knew each other’s secrets so, perhaps, they could try to learn another thing or two.

fin.

-----------

a/n: I had this idea while browsing Pinterest for some Soulmate AU ideas and I LOVED writing it! Honestly, this is my very first soulmate AU ever and I really enjoyed playing with this weird scenario. It’s by far the one theme I loved the most to write, and I hope you’ve enjoyed it! Please, tell me what you think!

[phoenixyfriend]

I’ve been trying to figure out the best obi wan ship. They all have one slightly problematic thing this way or that. I’ve landed on the idea of obi wan and an equal is pretty top tier. But then I saw a picture of Coran from voltron. Coran and Obiwan might be a disaster but also both are dad shaped, both are bad ass, both are ginger, both have an accent. I think it could work. But another part of me is like Coran is just obi and jarjar mashed together. At the very least they hooked up.

Hey I just had restaurant ramen and Starbucks and actually feel like a human being so let's do something unnecessary but funny. I'm taking this as a challenge, anon.

Also IMO Coran has more in common with C3P0 than with JarJar

So obviously, both of these happen in Big Space, but the difference appears to be density. We see about the same complexity of culture and species interactions, but Voltron covers more galaxies. It's vaguely implied that Earth, at least, is the only planet with sapient life in the Milky Way.

I think the way I want to play this out, culturally, is that the Voltron area of the universe covers a much wider, but much more sparsely populated area, while the SW-verse is just the one very densely populated (in part because apparently humans just went Literally Everywhere) galaxy, where they didn't necessarily bother with developing the tech to go to other galaxies (except Rishi, which only sort of counts) because they haven't really even charted out their own yet. It was never contacted by the Voltron side of things because [checks notecards full of excuses] it's really far away from Altea and all that, and the Force shielded the galaxy from Galra interests because Reasons.

All this to say that the two franchises didn't interact until after the Voltron plotline was already over. We'll say it went mostly canon, except Allura survived because uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh fuck that.

We'll say that this is mid-TCW, you know, before Obi-Wan is a bundle of repressed traumas and bad coping mechanisms that's lost almost everyone he's ever loved to the dark side through death or corruption. He's still (mostly) okay! Anakin's not dark (or at least, not as dark as he could be; Obi-Wan doesn't know about the Tuskens), and Ahsoka's still in good standing and most people are alive and--and okay the army is a massive ethical violation he hates with his very soul and he misses Qui-Gon and Anakin's keeping secrets and pulling away from him every day but He's Fine, Guys.

He's Fine.

In comes a ship from not Wild Space, but beyond that. Intergalactic visitors, from the direction of the deeply concerning Force bullshit they felt a few years ago. Translation tech is decent enough on both sides that they get to talking pretty quickly. The explorer is actually a member of the Blade of Marmora, who gets the absolute most basic info (approximately this many inhabited planets, approximately this many trillions of sapients in the recorded galaxy, basic structure of the government for the past however many years, most recent conflict, etc.)

BoM person is like "cool, okay so you guys are really well set-up so I'm just gonna head back and kick this up a few rungs of the coalition ladder because this is way above my paygrade, I'll make sure you get some diplomats who can maybe help out with the whole galactic civil war situation as neutral parties."

The Voltron Coalition does send a diplomat! They, uh, also send Coran, who isn't technically a diplomat, but he's high-level.

The thing is, okay, that Coran is mostly just... passably competent at things. He's a jack of all trades, master of none type. He knows a lot of things, actually, but his practical knowledge in high pressure situations tends to be up in the air. He knows how to fix the Castle Ship and various technologies, but all of that info is ten thousand years out of date. He was a competent fighter at one point but these days his back gives out. He's very knowledgeable regarding intergalactic politics but, again, that information is ten thousand years out of date. He's also a little prone to social gaffs in dicey situations (e.g. the inciting incident in the Voltron Show episode where he misses the single day with clear skies), but puts in so much goddamn effort to make things happen.

In this manner, he's like a warped mirror of what Obi-Wan is and could be.

THAT SAID

Coran is actually really good with teenagers, and specifically with training them.

And Obi-Wan... isn't.

Obi-Wan's snarky and snippy and sassy, and he's decent enough at teaching and he's great at being a jokey friend and all, but he's not necessarily very good at emotions. And unfortunately for Obi-Wan, the teenagers he spends the most time with are Really Full Of Emotions. He tries, bless him, but he's just... he doesn't respond well to emotional conversations at the best of times.

His son-figure saying "You're like a father to me" leads to a response of... radio silence. Guys. That's not the mark of a man who knows how to talk about his feelings with the people he cares about.

In swans Coran with the various other diplomatic envoys of the visiting extragalactic community. The entire situation is really leading to a lull in the war because nobody wants to risk pissing off this clearly well-funded, well-powered third party. As a result, many of the High Generals can interact with the envoys, even if they spend quite a bit of time eyeing the Separatist representatives on the other side of the room, because clearly Everyone Needs A Seat At This Table.

It's a very tense situation.

Obviously, Coran is exactly the weird uncle that goes around telling plausibly-exaggerated stories about Weblums and Yalmors and Balmeras. I'm going to say at least one former Paladin is there, maybe Hunk. Hunk's fun, and also very willing to help Coran make friends and seem Amicable instead of Distant by correcting some of the exaggerations. There's a nice, calm atmosphere in a bubble around Coran and his nonsense, and it's a weird situation but arguably just... you know. It's good. He's good at making people feel safe around him.

Cue the hissed argument between Skywalker and Kenobi. The actual cause of said argument isn't important, just the fact that, in a dark corner where they're less likely to cause a PR issue, Anakin and Obi-Wan are having it out. Anakin's maybe twenty, still a lanky ragebaby, all that fun stuff. Obi-Wan is a the endpoint of every too-young brotherdad. He's thirty-six but feels like he's sixty-three. He's tired, but trying so damn hard to still connect with Anakin and just--just--

Obi-Wan gives himself a few minutes to calm down before following Anakin. He doesn't even remember what they were arguing about, really, but he has to mend the bridge before it frays even more than it already has. If Anakin goes to Palpatine for advice again, he's going to... do something. Obi-Wan isn't sure what, but he just has to fix this.

What he finds is... well, Anakin did end up going to vent to a man of an earlier generation who acts like a slightly eccentric older relative, but it's not Palpatine for once.

The goofy, slightly abrasive but mostly charming, brightly-colored representative of the Voltron Coalition is standing in the little balcony that Anakin's made it to, listening as Obi-Wan's recently-knighted padawan vents. The man nods and makes noises at the appropriate times, and then asks questions that are... maybe a little too accurate.

"You said that you view him as a father, that he raised you after you left your mother."

"Well, yeah, but he doesn't think I'm ready, or--"

"No parent ever does."

"...my mom thought I was ready to become a Jedi."

"I can't speak for your mother," the representative says, "but the princess of my people, Allura... I half-raised that girl from the beginning, and after the destruction of Altea, we were all the other had left. I watched her lead battles and bring life to planets, trying to rebuild a universe out of the ashes of what we'd left behind... I saw the evidence with my own eyes, and I still, every time, I worried for her."

"Why?"

"I worried that she'd be hurt, that she wasn't ready, that she'd make a decision she regretted. Often, she did, and I had to help her back up, and while she's always come back, stronger than before... she is the closest thing I have ever had to a daughter, and I will always worry for her. Every parent does. Do you think, perhaps, that your own Jedi Master, that you consider a father, may worry because he looks at you like a son? That it's not that he doesn't trust you, but that he doesn't trust the world around you?"

Obi-Wan feels his heart in his throat.

The conversation continues in that vein. While Obi-Wan can't say he likes the fact that this stranger is putting words in his mouth, if only as hypotheticals, he can't deny that there's a part of him that relaxes as Anakin does, as every frustrated fresh-knight question gets a measured elderly-steward response that's angled to consider the interpretation that favors Anakin and Obi-Wan in equal measure. Every word encourages Anakin to talk things out and lay boundaries and express his frustrations to Obi-Wan in the plainest words possible.

There's a story in there, more than one. The representative tends to go off on tangents, ones that Anakin sometimes finds interesting and sometimes just resigns himself to. Mostly, though, it goes well, and Obi-Wan... well, he's always been 'a nosy little bastard,' according to quite a few people.

(In his defense, the terms they'd used about Quinlan's 'investigative personality' had been quite a bit stronger.)

He eavesdrops to the end, and Anakin doesn't notice at all. Obi-Wan's not sure if he should try to address Anakin's lack of awareness of the world around him. He's not technically Anakin's master anymore. The comment may be taken as a criticism of his worth and capability, rather than a sincere desire to see his padawan not die.

He approaches the representative instead. He intends to introduce himself. Instead, the first words that tumble out of his mouth are:

"How do you do it?"

The man--older than he looks from a distance, more wrinkles than the bright hair would suggest, but not quite elderly yet--turns and lifts a brow. "Hm?"

"I'm sorry, I'm--" Obi-Wan grimaces. "I'm Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. The young man you were just talking to is my former padawan, er, my former apprentice. I've been finding it harder and harder to speak with him over the past few years, and it seems that every interaction we have leads to an argument. How do you... manage that? I can't get him to listen to me at all."

"Ah, teenagers," the man sighs.

"He's twenty."

The representative pauses, and turns to him. "Are you the one he says raised him? The father?"

"Well... yes, I suppose that's one way to phrase it," Obi-Wan says, eyes darting to the side. He doesn't know how to explain the whole attachment situation to someone who barely knows what a Jedi is. He has even less of an idea of how to explain his own broken ability to speak of emotion, the parts of his mind that Bant clucks over and attributes to his own complicated relationship with Qui-Gon. "I had custody as his primary guardian from ages nine to nineteen and was the primary individual for handling his schooling, health, and general upbringing."

"That sounds to me like a very convoluted way of saying you were his father in all but name."

Obi-Wan grimaces. "I'm not exactly old enough to be his father, and I wasn't exactly the person he was supposed to learn from; I was the... back-up option."

"It seems he cares for you very much."

"He didn't have much of a choice," Obi-Wan says, with the kind of helpless smile and awkward shrug he's long gotten used to sharing with people when they ask. "And I assure you he'd have been happier with the man that was meant to teach him."

"I'd say that the 'would have' in this situation is much less important than what is," the representative says. Obi-Wan probably should have paid more attention to his name. "I wasn't in a position to define my relation to Allura or her father in the way that truly suited our situation, by... oh, tradition, social norms, public relations, take your pick. I was a very well-regarded official, of course, but I wasn't royalty, not even nobility, and I certainly wasn't wasn't legally or publicly part of the family. But for all the limitations there, I was still able to find ways to tell her and her family what they meant to me, and they in return. Your apprentice cares for you very much, and I'm sure you care back, but I'd hazard quite the guess that you've no idea how to tell him that."

"I... I shouldn't," Obi-Wan says. "I'm fond of him, of course, but I've no wish to smother him, and to simply say it would be undignified. I imagine he'd laugh in my face."

The representative raises one eyebrow and takes a sip of his drink.

"Master Kenobi," he says carefully. "Might I suggest you go find your young man, tell him you love him, and perhaps give him a hug?"

Obi-Wan's face flares red. It's been years since anyone short of Yoda has spoken to him like that.

"I'm not a child," he sniffs, trying to angle enough away that the blush isn't as noticeable. He's damnably prone to such things. "You're not that much older than me."

The man laughs, and Obi-Wan lifts his glass to his lips in a futile attempt to hid the embarrassment a little more. "Oh, not counting the stasis, I've well reached the age of six hundred and twenty-four, my boy!"

Obi-Wan chokes on his drink.

The man laughs a little more, but thumps him on the back until he's breathing normally again.

"Yes, most of the humans I've told have had quite the reaction!" the representative assures him. "But yes, even with the times adjusted to what any given local year is, I am significantly longer-lived than most species."

"No kidding," Obi-Wan manages. He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand and looks over at the representative. He takes in the wrinkles and bright eyes, and says, "Well, I must say you look very well for a near-human of such an age. I can only name one person in that category that has managed better, and I haven't seen her since I was a child."

"I shall take that as the compliment it's intended to be," the representative says, twisting the edge of his mustache and beaming.

The man is... well, goofy, really, and quite a bit older than Obi-Wan had thought, but he's quite the charmer. Obi-Wan faintly compares him to a few different people in the back of his mind, but nothing quite fits. For all that the man is quite the jokester and--going by some things he'd seen from the corner of his eye in the main party--a master of physical comedy, the representative is actually more competent than he looks, and for all his visible age, not bad to look at. He is also, seemingly, an expert in dealing with teenagers and young adults, something Obi-Wan himself is... decidedly not.

He really should go speak with Anakin.

And there's a war to fight.

He doesn't really have much time, even with the recent lull.

He's in no place to be looking at the clean-shaven jaw and wondering what it would feel like under his lips, or to let himself consider whether this man would be the kind to have an hours-long discussion as to the narrative forms common in other galaxies, and whether they have anything paralleled to those in Obi-Wan's own, or if this man would show the same enthusiasm over teas that he'd shown over the hors d'oeuvres inside.

He should... really go find Anakin.

"I suppose it's time to find my padawan," he says, more to fill the air than anything. "Er... thank you, both for speaking with him, and for speaking with me."

"Not a problem at all, Master Kenobi!" the representative says, and Obi-Wan realizes that there's one last thing he may have... forgotten.

"This is terribly embarrassing, but I don't believe I caught your name?" Obi-Wan says.

"Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe, at your service!" the man says, with a sweeping bow. "As you can imagine, most simply call me Coran."

"Then I insist you call me Obi-Wan," he says, and before he can stop himself, "Might I bother you with an invitation to a shared tea time? You seem a knowledgeable fellow, and I'd appreciate the chance to... eh, pick your brain, shall we say."

It's not the smoothest come on he's ever put out there, or the most easily interpreted, but... well. Perhaps it's for the best. He's rather often found his tastes going in irresponsible directions, and it'll be much easier to brush this off without diplomatic incident if there's room for Coran to politely ignore the less platonic options.

Obi-Wan hopes he doesn't.

It's very selfish of him, but a dalliance with an older gentleman... well. He does, perhaps, make such irresponsible decisions, even now.

"I do believe I'd enjoy such a thing!" Coran enthuses, grabbing Obi-Wan's hand and shaking it in large, effusive movements.

Oh, this is a terrible idea, Obi-Wan thinks, even as he exchanges comm numbers and says goodbye.

Still.

He likes the idea of having at least a little fun, sedate or less so, while they have some time to themselves.

[caesthetix]

A LITTLE FEAR — Pt. 3 The Last Goodbye

↪Jean Kirstein mini-series

↪content; canon universe, description of violence, season 4 spoiler, forbidden love, marleyan!reader, scouts!jean, chapter 138 spoiler

Everyone was waiting, a dozen pairs of eyes looking at you with hope, wanting to hear any command from your lips. You were the only one who could calm them down, the only one who was still alive, the hope that shone even when everyone was on the brink of death.

They could not unsee it, those gigantic monsters called titans. Slowly but surely, walking towards where they were right now. You had sent all of your ships ahead to drop all the bombs in hope that it could stop them, or maybe just slow them down.

But it was no use, all of those brave soldiers were now dead knowing they tried to win this fight. The fight that they never prepared to have, the fight that was probably triggered by your own country, the fight that they couldn't win. You knew it, but you were not going to back down without giving all of your might.

"Commander! Look!" One of the troops called, pointing at the flying boat that flew from behind the line of titans. "That's the cart titan! And— the armoured titan, commander! We are saved! They will win this fight, we just need to wait!" He shouted so anyone could hear, wanting to share the news. "Even the island devils too! They are joining forces to stop that monster!"

The sound of cheers followed right after the troop announced that. It only needed the fact that someone else was taking care of the fight, that was the only thing they needed to lift the burden off their shoulders. At least for a while, they have the privilege to feel that.

You wanted to speak up, tell them that it was not the time to celebrate yet. But as you turned away from the fight ahead and looked behind you, finding your soldiers sobbing out of relief and crying from the happiness that perhaps they had a chance to live — you didn't dare to take that away from them.

Deep down, you wanted to believe that they were going to win. You wanted to take some rest too, believing them completely. After all, two titans could help them do anything, and perhaps the Ackermans were there too, enhancing their success rate even more.

But you could not rest, ever since you knew that Marley sent ninety percent of their army to attack the Paradis altogether, you could not sit down and do nothing. You needed to occupy yourself with anything, even though it was just staring at the horde of colossal titan, at least your mind was preoccupied with the thought of war.

At least your mind was not preoccupied with the thought of him.

You cursed your higher-ups when they told you to stay in Marley. Saying you are the wittiest commander, the one with a clear mind and with a good sense of war on top of that. You didn't know what happened on the other side of the sea. Whether your country won or not, you didn't know.

Until this morning, of course. Until when you woke up in your private barracks this morning. Everything was in chaos, soldiers running around to pack up, saying things about how Marley was already lost. Or more accurately, the whole world had lost.

Liberio was already gone, thousands or perhaps millions of titans were sent to wipe the entire planet clean. They said the devil in Paradis wanted to commit genocide to the whole world, leaving nothing but empty ground filled with thousands of corpses on top of it, working as a fertilizer for a brand new world.

But that was it. That was the only information you got. Everyone was waiting for your command after delivering the message to you, and you wanted to curse yourself since the first thing that came into your mind was not a war strategy, not a plan to keep on living, no.

You wanted to curse yourself as a commander that the first thing you thought about was — is he safe?

It was a question, stopping your brain to think about anything else. You were human too, grief and sadness were something that you could feel and you just needed a minute alone to calm yourself down. But you couldn't succumb yourself to such a thing as you were the only hope the Marleyan Military had right now.

So here you were in this moment, standing tall on the Air Force Unit base in Fort Salta. You called every troop who still wanted to fight, and for those who wanted to leave you promised them there wouldn't be punishment. And you were proud to know that the majority of them chose to go with you.

But they're dead now. Those pilots carried out the command that you gave without hesitating. It was a simple task, fly on top of the colossal titans and drop the bombs. They were supposed to go back, reporting to their post that they could slow the movement for a little or maybe kill some of the titans.

No one expected the beast titan to appear out of nowhere and throw shards at them, no one expected the bomb to detonate far from the lines of titans, no one expected that the force would die with no result at all. And for those who stayed beside you could only ask, "What should we do now, commander?"

There was nothing else that you could do. And at a time like this, you wondered why they decided to be here. Unlike you, they had someone who greeted them when they came home every day. They had a family; a mother who cooked them dinner, a lover that would warm their bed, they had kids that listen to them as they read a bedtime story.

And yet, despite knowing they could spend the last moment of their life with the people who loved them, they decided to stay.

Yes, they were loved, unlike you.

Your parents disowned you the second you decided to get passed down over the family business, you had no real friends that cared for your well-being, you had no one else outside of the military and that was the only reason you were here right now instead of abandoning your position.

That, and the wishful thinking which perhaps if you stay alive, you would meet him again.

"Commander?" You jolted when one of the soldiers called you. Clearing your throat, you erase all of the stupid thoughts that occupied your mind.

"Yes, soldier?" Your voice was stern, wanting to portray that you were not wavering. You waited for him to answer your question, but it seemed like he hesitated. His eyes scrutinized you with worry, and that was enough to make you question him. "Soldier—"

"Why are you crying, commander?"

Your pupils dilated when you heard his words. You frantically wiped your cheeks with your fingers, not wanting to let him see how vulnerable you were at this moment. He was kind enough to give you space after that, muttering an apology before leaving your side, and you wished he didn't say anything to the others.

Right now, you were their power and hope. If you showed any sign of weakness, it could decrease their morale, and you didn't want it to happen. So you just looked forward after that, perfecting your stance as you prepared your binocular to see better what happened up there.

And as you did so, you wished that Jean was not up there. Or if he did, then you could only hang on high hopes that he would survive.

Because you refused to acknowledge that you had no chance to say goodbye.

Never have you felt like this for so long. Perhaps, you never felt like this for all the years you lived your life. Your whole body felt so warm as the carnal desire that you had before slowly subsided. Sweats coating your skin, making the strands of your hair sticking to it like it was glued.

You were sprawled out on top of this cheap mattress, eyes scrutinizing the pattern on the wall as you inhaled and released the air out of your body bit by bit, recalling what happened a few hours earlier. You never thought that this weekend would be different from the others. Hitting the bar after such a long week was like a celebration for you, and so, you were there, seated yourself on the right end of the bar, and drinking whatever alcohol they served you.

But you didn't expect your night to unfurl like this. Laying in the arms of a stranger who introduced himself as Jean Kirstein. His intense eyes mesmerized you as he gazed down upon your figure, vivid brown looking so bright under the dim light of the bar — and it didn't change, even when you laid under him in this dark motel room with the moon as the only source of light.

Never once you ever let a stranger string you along like this. Whether you were sober or under influence of the alcohol, you could always stand your ground. So when you took his hand and ran giddily beside him like stupid, hormonal teenagers, it was all your choice by the end of the day.

The rattle of belts brought you back to the present. You turned your head to find the stranger already dressed neatly as if he didn't just turn a fierce commander to be a lady who had to fulfill her needs. Whatever happened tonight was a mistake, at least that was what his body language told you as he scrambled around the room, searching for his belongings.

You propped your elbow and laid on your side, watching him intently while your naked body still hidden under the blankets, really a contrast to him now. His face filled with worry, and now it made you wonder why a man could be so afraid of something like a one-night stand.

He turned to look at you as he fetched his fedora hat from the ground, plopping it on top of his head with newfound confidence as he was done calming himself. His eyes popped a little, not expecting you to stare at him with a gentle smile on your face. Without regret could be seen inside as if you enjoyed his company more than anyone else.

"I thought you were still asleep." He whispered out, knowing well that it was so late at night.

"And let you go without saying goodbye? In your dreams, Kirstein." You mockingly said with a sultry note, rolling your body so now you sat at the edge of the bed, still locking your gaze with him.

He rolled his eyes, wanting to look as if he was annoyed. But the small smirk forming on his face didn't go unnoticed by you.

"Guess you wouldn't let me go that easily, huh?"

He took off his fedora once again, clutching it tightly as he pressed it on his chest. For sure you would think that he had a title or some kind of aristocracy in his blood with how much of a gentleman he had been this whole time.

Or maybe he was just a normal Marleyan, someone without any special role. Yes, a simple man, being attracted to a simple man wouldn't be so bad after all. Then again, that kind of fashion was one of a kind, he could be an underground criminal too, perhaps, you could never guess.

But now though, with how enchanting he looked right now with those challenging gaze thrown at you — you didn't care where he came from or what kind of dark secret that he hides. You didn't know anything about him and yet it didn't stop you from giving him some attention.

Because despite your blindness, you still wanted him. So much.

"I wouldn't let you go without saying a proper goodbye."

You closed your eyes, easing the pain that suddenly throbbed your skull as you recalled the first night that you spent with him. Your mind played some of the memories that you had like a broken record, never-ending and felt like a nightmare most of the time since you knew it was just a distant past that could never happen again.

It was not the time to think about yourself or worry about his existence. You needed to let it go for now, and you had to be the commander that everyone expected you to be. Right now was not the right time to be a normal human. Not when your whole life was filled with peculiarity.

"Thank you."

You gave Mr. Leonhart a firm nod and a smile as you helped him up. "I always knew that you are not like any other Marleyan Commander, you did the right thing by firing all those rounds into the air." He chuckled softly, making his wrinkles more visible by it.

The Marleyan and Eldian clashed before, having both sides pointing their guns at each other. But you stated before that there was enough hatred in this world, and you needed to start from here, emptying the bullets that the Marleyan had to the sky, followed by the Eldian doing the exact same thing as they knew it was time to let go of the hate.

And now, it seemed like the rumbling had stopped. You saw it with your own eyes how yellow lights from a transformation engulfed your vision. Everyone was blinded, no one knew what happened until the lights subsided. Even now as the Marleyan helped those who got injured, no one in this fortress knew what happened out there.

There was a high possibility that the joined forces had won the battle since now you could feel the ground had stopped shaking. The explosion from before must be from the colossal titan that fell on Paradis's hand, successfully crushing the founder and stopping the rumbling.

"Dad?"

Not too far from you, stood a woman with blonde hair and beautiful ocean eyes. Mr. Leonhart immediately turned to face her, and he was frozen at the spot, couldn't believe his own eyes that he finally reunited with someone that you believed was his daughter.

It was so beautiful to see such a reunion. You knew that Annie Leonhart was still stuck in Paradis due to some circumstances, and for them having a chance to see each other again, must have felt like a blessing.

But the serene moment didn't last more than a few seconds. There was a sudden smoke engulfing the air around you. No one knew what it was, but it suffocated everyone as it filled their lungs. And your instinct told you to run — finding its source.

Right now, you needed to stop being a commander.

"Captain! You are the one in charge while I am gone!"

"Wait, commander!"

You couldn't stop. Your heart was beating a thousand times faster as you ran and left the fortress, ignoring the shout from your troops as you trotted past the smokes. You needed to understand what happened, and you needed to see if maybe he was here too.

There was a gush of wind, and you squinted your eyes to find a titan flew from the edge of the cliff. It was the same titan that you saw carrying the joined forces right before the explosion. And you wondered why they left so abruptly.

Was it because of the smoke? Were they going to come back later? Why they seemed to be so afraid with—

"Jean?"

Just like that, you couldn't think of anything else. It was as if the time had stopped when your eyes laid to the familiar ash-brown mullet that you always loved to run your fingers to. He wore the straps and belt that you knew what it was for, and even though his hair was dishevelled right now, he still looked so breathtaking.

He carefully turned to face you, and his brown orbs immediately filled with relief and something else entirely that you could not fathom. And despite the smoke surrounding the place, he was the only thing that you could see, the only one that you could focus on.

He looked so tired as if he wanted nothing but sleep for years. His eyes glinted under the sun and yet the shone inside those chocolate orbs looked dimmed already. You couldn't hear what his friend told him, you couldn't see the horror on his friend's face as you stood there — only ten feet apart from the man that you have been longing to see.

You took a few steps forward, just a little more and you could feel his body heat once more. It was the only thing that you wanted in the world, especially at this moment. To feel his warm embrace once again, to capture that plump lips with yours.

Jean could believe neither his eyes nor his ears. He heard your voice so vividly before, and now he could see you, standing flesh without any prominent wound on your body. What Pieck said was true, you would be here and very much alive. So there was only one thing left that he needed to do.

But then he felt Connie's arms wrapped around his torso.

"Jean! Snap out of it!"

No, you were so close, he was so close to giving the key back to you.

"She could be burned by the transformation!"

Then his pupils widened at the realisation.

You were there, right in front of him. And you kept walking forward without understanding the situation. Your eyes glistened with tears, hopefully, it was happy tears. And with how his vision blurred as he saw you this close, he knew that he was in the same state as you.

Maybe, then maybe just having another look at you was enough for him.

"Stand back!"

He stopped you from taking another step, making you halt your feet as he backed away from where you were. Giving you space from him and the others Eldian so you didn't get hurt later, but enough for you to hear him in this stretched-out moment.

There was no time, he could turn into a titan a few seconds from now. Running to you and returning the key to your palm would be too risky, and he didn't want you to die just yet when he felt like the world was finally free from fear.

Free from hatred and war, free from oppression. And perhaps — free to love whoever you want.

This time, he was actually grateful that he fell in love with a Marleyan. If that meant his love could live and see the world that they always wanted, it was enough for him. He was happy enough to know that you would stay alive while he would be gone as a soldier who fulfilled his duty.

If only that cursed creature was not here in this world. If only it didn't emit the smoke that could turn the Eldians to a mindless titan. If only his body didn't have this blood flowing through his veins. If — God, everything filled with that word. Just if only he met and fell in love with you under different circumstances.

Maybe he could live with you on prime real estate in wherever place that you wanted. He could live a long and happy life with you and future children, then he could bring you to meet his mother too, he was sure that she would adore you solely because you love him.

But it was all just a fantasy that would never come true.

So perhaps, he needed to do it any other day.

"I am sorry, love."

"Wait, Jean!"

"I'll give you back the key someday."

"Jean, I—"

A booming voice rang through your ears as your body was thrown away from the force. Your head slammed to the building behind you before your figure fell to the ground, making you feel detached from the rest of the world as your consciousness floating through the empty space, filled with static.

You heard a roar, and the ground beneath you seemed to shake once more. You tried to open up your eyes, only to find out that your vision blurred from the impact your head took just now. But you could still see it, gigantic feet filled your vision as you started to understand what happened.

You were supposed to move away, shielding yourself from these mindless titans that suddenly transformed. You should have remembered one of Zeke's miracles about how he could use a cloud of smoke to control an entire village in Paradis a few years ago. It was the same as back then and you should have remembered.

You should have remembered that you were in love with an Eldian, and something like this was bound to happen.

Now you knew why Jean's friend pulled him away from your figure. Now you could finally hear the warning and understood why they tried to keep you within a safe distance. They didn't want you to be burned alive, afraid that you would die if you were just a little too close.

Coughing up from all the rubbles that impaled your lungs, you gently leaned your back to the building that was still intact, waiting for your eyes to see everything clearly. All the Eldians were transformed, including those who were inside the fortress.

So you decided to sit there, watching how he turned into a titan as you wish that this nightmare would end soon. The familiar ash-brown hair titan roared as it looked around, perhaps searching for any human that it could devour.

You didn't try to run away just yet as you still need time to accept the fact. The burning sun and the rough ground that scratch your skin were nothing compared to the discomfort that swirled in your stomach just now. Realising that Jean was gone, accepting the fact that he was now a titan would be the hardest thing that you ever did in life.

It turned to look at you, at least to where you were right now. Maybe it would be alright if you died in his hand, you let your body go limp and just stare at his now empty eyes. He was not there anymore, he couldn't think or have a mind of himself. Now Jean became a puppet for the cursed creature.

You thought that this would be the climax, a tragic ending for the star-crossed lover. There was no happy ending in this story, in the grey relationship that you had with him. So it didn't matter anymore how cruel your death would be, you died in a war and you had no regret over it.

Though, he just stood there. His eyes never left your figure, not even moved an inch or gave away any sign that he would eat you alive. He just looked at you — as if he could still think, as if your Jean was still there, saying goodbye and muttering apology inside his mind.

The time seemed to slow down as you could see a single tear slipped from his eyes. Either it was your imagination or reality, you didn't know that. You were not given any explanation or a chance to take another look at him as he suddenly turned his back on you and ran.

Just as simple as that, he jumped off to the cliff along with the other new titans, gone from your eyesight and gone from your life. Completely, without a chance that he would come back again and stand in front of your door like what he used to do.

The two of you were not in Marley, not cooped up inside of your apartment where you could relish his presence. He was not just a stranger that slipped into your life, becoming a part of your routine and made your day felt more beautiful and worth getting by.

Tomorrow you wouldn't see him again, or feel his heartbeat as you laid on top of him, fingers following the line of his marks like what you loved to do.

Instead, you needed to face reality where you could no longer greet him with a confident hello that always made him smile. You needed to face reality, that you couldn't give him a proper goodbye, with him planting a kiss on your lips to reassure you that he would be back tomorrow.

Because you knew that he was already gone. And despite knowing how hard it would be for you to keep it in mind — you needed to accept it.

Even if it took you a lifetime to carry out.

↪Back to Wall Maria

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[spideytingle616]

Five Months [5]

Part 4 / Masterlist

*based on the five stages of grief*

Pairing: Peter Parker x Female Reader

Warnings: angst, death, mentions of anxiety/panic, possible implications of sexual activity, blood/injury, swearing

Summary: The first time you touch your soulmate, you’re able to see a glimpse into your future. What happens if your future is also your end?

Word Count: 12.7k wow wow (bold and italics are thoughts, scenes following a +++ are a flashback)

A/N: Thank you all who have read this story! I have had this planed for almost a year, and I’m so happy it actually became a thing, though I apologize for taking so damn long with this part. I hope you enjoy. This chapter features a lot of flashbacks, so buckle up.

Chapter Description: Maybe the universe isn’t so bad…

Month Five, Acceptance: Love, and Never Forget

A new day. A new month. A new semester.

The subway ride feels extra bumpy today, most likely due to the large pit in your stomach. Going to school is never something you looked forward to, but when you got there, someone was usually waiting for you.

Someone that made the grueling day a little easier.

You sigh and slump into your seat. How does a train full of people make you feel so alone?

A completely different person could be seen in your window reflection. Or maybe you were just so numb at this point, your body was nothing but luggage you were simply dragging along.

Fuck, you were exhausted. Beyond the undereye bags and the dry hair, your frame looked like it was ready to buckle down and rest. It was already curling in, prepared to do so when given the chance. Your eyes shut tight as you clenched your fists, trying your best to quiet the anxiety that flowed through your body.

When you open your eyes, you look at your reflection one more time, ignoring the cold stare that met your own. The world keeps going, and so should you.

Everything was more or less the same at Midtown. People were alert after their long break, but they still dreaded the upcoming classes. Friends were reuniting with one another and chatting, and everything seemed normal.

But it wasn’t, at least not for you.

You close your locker, and as you turned away from the wall you were met with familiar faces coming your way. The two friends kept looking at one another as they walked toward you, and it was clear that they felt unsure about approaching.

It wasn’t like you were purposely avoiding them, so to speak. But their worried texts were plentiful, and with everything that has happened, you pushed away from their coddling. Your responses were short, usually, something along the lines of “I’m fine” and “doing good”. Whether or not they trusted that you weren’t sure, but it kept them off your tail long enough for the time being.

Fake it till you make it, right?

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” you joke, opening your arms wide. “Come here.”

MJ and Ned smile at the gesture, quickly accepting the hug. It was definitely something all of you needed. You buried your face into their shoulders, happy to be with them again. Guilt pooled in your chest.

“I missed you guys… and I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting” you sigh.

MJ tightens her grip on you, snuggling her face closer to yours. “It��s okay. We get it. We were just worried is all.”

“Still, it was selfish of me to do.” You pull away, looking between the two. “This whole thing is not just about me. I should have been there for you guys too instead of pushing myself away.”

“Well, we’re here now. Whenever you’re ready, to talk or hang out, we’ll be there.” Ned offers, and a smile reaches your face.

God, your friends were amazing. You couldn’t bear to hurt them even more with your doom and gloom. They deserved someone that would be there for them and listen to their concerns, instead of hiding in their own pool of guilt.

You quickly shake your head before speaking. “Thanks, I think I’m gonna be okay, though. If you guys need more time that’s totally fine, but I’m good. Nothing has to be weird between all of us, we can just hang out like old times, you know?”

Your friends glance at one another, their eyebrows pulled slightly tighter.

“Well, if that’s how you feel, then I’m glad,” Ned says, looking back at MJ for reassurance. “But you know, it’s totally cool if you still need time. After all, it’s been a rough month.”

You bite your tongue back from replying, your jaw suddenly tense.

Yeah, no shit…

+++

He’s gone.

Oh my god he’s gone.

He’s actually dead.

If someone came and ripped your heart out of your chest, it would be painless compared to how you felt now. You continued to stare at Peter even after his eyes closed. If you continued to look at him, maybe you could still pretend that he was alive.

When the police showed, everything was a daze. The flashes of red and blue sirens drew a queasiness deep in your stomach. As the officers forced you to let go of the boy, their voices muddled into the air. You felt completely disassociated from the scene in front of you, and all you wanted to be held in Peter’s arms. There, you could pretend that everything was okay.

“They’re still breathing!”

The shout draws you back into current time, their words shooting a current throughout your body. It couldn’t be…

“Airways are clear, but his respiratory rate is dropping. Get him on the stretcher now. Don’t let him go into shock.”

Were you hearing all this right? Too many things were happening right now, and no one bothered to tell you anything. The police were pushing you away from the scene as if you were a random pedestrian, and you were ready to grab them by the throat and scream at them. When you see Peter getting lifted into the ambulance, his suit now more red than blue, that was the last straw.

You push your way through toward the paramedics. If they were taking him, you were going too. You were right behind the red and white doors before a hard shove comes to your chest, stopping you from coming any closer.

“Excuse me miss, this is private business,” what looked like an EMT said. “Stark Industries does not want anyone seeing this. I’m going to have to ask you to go back with the crowd.”

You stare dumbfounded; at least Ned was able to get a hold of him, but the fact that they were acting as if you weren’t a witness and Peter’s friend angered you even more. “No, you don’t get it, that’s my friend in there. I- I need to be with him if he’s still alive. Please I-“

“Look, as much as I’d like to believe that we were not told anything about other parties being involved. So, to keep this under wraps, we cannot let you ride with us. If you actually do know the patient, you can follow us and figure out your clearance there,” they finalize before walking away and jumping into the vehicle. You don’t even get a chance to breathe before they’re gone, and the only remnant of Peter was the stain on the street.

The EMT did have a point. If you wanted to keep Spider-Man’s identity a secret, you couldn’t draw attention to yourself. Slipping under the newly posted yellow tape, you’re swallowed into the shadows before the police even notice.

Now here you were, in a dirty subway car at ten in the evening. Being a teenage girl, this situation would normally terrify you (Seriously guys, no means no. Why are you even near us to begin with?), but luckily the murder scene on your dress and the hollow glare in your eyes drove most passengers away from you.

Staring into space, your brain tries to process everything that just happened in the past hour. You sprinted across the city to find your dying soulmate, only to find out he isn’t dead? Or at least, not yet. Based on his current state, it could still go either way.

Shouldn’t you be feeling hopeful? Or at least some sort of relief knowing that Peter has a chance? Your body internally cringes at the idea. Getting your hopes up wasn’t great; part of you always hoped for a happy ending with Peter and look where that got you.

All you could feel was dread, and it wasn’t much better than the heartbreak prior.

The car slows down as the rest of the passengers stand and walk toward the doors, but not without giving you a worrisome stare. You ignore their eyes as they pass by; you couldn’t care less about what they thought.

You look down at your hands and focus on blood caked under your nails, trying to rub the residue away. Some looked like it came off, but the red-brown still pigmented your skin. Chest tightening, you lean back in your seat and let your head knock back.

Peter’s blood was on your hands, both figuratively and literally.

---

A chill travels through your spine, bile working its way upward.

Was that really only a month ago?

The bell sounds, its ringing bringing you more despair than usual. Your conversation was brought to an end, MJ and Ned giving you a nod to signal their departure. They forced a smile your way, and you keep your calm composure even after they turn away.

Pulling the straps of your backpack closer, you take a deep breath before walking to class.

---

“First order of business: team captain. Miss Allan’s parting was unfortunate, but both she and I believe this team will do amazing at the international competition this summer. We just need a new captain.”

“Mr. Harrington, I’m honored-“

“Not you, Flash.”

You and Ned snicker under your breaths, earning your partner an elbow from Betty. MJ rolls her eyes at the two of you, but her smile gave away her amusement.

Decathlon was supposed to be done for the school year, but your team’s win at D.C. earned Midtown a spot at its international competition in Paris. You didn’t expect the school board to approve the trip, especially with the large expenses it ensued. But apparently, they found an anonymous donor.  

Though no one could figure out who would willingly spend tens of thousands of dollars for a kids’ trip to Europe, no one was complaining either, especially when they were paying to include an actual vacation with it. As ecstatic as everyone was about the opportunity, it also meant that you would soon be back to frequent practices. And as much as you enjoy this club, more work is never fun.

“After careful consideration of each of your prior performances, I’m happy to announce that our new captain will be none other than Michelle Jones.”

Harrington continued his announcements, but you already stopped paying attention. You nudge MJ after the scattered applause, mouth still agape.

“You didn’t tell me you were gonna be captain. Congrats!” you whispered.

“Well, to be honest, I didn’t know until just now. But I would have been pissed if I wasn’t.”

“And I would’ve had to listen to you complain about it, so it’s a win-win… can your first order be to rearrange the seating? I love Cindy, but sometimes she smells after gym.”

MJ scoffs. “Done, but it’s your fault if this all goes to my head.”

“Oh, I think it already has,”

“Yeah yeah, whatever. Just be quiet so I can listen.”

You roll your eyes as you let her turn away from you, grabbing your phone in the process.

You: Guess who the new captain is…

Liz: It better be MJ, I put in a good word for her and everything

You: It is lol. Good choice by the way, she’ll probably be a better captain than you

Liz: whatever 🙄

In the past month since she moved, the two of you found comfort in one another. Both of you fell in the direct line of fire, and as brutal as that was, it also meant that you weren’t alone.

+++

Lately, it seemed that your timing was nothing if not impeccable.

You speed walk to the cafeteria, breath getting heavier with each step. You’re usually one of the first in there, trying your best to beat the rush of students, but you just had to go to the bathroom beforehand. Amateur move, honestly…

Once you turn the corner, you stop in your tracks. Just ahead was Liz and her mom, both with boxes in hand. Her mom takes a right, most likely heading toward the office. All that was left was you and her, and the ten feet of tile in between.

“Hey,” you call out, gaining her attention. A tint of regret coats the air around you as you walk closer.

Where do you start, after everything that has happened?

“Liz, hey. What’s up?”

“Oh, hey. Nothing much, I’m just packing things from my locker and whatnot. My mom’s grabbing my file from the office, and after that we should be good, or whatever.” She sighs, looking down at her things.

“Wait, packing? Are you… are you going somewhere?”

“Yeah, my dad doesn’t want us to see him in trial. We’re moving all the way to Oregon tomorrow. My mom has family there… nice area apparently, or whatever,” She purses her lips. “New York allows prisoners to call as often as they want, so no worries there, plus I’m all set for college so I can more or less breeze through senior year.”

You nod. Though you suppose the situation could have been worse, it was evident that Liz was hiding all the struggles she just got handed. Maybe if you were closer, you’d be able to comfort her, or tell her what she needed to hear.

“Liz, you’ve probably gotten this a lot, but I’m really sorry about what went down. I can’t even imagine what that’s like.”

There’s a pause before she finds your face again. “I think you do though. Maybe not exactly the same as me, but you were part of this too.”

You tilt your head, confused at her words. Setting her things down, she slings her backpack around to her front, unzipping it to find what she was looking for. “Peter left this in my dad’s car, but something tells me it was meant for someone else. It’s a little wilted now, but I still think it looks nice.”

In her hand was the rose that Peter had the night of the homecoming dance. You were so annoyed when you saw it. However, this time was different. You were not sure what you felt, but you were grateful nonetheless.

You take the flower from her, admiring the purple-red petals. Underneath, a card was tied around:

A rose for a rose.

You might not be my date, but can I SWING BY for a dance?

You let out a quiet scoff. If the pun didn’t give it away, the web doodles might have.

“You think I would’ve figured it out sooner,” Liz shrugged.

“If it’s any consolation, I didn’t realize until it was right in front of my face," you joked back, earning a smile.

“I won’t tell anyone, by the way. He was just trying to do the right thing, and it’s not my secret to tell anyways.”

You nod at the gesture, relieved that things were not getting any messier. Not as much as they could, at least.

“I’m sorry too by the way…” she starts. “if I got in the way of you and Peter.”

You shake your head. “No no, it’s fine. Really. That was Peter’s choice to do that. I even told you we weren’t soulmates, so…“

“Yeah, well, I could tell that wasn’t the whole truth. Or at least, I couldn’t believe that it was the truth.” When you don’t reply, she continues on. “Obviously, I don’t know the whole story, or maybe even half of it, but almost everyone thought you two were soulmates before you even said anything. That’s gotta mean something, right?”

You pause for a moment. For someone who was only two years older, she was a lot wiser than you imagined. “Yeah, maybe it does… I don’t know, it’s just so complicated, you know?”

“I can only imagine.” She offers a smile. “But assuming he’s okay, wherever he is, I think it’d be a lot less complicated if you were in it together.”

With that, the conversation seemed to be over. You both knew that you weren’t really friends, but there was still a connection there. What happened homecoming night created a bond between you, a burning ember in a pile of ash. Everything died down, but there are still remnants that continued to burn.

If you guys chose to, you could let that memory die with the rest of the fire. But you could also choose to keep it alive and learn something from it.

Liz clears her throat, breaking the silence. “Looks like my mom’s ready, so I should go catch up. Thanks for saying goodbye.”

“Well, thanks for the mini therapy session. Hopefully, Oregon treats you better. If you wanna, you can text me once you’re all settled. We can talk, or whatever you want, really. Doesn’t even have to be about this.”

Her eyes light up at the offer, surprised at the generosity. “Yeah. I’d really like that. Thanks.”

You watch as she grabs her stuff from the floor and walk down the hall. The two of you send each other one last wave before parting ways, but you don’t move from your spot. Not until she was fully out of sight.

When she’s completely gone, you think about her words again. Maybe it would be easier.

Or maybe it’s just a faster route to trouble.

---

“You, me, Catacombs of Paris. It’s been on my list for years, and we are not missing out on that.” MJ declares, interrupting your daze. You didn’t even realize the meeting was over, most of the group already filing out of the library. “Jeez, how deep was your conversation with your pen pal? You look like you just woke up.”

You huff as you stood up from your seat. “How do you even know it’s her? Could’ve been my mom checking up on me.”

“Well, whenever you and Liz text, which is pretty regularly now, you get that weird crease between your eyebrows, and something tells me you’re not thinking that hard when you’re answering, ‘how are you’ from your parents.”

“You know, I think someone’s a little jealous that I have other girl friends to talk to.” You joke, checking her shoulder. “Any other creepy spots you’re forcing me to go to?”

Your friend’s face lights up, relishing at the opportunity to talk about her interests. You knew she had hours' worth of knowledge on the subject, and it gave you the chance to avoid talking about yourself. It wasn’t easy to distract MJ, but you had your ways.

It was easy to distract yourself from your current situation with Liz. After all, she was more or less doing the same thing. Your relationship was symbiotic; One of you would talk about your problems so the other could take their focus away from theirs, and vice versa. Mutual therapy, as you both called it.

The bonding made you feel safe. You made a friend and found someone that would need time to heal too.

At least, that’s what you thought.

For the last few conversations or so, the tone has taken a rather lighthearted turn. Liz started her new semester at Oregon a week earlier than Midtown, and she was already coming for the title of Ms. Popular. Though, with her being a hot, new senior, you shouldn’t have been surprised.

She was using her mom’s name for more privacy and was basically starting fresh. Liz even said she could still go to NYU if things died down after the trial. You were ecstatic for her, of course. She was incredibly strong for taking her life into her own hands and making the best of what happened, yet deep down you still couldn’t help but feel frustrated. In the end, even the people that have it worse still find ways to turn it around.

Your stomach turns. Maybe it wasn’t time that was the issue.

Maybe it was you.

---

Life’s kind of funny. Less than a year ago, you thought meeting the Avengers would be impossible. The only time you ever saw them was on the news or some badly edited PSA. For you, they seemed more fictional rather than real.

Now here you were, in the same car that Tony freaking Stark uses, being driven to the one and only Avengers Facility.

Despite the news about the Sokovia Accords, and the infamous “Civil War”, as they coined it, the building continued to stand tall and proud. The squeaky-clean windows and trimmed hedges were simply another reminder of how this lifestyle was beyond you.

Peter has been staying here for the past few weeks so the doctors could track his progress in private. With his mutated DNA and dangerous alien technology, they wanted to make sure there was not any permanent damage to his systems. Though this caused him to miss the rest of the semester, he knew it was for the best.

Despite taking a nasty hit, his super healing got him back on his feet, more or less. Just a few hours of physical therapy and some tests were enough to get Peter back to full mobility. However, he was still advised by the doctors to take things slow. Just because he could move doesn’t mean he should so soon.

This was the fourth or so trip here, yet every visit still felt like the first. All of this was so overwhelming, but you try not to let it show as you walk through the glass door. When you couldn’t find Peter in his room, your panic started to become visible.

Finding one guy in a 300,000 square foot building? How hard could it be?

Answer: not impossible, but still rather embarrassing.

After a few wrong turns here and there, you eventually made it to what seemed to be your destination. You wound up in a gym twice the size of your school’s. It had every piece of equipment one could need to train for a life-or-death mission, and you were struck with awe once again.

Your attention quickly focuses on the sounds of leather on leather. Across the gym was a boxing ring, holding none other than Tony Stark and your best friend.

The two didn’t notice you yet, so you took your time heading closer. Peter was in deep focus, his grey shirt tightening around him every time he threw a punch. Sweat covered the top half of the fabric as his curls brushed his forehead, and you could feel your throat drying up at his appearance.

You would have shown up earlier all those other times if you meant you got to see this…

“Y/N! Hey!” Peter greets when he finally sees you. “Sorry, I should’ve texted you that I was still in here. Guess I lost track of time.”

You wave it off. “Don’t worry about it. Looked like you were doing some good work.”

“Yeah, I sure hope so. Did you know the only fighting knowledge he had before this was from movies?” Tony interrupted, pointing a glove at the guilty party.

“Hey c’mon, Rocky is a solid resource,” He defended. “You ever seen it?”

The billionaire paused, mentally going through the five stages of grief. “Yeah kid, I think we’re done here. He’s all yours.”

“Sounds good,” You respond, turning back to Peter. “Something tells me you might need to freshen up before we start studying, so I’ll just meet you in your room. If I can find it, that is…”

The boy nods, feeling extra gross and sticky now that you brought it up. You send the two a small wave before walking out of the gym, trying your best to retrace your steps. Peter watches you until you vanish, to which Tony raises an eyebrow.

Maybe it was just him, but the spiderling was rather obvious with his emotions.

“Normally I’d say, ‘don’t do anything I wouldn’t do’, but clearly you don’t listen to that,” He says, snapping Peter back into reality. “Just keep it in your room, alright? Last thing I need is to spray this whole place with disinfectant.”

Peter’s mouth parts, slightly uncomfortable at his mentor’s words. “What? No, it’s not like that at all. She’s just helping me with all the schoolwork I’ve missed.”

Tony immediately stops, punching pads half on. “That- that’s it? You get a second chance at life, and all you’re doing is studying?”

He shrugs. “Well, you know, I haven’t taken my finals yet-“

“Finals that you can pass if you just study the night before like a normal kid.” He walks closer to Peter. “You escape the jaws of death and the one thing you want to do is study? What happened to you teenagers and wanting to ‘live a little’?” He mumbles the last part, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t use this experience as an excuse to shy away. I’m not saying go off and be reckless, but at least have a little fun, yeah? Do what you want.”

From one man who had a near-death experience (or several) to another, maybe he had a point. But then again, if you try to sacrifice yourself multiple times, you must be more than okay with the thought of leaving this world and the people you care about.

Tony finally finishes packing up, while Peter was still in the ring, contemplating.

“She’s a good one,” he shouts to the boy, getting his attention. “Might even like her more than you.” He pauses, realizing how that sounded. “No offense, of course.”

The boy’s face sours as Tony keeps walking. “Some taken… oh and hey! I know it was you that paid for the Europe trip!”

“Nope! Wrong billionaire!” He swings the door open, turning around to look at Peter. “But uh, I think there’s a light festival the same weekend you’re in Prague. You should check it out.”

“Uh-huh…” he grins, playing along.

+++

Thanks to his powers, Peter’s hands always got extra sticky when he was nervous. So, when Mr. Stark called him to come to his office a week or so after the incident, he tried his best to keep his hands to himself.

“Hey, Mr. Stark. You wanted to see me or something?” he asked, awkwardly shuffling through the door.

Tony looks up from his phone and nods at Peter. “Kid, hey. How you feelin’?”

“Oh, well I’m actually doing pretty goo-“

“That’s great,” Tony interrupts. “Anyways, here you go.”

He slides a paper bag toward the boy, to which Peter responds by checking his surroundings. Was this a test? Because there are some major drug deal vibes happening right now.

“What the heck are you doing, kid? Just take the damn bag.”

Peter snaps back to the man and quickly snatches it off the desk. He peeks inside and is shocked when he sees the bright red and blue suit. He clutches the bag closer, afraid it would be stripped away from him a second time.

“You- you’re giving it back to me?” Peter grins.

“Well, it didn’t really teach you anything when I took it away, so I might as well just give it back. Plus, your other one looks ridiculous compared to this.”

His smile falls a little, and Tony quickly backtracks for clarification.

“What I mean is that you did good work. I didn’t believe in you after the ferry incident, but you were determined. You followed your heart and ended up catching the guy. However, you also ended up getting shish kabobbed and almost died, which isn’t as good.” Stark mumbles the last part, getting a little off track. “I told you before that if something happened to you, that it would be on me. But if you won’t listen to me then… I guess I have to mentor you, and make sure you know what you’re doing.”

Peter’s eyes widen. “As in…”

“Training every morning. We can practice using all your suit’s abilities along with combat in case you’re stuck without it. We’ll track your health and progress to make sure you’re not pushing it. Last thing we need is you showing off and hurting yourself.”

“Yeah, got it.” He replies, mouth agape. “I- thank you, Mr. Stark.”

He couldn’t believe it. This was all happening so fast. A few days ago, he thought he was supposed to be dead on the sidewalk. Now, everything seemed to be going well. Maybe too well? How was Mr. Stark so calm about it?

“Well, to be honest, you shouldn’t be thanking me. It was your girlfriend that pretty much convinced me to do this. Y/N or something?”

He cocks his head. “Wait, Y/N? What do you mean?”

“We met at the hospital when you were under surgery.” He shrugs. “Kept telling me how you were a good kid who was going to help the city at all costs, that you were soulmates and this was doomed to happen, you should get another chance, etcetera etcetera,” He dismisses with his hands. “It was pretty moving, really. She really believes in you, so I thought I should do the same.”

Peter tries to keep a neutral face, but this information made his mind go even faster than before. You never mentioned that you met Mr. Stark, much less had an actual conversation with him. With all the crap he’s pulled on you, you still said all that. And to an Avenger, no less.

He doesn’t comment about Mr. Stark’s confession, only giving him another thanks followed with a goodbye. From the looks of it, Tony was rather done with the conversation anyways. He leaves as awkwardly as he came in.

As Peter walks back to his room, he notices the air around him feels lighter. Fresher, even. He smiles at the thought.

For the first time, in a very long time, Peter was optimistic for the future.

---

Never mind, maybe he should have died that night.

Studying was a far worse punishment.

Peter groans and buries his face deeper into his pillow, a string of obscenities following shortly after. You turn and frown at the sight. Sure, you weren’t any better during finals week, but this was just sad.

“C’mon dude,” you said as you shook his shoulder. “Get up. We’re almost done with this.”

He groans louder at your comment. “Too much work. Math isn’t even real.”

You shake your head in amusement. “Yeah okay. Tell that to Gonzales, I’m sure you’ll keep your number two spot after that.” You snort, not registering Peter’s shock as he propped himself up.

“Two? Don’t you mean one?”

Shit. “I mean, not exactly. Finals week happened a little bit ago. Grades change, you know?”

“Okay…” He gives you a look. “Well, then who scored high enough to beat me?”

Your lips tighten, but your silence, in turn, answers his question.

“No…” Peter realizes. “You- no….”

“Pete-“

“You’re first now? You took my freaking spot?”

Your mouth hangs open trying to think of a proper response and your friend scoffs. “Wow,” he says, shaking his head. “After all this time, I didn’t realize my best friend would become my enemy. Now I actually have to try.”

“Ouch. A nice congrats or something would have been nice, you know,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “Whatever, at least I’m being nice and trying to help.”

“Help? Or sabotage?” Peter smirks, sitting up. Stiff from his previous meltdown position, he clasps his hands together and stretches his arms upward. He doesn’t get very far before he flinches back down, hands now gripping his side as he quietly whimpers.

You immediately assume the worst as you turn closer to Peter, but he shakes his head, a sign telling you it’s nothing serious. He takes a few more deep breaths before looking at you, now sheepish.

“Sorry bout that. I think I overdid today,” he explained, gently rubbing his abdomen.

“Peter…” you pout. “Thought the whole point of you being here was so that you wouldn’t overdo it.”

“Yeah yeah, I know. I didn’t think a late-night workout would cause too much trouble,” he says, and your eyebrows furrow, disappointment evident. Peter slumps further down, throwing his hands up. “I won’t do it again, okay? It’s my last weekend here, anyways. I’ll take it easy for the next few days. Promise.” He then offers his pinkie to you, and you accept it with a sigh.

Your eyes wander down his chest, stopping at the top of his waist. You’ve never actually seen it, the wound and the scar that it left. At least, not since the incident. Your chest tightens at the thought. It was so bloody, and dirty, and just plain gross.

It was supposed to be the end of him, the end of everything you had. And now here he was, studying for a calculus test.

How was all that a month ago?

“Does it always hurt?” you ask before you could stop yourself. Peter follows your stare before looking at you again.

“Nah, just sometimes,” he starts with a small shrug. “It’s usually a dull ache every now and then, but it hurts more right now, cause, you know…” He looks away in shame. “Speaking of, I need to put this cream stuff on before I forget, supposed to keep it clean and help with the healing. I forgot to put it on after training.” He leans forward to grab the tube off his desk, and you could tell the easy motion was rather painful.

“I could do it if you want,” you offer, eyes widening immediately afterward. The two of you have been keeping physical distance between one another, and now here you were, basically asking to caress him. “I mean- if you think it would be easier.”

He takes a moment to think before giving a small nod, not saying anything as he hands you the cream. You both seem unsure of this, but you slowly grab the tube anyways. You take your time unscrewing the cap, giving Peter a chance to change his mind. When you look back up, he’s already staring at you, waiting for your next move.

You scooch closer toward Peter, and the air starts to get thicker. Tense. One wrong move could ruin this whole thing. You cringe at the thought. It’s not that deep, you tried to rationalize.

But this was Peter. Every small action meant something more.

Fisting the bottom of his t-shirt, you bring it to his chest to reveal the scar. You let out a shaky breath, looking at the newly exposed skin. It was the same as the last time you saw it: You could still see the tinges of pink under the lights, and his chest was still firm. But now all that was blemished with a horrid red line on his right.

That fucking scar. If looks could kill, your stare could probably reopen the wound that was once there. It makes you so frustrated to know the memory still stains his body. Peter once mentioned that his powers speed up his healing process, but marks like these last a lifetime for normal people, so you imagined that if it were to go away, it wouldn’t be for years.

You shake the thoughts from your head as you squeeze the cream onto your fingers, using your thumb to warm it up. Shifting your weight forward, you lean in even closer to him and gently touch Peter’s skin. The contact causes him to tense at first, but he eventually softens under your touch as you massage in the substance.

Peter doesn’t take his eyes off you. He watches how softly your fingers graze his scar, and how his skin was burning at the contact. It reminds him of that weekend: The hungry kisses, the skin on skin after you took your shirts off. Even when you were pulling him for more, you were never rough. You let him dip his toes first, making sure he was doing what he wanted.

Mr. Stark’s words come back to him. Live a little… have some fun… do what you want…

And right now, Peter thinks he wants more.

He sits up straighter (or at least as much as he could) and brings his hand up toward you, tracing your jaw with his fingertips. His thumb rubs the center of your cheek, bringing your focus away from his scar. You don’t realize how close the two of you are until you face him again. Peter’s stare flickers between your eyes and mouth, and you swallow hard. Though his touch was warm, your mind was frozen.

Were you supposed to do something? What did Peter want? Your questions were soon answered as he started to close the distance between you, ever so slowly. And though a part of you wanted to meet him halfway, memories cloud your head.

Blood.

Rubble.

Tears.

Peter holding on for dear life.

Fear shooting through your veins.

With a sharp inhale, you put your weight on your palms and back away. Peter stays where he is, his body a few seconds behind. After a few seconds, he lowers his hand down as concern floods his eyes.

“I- I should go,” you announce. Pushing yourself off the bed, you quickly pack your stuff away, not bothering to check if you got everything.

“I thought we were going to study more-“

“Just look up some practice problems online and you should be good. The curve helps a lot too.” You zip your backpack. “You’ll be fine without me.”

Peter fumbles for an excuse. “Well, it’s getting late, though. Wouldn’t you rather spend the night like last weekend?”

“No, it’s cool. Happy said they always have a driver on call just in case. Might as well put use them,” you shrug. “Anyways, bye!”

You quickly slam the door behind you, and Peter cringes at the sound. What the hell just happened? He brings his palms to his eyes with a heavy sigh. The last thing he wanted was for things to be awkward, yet he still managed to drive you out of his room and onto a two-hour car ride instead. Did he misread the situation that bad?

Meanwhile, you were still on the other side of the door, eyes wide. Did you really just do that? You were always so upset when Peter didn’t communicate with you, but now you were no better. You turn back to face the door, hand on the doorknob, yet the turn never came. Eventually, you let go and back away, and pull out your phone before turning the corner and out of the hallway.

At that same moment, Peter decided to stand up and follow you. Even if you wanted to leave, he didn’t want all his feelings to go unsaid. He pushes through the soreness and reaches the door, yanking it open.

He sticks his head out into the hall, but he doesn’t see you. Peter’s frame shrinks. A big part of him wanted to chase you, to see if he could catch up before you had the chance to go, but if you were already so far gone, it must be for a reason. With a frown, he slowly shuts his door, hoping that maybe you’ll come back before the click.

You never do.

Sleep never comes to you that night, thoughts about a brown-haired superhero circling your head. You knew that leaving was not the best idea. And not turning back when you had the chance was also not the greatest call. But at that moment, the idea of confronting your fears and worries seemed so much worse.

Grabbing your pillow, you smother yourself as you let out a quiet scream. By the time you uncover your face, you can already see the sun.

---

Neither of you mentions that night. Not that you were purposely avoiding the topic. In fact, you wanted to apologize for your abrupt exit, and maybe talk about what was going on between you two, but there was never a good time to do so.

Peter’s reappearance was not going as smooth as you thought it would. No offense to the boy, but you didn’t think many people would notice he was gone. But with the lack of Spider-Man sightings, and all the chaos surrounding homecoming weekend, people were chatty.

The first day he came back to school, Flash kept asking what happened to the friendly neighborhood hero. Poor Peter tried his best to blubber an excuse about him having a mission out of the country, but that just confused his classmates even more.

Others were asking why he missed all those weeks of school, which caused him to create an elaborate lie about having an extended family in Europe. It took everything for MJ not to outright laugh at the scene, which you later scolded her about.

Combine that and all the work he needs to catch up on, you thought it would be best to wait a little longer.

Eventually, Friday rolls around and all of you have survived another week. You, Peter, Ned, and MJ were talking around your locker before school when Ned claps his hands together, a lightbulb turning on in his head.

“Oh, dude! Now that we’re all here, we should all play some D&D!” He grins, getting giddier by the second. “We finally have a good amount of people, plus it’ll be a good way to have Betty get to know you all better as a group. I got this new book for Christmas and I’ve been planning a campaign for weeks. Spoiler alert: it’s awesome!” He quickly spits out, looking toward the group for a response.

Turns out Betty and Ned were soulmates, though no one knew until recently. Except for MJ, of course. When she gossiped about it homecoming night, Ned spilled all the beans.

They found out a few weeks after D.C., but though the two of them were pleased with the pairing, Betty didn’t feel ready to go into a relationship. Ned was accepting of this, being the sweetie he is, and the two of them are slowly building a friendship, though they are quite affectionate with one another. It was adorable, and slightly jealousy-inducing all at once.

MJ crinkles her nose. “I suppose I could try it. No promises that I’ll enjoy it, though.”

Ned, Peter, and you all stare at one another before bursting into laughter. Your amusement confuses MJ, but she doesn’t interrupt the moment.

“Oh Michelle,” you begin, grabbing her by the shoulder. “You are in for a world of fun.”

“Does that mean you’re in?” Ned points to you.

“Of course, dude! You’re the best Dungeon Master around. That, and your mom always has tons of snacks for us whenever we play.”

“I’ll take what I can get, I guess,” he scoffs. “Should we plan for tomorrow or something? I need to add a few more details and Betty should be free then too.”

“I’m good.”

“Same here.”

“Actually, I can’t. I’m busy.”

The three of you turn to Peter, who shrinks down in size and offers a shy smile.

“C’mon Pete. I get you have a lot of catching up to do but I’m sure a small game break wouldn’t kill you,” you said.

“No no, I get that.” He shakes his head. “It’s just that I was gonna start patrolling this weekend… “ he explains, and your blood runs cold. “But you guys go on and play without me, I promise to join next time.”

Ned nods, the three of them continuing to talk like normal, but you stay silent, keeping your eyes in Peter’s direction. Patrolling? How come he never told you about this?

It’s five minutes before class when MJ and Ned decide to leave, heading to their first period history together. Peter decides to go to class too, but you grab his arm before he gets the chance to turn away.

“Are you seriously going out? What happened to taking it easy?” you hissed. Though your tone was rather snippy, deep down you were terrified for Peter. Sure, he was fine now, maybe even better with all his training, but was he ready to go back out?

Were you ready for him to go back out?

“I’ve been taking it easy for a week, and people are starting to get suspicious. I don’t know if I can make it through another one of Flash’s confrontations without getting caught,” he sighs. “Look, can we just talk about this later? Class is about to start.”

You scoff. “You’re just trying to avoid the subject.”

“No, I’m not. I just don’t want to hear you lecture me when I’m already heading to one. And besides, I already know what you’re gonna say so what does it matter?”

“You literally just described ‘avoiding the subject’,” you bite back, concern turning into frustration. “Nothing good happens when we don’t talk, Pete.”

“Oh really? Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah dude, I’m pretty sure. That’s kinda how a friendship works.”

“Right. Friendship…” A pause. Peter’s face hardens as he looks at you. “Fine, let’s talk: why didn’t you kiss me?” he asks, jaw clenched.

Your hand lets go of his arm and falls slack. When you said you wanted to bring up the almost-kiss, you didn’t mean now. Why was he turning this on you?

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, if I can’t avoid the subject, then you can’t either.”

You shake your head. This was not the time to talk about this. He takes your silence as an answer and moves a step back.

“I’m going out. Tonight,” he announces. “I’m not waiting around.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to reply before he turns around and walks away. The action surprises you; Peter was never the one to walk away. If he was, it was because there was a danger that he needed to tend to.

This time, he willingly chose to.

You mull over what he said before he left. I’m not waiting around. He said it with such conviction. It almost sounded like he wasn��t talking about Spider-Man.

He was talking about you.

+++

You didn’t realize the Avengers had their own private hospital section, but considering their job description, you shouldn’t be surprised.

The stale, air-conditioned air of the hospital welcomed you the minute you entered. Goosebumps prickled your exposed arms as the atmosphere around you shifted.

Yeah, you really didn’t like hospitals. Especially now.

The nurses didn’t know anything of you or your involvement either, so they couldn’t let you go past the designated waiting room, leaving you all alone in a stuffy room. You’ve been staring at the fish tank for the last five minutes, waiting for someone to at least come in and talk to you.

Ugh, fuck this.

You texted MJ and Ned the news about Peter, which was a rather chaotic conversation. You promised you would let them know the whole story soon, but now didn’t feel like the time. Not when your other half may or may not be alive.

When you left the school, Ned spammed Stark Industries with emergency messages, which finally got Tony Stark’s attention. You overheard some nurses at the desk talking, and apparently, he was somewhere in the building, talking down a woman. You had no doubt that it was May.

God, if you thought you’ve been through it, you couldn’t imagine how she felt. To find out your nephew, who was basically your son, is a crime-fighting superhero is one thing. To find out he was almost killed and is currently fighting for his life all in one night is another. You were surprised her head didn’t explode right then and there.

Another ten minutes pass by before May comes out from the patient area, eyes red and completely distraught. Tony Stark was close behind her, holding the door open as May’s crouched figure passes through.

You stare at the two of them and accidentally make eye contact with the billionaire. He sends you a nod before heading back to the hospital rooms, like it was the only safe thing to do. The anger from before quickly disappeared; at least you weren’t the only one in shock.

“Oh, Y/N,” May says when she spots you. “I didn’t know you’d be here. It’s super late, I think it’s safer if you went back home. I don’t want your parents to worry. Do you need me to call and talk to them? I can take you home if you need me to.”

“May, you don’t-“

“I mean it’s probably best if I go do something. I don’t think I can sit here for very long without pulling my hair out.”

“May-“

“This is all just hitting me so hard. I mean, how did I not even realize this? I feel so stupid. God, the nerve of Tony to pull this. I should have never trusted him-“

“It’s my fault, May.” You snap, ceasing her rambles. “I did this… I fucking caused all of this. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what to do and one thing led to another and… I killed him. I killed Peter. I am so sorry, May. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

May doesn’t respond right away, still processing everything you said. Her shoulders slump down slightly as she cocks her head. Out of all the news she got tonight, this one confused her the most. But as she focused on you and your shivering body, she realized she wasn’t the only one that had a rough night.

She takes your hands. “Let’s talk, alright?”

The next fifteen minutes were spent by you blubbering about everything. The soulmate memory, his Spider-Man secret, how you tried to keep apart, and how you found him downtown. You skip over the rather intimate parts, knowing it was probably not going to help May. Your face is red and splotchy by the end of it, and a handful of tissues covered the small table next to you.

May doesn’t say a word until you’re done. Though a nice gesture, her silence was more due to her complete shock.

“I am so fucking sorry, May,” you whisper at the end. “I should have told you, or someone, at least. It’s just that, it was Peter’s life on the line. I didn’t want to do anything and hurt him. I thought it was best if he made the call, but look where that got us.” You wipe your eyes and look away. The guilt was unbearable. May was nothing but caring to you, and you repay her by killing her nephew.

“God... I knew Peter was having a rough time, I always heard him at weird hours of the night, but I thought it was just school or something. I’ve always checked on him, but he would always say he’s busy.” She shakes her head. “I don’t blame you, though. I mean, I’m not exactly happy this all went down the way it did, but I can’t be mad at you for at least trying to save him, even when it hurt to.”

You sniffle at her words, trying to suppress any more tears. “He still got hurt, though. Peter being my soulmate cost him his life…” you whisper the last word.

May offers a sympathetic smile as she smooths your hair. “You know, people say the reason for soulmates is to be with someone you love forever, but it never takes into account some people’s forever is shorter than others,” she explains. “When Ben died… I was so angry at the world. Why give me this amazing person if I only got them for a short time? Sure, the world can give me another soulmate or something, but it almost defeats the purpose… makes it seem that I had to have this one soulmate before I had to a ‘real’ soulmate. Even after all this time, part of me will always want him…

“But even if Ben isn’t with me forever, I was with him for his forever, and I found a way to be okay with that. I gave him all the love I possibly could have, and I have no doubt in my head that it was worth it.”

You smile and nod at her words, but she could tell you weren’t completely getting the point. “You and Peter are great together, friendship or more. There’s no way he regrets spending his time with you, and I don’t think you do either. The two of you always had something special. Don’t push away from that, even if it might seem easier.”

You find May’s hands and give a firm squeeze, a silent way of saying thanks. For months, you have been trying to go for easy: less drama, fewer risks… but it was still a whole lot of pain. And for what? Never getting to be with your best friend in the way you truly wanted? May made it seem like the choice was obvious, and you wondered if it actually was.

A few quiet minutes pass until Tony Stark steps into the waiting room and approaches the two of you. You and May quickly stand up, waiting for the worst. You already experienced Peter’s “death”, you didn’t need to go through it again, especially if it’s real this time.

“Is he going to be okay?” May quickly asks, hands close to her chest, protecting herself from any hidden blows.

Tony’s mouth tightens before answering. “More or less…” he starts, looking down before continuing. “The wound was deep, and if he couldn’t heal as fast as he could, this would be a different story. However, it was still caused by dangerous, alien hybrid technology and he was already in a rough state prior to the… stab.” He cringes at the word. “Scrapes and bruises, a broken rib, some significant brain injury… Dr. Cho is doing the best she can, but as of right now, he’s in a comatose state.”

You gulp at the news. “So, what does that mean? When will he wake up?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“But- but he will wake up, right?” you clarify.

A pause. Tony’s jaw ticks. His eyes quickly leave you before blinking and meeting yours again, but you notice it. The doubt behind them.

“I don’t know…”

---

It’s almost midnight, which means you’ve spent the whole night worrying.

You were out on the fire escape freezing your ass off. It would only take ten steps maximum to grab something warm, but the bite of the wind kept you alert.

You weren’t going to leave until you knew Peter was safe.

He barely talked to you since this morning. He sat near Ned at lunch instead of you and took different routes to class. You texted him a few times throughout the day, but he never replied.

So, when you sent a message checking in on him with no response back, you weren’t sure if it was him ignoring you or that he was in danger. You let out a sigh of worry as your breath dissolved into the night.

You never realized how nice your view was. The most use your window got was when Peter came in, but that hasn’t happened for months. It’s crazy that you consider that a simpler time in your relationship.

Your ears focus on the sounds of the city. The bustling noises often brought you comfort, knowing that there were thousands of people going through the motions of life. Tonight, however, it sent a feeling of loneliness to your veins. New York kept going on while you were wallowing and worrying. It didn’t need you, even though you needed them.

A sudden urge to cry makes your throat tightens. You really hope that Peter was alright.

When you check the time again, you saw that a new day began. You decide to shove your phone back in your pocket. Watching the clock every ten seconds wasn’t going to help.

You sigh, maybe you’ll feel different today. Maybe you’ll feel warmer because holy shit is it cold outside. At what temperature does hypothermia kick in? That seems like a question to Google, not experiment.

You’re about to turn back when you hear a soft thwip, and a Peter hanging outside down on the stairs. You weren’t too sure how he was feeling at the moment, his covered eyes not giving any hints, but you send a soft smile nonetheless.

“I’m not a damsel in distress if that’s what you’re thinking,” you break the ice.

Peter turns himself right side up, taking a seat on the railing next to you. He pulls his mask off and drops it in his lap, and you can see his face isn’t as icy as this morning. But his mouth was pulled tight, unsure how to go about this.

“I’d consider frostbite to be a crime,” he shrugs. Luckily, you had your window open this whole time. With a quick webshot, Peter sticks and catches the sweater hanging on your chair before offering it to you. “Especially if Spider-Man can stop it.”

You bite your cheek. Part of you didn’t want to give in, but there was no way you could last another minute out here. Slowly, you grabbed your sweater, your fingers grazing the fabric of his suit. A way of saying thank you.

“Slow day?” you ask, pulling the sweater over your head. The extra layer was already warming you up, and your body relaxes a little.

“Well, considering the biggest thing I did today was helping tourists find their way to the subway, I’ll let you figure that out,” he laughs. “Though I suppose some good work is better than no work at all. At least the city knows I’m back.”

Peter realizes that the last sentence wasn’t a good idea, your face slightly dropping at his words. He tries to keep talking in hopes of distracting you. “So uh, any reason why you’re out here tonight?”

“I was waiting for you. Couldn’t sleep until I knew you were safe, I guess.” you sigh, looking back at the skyline. “I also wanted to apologize, for how I reacted. Even if I didn’t agree with you, I could have at least listened to you.”

Peter awkwardly nods, guilt surfacing at your confession. “I mean, I could have done the same thing too. I was so focused on the dumb rumors I let Flash get into my head. That was my first mistake,” he jokes, causing you to snort. “I’m not trying to get into myself into any death matches anytime soon, but I still want to help out, you know?”

“Always the hero… I learned that back in D.C.,” you sigh. “I guess I’m still trying to figure things out. Everything just feels weird right now, and I don’t think I’m making it any easier.”

He doesn’t say anything and faces back toward the city. He takes a breath of the city, smelling the mix of laundry detergent from your apartment basement and the exhaust from the streets.

For all his life, Peter was dedicated to New York. He loved going to the museums with May and Ben; he always tried to pay street performers with whatever spare change he had in his pocket; he rolled his eyes every time someone brought up New Jersey; most importantly, he wouldn’t take off the suit until he knew his home was safe, even if it was almost morning.

He’s done everything he could to protect his neighborhood and the people who need it most, yet he feels… almost distant from it all. As if Peter was trying to find something more to it. A faint memory passes through his head- what did Ben use to say all those years ago? Something like, “home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling”?

Peter’s brain sticks to the thought.

Suddenly, the last month hits him.

“I thought of you,” he starts, still looking out into the night. “When it happened, all I could think about was you.”

Your face softens as the beating of your heart becomes audible.

“I was so… angry about it all. I was so pissed off at myself. Even if I knew that was gonna happen, even if I knew or thought I guess, that that was the end, I was an idiot for not spending my time with you. I should’ve used whatever time I had trying to be something more to you, instead of pushing away what we already had. At least if I did die, I would be at peace with everything,” he chokes up a little at the end. “You’re my best friend, and one that somehow gets me. This place is my home and I’d do anything for it.” He turns his head closer. “But it’s nothing without you. Life feels complicated, it’s always been complicated… but I think it’d be easier if we were in it together.”

You bite your lip and pick at the skin. They’ve been chapped since you came out, but it didn’t stop you from using it to cope with your nerves. Peter was laying it all out on the table, and you were the one left silent.

“You don’t have to tell me why we didn’t kiss, it’s completely understandable if you rather just let it go. I’ve pushed you away too many times, it’s only fair you get to do the same at least once. But I want you to know this.” His eyes were bright under the moonlight.

The last hurrah.

“I would keep you in any possible way I could. I told myself that I need to be able to do what I want, and I want you, for however long I can get you,” he sighs. “If you’re not ready for that, okay. If you never want that- fuck – that’s okay too. I love you. I will always love you,” he says, passion dripping from his words and into your heart. “If you could wait for me, I can wait for you too. Whenever you’re ready, just say when. I don’t care what I’m doing, or where I am, I’m always going to be here with you. Even if you don’t want me, I’ll be here.”

I’ll be here…

+++

It took five days for Peter to wake up.

Five days of nonstop worrying and utter stress. Five days of you traveling to the hospital first thing after school until your parents texted you to come home. Five days of you not sleeping because you were waiting for the call, and you had no idea what to expect when it did.

The first day was somewhat bearable. May and you slept in the waiting room that night, and when you woke up, which was about four hours later, she took you home. Sitting in a sticky, vinyl chair was not helping you, and if May had to wait there for another minute, she was afraid she’d have another meltdown.

You were still a little numb from it all by the time you got back. It wasn’t until almost midnight that you started to realize, oh shit, you don’t know when Peter will wake up. If… he’ll ever wake up.

That first night you cried in your bed until the morning. Your face was swollen for the rest of the day, and when your parents came back on the second day, they were panicking that you had an allergic reaction.

You told May not to tell them. They didn’t need to know, and they didn’t need to coddle and worry about you. May, who didn’t exactly think it was a good idea, reluctantly agreed anyways. So, when your parents were fussing about your appearance, you laughed it off and told them you watched The Notebook the night before with some friends.

It was just easier that way.

The second day was spent with you wallowing in your room, waiting by your phone for something. May told you she would keep you updated and that you shouldn’t worry, which both of you knew was just empty advice. Hearing nothing was just as bad as hearing something.

Later that day, MJ sent a few news articles about the Vulture and his arrest. Apparently, his suit gave out not too long after he left the scene, causing him to suffer some internal injuries and harsh burns. He got caught by Stark Industries and was arrested quickly after, and is currently awaiting trial. It was likely that Adrian Toomes would be under bars for a while, and that brought you both relief and guilt as you tried to sleep.

The third day sent you to school, and at least gave you something to focus on. The tension between you and your friends was palpable, but no one bothered to address it, not sure where to even go. The only mention of that night was with Liz in the hallway before she left, and that was enough for you.

You went back to the hospital on the third day (after telling your parents you were staying at school for newspaper), and though there was nothing new about Peter’s condition, you still wanted to be there just in case. May was too busy with work to come in unless there was an emergency, and you hope that brought her more relief than stress.

You spent your visiting hours watching Peter sleep, or whatever people did when they were in a coma. You at least liked to pretend he was just sleeping, it made you feel better about his chances of waking up.

His face was so pale and frail under the fluorescents, and you wished he could wake up just long enough to get some actual food in him. You hoped he was at least somewhat at peace right now and resting away all of the stress he’s put himself under. The stress that you were also a cause of.

“I’m sorry, Peter. For everything,” you whisper. Even if he could hear you right now, you’re not sure you want him to. You slowly stand up from your chair and step closer to the boy, brushing his curls back. Gently, you lean forward and press a kiss to the top of his head, brushing the area with your thumb afterward. “I hope you’re doing okay…”

The fourth day is mostly the same. After school, you lied to your parents and went straight to the hospital. You quietly worked on homework while sitting next to Peter, glancing at him from time to time and sending his hand a reassuring squeeze every now and then. He looks the same as yesterday, and you’re not too sure if that’s good or not.

“You know he’s not going anywhere,” you hear from the doorway. Their voice was instantly recognizable. “Dr. Cho says he’s doing alright, though. Still don’t know when he’ll wake up, but he’s alright for now.” Tony Stark says.

You scoff. “No offense, but that ‘for now’ part doesn’t seem so reassuring.”

“Fair enough,” he shrugs, taking a seat next to you. “But considering this is probably my fault, I’ll take that over nothing.”

You shake your head. “It’s not your fault. It was bound to happen either way, no matter what you did, it wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“Yeah, that’s what everyone says, isn’t it?” he mumbles.

“Trust me, I actually mean it. If we’re going to put blame on anyone it should be on me… or the universe or whatever.”

Tony tilts his head. “Universe as in…”

“-soulmates, yeah,” you answer. “In our future, we saw each other after the incident, and I thought he died… now here we are.”

“Right, here we are…” he repeats. “They told me someone else was there at the scene when I got to the hospital, but I wasn’t sure who they were referring to until I saw you afterward. Nice to meet officially meet you…”

“Y/N,” you introduce yourself.

Tony nods. “I’m sorry about how all that went down though. I knew the kid wants his identity to be a secret so I tried to keep everything under wraps as much I could.”

“No hard feelings,” you smile. “I was definitely upset at the time, but I could tell you were just as worried as I was. You wanted to protect him… I do too.” You turn and look at Peter, watching his chest go up and down with his breath. “I’d do anything for him.”

You don’t notice Tony’s faint smile as he watches you and Peter. Young love was beyond him, and watching it happen right in front of his eyes was both sweet and nauseating.

“I should be heading back, I only came here for a quick check-in. Still have some loose ends to tie up regarding press, but nothing to worry about.” He stands up, straightening his jacket. “Glad we got a chance to chat.”

“Me too.” You watch as he walks away, words still at the tip of your tongue. “For what it’s worth Mr. Stark,” you begin, gaining his attention again. “Peter is the type of person who would do anything to save people. He looks out for his family, his friends, me… I can’t imagine someone who’s more of a hero than him, and that includes the Avengers. No offense,” you half-joke. “Whatever you decide to do with him, I hope you give him another chance. He’s really amazing- powers or not.”

He nods, impressed at your words. Tony doesn’t say anything, choosing to offer you a smile before turning away, leaving you and Peter alone. You don’t stay much longer after he leaves, and you follow yesterday’s routine of kissing Peter’s head before heading out.

The fifth day is rainy, perfect to match your somber mood. School decided that today would be a great day to kick your ass and give you tons of homework, even though finals week was already fast approaching. You also forgot an umbrella this morning, and your clothes were still damp from your walk from the subway station. For the cherry on top, no one has had any updates on Peter since he went under, and your hope was starting to falter.

Without thinking, you took Peter’s hands in yours and started to fidget around with his fingers. The cuts on his knuckles were turning pink and gradually healing, while the calluses on his palms were still evident. Much of the skin around his joints were rough, but it meshed so well with the smoothness around it. You were never touchy with other people, but you desperately wanted Peter to squeeze your hands back. At least show some indication that everything was going to be okay.

When you actually felt a squeeze, you almost couldn’t believe it.

You straighten in your chair and turn your head up. A slow flutter of the eyes and a twitch of the lips make your body tense in anticipation. Is he…?

“Peter?” you whisper.

A quiet groan escapes his mouth as Peter’s eyes gently open, taking in the bright lights. You sigh in relief and blink away at the tears trying to come. This better not be a dream.

“Y/N?” he asks, voice dry and scratchy.

“Oh jeez, maybe don’t talk yet. I’ll go grab you some water and tell the nurses you’re up, okay?” you loosen your grip on Peter’s hands, but he squeezes again.

His head does the tiniest shake as he stares down, watching where your fingers touch his. “Stay. They’ll figure it out.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Fine,” you give in. You’ll be out of here soon enough when they find out, and you wanted to spend time with the boy who came back from the dead. “If I get in trouble though, you cannot play the ‘sick patient’ card.”

Peter lets out a gravelly laugh, his body still trying to figure out how to be awake. “I’ll try my best…” he mumbles.

“You’ll try your best? Seriously?” you scoff. “You finally wake up and your first words are some half-ass promise?”

He takes a deep inhale, both humored and annoyed at your teasing. “Fine. I promise I won’t… as long as you promise to be here.”

You smile at his quiet words, taking his knuckle and forcing his pinkie finger up. You gently wrap yours around it, looking him dead in his tired eyes. “I promise I’ll be here,” you whisper.

”I’ll always be here…”

---

A month ago, you promised Peter that exact same thing, and it feels like you already broke that promise. The world has offered you a second chance, and you were doing the same thing Peter did the first time: pushing away out of fear. Could you really waste another five months doing that again?

Could your heart handle that?

“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable or something,” Peter stammers. “If you need some time alone, that’s cool,” he offers, fumbling to put his mask back on.

“-Peter, wait.”

He immediately freezes, looking at you with wide eyes. The wind was starting to pick up, and his curls gently blew in the breeze. The dry air irritates his lips as he picks at it, waiting for your next response.

You move closer to him, inch by inch on the railing; your hands are almost touching, your pinkie desperately wanting to link with his gloved one. You take a deep breath and let it trap in your chest as you stare at the boy in front of you.

Peter Parker.

Spider-Man.

Your soulmate.

But most importantly, your best friend.

The wind moves through your hair and chills your body, yet it jumpstarts every nerve in your system. Peter was alive; you were alive; and fuck, was it a good feeling.

You wanted more, so you leaned in. Your nose touched Peter’s and your mouths closed the gap. A small, innocent kiss to tell him you want more, and that it was his call to keep going. When you stop, and Peter realizes that yes, you did just kiss him, he comes back for more. And he’s not looking to stop anytime soon.

His hand lets go of the railing and wraps around the small of your back, keeping you close and balanced. He keeps the other one gripped tight to the metal; he doesn’t trust himself to not get dizzy from you.

You cradle Peter’s face and deepen yourself into his presence. Your heart is hammering against your chest and you love it. It makes your body heat up and radiates the air around you. You hum against his mouth as you suck on his bottom lip, making Peter whine at the feeling. Your sweater rides up as you press yourself closer, and his thumb draws circles on the exposed skin. The small action makes you smile; you were only half-sure you weren’t crying at the amount of love that was running through your veins.

It seems like forever until you two are pulling away, absolutely blissed out and breathless. Neither of you go that far, faces still just a space or two away.

You look into Peter’s glassy eyes. If something were to happen to him, if you had to say goodbye to him in the worst way possible, if you had to grieve for a lifetime in order to move on, if you had to spend every day thinking of him and crying until your face was red and dry…

It was worth it. You were grateful to be loved by Peter Parker.

You catch your breath and take a slow inhale. It smells like cedarwood. Home.

You lean forward again and Peter meets you halfway. Your lips are just touching when you whisper into his mouth his new favorite word.

“When.”

Part 4 / Masterlist

Taglist: @eridanuswave @spideylovin @mktravelbuggie​  @bintfalastin8​ @runway-to-my-aid​ @selfcarecap @peterbenjiparker​

[sunmoonandeddie]

marriage story

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 5,641

summary: Fake marrying Bucky was only supposed to be a means to an end.

prompt: college au, fake marriage au, and enemies to lovers

warnings: swearing, talk of past sexual abuse

a/n: This was written for @broadwayandnetflix​ for @bucky-smiles​‘s Secret Santa!  SURPRISE!!!!  I’m so sorry I’m a day late, I just wanted to make sure it was as good as I could make it!!  I really hope you enjoy!!!

You weren’t sure how you ended up staring at divorce papers.

Hell, you’d just graduated college three weeks ago and had miraculously landed your first job that was conducive to your career.

And now, you were a divorcée at the age of twenty-one.

Granted, your marriage had lasted much longer than a lot of those that happened when the two people were teenagers.

It had also been fake, but that’s beside the point.

You read over the divorce papers for the eightieth time since they’d arrived.  Both of you took your individual things, no need for lawyers…

It had all seemed so simple when it first began.  A means to an end.

You were eighteen and stupid.  Desperate.  You had no idea what the consequences would be.

You had no idea that you’d actually fall in love with your husband.

He’d needed to live off campus since he couldn’t afford the on campus housing.  At a minimum of seven thousand dollars a school year, it was ridiculous.  You couldn’t really afford it either, but the school had a rule that you couldn’t live off campus until your junior year, and the two of you were still second semester freshmen.

Then there was the issue with your FAFSA.  You weren’t exactly on good terms with your parents.  And by not on good terms, you meant that you didn’t speak to them.  At all.  Getting their tax information wasn’t going to happen, and it wasn’t like they were helping you pay for college.

But FAFSA wouldn’t let you fill it out as an independent student until you were twenty-one.  Apparently, being cut off from your parents wasn’t enough of a ‘special circumstance’ to allow it.

But, there was one little thing that could fix all that.

Matrimony.

If you were married, you’d have to file independently.  No questions asked about parents.

And the university would allow you to live off campus, too.

It was a perfect solution.  A quick little trip to the courthouse.

Living together had seemed logical.  A little two bedroom apartment was much cheaper than seven thousand dollars for nine months in a dorm room you had to share.

Plus, you had to keep up the illusion to the school and the government that you were married.

Outside of living together though, there wasn’t much needed.  Each of you wore a fake ring when you went to your meetings with your advisor and your classes.  It kept the rabid frat boys away from you, at least.

And then there were the scholarships.  Turns out, there are scholarships specifically for married college kids, and your advisor thought you were just perfect for it because she’d never met such a wonderful couple.

It was all perfect.  Until it wasn’t.

First off, you and Bucky didn’t even really like each other when all of this started.  You only knew each other because you were best friends with Natasha, who was his best friend’s girlfriend.  It had actually been the two of them that had gotten the idea in the first place.

“So, I’m sure you’re wondering why we gathered you here today,” Steve said, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“Steve, this is my room.”

This was not how you wanted to spend your Saturday night.  You’d worked a double that day, from eight in the morning to ten that night.

The perks of working at a bar that did Mimosa Mornings on the weekends.  The worst part was that you weren’t even allowed to take a shot or two to help you get through it since you were eighteen.

Stupid fucking law.  If you could work in a bar, you should be able to drink to deal with the customers.  Because fuck, they’re horrible.

But you made more than you’d be making at Buffalo Wild Wings, that’s for sure.

“Can we just get whatever this is over with?” Bucky asked from across the room.  He definitely wasn’t keen to be stuck in a room with you for any longer than necessary.  “I have work in the morning.”

“Same here,” you added, narrowing your eyes at the two who sat in front of you.

Natasha was your best friend and your roommate, but fuck were you ready to put out a ‘New Friends Wanted’ sign.  You could take applications.

Requirement number one: Must not be dating the best friend of the most annoying prick in the world AKA Bucky Barnes.

Requirement number two: Must not be waiting to ambush you in your own dorm room with said prick.

“So, both of you are having issues with the university,” Nat said as she took out a bunch of papers.  “The dorms are crazy expensive and you’re not allowed to live off campus.  Also, FAFSA is ridiculous.”

“And we have a solution,” Steve said, a grin on his face.  He was such a giver.  He loved his friends more than anything in the world and would literally give anything for them.  Seriously.  You’d once watched him actually give the shirt off his back to Bucky when the latter had gotten drunk at a party and puked all over his.

He’d also gotten it on your shoes, and Bucky had just burped and said, “They look better now.”

The disgusting asshole.

“Well, spit it out,” you said, rubbing your temples.  You were still in your uniform, a pair of cut off jean shorts and a tank top.  Your hair smelled like cigarette smoke and someone’s beer that they spilled on you.  “I’d like to go to sleep before sunrise, please.”

“You two could get married.”

Both you and Bucky stared at them like they’d grown two heads.

“I’m sorry…  What the fuck did you just say?” You asked, standing up.

Natasha rushed to continue, still grinning.  “If you two get married, the university will let you live off campus, and FAFSA will let you file as independent!”

“And it’s cheap!  A marriage license only costs like… fifty bucks?  Something like that!” Steve said.

Well…  It wasn’t… a horrible idea, even if you and Bucky might end up killing each other before then.

“I don’t know...,” you said, the whole idea making you nervous.  Marriage?  Come on.

Bucky crossed his arms over his chest defensively.  “I really don’t want to be married to her.  We’d kill each other before we hit our six month anniversary,” he mocked, shooting a glare your way.

“It would only be until you graduate!” Natasha said.  “And then, you two get divorced and it becomes a funny story to tell at parties!”

You shared a look across the room with the brunette.  It would solve your problems…

“Fine.”

Turns out, getting married was a lot easier than you thought it would be.  All four of you went to the courthouse that next Tuesday when all of you had a break in between classes.

You wore a sweatshirt and leggings, your ratty sneakers that were covered in mud along the bottom.  Bucky wore jeans and a university hoodie.

Not exactly usual wedding attire.

Natasha, ever the optimist ever since she met Steve, had shoved a daisy she’d picked in your hair.

And an hour later, you’d walked out as Mrs. Barnes.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you stood up from the couch and walked around the little place you’d called home since you were eighteen.

It had been quiet the first few months.  You signed a lease on an apartment a few blocks from campus and had moved in right at the end of the school year, but he went home with Steve to Brooklyn, New York.

You were alone the entire summer except for the few weekends that Natasha managed to come visit.  The only time you and Bucky spoke was when he texted you to let you know when he was moving in.

And that’s when the fighting had started.

As you stared at a picture of the two of you on the wall, you couldn’t help but laugh.  In the photo, you two were sitting on the couch, holding a cake that Natasha and Steve had gotten you as a joke.  HAPPY 2ND ANNIVERSARY! was written across it in bright blue icing.

It was a far cry from when you two had first moved in.  Everything was an issue.  You didn’t do this, he did that, the both of you wanted to watch different movies and he had brought the television but you’d brought the DVD player.  Everything.  Hell, you’d sleep on the bean bag in Natasha’s dorm some nights because even being in the same apartment as him was too much.

Eventually, there was compromise.  An understanding grew between you and with that, a truce.  You couldn’t keep living like you were.

You were pretty sure the war had finally, silently ended one late night in October.  It was the weekend before Halloween, and you’d had the worst shift of your life.

Your keys clanged as you unlocked the front door, trying to open it as quietly as possible.  Even from where you stood, you could see the clock above the stove that read 1:42 AM.  You were supposed to be off at ten, but that clearly hadn’t happened.  One of the other girls working had gotten sick and you were forced to cover the few hours she was supposed to work alone until close.

And to add onto that, you made less the entire weekend than you had last Friday night.  You’d been hit on, groped, yelled at.  Fuck.  You just wanted to collapse in your bed.

“You’re home late.”

“Fuck!” You jumped in shock, your heart pounding in your chest.  God.  Your anxiety had just spiked and the exhaustion you’d been feeling was replaced with your fight or flight instinct.

Bucky was standing in the hallway entrance, brows furrowed.  “Sorry.  I didn’t mean to scare you.”  He had on those gray sweats that he looked so good in…

No!  Down girl!  Bad!

It didn’t matter that he was hot.  He was a total dick.

Though, lately he’d be rather kind.  Nice.  There’d been less fights in the past few weeks.

You cleared your throat, looking away from him.  “Yeah, Wanda got sick, so I had to close.”

“There’s dinner in the microwave,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Oh.  Thank you.”

He nodded, before disappearing down the hall.  It surprised you when you heard the bath start, but whatever.  Whether or not he took baths was none of your business.

You were surprised to find a huge bowl of vegetable soup in the microwave.  Huh.  You’d just been talking to Natasha about how much you missed your mom’s homemade version.

Whatever.  It wasn’t like you’d ever be having that again.

You let your head rest on the counter as you waited for the soup to heat up.  Fuck.  Your entire body ached.

“Hey, do you want epsom salt?” Bucky called out from the bathroom.

“Uh, what?” You said as you raised your head.  Even just moving that little made your head pound.

He poked his head out of the doorway, his long hair pulled back in a bun.  “For your bath?  Do you want epsom salt?”

“My bath?  What the hell are you talking about?” You asked as the microwave beeped.

Bucky leaned against the doorframe.  “The bath that I’m currently running you.  Do.  You.  Want.  Epsom.  Salts?”

There was a long pause as the two of you stared at each other.  “Yeah,” you said finally, your voice coming out a lot smaller than you expected.  “That would be nice.”

Once he’d disappeared back into the bathroom, you pulled out your phone and texted Nat.

To: Tasha

Why is Barnes acting weird?

From: Tasha

Which one of you?

Get it?

Cause you’re married?

To: Tasha

Yeah

I got it.

But he’s being fucking weird.

From: Tasha

How so?

To: Tasha

He made me dinner?  At least, he poured vegetable soup from a can into a bowl and left it in the microwave.

Oh

And he’s running me a bath???

V V strange.

If I don’t text you tomorrow

It’s probably because he killed me

From: Tasha

Oh that

To: Tasha

What do you mean

“Oh that”????

NATASHA

ANSWER YOUR PHONE

From: Tasha

Sorry, was talking to Steve

He mentioned you’d been working a lot and how tired you were so I told him he should do something nice.

And I may have told him that you missed your mom’s vegetable soup.

So that probably explains that.

“Hey, it’s ready,” Bucky said as he came into the kitchen.  “I’ve got some towels in the dryer going, so they’ll be all warm when you’re ready to get out.”  He seemed so… laissez-faire about it.  Like you two didn’t fight on a daily basis usually.  He watched as you took a bite of the soup, his blue eyes zeroed in on you.  “Do you like it?” He asked.  “I tried following my ma’s recipe.  Don’t know how well it went.”

You couldn’t help but moan around the spoon as the warm soup went down.  Even reheated, it was amazing.  “This is your mom’s recipe?  It’s amazing.”

His cheeks flushed as he tried to hide a grin.  “Thanks.  I’ve missed her cooking.”

It was silent as you finished up the soup, the only sound being the spoon clanging against the bowl.  It wasn’t until you set your dishes in the sink to wash the next day that he spoke again.

“Oh, I got you this,” he said as he pulled out a box.  “I saw my advisor and he knows that we’re married and he mentioned that we still don’t have rings, so I just went and grabbed a ring from a thrift store.”

It was then that you noticed the simple silver band on his left ring finger, glinting in the low light.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said as you took the box.  But your breath was stolen from your lungs as you opened it, revealing a gorgeous diamond engagement ring with a matching diamond wedding band.  “It’s…  It’s beautiful…  Thank you…”

“You’re welcome,” he said softly, rubbing the back of his neck.  “Uh, you go ahead and get in the bath.  I’ll bring you the towels when they’re done.”

As you sat in the bath, you couldn’t help but stare at the rings that now resided on your left hand.  They glinted in the low light of the candles that had been placed in various places around the bathroom, most likely lit with Bucky’s lighter from the local smoke shop.

They were absolutely stunning.

Maybe… just maybe… this marriage wouldn’t be as bad as you first thought it would be.

You glanced over at the table as your phone buzzed, running to it.  Maybe it’s Bucky…

But your hope was dashed as you realized it was Natasha calling you.

You hadn’t realized you’d been crying until a drop of water fell on the screen.  Wiping your eyes, you brought it up to your ear.  “Hey, Tasha!  What’s up?”  You couldn’t help but wince.  You sounded like a fucking real estate agent.  Perfect and peppy and… not you.

“Hey, I just wanted to call and see how you’re doing,” she whispered, as though she was trying to keep someone else from hearing.  “Bucky got the divorce papers today and I figured that meant you did, too.”

Ah, another thing.  He’d been staying at Steve and Natasha’s place since all of you had graduated, and the time had come for the divorce.  He’d gotten all of his things out within two days, except for the hoodie you were currently cocooned in and your wedding rings.

“I know how much you love this place,” he’d said with a wry smile.  “So you can have it in the divorce settlement.”

It had been a joke.  The divorce settlement.  Like you two had actually been in love and things just hadn’t worked out.

“You aren’t gonna change the Netflix password on me, right?” You asked as you stood in the doorway of Bucky’s room, arms crossed over your chest.  “Because I’m still paying for half of it.”

Buck grinned at you as he taped the last box shut.  “I don’t know…  Might change it up on you.  Have it all to myself.  Then my suggested movies and shows won’t be so fucked up,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, glaring at him.  But there was no heat behind it.  “We have separate profiles on there, you dumbass.  So if Gossip Girl is on your suggested, that’s your fault.”

The laugh that erupted from his mouth made him throw his head back, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Seeing Bucky Barnes laugh was one of the Seven Wonders of the World.  It was better than the Great Pyramids of Giza, the Taj Mahal, and the Great Wall of China all rolled into one.

“We’re still gonna have Thursday night movies, right?” You asked, trying to ignore the way your voice cracked.

In the three years since you’d gotten married, Thursday night had become your sort of fake Date Night.  You two would order takeout and watch movies until the both of you passed out of the couch.  You both changed your availability at your jobs to let them know that you couldn’t work Thursdays.  Not even Natasha and Steve were allowed to intrude.  It was just your special night to hang out.

“I’ll bring the food.  Do you want Thai or Mexican?” He asked, his features a little softer.

“I’ll text you what I want,” you said.  Biting your lip, you toyed with the rings on your left hand.  “I guess I should give you these back, huh?”  You started to slip them off, but he stopped you.

“They’re yours,” he said, his hand closing over yours.  His blue eyes shimmered in the light as you swallowed.  “Keep them… as a reminder of your former husband.”  The corner of his mouth twitched, but you couldn’t tell if he was going to smile or frown.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you said, suddenly surging forward to hug him.  “Even though you’re super annoying.”

Bucky laughed as he wrapped his arms around you just as tight.  “I’m gonna miss you, too.”

“How’s he doing?” You asked as you moved to what had formerly been Bucky’s room.  It was now completely bare, except for a single gum wrapper on the floor.  You sank down against the wall as you stared at it.  Extra wintermint gum.  Because he absolutely hated spearmint.

“About as well as you, I imagine,” she said slowly, choosing her words ever so carefully.  “I don’t know.  He went out for a walk a few minutes ago.  But he locked himself in the guest room for hours after getting the papers.”

You let your head fall back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling as you tried to stop another onslaught of tears.  “This is what we wanted,” you said, your voice cracking.

A pause.  You could feel the tension even through the phone, a can of worms Natasha was about to open.  “Is it?  Is this what you wanted?”

“This was always the plan!” You retorted, the tears coming in a wave now.  “We’d stay married until after we graduated and then we’d divorce.  No drama, no court, no lawyers.  Just a means to an end.”

You could hear her whispering to someone that you knew was Steve on the other end for a few seconds, the sound muffled.  She’d probably covered the speaker.  “Do you want me to come over?” She finally asked.

“No,” you said with a sigh, rubbing the hell of your palm against your eyes.  “I just wanna… curl up in bed and watch cheesy movies and never come out.”

You didn’t understand.  Why did this hurt so bad?  He was just a friend.  You two had never even kissed, for crying out loud.  This wasn’t some fanfiction where you two fell into bed one drunken night and then woke up with feelings.  This wasn’t an ‘Oh no, there’s only one bed’ type of deal with 100K+ words on AO3.  You two were just friends.  Really.  There was no happy ending for the two of you waiting.

“Are you still gonna go to the Barnes’s Fourth of July party?” Natasha asked, her voice softer.

You pulled your knees up to your chest, resting your chin on your knee caps.  “There’s no point.  We’re not married anymore.”

“Sweetheart,” she chided.  “You know he’d want you there.  So would his family.  You’re still a Barnes, even if you change your last name back.”

“I don’t know,” you said, chewing on your bottom lip.  “I like the last name Barnes better.  It’s not like I have any connection to my old last name.  Maybe…”  You swallowed.  “Maybe I should keep it.  It costs money to change it back, after all.  It’s on my license now.”

Ah, yes.  Because your license had expired while you were married and you’d had to get a new one.

“You’re a Barnes now and forever, hon,” she teased.  You could hear her smile through the phone.  “And you know Winifred would be pissed as hell if you didn’t go.  You’re her daughter now just as much as Bucky is her son.”

God, the tears came on like a tsunami when you remembered the Barneses.  George, Winifred, Becca, all of them.  Especially Winifred.  Sweet, sweet Winnie that had become your mom in the years since you’d met her.

“Bucky, I don’t know about this,” you said as you walked up the steps to his place.  Or, rather, his parents’ place.  “I should just go home.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed as he searched for the right key.  “I’m not letting you drive the way back just to spend Christmas alone.”

Truthfully, it was stupid to even suggest.  Your apartment that you shared with him now was over eight hours away, and it was two days before Christmas Eve.

God, how the hell did you end up here?  You’d been planning on spending it alone, just like you had Thanksgiving.

But when Bucky had come back from the break and realized that you hadn’t gone anywhere, it’d prompted him to ask why, which had then resulted in him insisting on you accompanying him to New York City for Christmas with his family.

“What if they don’t like me?” You asked, barely audible.  In truth, you were terrified.  This was your first holiday season that you were away from your parents.  Thanksgiving had been strange, and you had certain it wasn’t going to get any better up until a few weeks ago.

Bucky stopped suddenly, looking at you with big blue eyes.  “Sweetheart, they’re going to adore you,” he said, more sincere than he’d been since the two of you had gotten married.  “How could they not?”

“You didn’t!”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t like me either.  And then we got to know each other.”

He had a point.

You grumbled, staring down at your boots.  They were still covered in snow.

“And besides, Ma hasn’t shut up about meeting you ever since she found out about you,” he muttered as he finally found the right key.  “Dad said she’s been obsessively cleaning the house since she found out you were coming.”

As soon as the opened the door, you were hit with a wall of sound.  A woman with the same shade of hair as Bucky rushed forward, trapping the six foot man in a hug.  “YOU’RE HOME!”

“Winnie, come on, don’t suffocate the boy.”  A man with Bucky’s eyes appeared, his hands shoved in his pockets.  He was trying to appear nonchalant, but the second he was free of his mother’s grasp, he was dragging him into another hug.  “I’ve missed you, son.”

“And you must be his wife!” Winifred Barnes said, suddenly turning on you.

“Ma, she has a name.”

“I know that!”

“Winnie–”

You were pulled into a hug, and you were suddenly overwhelmed with feelings.  Maybe it was just the fact that you hadn’t hugged your own mother in so long, or maybe it was just because Winifred was that lovely of a person.  Either way, you were tearing up as she hugged you tightly.  You gave her your name as she pulled back, looking over your face.

“Oh, you’re even prettier than Jamie said!”

Your cheeks flushed as Bucky grumbled out a quiet “Ma…”

It was then that you were swept into the apartment, finding it bustling with people.  You were then introduced to the rest of his family: his younger sister, Becca, who was going to be a senior in high school and was SO grateful to have a new sister, his aunts, his uncles, his parents.  The entire apartment was bursting with people even days before the actual holiday.

It wasn’t until after dinner (which was absolutely delicious) that you were able to capture a quiet moment in the kitchen, helping Winifred wash dishes.

“Thank you for having me over,” you said, to break the silence.  It wasn’t uncomfortable, surprisingly, you just felt like you needed to vocalize your thanks for what was probably the third time.  “It means a lot.”

“Any friend of Jamie’s is a friend of ours,” she said as she rinsed off a plate.  “And we’re so grateful for what you’re doing.  He mentioned that it helps you, too, but…  Our family can’t afford to pay for his housing.  We can barely make his tuition.”  She looked at you with crystal clear eyes that seemed to bore into your soul.  “We’re so happy to have you.”  She then paused, glancing over at the side of the sink, where you’d set your wedding rings just to make sure they didn’t slip off in the water.  “You know, I was so happy when he asked for my ring.  He’s always dreamed of giving it to a girl.”

“What?” You asked, looking at her in shock.

Winifred paused, her brows furrowed in a way that really reminded you of your husband.  “Did he not tell you?  The engagement ring is mine.  But he saved up over the summer to buy a matching band for it.”

Your heart raced in your chest as you stared at the rings.  Bucky had gotten his ma’s ring for you?  But… why?  You two were barely friends at this point.

“I would’ve been spending Christmas alone if it wasn’t for him inviting me,” you said, breaking her stare to look down at your soapy hands.  “He found out I spent Thanksgiving at home and almost shit a brick.”  You rushed to cover your mouth, to apologize, but she just snorted.

An easy smile tugged at her lips.  “Holidays are a big thing for our family, and I guess we passed that down to Jamie.  Everyone comes to town for about a week and we spend it drinking and shooting the shit, baking.  We can’t afford much, so our gifts are usually just spending time together,” she said.

“It sounds nice,” you whispered as you scrubbed absentmindedly at a pan.  “My family… even when I still talked to them, we were never big on holidays.”  Winifred had gone quiet beside you.  “It was always just us.  We’d eat dinner together and sometimes I’d get a present, but mostly it was just spent like any other day.”

She took a deep breath, setting a plate on the drying rack.  “What… happened?  If you don’t mind me asking?”

“I… confronted my parents about the sexual abuse I went through as a kid,” you said slowly, swallowing around the lump that had suddenly formed in your throat.  “My cousin…  He, uh…  He’s only a year and a half older than me.  From the time I was… four or five, I think, to about twelve, he would… you know.”  The kitchen felt deadly silent, and you were so glad that the rest of the Barnses, including Bucky, were in the living room.  Even though he knew the basics of what had happened, you never told him details.  “And my parents would punish me for it when he got caught.  They blamed me.  They’d ground me or spank me or… whatever.”  You let out a weak laugh, trying to lighten the mood.  “They didn’t really take it well.  It doesn’t matter though.  I’m fine.”

You were shocked when you were suddenly pulled into a tight hug.  Winifred’s arms formed a cocoon around you and you could feel her tears on your face.  She was only an inch or two taller than you.  “That was not your fault,” she gasped out, holding you to her.  “That was not your fault.”

Before you realized what was happening, you were clutching onto her as hot tears streamed down your cheeks.

You didn’t know how long she’d held you before she leaned back, wiping away your tears.  Or at least, trying to before they were replaced with more.  “You are not what he did to you, you hear me?” She asked, wiping at her own face.  “You are always welcome here.  We’re your family now.”

“What’s going on here?”

The both of you turned to see Bucky in the doorway, his sea blue eyes wide.  He was holding a few extra plates that had been left behind.

“Nothing,” she said with a watery grin.  “Just… talking.”

“Here,” he said as he walked over and put the dishes inside the sink filled with soapy water.  “I’ll finish up with my wifey here, and you go clean up before dad freaks out because you’re crying.”

She barked out a laugh, nodding.  “Fine.  Fine.  You know how he gets if I’m upset,” she said, kissing your forehead before leaving.

“So… You actually okay?” Bucky asked as he took over rinsing the dishes you washed.

The smile that found its way onto your lips was real, surprisingly, as you said, “Everything’s great, Jamie.”

And even though he let out a groan, he was smiling, too.

It was after that trip that you’d started calling him Jamie.  It just… felt better rolling off your tongue than Bucky ever did.  It was also when holidays in Brooklyn became a permanent thing.  Anytime Bucky went home, so did you.

They were your family.

But now…  Now what?  Did you lose them like you lost your parents?

Granted, losing your parents wasn’t exactly the worst thing.

“Sweetheart?  You there?” Natasha asked, bringing you back to the present.

“Yeah,” you said, shaking your head to clear out the cloudiness of your memories.  “Yeah, I’m–”  You broke off as you heard a knock at the door, a frown tugging at your lips.  “Hold on, Tasha, I’ll call you back…”  You hung onto your phone as you walked to the front door, peeking through the peephole.

Bucky?...  What the fuck was he doing here?

You opened the door wide, shocked to find him crying.  His eyes were puffy and red, his nose running.  “Jamie?  What’s wrong?”  You reached forward to touch his shoulder, shoving your phone in your back pocket.

“Don’t sign those papers.”

“Wait…  What?”  Now you were even more confused.  Your brows furrowed as you pushed his hair back from his face.  God, he needed a haircut.  Maybe you could…  No.  Not the focus right now.

He stepped toward, half inside the apartment that had been his, too, just two weeks before.  His large, calloused hand caressed your face.  “I don’t want to not be your husband,” he said, his voice cracking.

Your heart thundered inside your chest and you were half sure this was some kind of trick of your mind to soothe its aching.  “What do you mean?”

“I want to make this work,” he said as he cupped your face in his hands.  “I… I want to actually have Thursday night Date Nights and take you out and when we go home for the holidays, I want to kiss you under the mistletoe my ma always hangs up, and I want you to wear my ma’s ring.  I want to be your husband.  Please.”

You didn’t realize you were crying–yet again, fucking damn it–until he wiped them away.  “I don’t want to not be your wife, either,” you said, your voice shaking.  “I love you, I love you so much.”

His lips met yours in a blazing kiss, holding you closer than you thought possible.  “I love you more,” he whispered against your lips.  “I’m never letting you go.”

You dragged him inside, shutting the door before kissing him again.  “You’re staying here.  None of this bullshit of you staying with Tasha and Steve.”

“Gladly,” he chuckled, holding onto your waist.  “But only if I get to sleep in your bed.”

“Only if we can shred those divorce papers.”

The moment was interrupted by his phone ringing, and you couldn’t help but giggle when you saw it was Winifred.  He shot you an apologetic look as he answered it.  “Hey, ma.”

She was speaking so loudly you could hear her clearly.  “Well?!  How did it go?!  Did you ask her?!”

“Yes, I asked her,” he said slowly, squeezing your side.  “She said yes.  I’m with her now.”

Both of you flinched away as she screamed in excitement.  “GIVE HER THE PHONE!  GIVE HER THE PHONE!”

You smiled as you pressed it to your ear.  “Hi, mom.”

“BABY!  I’M SO HAPPY!  NOW WE CAN HAVE A REAL WEDDING!”  She was speaking at a hundred miles an hour.  “Do you want a summer or fall wedding?  I think it might be too late to do summer, but I’m sure we could scrounge something together!”

You giggled as Bucky stole kisses from you while she was speaking, distracting you.

“Sweetheart?  You there?”

“A late summer wedding sounds perfect,” you said, unable to wipe the grin from your face.  “Absolutely perfect.”