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babybemydownfall · 1 month

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things that shimmer in the dark Part I: Feyre ( Part II ) After their visit to the Weaver's Cottage, Feyre needs a bath - and a friend. But two lonely souls can only get so close before they collide. NSFW, as always. Notes under the cut. Or read on AO3.

Notes: I wanted to write Feysand's first time, and I was re-reading ACOMAF and this came to life. It's set during chapter 21, after Rhys has flown her back from the House of Wind and filled her a hot bath. He makes her try to enter his mind and then shows her the memory of Ianthe trying to seduce him. Then he disappears - but not in my version. Just that morning, he knelt before her and called her his salvation. But so far, Feyre hasn't flirted with him at all. She's still broken over Tamlin and UTM. So it was quite fun to try and get her from point A to point B in this story... I hope I've managed it. Oh, and there are lots of much-needed apologies. I really hope you enjoy! Part 1 is Feyre's POV. Part 2 will be Rhys...

things that shimmer in the dark part I: Feyre

“Rule two,” Rhys finally went on, “be prepared to see things you might not like.”

He started to turn, to leave, but the word came out of my mouth before I could stop it: “Stay.”

He went very still. I watched his gaze slide from me to the bath and back again.

“You can look away,” I went on before he could speak, before he could draw the wrong conclusion. “Or sit right across the room. I just… After this morning, after her… I don’t want to be alone. Please.”

Rhys was completely unreadable. After a very long moment, he said: “Give me five minutes and I’ll be back. One of those bottles-” He waved his hand at the line of potions and soaps alongside the bathtub, “Should make the water opaque.”

I nodded, and he disappeared into thin air.

After I had peeled off my clothes, struggling with the buckles and straps he’d put on me just an hour or two ago, I sank into the hot bath with a blissful groan. I wanted nothing more than peace and quiet but my mind would not be still. The Weaver, the ring, Ianthe… Rhysand. How he flirted and pushed me and pissed me off. How his strong hands had gripped my thighs as he knelt before me. How he had been used, abused, hunted down his entire life…

I had only just remembered to add the contents of one of the bottles, which smelt like lavender and did indeed turn the water milky and soft, when he reappeared in the bedroom. He knocked on the arched doorframe and I invited him in, even as I dipped beneath the water to wet my hair. I still felt disgusting, despite Amren’s cleaning spell.

When I emerged for air, I rubbed my hands over my face and looked at Rhys - who had changed in the time he’d been gone. No more wings or fitted fighting leathers: instead comfortable pants and a loose cotton shirt, black as always. I could see most of his tanned, tattooed chest where he’d left several buttons undone. He sat gracefully on the floor, leaning back against the wall beside sink, just a across from the bathtub. I realised his feet were bare, and that I’d never seen them before. Just like the rest of him, they were unreasonably attractive.

When my gaze eventually travelled up to his face, I briefly noted that the ends of his hair were damp before realising he was smirking at me.

“See something you like?”

I rested my forearms on the edge of the tub, my chin atop them. “Not particularly. Why are you wet?”

“I took a quick dip too. When I whisked you out of the forest, I got a nice amount of grease on my clothes.”

I grimaced. “That was revolting.”

“It was.”

“There are a lot of monsters in your world, aren’t there?”

“Yes. Does that scare you, Feyre?”

I considered him. Was I scared? Of course. But with Rhys and his Inner Circle by my side, and when I had trained my powers and my body, I could envision a day in the future when I would no longer be so afraid. I only hoped that day didn’t come too late: that I was ready by the time war came to Prythian.

“Yes,” I admitted, unashamed. There was very little he didn’t already know about me, except perhaps the full extent of my brokenness - but after our visit to the Prison, he was learning. And yet I had never, ever felt judged by him.

“Do I scare you?” he asked, his head tilting slightly to the side. “Because I am a monster, too.”

He seemed calm as he watched me but I noticed that he was playing with his fingers, subtly twisting them together in his lap. It was one of the most human things I’d seen him do, and I realised that something about this conversation - or perhaps our current situation - was making him… nervous.

“You aren’t,” I said, my voice firm. “You are many things, but you are not a monster Rhys. I am not scared of you.”

His face softened around the edges, just a bit.

“And I’m sorry,” I went on more softly. “For the memory you shared with me. Ianthe. She shouldn’t have… You didn’t deserve to be treated that way. You didn’t deserve...” I couldn’t say the other female’s name. It still made me want to throw up. “Under the mountain - what happened to you. She abused you and it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t deserve that.”

His violet eyes contained a thousand storms. “Thank you,” he said quietly, and the emotion in his voice made my throat tighten unexpectedly.

I held his gaze, sensing there was so much more he wanted to say, just waiting beneath the surface - like my power, crawling beneath my skin. I didn’t know how he’d survived so much and was still able to smile, to flirt, to live. I was just being dragged along beside him, everything moving so fast I had no time to dwell too much - which I was grateful for, because it was the only thing keeping me from sinking down into oblivion.

But in truth, we still barely knew one another. Over the long span of his life, our few months together in the Night Court were just a speck in time. I suspected he hadn’t opened up to anyone about the horrors he’d endured at her hand, not even his closest friends. So why would he confide in me? Did I even want to know? I wasn’t sure if I could handle any more trauma.

Although… I couldn’t deny that there was something drawing me to Rhys, even though I tried to resist it. It had only been a few months since I’d been with Tamlin after all; about to be married - no, shackled - to a different High Lord.

I finally closed my eyes, shutting out that thought and the self-inflicted insults that followed - trash, harlot, betrayer - before retreating back under the hot water again. Gods, it felt good on my aching muscles. I brushed my fingers through my hair several times, letting it fan out around me before breaking the surface again, taking in a deep breath of air. Then I began to wash it with shampoo, scratching my scalp with my fingernails, trying to rid myself of every last speck of putrid dirt from that awful cottage. I could sense Rhys watching me still as I piled my soapy locks on top of my head and moved on to clean my body with my favourite orange-scented scrub. I didn’t look at him, didn’t feel the need to fill the quiet, but I was pleased he was there. It was like having a friend for company, reassurance - which, I supposed, he was.

The High Lord of the Night Court. The most powerful in history. My friend.

When I had scrubbed my limbs, chest and face until the skin was pink and tingling, I finally turned to him, holding up a cloth. “Please can you do my back?” It was an innocent question - I needed to feel completely clean, and the water was deep enough to keep the rest of me hidden.

He didn’t respond for a long time. His impeccable mask was back in place and I had no idea what he was thinking. But when he finally spoke, his voice was far deeper than I was expecting - and it made all the hairs on my arms stand on end.

“Feyre. I… don’t think I should.”

“Please? I need to get all the grime off. And anyway, you’ve practically seen me naked before. Many times.”

His eyes burned into mine and I didn’t need to be inside his mind this time to know we were sharing the same memory: of my painted body, barely covered in strips of flimsy material, as I drank and danced for him, losing time and sensation and my dignity.

Rhys didn’t look away as he moved elegantly across the space between us, kneeling up beside me. His hands gripped the edge of the tub so hard that I felt it shake. “I am so sorry, Feyre. I should never have done that to you.”

He was so near I couldn’t see anything but the sorrow and pain in his gaze.

“It’s okay,” I told him honestly. Everything that had happened in that place was fucked up. I had killed innocent Fae. I had died and been Made again. My evenings of embarrassment were so insignificant in comparison.

But Rhys contradicted me. “It’s not okay,” he said forcefully. “I was playing such a dangerous game and we were close - so close - to the end. I knew that you would free us, but I needed to have you near me so I could keep you alive. And I needed Amarantha to keep trusting me, and…” He sighed, his breath caressing my lips. “I needed to make Tamlin angry.”

“Rhys, it’s fine.”

“It’s not. Even though I was desperate, I should never have drugged and humiliated you. I should have found a better way. And I will be sorry for that until the day I die.”

I took in his face, from his sculpted brows to his long straight nose, his sharp cheekbones and the beautiful shape of his mouth. He really was the image of perfection. No sign of the monster he claimed to be - or rather, feared he was.

And then I nodded and said truthfully: “I forgive you.”

His entire being seemed to relax. “Thank you. I don’t deserve it, but thank you.” He took the cloth and lathered it with soap. “Turn around.”

I knelt so that most of my back was out of the water, leaning forward slightly and using my arms to keep my breasts hidden. My eyes fell closed again as he washed me, much more slowly and carefully than I’d expected. Then he asked, “Do you want me to scrub you?” And once I’d said yes, I was even more surprised to feel his hands on me.

Surprised - and aroused.

Mother above. It was like I’d been asleep for the past few months and he was only just waking me up. Firstly he smoothed the scrub over my back, working it in circles with his strong fingers. They moved so confidently over my bare skin, as if he’d done this a thousand times before; as if we were lovers, and my body was his, and this was our norm. It was those unbidden thoughts, alongside his electrifying touch, that made desire plume somewhere deep in my belly. It sank down slowly, like warm honey, settling deliciously between my thighs.

I moaned. I couldn’t help it.

Behind me, I heard Rhys’s breath catch in his throat and I knew - with as much certainty as I knew my own name - that he was turned on too. I wondered if this was why he’d been hesitant to wash me when I’d first asked; if he had suspected what might happen if he did.

But he didn’t stop - and I didn’t want him to.

Instead he rinsed me off with handfuls of water and then started to work the muscles along my spine and shoulder blades in long, firm strokes. Occasionally he paused over a knot, pressing firmly until it eased, and I tried not to moan again but it felt so good that I was powerless to resist. His fingers and thumb travelled up my neck, briefly kneading out some of the tightness there before he took down my soapy hair and began to massage my scalp. He found all the right pressure points and it was so exquisite that I leaned back helplessly into his touch, endless sounds of pleasure now falling unhindered from my lips.

His breathing was rough and uneven; occasionally a soft groan escaped which made my core throb. I could feel the heat of his body radiating towards mine, growing in intensity with every passing minute, every new inch of me that he discovered. And then his hands slowed; he twisted my hair back on top of my head and I thought he was done. But a moment later, I felt his fingertips running feather-light down my back, leaving shivers in their wake. They kept going, slipping below the water to my lower spine, my waist. This was no longer him cleaning me; nor was it a continuation of the massage. He was exploring - and I was letting him. I was enjoying him.

When he trailed his touch up my sides to my ribcage, my arms lifted of their own accord, leaving my breasts exposed, unprotected - as if my body knew what it needed long before my mind. If he were to slide his hands forwards just a few inches, he would be holding them. They ached at the very thought, and I stopped breathing altogether. I had never wanted anything as much in my entire life as I wanted him in that moment.

Rhys.

My friend. My saviour, in so many ways. We were both so similar - damaged, broken, alone. Perhaps we both needed this. Perhaps we both deserved to be distracted, to have something good in amongst all the badness of the world.

He finally took his hands away and I was aware of him sitting back, putting space between us. He didn’t say a word. I rinsed off my hair and looked around to find he’d gone. But I could feel him through the bond, just the other side of the door. Giving me privacy to get out of the bath. And maybe to come up with an excuse to leave, to reject me.

I wouldn’t blame him. I was damaged goods: empty on the inside, and a murderer to boot. And probably still in love with his immortal enemy, although I doubted for much longer. Those feelings were falling away by the day.

Freeing me.

The water sloshed as I stood and wrapped my hair and body in a towel each. I climbed out of the bath and brushed my teeth, studying at my face in the mirror. My skin was still flushed from the heat and the scrub; my nose and cheeks freckled by the sun. My blue-grey eyes were, for once, not dull and hollow but bright - alive. From the outside I didn’t look broken at all. I looked healthy. Beautiful, even. And just a few feet away was a staggeringly handsome male who liked me, who called me his darling and annoyed me on purpose and flirted with me… And gods, when he did, I didn’t feel sad. I didn’t feel empty. I felt… like myself. For the first time in a very long time.

And so I rinsed my mouth, ran my fingers briefly through my damp hair and tugged on the bond. Come here.

In a matter of seconds, he was standing in the doorway. He was the most unsure I had ever seen him, and it made me brave.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hello.” He looked so wary, like I was a dangerous animal. Maybe that’s how I felt to him.

Maybe I was.

I watched him as he watched my hands go to my chest, where my towel was tucked in to keep it secure.

“What would happen,” I said, softly but surely, “If I let this fall to the floor?”

Rhys swallowed. His eyes rose to mine and they were extraordinary: pure starlight and lust. I had seen his bedroom eyes before, when he was being playful and teasing - and I suspected so had many, many females before me. But this was different. I felt like I was looking all the way into his soul. And somehow, I knew that he had never shown himself like this to anyone else before; that I was the first, and only.

As to why, I had no idea. But I didn’t want to wait and find out. I wanted him.

“I am lonely, Rhys.”

I stepped forwards. He didn’t recoil, just stared at me, breathing hard. I continued until there was only a hand’s breadth separating us, so I had to tilt my face up to keep looking at him. “I’m sick of feeling so lonely, all the time. Aren’t you? Just for a while, wouldn’t it be nice to feel something else? To feel good? Don’t you think we deserve that?”

The air between us was hot and heavy; one spark and it would be ablaze. I could hear his heart beating hard beneath his ribs, just as mine was.

It felt like an eternity until he spoke. And when he did, his expression changed - he suddenly looked just as broken as his voice was.

“I am lonely, Feyre. So lonely. And I am sick of it too.”

Part II coming soon...

#feysand fanfic #feyre x rhysand #feysand smut #feysand #feysand fic

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someobscurereference · 3 months

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ive been rereading your ffxv fic "im trying hard to take it back" for literally four years now. please end my suffering and tell me how gladio feels. please. PLEASE. (but only if u want ofc)

(fic) Short answer: Gladio feels insane guilt and spends a lot of his life trying to make this up to Prompto. In the process, they deepen their connection as friends and do begin a relationship probably around the one-year mark of endless darkness. <3

Longer answer: (implications of abuse/violence tw but no worse than in the fic itself; just what others assume to be true even if it's not in the context of this specific fic)

Gladio is a secret romantic at heart who has always envisioned meeting his soulmate, but he's also duty-bound and duty comes first. So even though he reads romance books (amongst other types of books too) and indulges in his head a bit as many people do, he's often put his duty to the crown first and foremost in his mind. He also didn't imagine his soulmate was anyone on this trip and thought perhaps the person he may have been fated to meet died in the assault of Insomnia. Even if they were a refugee, they can't be a priority to him at this moment. His priority has to be Noctis.

Prompto has obviously grown on him over the course of their road trip, but there are aspects of them that don't 100% mesh (as is true with every realistic relationship). That said, Gladio never in a hundred years would want this moment of (understandable but out of line) frustration and anger in the wake of Luna and Altissa to be a permanent mark on Prompto's face. He's genuinely horrified and disgusted with himself for a long time after this and spends most of his life trying to make it up. He feels like a dirtbag about it.

That said, Prompto runs away from him in this moment and they need time to calm down, just as the fic shows. Noctis goes after Prompto, just like in canon. Prompto falls off the train and has his Despair Arc just like in the DLC, now with the added despair of "well, in addition to being a clone, my soulmate hates me. And in addition to the mark of inhumanity on my wrist (barcode), I have a giant hand print of him literally Shoving Me Away on my face. Forever."

Aranea: Well, do you want to die about it. Or do you want to live.

Prompto, eventually like in canon: Live, I guess. But it will be excruciating.

Aranea: That's what living is. We do it anyway. Your friends love you. Get off the floor.

He fights his way through his issues and gets rescued like in canon. Gladio probably tries to talk to him when they all catch up again, trying to apologize, and Prompto tells him to hold off on that for later.

Then, of course, Noctis is eaten by the crystal and "later" becomes much, much later as they evacuate and try to survive in eternal darkness. (Though they also can't Not think about it because it's a giant hand print. On Prompto's face. And every person they meet has Something To Say about it, for better or worse, whether they knew Prompto before or not. Prompto cannot escape it, and when Gladio is not doing Crown Duties he feels he must do in Noct's absence, he's with Prompto, so he also Cannot Escape It either. Even when the person speaking is unaware that Gladio left that mark. It's almost worse when they don't know, but when they see it's Gladio, who is such a big guy who seemingly hit Prompto and left that permanent mark there, some of them get nasty to him and some back off out of fear. Both are horrible. The guilt is eating him alive.)

Eventually, enough time passes as the dust settles that they do Talk About It. Gladio apologizes sincerely, for the 500th time. Prompto's like, "Well. It's not like you could have known that this would be The One Time it happened." And then cracks a joke about their soulmate mark being a Prompto's hand print on Gladio's ass from a butt slap in another life, which does help the tension somewhat. (The more Gladio tries to apologize, the more Prompto grows sick of hearing it, so they just have to move on and keep going, as he's learned to do.)

They grow closer over time, especially because there's not a lot of people who have survived to this point and even less later on. They do get together romantically, both because they do like the idea of soulmates (for different reasons) and also because they're living out of each others pockets for years, so there's an affection and dependency that develops there. Also, teenage Prompto always thought Gladio was really handsome and teen Gladio thought Prompto was cute and sincere for a pipsqueak.

When they are out together on dates in normal settings surrounded by strangers after the light returns, Gladio will receive dirty looks for the rest of his life from strangers who see the hand print on Prompto's face and immediately (correctly) assumes it was out of anger rather than a funny accident or something. (Edit: Some people will assume there is a funny story attached. Gladio will not know what to say to this. Prompto will play along.) He will learn to live with this. Prompto is really grateful Gladio is with him despite everything.

#FOUR YEARS that's so flattering adjklasjldkja;fsal; thank you for reading and for caring after all this time. it genuinely means a lot #if you were looking for a cuter/succinct answer i'm so sorry and can definitely give you one. this was just one of my more realistic aus #my text #asks #my fic #promptio #ffxv #for the record i don't think gladio and prompto are Rock Solid for the full 10 years in this au #i think they have periods in the darkness where they separate for a while. out of necessity. as many in the dark do.#whether due to feeling antsy or personality clashes or conflicting traumas of what they've had to deal with and Missing Noct and #Losing Faith and Regaining Faith and Obligations and The Horrors and so on #but I do think they cannot escape each other especially with gladio's hand print on prompto's face and so they can't Not think about #each other always. prompto in the mirror. gladio in his dreams.#so they are always drawn together and they do work things out and get used to each other #and end up relatively happy together in the end #they lean on each other a lot in the post-noct times #especially gladio who doesn't know what to do with himself without noctis always and ignis is equally lost #making themselves useful but running around the same ruts in the ground as always #and prompto is over here pulling himself up by his boostraps while pretending he's not crying in the caravan bathroom #like they all are #i do NOT mean for this to sound as depressing as it does. I think like years 1-2 post Hand Incident are really rough with moments of light #and then all the times after that are super solid <3 #they DO end up happy together it just takes a lot of hard work and they know each other better than anyone by the end #thank you again for sending this ask after 4 years it is so wonderful to read

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dmercer91 · 1 year

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for opposites attract i feel like reader would be in like a dark outfit and mary janes and dark makeup next to sunny sweet luca but luca just thinks they are so so adorable!!

oh absolutely - turned this into impromptu draft day hcs cause i love them

you allow adam to sit next to luca purely cause you know they’re gonna have an hour long cuddle session on live television once adams name is called

you hug adam for the second time ever and maybe you’re a smidge proud of him so you smile with teeth and everything

adam teases you about it while he’s doing his rudimentary good luck ritual of messing up your bangs

“you’ve got a pretty smile,” “oh shut up,”

as soon as he starts making his way down you steal his seat and take lucas hand

he’s more than aware that the camera is panning to him while they’re talking about adam and you’re not so aware

he has every gif or picture of the two of you holding hands he can find saved

this is probably the first time the internet is getting a good view of you because you downright refuse to let him post your face at this point in the relationship

even when he hard launched you it wasn’t your whole face, he’d just tagged you

a lot of people are a little.. perplexed at the contrast between you and luca

i’m picturing a long sleeve dress and black tights, still formal enough for the draft

hair down and in loose curls

^ i’ve always envisioned very long, either really dark brown or black hair with like the thin fringe bangs

and light (layer wise) makeup, still matching the darker colour scheme

meanwhile luca is in the light blue and he’s just being luca

the chain he has with the moon ring on it is out where people can see it and he’s fidgeting with your sun ring

he absolutely wants a photo shoot before you leave cause he thinks you look so pretty

he almost definitely has a friends/family instagram or something that has essentially become a you fan page

tonight is no different and those who follow it have given up on watching all the stories

cause he will not shut up (before it starts and after the draft is over) about how beautiful you are and how proud he is of adam and it ends up being one of those days where he’s got so many posts the story lines are dots (seriously everyone’s sick of him)

he even got one of you and adam together and you’re leaning your head on his shoulder cause that’s your newly acquired honorary brother and you want to show him you’re happy for him and this is the way he accepts you’re gonna do that

luca loves that you love adam and that adam has basically accepted his role to you as lovingly pesty little brother

you don’t really keep up much with hockey other than luca and adams whole situation, so you very discreetly eye fucking luca once you’re pretty sure they’re done talking about adam cause you’re not familiar with other people and you don’t want to look bored

you do watch out for gavin’s name

honestly confused protective mother vibes when he isn’t called (however you will not ever tell anyone that. ever.)

his parents love you even though you’d hardly met just because not only is luca head over heels and constantly praising you but adam has started mentioning how you’re warming up to him and just the fact that he’s proud of himself for that tells them they want you to stay around

clothes last about .47 seconds max once you and luca are back at the hotel room courtesy of a couple drinks after the draft

this is longer than i thought it was gonna be but my brain kept thinking things and i’ve gotten so much sun today so if this is word vomit my apologies i cannot contain the luca and reader love

#opposites attract au !#luca fantilli

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jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka · 9 months

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Sorry this is so late, but Happy New Years here’s part 12! I hope you hate it as much as I do! Want to find out what’s happening? Start here in part 1.

Pairings: Sam Kiszka x Danny Wagner ***slash for 2024!

Warnings and tags: 18+ only!!!, slash ofc, sexual situations including oral (m receiving), slight masturbation, messy love triangles, lots of angst, third person POV Sam, Danny, and Jake, restaurant AU

Word count: 6k

Come on Danny pick up. Jake tried his number again when the first call eventually went to voicemail.

“Hello?” Danny answered with a slightly confused, slightly concerned tone in his voice.

“Hey, I’m sorry for calling like this”. Jake sounded a bit frantic on the other end, though whatever the matter was he still had the mind to apologize for calling out of the blue.

“No umm, it’s alright” Danny replied, looking over at Sam who was laid out on his bed, stark naked, hair still dripping wet, with an unamused look on his face. His brows were perched on the verge of an eye roll, mouthing ‘seriously’ to which Danny just shrugged. Sure it was bad timing to answer a phone call right now, but Jake never just called for nothing. “What’s up?”

“Kim is sick, she woke up this morning not feeling well. Thought she might get over it but now she’s running a high fever. We’re on our way to the hospital”.

“Oh no, Is she okay?” Surely she was fine, he’d seen her just last night. Although looking back on it she did seem a little lethargic and short fused, he hadn’t looked into it. He wished now he would have stopped and at least asked if she was alright.

Sam lost his attitude when he heard Danny’s voice turn more serious, wondering who it was he was asking about.

“She will be fine, just want to get her looked at. I’m sorry to ask, but do you think you could go in tonight to cover for her?”

Danny’s shoulders fell as he looked over at Sam again, waiting for him to give him any more clues about what was going on. “Yeah. I can do that, give me about fifteen minutes to get dressed and I’ll head over there”.

“Thanks, I owe you one”.

Danny hung up the phone and let out the long sigh he’d been holding in, then moved over to his closet to start getting ready.

“Where are you going?” Sam questioned, standing up off the bed and wrapping his arms around Danny’s waist in a feeble attempt to convince him to stay.

“Kim is sick, I’m going in to work to cover for her” he replied, pulling one of his black button ups out and tossing it onto his desk.

“Can’t anyone else go?” His arms tightened around him, pressing his now neglected erection into Danny’s hip with a purposeful whiny whimper. “What am I supposed to do about this?”

Danny’s lips pulled into a Cheshire grin. They were no longer going to get the night he envisioned, but he was not about to leave his lover high and dry.

“It will only take me five minutes to get dressed” he informed him, turning around in his arms and walking him backwards back to the bed. “Lay back down, you’ve got ten minutes to make this count”.

Sam wasn’t happy Danny had to go into work. Danny wasn’t exactly thrilled about it either, but he was at least pleased that he was trusted enough to be called in as Kim’s replacement.

Being Kim for the night proved to be a little more challenging than he’d expected though. It gave him more appreciation for her management style and how she was able to juggle helping with tables, answering a dozen and a half random questions at the drop of a hat, organizing the team and delegating tasks, all while being extra bright and friendly to the guests and staff alike.

Being the stand in dining room manager also meant he had to work side by side with the bar manager on duty tonight. Which of course was Savanna.

He didn’t expect much more than the bare minimum from her when he asked a couple of times for help, but when he got the cold shoulder the second time he decided at least having to figure it out by himself would be a learning experience.

Savanna ignoring him he understood, even felt like he deserved a little bit, but in the previous days this week Jake couldn’t seem to look him straight in the eye either. Let alone talk to him for more than a few short words here and there.

Danny wasn’t exactly sure what was getting to Jake, but he figured it must be something to do with the conversation they’d had in the garage back at his parents house. Jake was probably putting some distance between them which made sense, he only wished it didn’t feel like it had to be this way. That their friendship had to be kept within tight boundaries now otherwise toes might get stepped on.

Though all the extra time he spent with Sam was rewarding in more ways than one, he did miss hanging out with Jake. He was a cool guy, easy to be around, and he did always cook really good food when Danny came over.

Kim was the only one Danny still regularly met up with, though he figured their usual friend date this weekend would probably be canceled on account of her illness. Even then, she seemed a bit more reserved than usual during their brunches. By this point everyone in their circle knew of him and Sam dating, but still no one seemed to talk much about it very much. That made it feel even more like a dirty secret than it ever did before.

The one thing Danny wasn’t sure of was how much Jake had told Kim. Had he said anything to her about the two of them? They never really discussed what they were and were not comfortable talking about after everything all went down. Danny did prefer that only their very close friends know, if necessary at all, though he wouldn’t deny Jake his freedom to tell who he wanted his own history.

The more he thought about it, the more he considered Kim knowing everything would actually be a relief. He couldn’t exactly talk to Sam about these pent up feelings for missing Jake. No, Sam wouldn’t take that lightly. For some reason, telling Jake he missed him sounded a little too far out of line as well. Being able to talk to Kim about the mess in his head might actually help clear some things up for him.

They closed later than usual, having gotten behind during the chaos that was their dinner rush. Danny still felt good about all he did manage to accomplish tonight though, considering it was his first time closing solo without Jake or Kim guiding him.

He checked his phone for the first time in hours after climbing tiredly into his driver's seat. A few texts from Sam asking him how it was going, then about an hour later a text that said ‘guess you’re busy, goodnight’.

His heart clenched a little bit. He probably could have taken a quick break and slipped into the manager's office to text him back. If he had done that though, he might have said something in the moment about Savanna out of frustration.

Sam and her seemed to still be getting along well while at work. Danny tried not to let it bother him. He trusted Sam. Though he didn’t exactly believe she was just going to back down quietly after trying to get him back once already.

Just before he was about to start the car and head home another text came through, a text from Jake.

Thanks again for covering for Kim tonight. We got back from the hospital about a couple of hours ago. She has a really bad case of the flu but she’s medicated now and has been sleeping it off

1:03AM

He stared at the dim screen for a few minutes, debating on how to reply, before just hitting the contact and giving him a call. It rang only a couple of times before Jake answered quietly.

“Hello? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine, just closed up. Wanted to call and check on you”.

Danny squeezed his eyes shut and let his head fall to the window with a muffled thump of his hair against the glass. Check on you? Jesus, could he be any more obvious? Kim was the one who was sick, he should be more concerned with how she’s doing.

“Oh, yeah I’m alright. Kim tried to fight me about going to the hospital at first so I tried my best to take care of her all day. Finally got to the point where I had to put my foot down and nearly carry her to the car”. He chuckled a little bit on the other end of the phone and Danny felt immediately relieved.

Jake really cared about Kim which made him extremely grateful that two of the most important people in his life right now were finding comfort and solace in each other. Everything should've been perfect by this point, what with him and Sam and Jake and Kim being together, but Danny couldn’t deny that something still felt off.

A silence fell between them while Danny attempted to collect himself. He was tired, drained both physically and mentally, and the jumbled twist of emotions within him were finally starting to take their toll. Digging their roots deep into the seams of his skull until he could feel them starting to crack the bone apart.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Danny questioned with his temple and shoulder still slumped against the door. Jake replied with a simple hum of his own raspy tired voice. “Do you ever wish that you loved me?”

The words came rolling out before he could stop and think about rephrasing them, or maybe even keeping them locked away like many of the other trifling thoughts he’d had.

Jake didn’t seem caught up by the question though, bursting out into a cute little fit of laughter that he tried to stifle quickly. He was probably still nearby Kim and didn’t want to wake her. “What? I do love you Danny”.

Danny’s blood ran warm. Like it did when he’d had one too many drinks, or when the right pull off a joint finally hit him.

“And Josh loves you, and Kim loves you, and Sammy loves you, we all do”.

Of course Jake wouldn’t think of answering that question any other way. Danny wasn’t even sure why he’d asked it in the first place. Perhaps other than his own selfish desire to please everyone to the point that he’d started to lose exactly who he was without the constant reassurance that he was loved by others.

He forced a chuckle to attempt to match Jake’s tone, like that’s exactly what he’d meant by that question. “You’re right, thanks for reminding me”.

“Thanks for checking in. I’ll talk to you later okay?”

“Of course, goodnight Jake”.

“Goodnight Dan”.

Jake let out a shaky breath when he heard the line go silent. Danny’s question rattled him.

What was he supposed to say? No? Jake knew all too well the sting of that simple word.

What if he were to tell the truth though? He never could. Not for Sam’s sake, he was already on thin ice with his brother in regards to Danny. And certainly not for Danny’s sake.

What good would it do anyone to dredge up feelings that had been washed away. Carried out to sea like tiny grains of sand from a beach somewhere far away.

He peaked back through the crack of his bedroom door, from the hallway where he’d hurried off to answer Danny’s phone call. Kim slept soundly, no doubt in a steroid induced slumber from all the meds they’d pumped her full of at the hospital. She was dehydrated, despite all the fluids he’d tried to persuade her with before he made the decision to take her.

Despite the day he’d had Jake wasn’t quite ready to go to bed just yet, but he didn’t want to bother Kim so he left the door cracked open and went downstairs.

After boiling some water, he poured it over a random tea bag from a stash he’d found Josh had left high up in the pantry. He took a sip of the hot herbal liquid and exhaled, it was pretty good, Josh always had excellent taste.

Jake sat down on his couch and picked up the remote as he continued to sip on his tea, flipping through the list of movies on the TV until he stopped at one that looked familiar though he couldn’t remember exactly what it was about. He selected the movie and saw that he had already watched it at some point. He hit play from beginning and sat back into the couch, watching intently as the flashing images started to make sense. He had watched this movie before, well at least started it before Danny came over and they… yeah he didn’t really watch the movie.

Deciding to give it a shot this time he watched until he finished his drink, getting up to place the mug in the sink before returning to lay on the couch.

Jake stared at the TV, but his head was filled with anything but the movie. One of his arms raised up to the back of the couch and he gripped the frame, feeling and remembering the way he’d gripped so tightly onto it that evening. Before he could think about what he was doing, his other hand came to rest high on his thigh and his breath started to pick up.

He didn’t remember what had happened in the movie, but his body remembered how it had felt with Danny’s hands all over him. His throat started to feel raw again, remembering the way he’d groaned and cried ‘more, harder’. His head fell back and he closed his eyes as the hand on his thigh crept across and he started palming himself over his pants.

There was hardly any friction, and he was too exhausted to worry about actually getting himself off, but his body relaxed as his hips started to roll forward in sync with the rubbing of his hand. It felt good, not just because he was lazily touching himself, but because of the rushing memories pumping through him.

Seeing Danny while being with someone else, drunk or not, was certainly not okay and he’d been trying to rectify that ever since by distancing himself a little more than he wanted to. Letting himself remember though, there was no harm in that right? He was alone down here and he just wanted to let go. So let go he did, until the memories faded away and his body went limp as sleep took over.

When Danny got home, his room was dark and empty as he changed into something warm and comfy to sleep in. He made his way down the hallway to go to the restroom once more before bed, but stopped by Sam’s door on his way back. He’d left it open, unusual for the times when he slept in his own room.

A light was still on as well, so he peaked inside and found Sam slumped over on his desk. A textbook was open in front of him, and his cell phone was on the charger but near his hand like it had fallen out of his grip when he fell asleep.

Danny sighed, Sam really could sleep anywhere, but he couldn’t leave him like that.

“Sam, come on let’s get you in bed”. He shook his shoulder, hardly waking him up as he helped Sam stand up. When he successfully got him vertical he was able to take in the state of him, and smiled at what he saw.

Sam had gone through his closet when he left and pulled out one of Danny’s old shirts from his highschool golf team. He hadn’t seen that shirt in at least over a year, so Sam must have really dug to the back of the closet to find it. Danny wondered if he had just been bored, or if Sam had gone looking for that shirt in particular.

“Mmm, I was having a good dream” Sam mumbled as he stumbled over to his bed, swinging around out of Danny’s grasp to plop down onto the edge.

“About what?” Danny indulged him by stepping forward, though he only intended to ensure Sam successfully got into bed and under the covers.

Sam’s mischievous smirk was illuminated by the soft glow of the lamp left on at his desk. Once Danny was within close enough range he reached up and grabbed his shirt collar then fell back onto the bed sending Danny tumbling forward on top of him. Danny barely caught himself with one hand on the bed and one on Sam’s shoulder, but Sam tugged him again and connected their lips.

“Shall we pick up where we left off?” He tried to seductively suggest by wrapping his legs around Danny’s waist as he continued to attack his lips with his own.

Danny let Sam kiss him, though he didn’t return the same energy. Not only was he physically not up for the task now, but mentally he wasn’t in the right place anymore.

“You’re insatiable” he chuckled lowly when he was able to pull back, trying to mask the true turmoil he was fighting within. Sam stared up at Danny with an uneasy questioning in his eyes, his legs falling limply to either side of Danny as he gently caressed the hair at the top of Sam’s head.

Earlier Danny was sultry and demanding in his words and actions. Sam had liked it, the way he controlled the moment and all Sam had to do was play along. Now Danny was light in his touches, easy with him like Sam was some porcelain doll he could break if he pressed too hard.

“What’s the matter?”

Danny sighed, but continued his petting. He leaned down to attempt to kiss his worries away, at least for tonight, but Sam turned away letting Danny’s kiss fall on his jaw instead. He looked again, his brows furrowing and his eyes repeating his question.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’ve really enjoyed this week together,” Danny hesitantly began, hoping that Sam wouldn’t take this the wrong way, “but I think we should slow down a bit again”.

He waited for Sam to reply, to ask more questions, anything, but all Sam did was forcibly push Danny off of him and roll over to crawl up to the head of the bed.

“Sam-”

“Get out” Sam cut him off, curling his legs towards his chest and pulling at the blanket underneath him.

“Sam, please don’t be mad at me” Danny begged, wishing now that he hadn’t said anything at all. He should have given Sam some other excuse and let this wait until morning.

“I don’t understand you Danny” Sam groaned, rubbing the leftover sleep from his eyes and face. “First you want to wait, then you don’t, and now you want to wait again? What’s changed? Is it because I said I wanted to fuck you? Did you think I was just always going to let you have it any way you wanted?”

“What? No!” Danny was stunned, did Sam really think that was a problem for him? He didn’t care about the logistics of who did what. He just wanted to make sure his mind was in the right place before they continued to get carried away with the physical side of their relationship.

Sam had said it himself at Christmas, he wished Danny would have talked to him first before they had sex. That’s what he was trying to do this time, talk to Sam about what was bothering him before trying to mask it, only he was failing horribly. What even was he trying to say? He didn’t know, but he knew he had to figure it out before he hurt anyone again.

“Didn’t you and Jake do it all the time? What’s the problem with me then?” Sam’s voice sounded his hurt which only made Danny quiver with grief.

Danny wasn’t surprised to hear Jake’s name come into question. Sam was smart, sometimes a little too smart for his own good, and he had an intuition that was incomparable to anyone else he’d ever met.

“No Sammy, there’s nothing wrong with you” he reached out to try and put a comforting hand on his knee, but Sam pulled his legs tighter to his chest. “There’s never been anything wrong with you, not ever. I'm just… a little mixed up right now”.

“Mixed up?” Sam scoffed which turned into a dark laughter as he moved to hide his face by landing his forehead on his knees. “How long have you been ‘mixed up’ exactly?”

That was a good question. Only Danny didn’t know the real answer, because there was more than one. It could have been since tonight, when he heard Jake’s voice over the phone and realized that it still made his chest uncomfortably tight. Or it could have been when he got that book in the mail that he’d given to Jake for Christmas, suddenly remembering the night he laid in Jake’s bed rummaging through his things while Jake showered. He’d thought at the time how intimate that was, being left alone in someone’s room surrounded by all their most personal belongings. He hadn’t intended to gift him the book when he’d ordered it that night, only slip it into its place alongside the others on Jake’s headboard. He had no reason to be in Jake’s bed anymore now, but he thought the book still deserved to be where it belonged. With who it belonged to.

“Okay then” Sam shakily exhaled, finally pulling the blankets up over his body and sliding down. “I want to go back to sleep now. I think it’s best we stay in our own beds until you’re not ‘mixed up’ any more”.

Sam’s words stung but he was right, so Danny didn’t contest. Instead he just leaned over and left him with a kiss to his crown and quietly left, turning out the light on his way.

When Sam heard the click of his door closing behind Danny he let out a hard choked sob.

Fucking Jake. He always got in the way. First with whatever his vendetta was against Savanna, and now Sam was afraid he might have stolen Danny away.

“You’ve gotten your flights already?” Danny questioned as he watched Sam start packing his bags for his trip in the next few days.

Since learningthat Sam was going to LA after graduation, they had talked about it only a handful of times. Though he had already given his answer to their offer, Sam wanted to visit once to get the lay of the land before really preparing to move.

Danny was going to go with him, but recently they had been trying to spend some time apart, so they decided Sam going alone was for the better.

Spending time apart didn’t mean completely abstaining from each other though. Sam still slept in Danny’s room a couple of times, yet cuddling and kissing had been the extent of their activities.

“Yeah, I have an early morning flight. Tomorrow night I’ll sleep in here so I won’t bother you when I get up”.

Danny stood up from where he had taken a seat at Sam’s desk and moved behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and rested his chin on Sam’s shoulder. “You won’t leave without saying goodbye to me though will you?”

“We could say our goodbyes tonight if you wanted?” Sam suggested, letting his body lean fully against the weight of Danny on his back.

Danny nuzzled his nose behind the shell of Sam’s ear, breathing in his natural scent and letting the endorphins take him over. After the intoxicating smell, he decided he needed a little taste, so he pulled Sam’s lobe between his teeth and gave it a little nibble.

Sam let out a whimper, his body shaking slightly underneath Danny’s hovering form, and he twisted around in his grip so they could face each other. His arms came up to circle around Danny’s shoulders, and he pulled him down into a heated kiss, quickly parting Danny’s lips with his own and slipping his tongue inside for a taste of his own.

“You want to?” Danny asked just above a whisper, not letting their lips separate for long. Things still weren’t settled between them, but he couldn’t silence the desperation in the way his body talked, especially when Sam’s was sending him so many signals.

He felt Sam nod and tighten his grip, again answering without his words. “Do you want to go to my bedroom? Or stay in here?” Danny looked past Sam’s shoulder at the mess of clothes and bags sprawled out on his bed. He didn’t want to interrupt his packing but Sam didn’t seem to mind. He blindly reached behind himself and swiped his hand across the sheets, sending all his belongings tumbling onto the floor in an arrangement of soft and loud thuds, before sitting down and taking Danny along with him.

Here they were again, Sam was underneath Danny and he was bucking his hips upwards, trying to get any friction he could, as fast as he could before they could back track. He held Danny close by the collar of his shirt, and when Danny’s hands circled around his wrists to pull them off, he halted his movements and started up at him with the fear of being rejected again.

Danny’s expression didn’t read rejection this time though, no the fierceness had returned. The blacks of his eyes had blown wide, leaving only a small halo of mossy green behind and he peeled his shirt off before returning to kissing Sam.

Sam closed his eyes and let the fiery feeling sink into his skin and settle into the pit of his stomach as Danny trailed his kisses down to his neck. He wondered if Danny would leave any new marks on him where all the others had already faded.

“Want… Jake…” he heard Danny’s voice muffled against his shoulder, causing his eyes to snap open and his blood to run cold.

“What did you just say?”

Danny pulled back, unphased, and repeated what he’d said. “Want to take this off” he tugged at the collar of Sam’s shirt. “Can I?”

“Oh, yeah” Sam tried to steady his heart beat as he lifted his shoulders and helped Danny pull his shirt off.

“What did you think I said?” Danny chuckled, unaware of the mini heart attack he’d just given him.

“Nothing, nothing at all” Sam replied, wrapping his arms back around him and trying to keep going.

Danny let his hands trail down Sam’s torso, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps now that Sam was cold and still shaking.

Danny thought he was just really into it, which only urged him to do more. He kissed his chest, then his naval, then hovered above his groin as his fingers played with the waistband of his sweats. If there was anything he could do to make up for the last time, he knew this would be it.

Sam bit his lip and lifted his hips as Danny started to pull his pants down.

“…Jake… so good”.

“What?” Sam snapped again. Why the fuck did he keep hearing Jake’s name out of Danny’s mouth? And when it was so close to his faltering erection?

“I said”, Danny kissed his member over his underwear next, letting his hot breath linger there, “gonna make you feel so good”.

Sam reached down and pulled his last piece of clothing off, making Danny chuckle again at his impatience. “No more talking” Sam demanded, weaving his fingers through Danny’s hair and pushing him down.

Danny gladly took him in, bobbing his head up and down eager to please. Sam stared up at the ceiling, digging his fingernails into Danny’s scalp with each downward movement, trying to keep his concentration as best he could now that he’d been rattled a few times.

He attempted to close his eyes again, but when he did he pictured Danny on his knees in front of someone with long brown hair. At first he thought maybe he was picturing himself, but then they turned around and of course it was Jake.

“Goddammit!” Sam yelled, starting Danny off him.

“What? Did I hurt you?” Danny started to panic. He wasn’t sure what he’d done, but he’d been so focused on trying to do a good job he might not have noticed if he nicked him with his teeth or something.

“I’m sorry, I thought I could do this but I can’t”. Sam stood up off the bed and snatched his sweatpants up from off the floor, hurriedly stuffing his legs back into them and covering himself. He suddenly felt very exposed.

“Sam, talk to me, what’s the matter?”

Sam raked his fingers through his hair and shook his head, trying to get the images he’d been repressing over the past few days out of his head. “Every time I’m with you like this I can’t stop thinking about you and my brother! At first I thought it was a one time thing, but it just keeps happening, and it’s getting worse”. His voice came out louder than he’d intended, but he really was tired of this, tired of it all.

He thought maybe if he could get through one time, then go on his trip and let himself start to miss Danny, then he’d come home and things might just start to finally fall into place.

Danny stared at him blankly, which only pissed him off even more. “Why would you think of that?” He babbled dumfoundly, though in the back of his mind Danny knew the reasoning was obvious.

“I don’t know Daniel, maybe if…” he started to trail off, thinking finishing this thought out loud might do more harm than it would any good.

“Maybe what?” Danny pushed on, starting to get a little worked up himself. He couldn’t keep going around in circles like this, they had to hash this out now before they both started losing their minds.

“Maybe if you had said something sooner, before you and Jake ever… I mean if I’d had just known sooner then maybe things would be different”. His thoughts were coming out in a jumbled mess, but Danny was getting the gist of it. Sam tried to come to grips with the fact that he and Jake had been intimate many times before, but the truth was he hated it.

He hated that Danny felt like he couldn’t confess to him sooner, but somehow Jake was easy enough to open up to without all the extra fuss and complication that their whirlwind relationship had accumulated over the past few months.

He hated that he felt like maybe his brother would be a better lover than he ever could be.

“How was I supposed to tell you when you were with Savanna? You have nothing to lose with this Sam. You think if you went crawling back to her right now she wouldn’t take you back?”

“You think if you went to Jake he wouldn’t take you back?” Sam's voice was filled with venom now, biting at Danny for insinuating that he was the only one who had nothing to lose. Sam being afraid of losing Danny was the whole reason they’d gotten swept up like this together in the first place. He promised to give this a chance, see how far they could go together, but he was starting to think that the true beauty in their relationship lied in the way it was before.

He didn’t want to hurt Danny, and he could never hate him; Sam simply wasn’t capable of actually hating anybody. He just missed the effortlessness of their friendship.

“So what does this mean then?” Danny questioned after a moment of silence. They were in a standoff, standing in the middle of a shaky wooden bridge over a never ending gorge with their only options being pushing forward and hoping the fraying ropes wouldn’t snap, or going back to where they knew it was safe.

“I think you know what this means”. Sam couldn’t look him in the eye, couldn’t bring himself to see the way his words tore through Danny like he was ripping pages right out of a book. Pages that didn’t belong anymore, at least not in this story.

Sam wanted a break, a chance to get away and figure things out on his own without the constant pressure of others. Taking this trip now was probably the best thing that could happen for them. Sam would go away for a few days and when he got back hopefully they could sort this out once and for all.

“I understand Sam” Danny replied dejectedly, but at least there was no more anger in his tone. He couldn’t be angry at Sam, not when the both of them had made the choices that led them here.

He thought back to a comment Jake had made a while ago-

“Danny, you don’t regret anything we’ve done do you?”

The thing was, even with this outcome, Danny still didn’t regret anything. Because all the things he’d learned about himself along the way, and the confidence he grew, were what made him capable of even attempting this with Sam. If he had said anything sooner, he wasn’t sure he would have been ready to face everything they had and things could have ended up a lot worse.

“I’m going to go, let you finish packing up. I’ll see you in the morning, ok?”

“I’m sorry Daniel” Sam’s lips quivered as he spoke. Danny was holding himself together better than he’d expected he would, and he knew that was a good thing, but that didn’t mean he still wasn’t sorry.

“Don’t be,” Danny stood and placed his hands lightly on each of Sam’s shoulders mustering up the best half smile he could manage before giving him a feather light kiss on the cheek. “I still love you, I always will”.

Sam nodded and sniffled a little, wiping the corner of his eye before the tear could even fall. Danny was being strong for him, he knew he was, so he had to reel it in too. The thing was, he wasn’t crumbling because he thought this would be the end of them. He was letting it all out because he knew it was the right decision.

The next day Danny tiptoed around Sam, wanting to still spend time with him before he left, but not wanting to overstep any new boundaries he knew they’d have to establish eventually.

The day seemed to drag on, but at the same time he felt like after he cried himself to sleep that night, when his eyes finally did shut, they were open again the next morning and Sam was gone.

Now that he had the space to himself he knew he could begin to collapse. He could open the floodgates and let the rush of emotions he kept damned up sweep through him until every nerve in his body had eroded away.

Something told him if he let that happen though, he might not be able to plug it back up when Sam returned, so instead he looked for distractions.

The first distraction was cleaning, but the problem was he and Sam were actually pretty tidy people to begin with, so there wasn’t much for him to do there.

The second distraction was work. He’d picked up an extra shift knowing he was going to be antsy and in a bad mood while Sam was gone. He realized though that the monotony of doing the same thing he always did, taking orders, tidying up the dining room when he had the chance, and stocking menus and utensils didn’t help keep his mind from telling him over and over again that he wasn’t good enough.

By the time his shift was finally over he was ready to bolt out the door, but he was dreading going back to an empty home. So instead Danny drove around for a while, thinking he could head to the library and maybe studying would keep him distracted, but he didn’t want to run into any classmates while he was in this state.

Eventually his car came to a stop on a familiar street and he waited outside, debating on if he should even attempt walking up to the door.

Danny held his breath as he knocked. There wasn’t an answer right away, but his car was also parked outside so Danny was pretty sure he was home. He jumped a little at the sound of the door unlocking, forcing him to breathe again as Jake opened the door.

“Hey, what's up?” Jake asked, surprised to see Danny at his doorstep unannounced. He took one good look at Danny and immediately knew something was wrong. “Wait, are you alright?”

Danny opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was an incoherent jumble of “Sam… gone… broke up” as tears started to well up again.

Jake threw his arms around Danny and tried to console him and he drug him inside, shutting the door behind them with a kick of his bare foot.

He sat Danny down on his couch and crouched down in front of him, waiting patiently as he caressed one of Danny’s hands until the tears started to run out.

Once Danny was done he moved to sit next to him, not letting his hand go and sympathetically asked him,

“Tell me what happened”.

@alwaysonthemend @psychedelicstardust-gvf @twistedmelodies @heckingfrick

#greta van fleet #greta van fic #greta van smut #danny wagner #jake kiszka #sam kiszka #gvf #sanny gvf #janny gvf

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neondiamond · 2 years

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🌹 Recently Read Fics - February 2023 🌹

These are all the amazing fics I read over the past month (from shortest to longest). Don’t forget to leave kudos and comments to show the authors your appreciation if you read any of these! 💗

🌹 Guitar Cutie by @beelou (632, G)

Niall owns the only lesbian bar in town, but she’s still single. Until a new act walks in for open mic night.

🌹 Melting into You by @beelou (1k, T)

The front door to their house closes and Liam sighs with a smile, He turns to Zayn standing next to him and kisses him on the lips. “A whole weekend to ourselves. Can you believe it?”

“It doesn’t quite seem real, but it is.” Zayn says, going in for another kiss.

“It’s still early. Our reservation isn’t for another four hours,” Liam gets in between kisses. Zayn pushes him against the door. “What are we gonna do?”

“Oh, I have some ideas,” Zayn says, moving down to kiss Liam’s neck.

🌹 happy birthday haz by @laurelsmybeloved (1k, T)

He looks at the time, just after ten in the morning. “We’ll eat, and then gifts, and then blowjob. Then some cuddles.” Louis smiles at Harry, who’s watching Louis softly and leaning against the counter. “Sound good?”

🌹 Your First Words (Have Yet To Be Said) by @whenyoucallmelover (1k, G)

the one where harry just wants to be a mom and, luckily, he picked someone who was supportive.

🌹 Chase by @wabadabadaba (1k, E)

Carefully, Louis stalked through the forest, searching for Harry. A moving cloud allowed the moonlight to shine just right to reflect off of the gorgeous green eyes of her omega. Harry was attempting to hide behind a tree; she was crouched down with her front paws and chest on the ground, her hind legs bent, with her tail swishing behind her like a puppy. Louis couldn't wait any longer to have her.

or, Louis and Harry play a game of chase during the full moon.

🌹 count me in by @disgruntledkittenface (3k, NR)

Zayn wants to propose to Harry, but she can’t find the right ring. Niall and Louis are no help at all.

Actually they help a lot.

🌹 I could be lucky by @djtommotomlinson (3k, G)

Harry finds a phone in the back of a taxi and then he finds Louis Tomlinson, but he assumes they won't meet again. Which would have probably been the case if Louis didn't leave his passport in the bakery he works at just a day later.

🌹 when we’re finished saying nothing by @disgruntledkittenface (3k, M)

Louis has barely woken up when she realizes that Harry is still mad from the night before. The silent treatment that Harry prefers when she’s like this isn’t going to achieve anything, so Louis gets up to apologize only to find out there’s more going on with her mate than she thought. That’s when her instincts take over.

An alpha/alpha AU inspired by Written All Over Your Face.

🌹 I Choose You by @disgruntledkittenface (3k, NR)

Louis is exhausted during a busy time at work. After a long commute home, the last thing he expects is for Harry to have a surprise for him.

🌹 14/09/2019 by @mediawhorefics (4k, G)

In mid-September, Harry comes home.

A Tired Tired Sea Coda.

🌹 Unplant by @hellolovers13 (4k, M)

Please do not disturb my plant. She needs 2 hours of sunlight a day and I live in a sunless flat. I’ll be back to collect her soon. Thank you and stay well.

Louis should've looked where he was going, then he wouldn't have to desperately try to save a little flower now.

🌹 Here For You by @chloehl10 (10k, T)

It’s Harry and Louis’ first Valentine’s Day as a couple, and Harry can’t wait to enjoy the day with his boyfriend.

But fate has other plans when Harry’s cold forces him home from work, and he’s laid up for the most romantic day of the year…

🌹 Wed’n Walk (Or, We Went to Amsterdam Together) by @hellolovers13 (11k, E)

When Harry had first started planning his honeymoon to Amsterdam, he had not envisioned ending up there with his best friend.

Or getting fake-married to him for 24 hours.

🌹 Take A Chance by @wabadabadaba (35k, G)

Harry and Liam used to be married and after the divorce Harry decides to move close to Liam so their daughter can still have a relationship with Liam. After months of isolation, Liam urges Harry to attend a wlw event and meets Louis, who not only gives her much needed friendship but the love and acceptance she craves.

🌹 Of Mates and Men by @bananaheathen (630k, E)

In which, Louis and Harry meet as best men for their best friends' wedding... well... sort of.

Or, the one where Harry's just moved back from New York and Louis doesn't believe in romance.

Or, I guess... the one where Zayn and Liam are getting married.

#28th appreciation #there were some clear themes to my reading this month: valentine’s fics; girl direction; and OMAM #monthly recs #fic rec #trackinghome #trackinghappily #tracksintheam #hlcreators

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dev-fiction · 3 months

Note

Hi! I love your fanfic Echoes and would be more than willing to be a beta reader if you ever need! I recently saw on your feed that Victoria is not your only OC-insert, do you mind sharing who your others are?

I'll definitely keep that in mind if I ever desire a beta reader <3 Thank you so much for the offer!

Of course I don't mind sharing the others - the more I get to talk about my oc's and my complete obsession with them, the happier I'll be ♥ I've actually been slowly putting together little character templates that I might post later, if anyone is interested :)

This is going to get a bit long-winded, so apologies in advance!

Of course, you know Victoria so we'll just skip right on by her starting with characters that currently have public fics, starting with-

Shippo Inuzuka, from Bare my Fangs Fandom: Naruto Current Word-Count: 34k Rewrite Word-Count: 20k Twin sister of Kiba Inuzuka, Shippo is currently an Academy Student in training within Konohagakure. Alongside her ninja pups Aomaru and Momomaru, Shippo dedicates her days to studious training and play as she gets to know her fellow classmates. I have a lot of feelings about this fic. I started it before Naruto came to an end which always made it a little more difficult for me to write. I love the Inuzuka Clan a LOT and was very disappointed at the lack of oc-inserts more focused around them - so, I decided to write my own! It's been a very long time since I've updated this fic or even really thought about it and a large part of that is now that Naruto has come to an end, I'd really like to re-write it.

It's an old story with a lot of themes I no longer like, going in a direction I'm no longer sure about. However, because of this I'm excited to work on the project again! I have a lot more writing experience compared to when I first started it and I'd like to apply that to this story the proper way it deserves ♥

As it is, for any BMF readers here you can consider the current iteration of the story abandoned as I undergo this. Some major themes will stay the same, but a lot won't.

Shippo as a character is someone I've thought about a lot and have really come to love - the Shippo I envision now is someone a little unhinged; feral, in a sense, someone who plays off the wild nature of Kiba Inuzuka and the clan as a whole effortlessly. I don't really want to spoil too much about her and what I currently have written of the rewrite, so I'll leave it at that.

Her pups will absolutely be staying the same - I love Aomaru and Momomaru so so so much. I have very big plans for them.

Monkey D. Lucy, from Abyssal Fandom: One Piece Current Word-Count: 32k Rewrite Word-Count: 0k, Under Plot and Character-Building Twin sister of Monkey D. Luffy, Lucy is a young girl residing with the mountain bandits - and her brothers - on Dawn Island. She spends her days training in preparation for her eventual departure to sea with her twin and her overall terror of the ocean.

Abyssal has always been one of my backburner fics; One Piece was nowhere near its final arc when I first started it and I had been desperately hoping for more information on Luffy's background as a whole before delving in too deep into the story - it's a fic I didn't focus on too much and worked on when the mood struck.

One Piece is still my favorite anime/manga, so of course I plan on continuing with it eventually - most likely after the series has reached its conclusion.

Monkey D. Lucy will retain her terror of the ocean, only she now comes with a brand spanking new personality.

I have a general idea of where I want to go with her - someone who's passionate, reckless, violent, and beautiful. I have a character outline page written and a lot of rough sketches :)

Yuta Amelia Heartfilia, from Soulbound Fandom: Fairy Tail Current Word-Count: 10k Rewrite Word-Count: 45k This fic as it is has been completely abandoned. I've been working on a rewrite from the ground up for a while now - starting with the awful name, which is now Amelia.

I haven't talked about this fic anywhere or approached Soulbound in a long time - but I have been working on a rewrite for a few months now.

I adore Fairy Tail a lot - and now that it's come to a close I feel like I have a lot of freedom with this fic. There really isn't a lot of world-building and the general makeup of magic is very fluid to work with. I think Fairy Tail's strongest asset is its characters, which are honestly so so much fun to write.

As a result of this, I think Amelia is one of my more rounded-out characters.

Amelia is the younger sister of Lucy Heartfilia - and by younger, that is to say at the start of her story she is 11 years old, which makes her 6 years younger than Lucy.

Amelia is a quiet kid with no filter when she does speak - which makes her, rather unintentionally, a bit of an asshole. She's not good at reading people and has no real desire to engage with them - she leaves all of that charisma bullshit to her sister. Growing up on the streets after running away from home at a young age has made her street savvy; she's small, but lithe and very agile when she expends the effort towards it.

She spent most of her young life in cheap rooms in dodgey areas situated above taverns or whore houses while Lucy picked up odd jobs and magic requests to keep them afloat. This has encouraged a crass nature and a proclivity towards swearing that exasperates her sister greatly.

She's incredibly co-dependent on Lucy, who has acted as both parental roles for the majority of her life. She can't imagine life without her and is willing to do anything to keep her safe.

She holds no memories of any previous lives she may or may not have lived.

She was blessed with a rather simple form of Celestial Spacial Magic; the ability to teleport herself and objects a short distance around her. She adores her ability and often uses it for the purpose of being lazy.

I've been having a lot of fun writing this fic. Unlike my other fics this one alternates between the main siblings frequently, to the point that I'd say that they're both the main protagonists.

As a general result of leaving home so much earlier than canon, Lucy has changed a lot as well, but well - I'll leave that for the readers to find out when I do finally start posting chapters.

As for the fics I've kept almost completely on the down-low; these are fics I don't plan on posting for a very long time, but have been working on.

Anna Weasley, from Untitled Project Fandom: Harry Potter Current Word-Count: 60k Anna Weasley is a starry-eyed child - she sees the world through dream-hued glasses tainted at the edges by nightmares brought on by her rather bad habit of dying. Sometimes she sees things that others can't and that's okay - she has her twin, Ron, to help her sort out the muddled mess that is her mind.

She's bright in a simple kind of way, and a bit odd, but eternally optimistic and loyal to those she loves.

As much as I would love love love to talk endlessly about Anna, this is where I'm going to leave it. I have a lot planned for this fic and writing it between Echoes has been fun. I love the Weasley's, if you couldn't tell, and I feel like passing up the chance to jump into a story with a Weasley-centric OC would be a travesty.

Also Anna is like, in my top 3 OC's to doodle when I feel up to it ♥

Umeko Haruno, from Untitled Project Fandom: Naruto Current Word-Count: 70k Umeko Haruno has had her nose stuck to the grindstone studying and training for her future career as a shinobi for as long as she can remember. Growing up with a training companion in the form of her brilliant twin has pushed her into a diligent pursuit to surpass her own limits.

This mentality was largely influenced by the passing of her shinobi mother when she was still very young. A casualty of a mission gone wrong, her loss was felt deeply by the family with ripples that never quite ceased. Umeko's desire to live up to her mothers legacy, become strong enough to protect those she has left, and push herself to the extreme has resulted in her being a workaholic with an obsession to become a more efficient shinobi.

She's very book-smart and clinical, but she doesn't let that overshadow her kindness. She has a low tolerance for incompetence and values training above all else - there is almost no form of training she isn't willing to try, no matter the blow it might deal to her dignity or the respect others have for her.

I'm really really excited for this fic. It's a lot more fast paced than my other ones and writing it has been a lot of fun - Umeko is just a lot of fun. I've kept this fic completely hushed up simply because of Bare my Fangs, but as you can see I've got quite a bit written already.

I have a very strong idea of her story progression and how it will ultimately affect those around her, as well as the plot as a whole. I've got a few twists and turns planned that I can't wait to unveil ♥

What's this? It's A - Bonus Round!

Ↄ̶̵̸̢̰̩̪̠̗̟̪͉̮͈̯͉̹ͤ̈̑ͨͤ͌͊ͪ͛́̈͑̽͘̚͟͞ͅ ḻ̢̛̩͇̥͚̲͉͉̤̆̓̏̀ͮͥͨ͒ͪ̽̀ͤ͑͛̋͒̔̽̎ͭ̀̒̓̚͟͟͠ ἀ̴̡̩̗̫̩̮͕̼̋ͨ́̌ͣͬͨ̈́͛̆ͧ̈́͐ͣ͗̓ͭ̃͊͘̚͜͢͝ я̛̱̘̦̺͍͓̉͡я̛̱̘̦̺̉͡я̛̱̘̦̺̉͡ α̸̴̙͖̯̖̩͈̿́̏̾ͫ̓̀́ͧ͘͟α̸̴̙͖̯̖̩͈̿́̏̾ͫ̓̀́ͧ͘͟_̵̶̵̡̘̯̗̣͓̻̳̼̦̭̅ͣ̇̔̎ͬ͆̃̂ͥ͡ Fandom: ⸮⸮⸮ Current Word-Count: ⸮̷̩͓̙͔̰͎̰̘̲̤́̋̒ͥͦ͌̌͗̉̐͊ͭ̉̋ͨ̋ͬͩ̈ͨ̐ͣ͟⸮̱͈̩̜͎͖̳͚͉̤̰͎̯̞̭̖̂̊̋̀̿͐̀ͮ͘⸮̧̢̼̭͎̦͍̫͉͖̀̏̀̏ͥͦ́ Objective: ⸮⸮⸮ She'd built her life, from the ground up. Through the muck of slurried-trash heaps and the grime of sick rot tearing away at her clothes and her food and her dignity she'd persevered.

And then-

Afterward, nothing much mattered, anymore.

There was a peace in that.

More, than peace, it's like she ascended-

And then, she found, she wasn't alone.

🤫

Thank you for asking about my OC's and sorry if it was a lot more than you bargained for! I really do love them and have been quietly sitting on them for a while now :)

#ask #thanatos-is-daddy #echoes #bare my fangs #abyssal #soulbound #Untitled Project #my oc's #tysm for the ask this was fun to throw together rq #and NO i will not be taking any questions about that last character there #have fun speculating :)#yes ive been writing a lot behind the scenes #part of the reason echoes isnt updated as frequently but im gonna burn myself out on it if i just hardball #in other news my friend has been great for idea bouncing and echoes is p much completely planned out #all i gotta do is write out the details :D #its kind of frustrating at the same time bc i have scenes written out for chapters that are like...very far down the line haha #the reason im not posting the rewrites and new fics is bc i dont wanna stress myself out w expectations of chapters etc #i can work on it at my own pace bc its almost completely private #and i can go back and adjust things as need be #i wont lie a part of me still craves validation for the work (like feedback lol) but my desire to build up a cohesive story i can update #regularly outweighs that immensely

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thefandomwritersblog · 2 years

Text

It's back babes!

Better! Longer! More fleshed out than the last!! You may notice similar passages and themes, but also a lot of new stuff too! And all in all, I'm much more happy with it this time around.

Shout out and many thanks to @maelove21 ! Without her invaluable help and insights this would have taken much longer to get up off the ground. I cannot express how much I appreciate your patience, your kindness, and the wonderful friendship you've given me!

I do want to apologize to everyone. I very abruptly took this project down around the end of October with zero explanation, and I know that it confused a lot of you. I want to thank those who found a way to reach out to my friend, and asked about me. I was very surprised and touched.

The short of it, is that my mental health towards my writing took a very drastic and negative turn. I had to have a very difficult talk with both my partner and my therapist, and we all agreed that it was best to stop and pull back for a bit. I went cold turkey because I knew that if I didn't the emotions would only get worse.

I put a lot of thought into Ghost of the Ten while it was down, and I came to the simple conclusion that I still loved this story very much. It is by far the work that I am the most proud of, and I want to make sure that the work I post reflects that joy and pride. So this time around, I will be adding (and editing out) a lot more scenes that feel longer, and more fleshed out, and incorporate the ideas I wanted to incorporate the first time around.

I appreciate your patience, I really do. This fandom has been nothing but kind to me since I got into it in February, and I look forward to showing you all the next chapter!

Ghost of the Ten Horizon Forbidden West Hekarro x Fem!OldOne Action/Adventure/Hurt/Comfort/Romance Chapter 1

PART 1: Tomb of the Ten

“We never fully die even in what we think of as actual death. We change again and become echoes in others, and they carry us forward.”

― Eric Overby

Hekarro liked to think of himself as a reasonable and level-headed individual.

He was like that of a steel blade forged in the fires of conflict. Honed through the many trials he faced over his long years. As a result, there was little in the world that troubled his mind these days. He faced each challenge with tenacity and grace, guiding his people toward the unity and prosperity he'd envisioned since he first conquered the Grove nearly two decades ago.

Yet, there was an anxiety in his gut he couldn’t shake.

He kept a safe distance from the excavations, his hands clasped behind his back to keep his knuckles from popping. Aloy hovered by his side, bouncing with nervous energy. She recognized the importance of this work, both for the Oseram workers who darted around like frantic machines and for him. Hekarro had little tolerance for outsiders, Oseram more so than others due to their tendency to plunder sacred Tenakth sites.

Nevertheless, the work they performed today was vital, and Hekarro required the Oseram to complete it, regardless of his feelings. Regalla and her final stand had collapsed several tunnels beneath the Arena, tunnels that had already been weakened when her Rockbreaker had broken through the last time she tried to kill him. As a result, a number of sinkholes formed, destabilizing the entire structure and killing several of his guards. Cleaning up the damage and securing what was left was dangerous work.

“Almost ready, Petra!” called an excavator from the threshold of a nearby tunnel. Petra, a robust Oseram woman who stood on Aloy’s other side, gave him a wave,

“Keep that blast under control,” She barked back, her voice carrying across the arena, “Everyone else get clear!”

Hekarro followed Aloy and Petra to safety while the rest of the crews cleared the floor. They ducked behind a large pillar opposite the tunnel, and he listened to the sappers begin their countdown. He could almost taste the tension in the humid air around him, and saw it easily on the faces of the men and women around him. Suddenly, Petra nudged him in the arm. The smile on her was plain as the day when he turned to look at her,

“Nervous there, Chief?” She teased. Hekarro huffed at her; he admired her candor. Petra carried herself with pride, and easily held the respect of the men under her command. She was easy to get along with, but wasn’t a pushover by any means of the word.

“So long as your explosives don’t cause any more harm.”

“Don’t worry your pretty head there, Chief, my boys know what they’re doing. We’ll get that tunnel cleared and shored up in no time! Then, we’ll see about exploring that nifty Old One Ruin beneath your Grove.”

The explosives shook the arena floor with their tremendous force, and the Oseram were back to work before the dust settled down. Aloy chuckled nervously at his side before he could offer a dry retort,

“Maybe,” she said, casting Petra a sidelong glance, “Maybe it would be best for Chief Hekarro and I to go first. Just to make sure everything is safe. Besides you said it yourself, the ruin is under the Grove so he should have the honor of exploring it first.”

“Oh, I know!” Petra nudged him again with a grin, “I just like teasing him! It’s fun to try and get a rise out of someone so stoic .”

Hekarro suppressed his laughter with a cough and turned away.

Hekarro and Aloy watched on as Petra and her men worked. They were quick, efficient, and barely looked up from their own tasks while their Forgewoman barked out her orders.

“Do you have an idea of what we’ll find down there?”

"Not really," she said, shaking her head free of whatever reverie she was in, "but if I had to guess, probably JTF-10 Artifacts from the Old World. In any case, it's a fantastic find for the Tenakth."

“It is,” Hekarro agreed, “All the more reason I’m thankful that Kotallo called you here."

Aloy flushed with a scoff but didn't comment. Instead, she almost bumped into Kotallo who appeared at her side with Dekka in tow,

“There are few with the knowledge of the Old World like you, Aloy.” Kotallo teased, to which Aloy rolled her eyes. Dekka chuckled,

“And we are lucky for it and even luckier that you managed to convince the Chief to allow the Oseram to help.”

His champion grinned, “I can be convincing when I want to be.”

“When you’re not threatening me.” Hekarro deadpanned; Aloy scoffed once more and poked Kotallo in the arm when he laughed at her.

For the better part of an hour, they watched the frantic shuffle of the Oseram as they worked. In and out of the tunnels, tools and materials on their shoulders, until Petra herself finally emerged from the underground. She called them over with a wave of her hands, slapping the dirt and debris from her hands against the leathers of her things.

“Everything is in order,” she said, a frown on her face, “We shored up the tunnels as best as we could, but there are still a few areas that are structurally unsound. I need the both of you to be aware ; if anything load-bearing collapses you two could die, and I don’t need that on my hands.”

“We’ll be safe, Petra,” Aloy assured her. Petra replied with a grunt but allowed her to pass after giving her a stern glare.

"I also advise caution," Dekka warned, reaching for his crown. He let her take it, relieved to be free of the heavy thing, especially if he was going to explore the underground tunnels with Aloy, "Do not make me dig out your corpses if the worst happens."

Hekarro smirked, "You and Kotallo keep watch. Make certain that no one enters until we return."

She gave him a stern salute, and Hekarro turned on his heel to follow Aloy into the underground.

From the very moment he stepped into the darkness, he was keenly aware of the enclosed tunnel walls surrounding them. Cooler than the oppressive humidity outside, the air was thick with the smell of wet stone and damp metal. Along the tunnel, he noticed evidence of the Oseram's labors, such as support beams and pillars lined up against the rock, with the occasional flickering torch.

Then, a groan rippled along the ceiling above them, accompanied by the soft crackle of debris as gravel hit the floor. Hekarro tensed and reached out to grab Aloy's armor collar. He yanked her back and drew them both to the wall, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. The groaning eventually subsided, and the tunnel fell silent except for the faint sound of his measured breathing in the darkness. Aloy was tense next to him, far too silent, far too aware, before she finally exhaled a soft sigh of relief.

"I think the tunnels are just settling," she grumbled. Hekarro grunted under his breath, but let her go when she tested her weight against his grip.

“Should we turn back?”

"If you want," he saw her shadow turn to him in the dark, "but I'm curious about what's down here, so I'll keep going."

He almost laughed at her stubbornness as he heard her footsteps retreat against stone, and he followed after her, determined not to let her wander off alone. They pursued the twisting stone path until the walls started to rust and they came to a fork in the path. The tunnel to their left opened through a broken wall into an empty and dark room beyond. To their right, it continued into the unknown shadows.

“Aloy?”

She hummed under her breath, “Probably best to take the left. It seems the most direct, and the safest. Oh! Before we go further in, I want you to take this.”

She reached into her belt-tied pack and pulled out a gleaming jewel for him to take. He examined it in the dim light. It was no bigger than the pad of his thumb and looked incredibly delicate. As he did not want to waste any more time, he placed the strange jewel on his temple like he had seen the others do. The world around him suddenly lit up in various shades of purple. The sight made his stomach tighten, images and glyphs he couldn't understand flashing before his eyes in disorienting waves.

“Aloy, I-“ he moved to take it off but stopped short as her tiny hand wrapped around his wrist

"I know it's a lot," She reassured him, drawing his attention back to her with a soft gesture of her hand, "But you're going to see a lot of strange things inside, and you'll need a way to make sense of it all. Just give it a second, you’ll adjust."

Hekarro closed his eyes against the onslaught of information to rein in his composure. In and out, he counted his breaths until the coil in his stomach disappeared and he reopened his eyes. Everything still seemed strange, awash in various multicolored hues, but with greater clarity, he easily distinguished between the jewel's projection and the physical world around him.

“Are you ready?”

Before he could respond, another rumble reverberated through the tunnel. Louder and far more powerful than the last. The very ceiling gave way above as huge, heavy boulders smashed down to the ground with a resounding roar. Before he could even process the thought, Hekarro pushed Aloy through the open threshold and she fell to the floor with a loud grunt.

"Hekarro!"

The wall between them collapsed, cutting her cry short.

With the tunnel out of the underground completely caved in, Hekarro dove into the opposite corridor and took off in a dead sprint. There was just enough illumination from the jewel to allow him to see where he was going. His pulse raced. His breath was labored and ablaze within his lungs. Raising an arm to protect his face from falling debris, he sped through the chaos as deftly as the narrow passage would allow.

Then he noticed a faint glimmer of low light ahead of him. Hekarro dug his heels into the floor and sprinted across a worn threshold just as it gave way behind him. A hot lance of pain shot up his arm as he slammed into the steel floor with a groan, but he bit down on the yelp that threatened to leave his mouth. In the small, unfamiliar room around him, the aftershocks of the cave-in rumbled, shaking steel and stone until it fell silent.

Now that he was no longer in imminent danger, Hekarro relaxed and took a moment to breathe. His shoulder ached, and he rolled the joint to stretch it. The fact that it didn't hurt too badly gave him hope that his shoulder hadn't been dislocated. Being at a disadvantage in an unknown environment was the last thing he needed right now. With an unsteady sway, Hekarro pushed himself to his feet and scanned the room in which he had found himself trapped.

The jewel at his ear cast a faint outline of ancient furniture in the darkness, haphazardly tossed as if the previous occupants had left it in a hurry. Beyond the wreckage, he noticed the shadow of a door that was half-open and extended even deeper into the underground. He approached cautiously, alert to his surroundings in case of an ambush.

“Hekarro?!”

Hekarro swore loudly and jumped a mile out of his skin. He glanced over at the door, where he half expected to see Aloy peeking through the crack but saw instead only pitch blackness.

"If you can hear me, just touch the Focus at your ear. It’ll open a channel for us to communicate."

Hekarro hesitated for only a moment before he did as she told, “Aloy?”

"You're still alive!” The relief in her voice was palpable, “Are you hurt?”

"I only sprained my shoulder," he explained as he tested the door's strength. He put his full weight on it, and it moaned but didn't give. "Otherwise, I'm in one piece. Where are you?”

“Somewhere on the other side of the facility, I think?" she replied, “It’s hard to tell. Do you see a way out from where you are?”

Hekarro noticed a rigid piece of a broken steel rod nearby, which he examined for a moment before he grabbed it and turned his attention back to the door.

“No.”

His shoulder protested in pain as he pushed against the broken door with the rod. Fighting him for every centimeter, it slid across the threshold until he finally had enough room to wiggle through.

"Nothing on my end, either," Aloy sighed, "but Kotallo says Petra and her team are already digging us out, so I'll see if I can find my way over to you."

“That’s all well and good, Aloy,” Hekarro said, “but only the foolish stand idle and wait for a rescue that could take hours.”

"Well, if you're going to go exploring, just be careful," she cautioned, "Old One Ruins are dangerous, and for good reason."

Hekarro simply grunted in reply. Aloy fell silent over the jewel, and it stretched into the yawning darkness of the corridor, his own shallow breathing his constant companion. The passage twisted and turned in seemingly every direction, far beyond what he knew to be the Grove's boundaries. Hekarro wasn't a fool; he'd known about the underground tunnels for years now, but every attempt to clear them out had ended in death and disaster until they finally lay forgotten in during the Red Raids.

Was it just bad timing that they were unearthed after Regalla's death?

Or, perhaps it was providence? Another indication from the Ten that he was prepared to learn more of their secrets? What would they show him if that were the case?

The uncertainty unnerved him more than he was willing to admit.

Hekarro turned a corner to another corridor that opened out into a large antechamber. Like the room before, ancient and broken furniture lay strewn across the room with no sign of its previous occupants either. Instead, a glimmer on a nearby counter caught his eye. It shimmered with a bright light in the darkness and drew him to it like a moth to the flame. Suddenly, the Focus chimed again in his ear, but instead of Aloy’s voice an image materialized before his eyes.

Hekarro frowned, perplexed by what he saw. Aloy had given this jewel, this Focus, to Kotallo as well, and he'd often found his Marshal enthralled by whatever it allowed him to see. And just as he’d witnessed Kotallo and Aloy do, Hekarro reached a tentative hand out to the symbols.

"I'm not sure where to begin," The voice of an unknown man echoed in his ear. So clear and concise that Hekarro almost believed they were standing side-by-side, “but the Colonel insisted I leave something, anything, behind.”

He could hear the painful shudder of emotion in the man’s voice, the subtle sigh as if his throat was thick with tears, “When all this chaos began, I was convinced that we were going to come out on top. Humans vs. machines, the dream sold by General Herres as Operation: Enduring Victory. Buy the scientists over at Project: Zero Dawn some time to finish their superweapon."

“It was all a lie…”

“There never was a superweapon. There never was a chance of winning against the Swarm. Herres lied, but I got a feeling that the Colonel had always known that something was wrong. She’s far too calm for a woman looking down the business end of the apocalypse and… She’s planning something. I served under Colonel Faraday for years, I know that look in her eye. It's not a secret that she called the Staff Sergeant into the base today. To be honest, I'm relieved to be here making this stupid audio journal. There’s always a fight when those two are together…”

The voice cut to eerie silence and the image blinked against the stark darkness around him. Hekarro remained frozen in shock, reeling at the brief glimpse into the past the Focus showed him. The Old Ones against machines- this…Swarm…

He reflected on his younger years. In the Valley of the Fallen, beneath the hulking carcass of a machine that had long since died. Even back then, he could not forget how tiny and insignificant he felt next to it. And the Ancients had lost a hopeless battle against its armies. That he was standing here and now proved it, but what had happened in the time since their fall?

What had finally stopped the Swarm?

What was Project: Zero Dawn?

And why did he have the impression that Aloy knew the answers?

Without a doubt, fate followed that girl wherever she went, and the earth trembled in her wake. He remembered that first day they met with fondness, the unstoppable storm that blew into his Grove, determined to get her way even if it meant crossing spears. It amused him, even then, just how much of himself he saw in her determined expression. Yet, whereas she was the wild storm that swept over the unprepared, he was the patient hunter who knew how to make even the strongest warriors submit to his will.

Hekarro shook his head to dispel his unsettling thoughts and continued through the antechamber to the opposite wall's door. He proceeded further and further into the bowels of the subterranean complex, passing by abandoned rooms and bunkers that lay in unearthly stillness.

“Hekarro?”

He once again jumped as Aloy’s voice cut through the quiet like a hot blade. She was nowhere to be seen when he looked for her, so he once again tapped the Focus and continued his explorations.

“I’m here, Aloy.”

“Good. Have you found a way out yet?”

Hekarro rounded a darkened corner and came to a halt in front of a closed door. The wall console blinked slowly in the dark, an unsettling contrast to the otherwise powerless rooms he'd passed through.

“I don’t know, I just found a powered door.”

“Really? That's strange…” She muttered, and Hekarro couldn’t help but agree. He pushed the button on the glowing console and winced as the creaking old door sprang open. When he crossed the threshold, he entered a glass hallway that looked out onto a room lit up by several power cores. Their intensity was such that he could feel them vibrate through the ground.

For the life of him, he couldn’t understand what their purpose was. He was aware that the generator beneath his throne powered the Grove and its visions, but that tiny room paled in comparison to what he saw now.

What was down here that required so much power?

Hekarro walked the entire length of the glass corridor to another closed door, whose console blinked slowly against the wall. The soft pad of Aloy's boots echoed off the walls before he felt her presence at his side. He gave her a quick glance over his shoulder, his hand hovering above the switch, and she simply shrugged at him,

“It’s your choice.”

His previous anxiety returned. A small part of him pleaded with him to turn around. To leave and let the tunnels collapse in on themselves. Let the secrets of the Ten be buried, because whatever they were, nothing good could ever come of them.

Nevertheless, Hekarro decided to press on despite his misgivings. The doors hissed open as the console chimed. With Aloy close behind, they crossed the threshold into one final chamber, and what he saw left him speechless.

He counted nine metal tombs in a room large enough to fit a small congregation of his Tenakth and still have room to move comfortably. Eight of the tombs lined the walls on either side; each with its own console, and each cold and dead with a single window that peered into dark interiors. At the foot of the tombs lay a footlocker, old and withered with age, the burnished rust eating away at the corners of the metal chests.

However, it was the tomb at the far end of the room that drew their attention. He could feel the thrum of power in the floor from where they were, a cold chill in the air around them. They approached with caution, wary of the empty tombs on either side until they were only a few feet away. It, too, had its own active and glowing console, as well as a footlocker at its base. The Focus on his temple caught a glint of another testament atop the lid and chimed as it materialized another display.

“This is Colonel Anne Faraday of the United States Air Force,” Hekarro dared not move a muscle, frozen in shock, “ and if you’re listening to this, then I’m dead and gone.”

“Is that…”

Aloy fell silent at the curt gesture of his hand,

“I… I don’t have a lot of time, and… sentimentality is lost on the both of us, so I’ll keep this brief. I know that you’re angry. That you probably have a list of things you want to say to me when you wake up, but… There are things I must do as a Colonel, and there are things that I must do as your mother, but this? This is the most selfish thing I will ever do for myself. I lived my life, Victoria, but if this experiment succeeds then you still have a chance to live yours.”

Hekarro's chest tightened, his eyes wide with awe and horror. He closed the gap between himself and the Tomb before he could stop himself, before Aloy could even protest. A pale blue light shone from within, the glass to the interior fogged and thick condensation, but he could just make out the shadow of a mysterious figure inside.

“I… I left something in my exhibit for you. Something to remember all of us by. It’s yours if you want it. I'm not going to pretend I was perfect. I made a lot of mistakes, but that doesn't change the fact that I have always loved you. And for however long it takes… I hope the future is kinder to you.”

Anne's voice faded away, and the only sound that remained was the monotonous hum of the tomb.

“I thought…” Aloy muttered somewhere behind him, “I thought they couldn’t perfect the technology in time…”

Wordlessly, Hekarro reached out a hand to wipe the haze from the window. His breath fogged up the encasement anyway, the moment he stood closer, squinting for a clearer view. And ever so slowly, a dawning realization sank into his twisting stomach when he found himself staring— not at his reflection, but at the features of another. Hekarro stumbled backward, briefly losing his footing as he tried to make sense of the sight of a sleeping woman encased in a thick rime of ice.

“Aloy,” he whispered, feeling as though the ground was about to give way beneath him, “Is that...?"

She gasped beside him, eyes just as wide as his own.

“It’s… a living Old One. ”

The golden field is bathed in the warmth of morning twilight, a kaleidoscope of colors on the never-ending frontier. The air is so sweet and clean that she can almost taste it on her tongue. There’s a breeze that ripples through her hair as she flies through the tall grass, astride a stallion that races towards the unknown horizon at breakneck speed. With each gallop, she can feel the muscles flex between her thighs, strength and power surging through the beast to her. She tightens her grip on his mane and urges him forward, faster and faster, her laughter brighter than the sun.

She does not know where the horizon ends, all she knows is that she is free.

#Hekarro #Chief Hekarro #horizon forbidden west #Horizon Zero Dawn #hfw #hfw fanfic #fanfic #horizon writing #old one oc #my writing

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aquiescentraconteur · 1 year

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My dear girl,

What a night.

I went to sleep peacefully yesterday. I make a point of re-reading old books that meant something to me at certain points in my life. This exercise allows me the possibility of understanding things through new lenses, under new perspectives. Re-reading a text that meant something to you in the past is a great way of knowing yourself in the present. You’ll find new favorite quotes and form new opinions over old ones. I’ve been wrapped around ‘Sense and Sensibility’ for the last weeks. My concept of Jane Austen is ever-changing, every time I grab a book by her, I’ve read in my adolescence I find a new woman in them. I appreciate new things about her, about her work. I learned a little bit about being feminine with her, the elegance and poise she describes the main characters with have been guiding lights in my earlier years. Last night I rediscovered something new about being feminine. The notion of being feminine encompasses a lot, from girly tastes to strong opinions, being a woman is always something very idiosyncratic.

Yesterday, Elinor Dashwood – the composed and affectionate heroine of the story – showed me that being a woman is also about being argumentative, reckless and impatient. I have always been stuck between doing the right thing throughout my life. Somehow along the way, failing never became an option, mistakes were illicit, and errors were seen as an outage to the person I envisioned myself to become. It’s a heavyweight I must tell you, it has placed me in difficult situations where I end up hurting myself to protect others. Elinor, through her toughness, conveyed to me a very special lesson: forgiving the follies of others does not mean you must understand it, it means you mustn’t allow it to hurt you again. You can acquire a few sentiments of empathy and even understanding over someone’s situation, but it is your choice if it ever hurts you again. Forgiveness is about moving on, without an apology or a conversation, it’s about choosing to close a door that no longer leads anywhere. My love, you can close doors all by yourself, do not wait around for the automatic mechanism to do it for you. That is not the woman I raised.

When someone chooses to repeat mistakes that hurt you in the past, you must close the door, it no longer leads you to where you’re supposed to be. When someone perpetuates acts that wound you deeply, that shatter your heart into a million pieces, close the door before you’re out of strength to do it. This is why I’ll always tell you “If you want to know how someone really feels about you, do not use feelings or thoughts. Look at their actions.” I saw a movie once where the guy proclaimed his love repeatedly, over and over again, he said: “-I’m in love with you, you’re the love of my life.”, to this, the girl asked: “-Where? Where is this love? I can’t see it.”. This is it; this is what I mean. One can tell you he loves you, one can even think he does, but if he can’t show it, leave, close the damn door sweetie. It is not your job, and it never will be, to take responsibility for other peoples’ needs.

Be reckless, be opinionative and make mistakes. You will hurt peoples’ feelings sometimes, and although I know you won’t do it on purpose, I would rather have them hurt than you. I’m not saying you have an excuse to be an idiot, that’s not what I’m saying. What I want you to do is to live freely, without fearing making mistakes, without being intimidated or frightened by what it means to be a woman. I never want you to be petrified of being alone or afraid to act accordingly to it if you feel the need to.

I’ll always be here my angel, and I’m sure there will be others. There will be others who have fallen in love with you and that will stick by your side no matter what. Collect these people, they’re the ones making this experience worth it.

Love,

Mom, June 23th 2023

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plush-rabbit · 4 years

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Mistletoe

A/N: I kinda just went with it so I hope you still like it even if its not exactly what you envisioned(*ノ_<*)

Amajiki Tamaki:

Tamaki doesn’t actively avoid mistletoes. He’s not trying to get under one but he isn’t avoiding them at all costs. He’s been under a few with others but he was either given a quick hug or a peck on his cheek by his closer friends. He would prefer to just not be under one in order to avoid awkward moments.

He stands alongside you. You’re both at a party hosted by a mutual friend and mistletoes are strewn above the ceiling. You mention grabbing a drink and he follows you, preferring to stay by your side rather than be alone but as you two make your way to the drink section someone yells out the word mistletoe and by instinct he looks up and you two are indeed under one.

He likes you- of course, he does. You make him feel at ease and he always feels good when he’s around you. Even when you hype him up, it’s probably one of the few times where he doesn’t feel like he’s being taunted. He doesn’t want the first kiss to be in front of others. That is- if you do like him or even want to kiss him. He won’t force it and now his thoughts are rambling and he’s growing hotter by the second.He feels you tap against him, your hand gently patting his arm and when you point up you have this grin and he wants to turn around and press himself against a wall and hide. You exclaim that you don’t have to kiss- a simple hug would be enough but he stammers under his breath that kissing you wouldn’t be awful and he’s regretting a lot of his life choices.

He freezes, shoulders raising close to his earlobes as he waits for your reply, tilting his head and rubbing a hand across his neck as his lips pull into a thin line. It’s a short interaction- one that lasts for less than a minute but with people watching, a few hollering words of encouragement, it’s like time is moving uncomfortably slow. He wants this to get over with- even a hug would be fun and he can feel a choking sensation at the thought of getting rejected but then you lean into him and peck at his lips- it’s feather light, like even you were unsure of your choice- a few people cheer and he stays in silence watching as you breathe a nervous laughter, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him away.

Tamaki is incredibly jittery the moments afterwards. Your touch is electrifying, sending the hair on his arms on end and he covers the lower half of his face with his free hand, the smile on his lips peeking between the gaps of his fingers, and when your hold on him tightens, he micis it, giving your hand a squeeze. The rest of the night is spent next to you, trying not to act too eager at every opportunity to move places.

Monoma Neito:

As loud as Neito is, he’s also handsome. He’s been under mistletoes. He doesn’t seek them out, they just happen to be there when he walks under someone. It’s usually a quick peck. Lowering his head and brushing any stray hairs away from the person’s face as his lips press against their temples. Oftentimes, if the person isn’t comfortable with that it’s a hug or a high-five.

You two just happen to be walking around a building. You’re nudging him with your elbow and hurrying along before he can do the same to you and it’s a light atmosphere between the two of you. He jokes and ruffles your hair, avoiding the quick swat of your hand and neither of you are paying attention until you happen to stop in your step. He stops next to you and follows your finger when you point upwards. A mistletoe.

There’s no one around. It’s just you and him and he certainly won’t snitch if you want to avoid the kiss- heck, he’ll even offer a hug. But he’ll be lying if he says he doesn’t want to kiss you. He hopes you’ll choose the option to kiss- even if it’s just a quick peck. He swallows nervously and lets out a shuddering breath.

He likes you. He’s been vocal about it without having to say the words and while he knows that you know, he doesn’t want to force anything. He clears his throat and shakes his head. He tells you that he’ll keep his lips sealed- complete with the zippering motion and tossing it over his shoulder. He snorts when you “unzip” his lips, there’s a dark blush coating his cheeks and then your lips are against his and he makes a chuckle worthy squeak and he can feel your smile against the kiss.

Neito is going to hold the kiss over your head. He’s ecstatic to learn that you also like him. An arm is thrown over your shoulder as he continues the conversation that was interrupted by his voice is tight, the red hue never leaving his face and when you nudge his side, he squeaks. He’s not over the kiss, living on the high that it gave him. He’ll laugh nervously, scratch at his head and ask you out on a proper date.

Shinso Hitoshi:

Hitoshi doesn’t care for mistletoes all that much. He’s been under them but given what his quirk was and how people in his youth would twist it, he had never done the ‘tradition”. He doesn’t mind- he found it rather odd anyways so when he attends a party where there are mistletoes all around, he’s not triggered by it but he is apprehensive. The last thing he wants is to relive those old memories.

The party is filled with people. He stood alone- often accompanied by a passing friend who waved bye once a song started to play. And then you come up. You bring him a plate of snacks and stand next to him. Once the party gets too loud to actually hear what words are being said, you two wander off. You’re both in a somewhat secluded area where you can still hear the music vibrate across the floor and then he catches a glint of something and peers up. You call his name as you follow his gaze.

You stand under a mistletoe and he’s surprised that there’s one this far away from where the actual party is but he supposes it would make sense to plaster them wherever people could reach. He has control over his quirk but he’s still nervous to talk. Of course he wants to kiss you but he doesn’t know if you want to kiss him. He doesn’t want to force anything on you and when you call his name he sighs and says that you both don’t have to- he won’t hold it against you. He misses the way you frown and pinches your cheek eliciting a yelp from you where you tap against his chest. And when he pulls away, you grab his face in your hands and kiss him.

The kiss is soft, it’s pressed against his lips and lasts for a second too long and when you pull away, his lips are still puckered, eyes half lidded with deep hue creeping up his neck and then you grin at him, it’s wide and kittenish and he’s shaking his head in embarrassment. You don’t stop looking at him and it’s making him increasingly nervous and then you wrap your arm around his and make him sit with you in a secluded area for the remainder of the party.

The kiss stays on his mind forever. Or at least until the next day. Hitoshi thinks about it all night. It wasn’t his first kiss but it means something more now that you did it- that you took initiative and kissed him. It keeps him on edge and he’ll be a bit flustered around you, rubbing at the back of his neck and tripping over his words.

Shishikura Seiji:

Seiji has been pulled under mistletoes before but he has no real emotion towards it- it wasn’t unpleasant, it was just an experience. It’s an odd tradition that he gives only a side glance to and leaves it as that. He sees no real meaning for it other than for people to land under one in hopes that their crush or significant other would land under one as well. And then he finds himself under one with you.

The cafe you two are visiting is themed for the holidays. Above each table hangs mistletoe and he gives it a simple raise of his brows and sits down, commenting on the plant that hangs overhead. When you ask if he would like to kiss, he shoots you a pointed look that holds no real negative emotion and stammers otu how it’s a public place. You laugh and wave a hand at him- you tell him you both can sit and leave once the drinks are done. Begrudgingly, he agrees.

He wants to kiss you but the thought of asking or doing it because of a holiday plant makes him click his tongue. There’s a part of him that regrets not taking up the offer on kissing you. It’s small but it screams louder as you both exit the cafe- the opportunity now lost. As you two walk, he mentions nothing of the cafe and the mistletoe nor does he protest when you take his hand and begin leading him somewhere. You pull him aside in an empty corner and he’s confused, an arm behind his back simply out of habit and as he’s about to open his mouth, you explain with a simple kiss.

He grows increasingly flustered the longer the kiss lasts- even if it just lasts for a few seconds. At his expression, you start to apologize, mentioning how you must have read the signals wrong until he starts to ramble, and it’s a mess until you’re left laughing in his chest and he’s clearing his throat as he wraps his arms around you. You ask for another and he gives a quick glance watching for any onlookers until his face is cupped in your hands and you press your lips against him. He reacts immediately, a small choking noise in the back of his throat as his hands come to your waist.

He thinks about the kiss constantly. It was sweet and you initiated it and it leaves Seiji breathless. He’ll find himself staring at your lips more often and having to physically make himself meet your eyes. He’ll bring you a cup of coffee and hand it to you in your hands and with arms behind his back and eyes that meet yours, he asks you out.

Yoarashi Inasa:

Inasa oddly isn’t a fan of mistletoes. He thinks it’s cute- a nice way to get affection from someone you love and he’s certainly gotten affection from one but he’s all right with them. He doesn’t seek them out and he doesn’t avoid them. He’ll most likely laugh it off with a wave of his hand and either hug or peck at the person.

You two are out and about. Walking aimlessly as you hold onto his arm- for safety measures of course, there’s a large crowd in the streets- and you enter upon a holiday themed area. It’s cute and you two have time to spare. He makes sure to keep you close to him and profusely apologizes when you bump into his chest. There’s a small woodsy-type area and before he knows it, you two are under a mistletoe. He takes a sharp intake of ait and looks down at you, mouth pulled into a thin line and he’s uncomfortable.

He wants to kiss you but he doesn’t want it to be like this. He doesn’t want it to be because of some little plant. He clears his throat and being under the mistletoe makes him feel like he’s under a spotlight so he’ll grab your hand and try to explain his feelings without hurting your own. He really does like you and his voice is starting to rise, a panicked look on his face and then you peck his nose.

He stops. He’ll freeze and a dark hue will tint his cheeks and he’s clearing his throat and there’s a smile that stretches across his face and he nods silently. Holding his hand out to you and he’ll kiss at your knuckles and swing your arms as you walk to a more secluded area. He’ll bend down, ask for your permission and once granted, he’ll peck at your lips, soft, feeling nothing more than a simple brush of his lips against yours and when he pulls away, he pulls you into a hug.

Inasa will most likely take you back to the spot afterwards and properly peck at your lips. Something short and sweet and he’s left jittery, exclaiming loudly about how happy he is that he got to kiss you and buying you something warm to drink. After the good experience, he’s going to point out any mistletoes that he happens to see and ask for another kiss.

#tamaki amajiki x reader #monoma neito x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #seiji shishikura x reader #inasa yoarashi x reader #tamaki amajiki headcanons #neito monoma headcanons #shinso hitoshi headcanons #seiji shishikura headcanons #inasa yoarashi headcanons #for the life of me i cannot write shinso #like #ah #i have a few more with him #so hopefully i get it together #but ahh #sorry if you didnt liek ti #i hope you did

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mothwingwritings · 3 years

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Halcyon Days Part.1

Yeah this took a looooot longer than I had planned for it too and I apologize. It also ended up BEING a lot longer than I intended it too so it’s actually going to have a second part. WOOPS! :D Here is my Josuke X f!reader yandere fic presented humbly too you. Diamond is Unbreakable is my second fav JJBA arc so I wanted to try my hand at something with one of my fav Joestars. J I always kind of envisioned Josuke as a delusional yandere, someone who can be extremely sweet and doting one moment and then completely unhinged the next. Low key he would be menacing as hell.

This fic is inspired loosely off an actual date I went on once LOL. Unfortunately the person in question I went on said date with was not nearly as charming as Josuke, but they also weren’t hella scary. J

I hope you all enjoy! Sorry if Josuke seems a lil OOC, still getting the hang of this whole yandere writing thing~

Warnings: gas lighting, yandere, toxic relationship, manipulation, violence, strong language, Josuke acting like a rude asshole.

(I kind of rushed through the editing, so I sorry for that as well.)

Part Two is HERE!

This date was going to be the last one.

You sat alone in the stall, leg bouncing anxiously as you waited for his arrival. It was getting late, the sky long since going dark. It was an odd hour for a date, but the sooner you got this off your chest the better. You specifically picked this restaurant on the edge of town because it was 24hr and there was a large chance that you didn’t know anyone there. You knew if you saw even one mutual acquaintance you might not have the courage to break it off with Josuke.

As you lazily stirred the diminishing ice in your drink, you let your mind wander to the man in question. Just two years ago, you were completely new to Morioh. You thought it was cruel, your parents forcing you to up and re-root your last years of high school, leaving all the friends and memories you cultivated through the years of your childhood behind. You were bitter, sad, and increasingly lonely starting off your time at your new school. Adding to the fact that you were already a fairly shy person made loosening up and making new friends a bit of an issue.

Then Josuke started talking to you.

In the beginning it unnerved you. Josuke was confident, cool, extremely attractive, and had a definite bad boy vibe to him that made him stand out in a crowd. You were on high alert the first few times he approached you, worried that maybe he was coming to bully the new girl, or gathering information to feed the school gossip scene. However, your view of him shifted when you began to note that he would daily go out of his way to say hi to you, his continual pleasant demeanor with you going against the stereotype of him you had created in your head. After some time, you began to drop your guard in his presence. Hellos became morning conversations, which became walking to classes together. Soon you were invited to eat lunch with him and his friends (who then by extension, became your friends). He started to walk you home each day, and on your days off he would invite you over to his house to hang out or show you cool places around town. Within a few months you had gained your spark back, fully assimilating into your new town. In this time frame, your feelings for Josuke grew, blossoming into something deeper than friendship. Every time his hand brushed yours, or his face lit up upon seeing you, your heart would hammer in your chest, stomach sent somersaulting. You were delighted to find out the feeling was mutual, and by the time he had asked you to be his steady girlfriend, you were on cloud nine.

For months things were perfect. Josuke was an attentive and kind boyfriend, always taking you out on cute, thoughtful dates to all your favorite places, lavishing you in romance. It wasn’t uncommon that you would come into class each day and there would be a small gift on your desk with a little love note from Josuke, and even if your classes weren’t nearby, he’d always make sure to be waiting outside your homeroom to walk you to your next destination. He always looked at you like you were the most beautiful girl in the world, and would constantly remark on how clever and funny you were. He wasn’t afraid of getting handsy in public, but was always respectful of you and never made you uncomfortable. Sometimes you felt as if you didn’t even deserve him.

But as time wore on, some complaints began to trickle in from your friends. They felt Josuke was taking up too much of your time and were upset that whenever they wanted you to spend time with them, Josuke had seemed to beat them to the punch. He took priority in all your decision making and time management, leaving your friends in the dust. You took this to heart and promised to devote more time to them. You loved your boyfriend, but you loved your friends just as well, and you were sure there would be no problem in spending just a few odd days with them over him, right?

He didn’t take the news as expected. The pain that radiated from his voice when he responded with, “If that’s what you want, do whatever makes you happy,” sat like a heavy weight in your stomach the entire time you were with your friends. You couldn’t focus on the conversations you were having, or the movie you went to see, or the shopping trip you were on with his dejected words bouncing around your brain.

The guilt only got worse when you would finally arrive home. Making a beeline to your phone, you typed in Josuke’s number at a break neck speed.

He sounded far away as he answered and did nothing to mask the disdain in his voice as he asked about your ‘date’. Your enthusiasm over sharing the details of you day rapidly dwindled as every sentence spoken was met with either silence or a curt reply. After several prods and pleads from you to tell him what was wrong, he finally caved with a heavy sigh.

“It isn’t you babe, it’ just that I had something really special planned today. I’m upset those girls took that from us.”

This was just the start of hearing something ‘wasn’t your fault’, only to have the guilt of spending time with someone other than him pressed upon you.

Every free moment you had at school, Josuke was there waiting for you. If you happened to be approached by a friend, he would cut them off, weaseling you away from them. If you tried to reach out to them, he would distract you in any way he could to direct your attentions back his way.

You felt like a fraying rope in the thralls of a fierce tug of war battle.

To make matters worse, in the midst of this, strange things started to occur to the people around you. One by one everybody in your friend group (all those not also friends with Josuke, that is) had unfortunate events befall them.

One friend had her bicycle destroyed. It was the same bike she had spent so long saving up for, the bike she was proud of and loved above all other possessions, and it was utterly decimated at some point in the night.

Another had her room totally ransacked, many of her belongings totally destroyed beyond repair. The police couldn’t figure out why the rest of the house was untouched or what even spurred the break in to begin with since nothing was stolen, just torn apart.

One of your friends had threatening notes written to every member of their family, none of which ended up being traced to any culprit, and another ended up in a suspicious accident leaving them with an overnight stay at the hospital.

Once one person was targeted, it wasn’t long before the next person faced a misfortune. Your friends would worriedly remark on being “shoved” or “tripped” even though no one was around them at the time. You would try and laugh at off at first, making cheesy ghost or curse jokes, but it was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

You didn’t want to think the worst, but it had become hard to ignore. The only people being targeted were your friends. The only one of the group that had yet to be affected had become you.

Things finally came to a head one night when a boy you had been partnered with on a school project was going to come over to your house to finish the last leg of the assignment. At this point Josuke had become overbearing, nearly every aspect of your life was being catalogued by him. You knew hiding this rendezvous would be pointless.

You brought it up casually to him, because to you it was no big deal. The boy in question was one of your class reps, Takashi. He was a kind, popular, studious guy who was by all accounts harmless. In fact you were quite happy to receive him as a partner, as he was so easy to talk to and was one of the best performing students academically in your grade. Josuke, however, took it differently. At the mention of you bringing another man home, his whole demeanor changed.

The first true fight you ever had with Josuke began at this moment. You’ll never forget the cold look in his eyes and the firm tone of his voice as he demanded you never speak to or about Takashi again.

Shaken, you took a deep breath. Why was Josuke acting like this? He knew this classmate, was even friendly with him. Did he not trust you? You had never been anything but loyal, so if that was the case, you couldn’t help but begin to feel a bit testy.

You turned away from your boyfriend, afraid if you made direct eye contact you wouldn’t be able to keep your cool. You busied yourself with something nearby and as calmly as you could, you explained that you had to work with him. It was for an important grade, but he had nothing to be concerned about beyond that. It was just a school project, nothing more.

If you had been looking his way you would have seen it. The dangerous gleam in his eyes, the deep set frown engraved on his lips, and the way his fists were squeezed so tight they nearly drew blood.

Your body jolted when his fist slammed the wall beside your head, your eyes widening as his large form caged you in entirely.

“Look at me (name),” his breath was hot on your neck, his voice wavering with a veiled malice. Slowly, you turned towards him. You felt so impossibly small with his arms around you, like a mouse being cornered by a cat.

“There’s my pretty baby,” Josuke’s voice evened and his eyes softened, his expression becoming eerily benign as his free hand traveled to your cheek to cup it gently.

“I know you only have the purest intentions here. It’s not you I don’t trust.”

His frown returned.

“But I know how a man thinks, what a man wants when he goes to a beautiful, innocent girls houses for ‘school projects’,” he grip on your cheek tightened, pinching your soft skin, “As soon as the door closes to your bed room he’ll be on you like a fucking animal.”

You looked at him incredulously, “Josuke, do you hear yourself? He’s my class rep, my parents will be home, and he has a girlfriend-“

In a blink his lips smashed roughly into yours, effectively cutting you off the conversation. Defined arms pulled you tighter, constricting you against his body. You gasped as his tongue forced its way into your mouth, dominating and sloppy. You felt like a doll in his grip, being handled and guided at his will. You were completely overwhelmed, overpowered, and at his mercy.

After he broke the kiss, his eyes bore into yours. A dream like haze obscured their normal brilliance, causing a cold chill to creep up your spine. He spoke in just above a whisper, his words coming out as more a chant than a sentence.

“You are stunning, (name). Brilliant. Too many people want you so they can corrupt that. But I will protect you. I will protect what is mine.”

That night even though you got a phone call as confirmation that your classmate was on his way to your house, he never ended up arriving. Concerned, you called his home several times, and each time it rang until voicemail. At around midnight you decided to give up, calling it night. But his wordless absence was eating at you, and the feeling of dread that gave you you couldn’t shake.

After a fruitless attempt at sleep, you grabbed the phone, keying in the number you had memorized by heart. You pressed the receiver firmly to your ear, hoping it would quell the shaking of your hand.

“Higashikata residence,” Josuke’s voice greeted you. You swallowed thickly. It wasn’t unnatural for Josuke to still be up so late, but were you just imaging the edge you heard to his voice?

“...Hello,” he repeated after a few moments of silence, “Is someone there? Okuyasu, I swear if this is-“

“Josuke,” You finally croaked out, “it’s me.”

“(Name),” he beamed, his smile coming through in his voice, “Hey baby! It’s good to hear your voice, even if mom did shoot daggers at me for taking a call so late. Once she hears it’s from you, I’m sure she will forgive me. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to check in,” you spoke, praying the uncertainty of where this conversation was going didn’t reflect in your voice, “How has your night been?”

A chuckle reverberated through the phone. Usually it was a noise that brought you joy, but this time it almost felt as if he were laughing at you, “Check in, huh? Shouldn’t I be the one doing that with you, what with what’s-his-face coming over to your house and all,” you could hear the dour shift in his voice, “He didn’t just leave did he? There’s no way he could have dragged school work out until this late.”

You were happy he breached the subject before you, it made the process that much easier.

“He’s not here,” you gripped the phone tighter, “He actually never showed up.”

“Oh, guess I had nothing to worry about then!”

The nonchalance in his voice troubled you, “it’s weird though, isn’t it? He knew tonight was the night we were meeting up, even confirmed it with me by calling me to let me know he was coming. He also is aware this is a big chunk of our grade. He’s not the kind of person that just wouldn’t show up without-“

“As I said before, I don’t think you know what ‘kind of guy’ he actually is, (name),” Josuke cut you off, the sharp cut of his words putting you further on edge, “ I know he’s got that squeaky good guy image going on, but you don’t see the look in his eyes when you turn away from him. You don’t hear the things he tells in graphic detail to his boys when you walk by.”

“Josuke… He wouldn’t do that. He’s never acted that way towards me…” Your voice got smaller.

He sighed incredulously, “(Name) listen, I know you don’t want to think about people in that way, but trust me. The guy is a sleaze ball. It’s a godsend he didn’t make it to your house tonight.”

“Josuke I really don’t-“

You jolted in response to Josuke’s screaming voice “I’m done going over this, (name). The guy is an ass who has no right being in your presence, let alone working with you in your home! You just need to get that through your head. I’m tired of fucking talking about him!”

Up to this point, Josuke had never yelled at you in this manner. The uneasiness that settled over you had now made you a total wreck. Tears stung your eyes and words were caught in your throat. After a moment of silence, you took a deep breath.

“Josuke,” you did your best to hold back to your shaky sobs, but it was too little avail, “Why… Why are you acting like this?”

“Baby,” you heard him coo, his voice switching back to the loving boyfriend you knew him to be, “I’m so sorry, please don’t cry! I know it’s a lot, learning these things about people you thought were friends. Actually, now that I think about it, you’ve had the misfortune for being at the end of a lot of false friendships, huh?”

You hiccupped a bit, unable to form a coherent sentence in response. How could he be so belligerent one moment, and so sweet the next? It gave you whiplash.

“But don’t worry, that’s why I’m here (name),” he continued, “To protect you, and see the things you may not see yourself. You are the most special person to me, (name). You are beautiful and bright in ways I can’t wrap my brain around… It’s only natural people would want to take advantage of you and hurt you.”

“J-Josuke,” you croaked out, concerned with the path the conversation had taken. He no longer seemed as if he were speaking with you, instead it were as if he was affirming something to himself.

“And I won’t let that happen. I will never let that happen.”

A chill ran through your body. Unsure of how to respond, you stayed silent.

“So don’t cry anymore baby, I got you. I’ll make sure nobody’s ever a problem for you again.”

The next day, Takashi didn’t show up to class. As someone who had used no previous sick days, this caused a bit of a stir. By his second day of absence, rumors had started that something bad had happened to him, something serious. Tensions rose as none of his friends could seem to get ahold of him, his girlfriend being engulfed by her posse of friends as they fretted over her in the hallway, her watery eyes sometimes looking your way for answers. By the third day, the rumors were confirmed when his parents reached out to the school, alerting them that their son had been violently attacked on his way to a classmates house. He was alive, but in horrible shape. He was in a coma, his body so bloodied he was barely recognizable. The doctors didn’t know when or if he would wake up. And if he did, they had no idea how cognitive he would be.

From that point on, you were viewed as cursed by the entire school populace. It was no secret that he was en route to your house on the night of the accident, and even when the investigations around the incident cleared your name entirely of any wrong doing, people remained hesitant to approach you. Conversations hushed when you approached. People would get up and move if you sat near. Eyes would look your way, then immediately dart away of you turned their way. There was something about you, something about how everyone was driven away or hurt in your vicinity, it made people uncomfortable.

It made them scared.

Your friends would sometimes shoot you looks, pity mingling with dismay in their eyes. You could tell they wanted to talk to you, wanted to be your lifeline, and God if you didn’t share the same sentiment. You wanted nothing more than to run up to them and fall into their arms, seek comfort in their kindness. What you wouldn’t give to tell them that you were frightened, that you felt trapped.

But if you did that Josuke would know, and what if what happened to your class rep happened to them?

Of course Josuke was cleared of all doubt in the attack as well, the night it happened he was confirmed to be home all night by his mother. The authorities were quick to move on from him. He could be a punk, but he was the grandson of one of their own. He would never do something like this.

And you wanted desperately to believe your boyfriend was incapable of this as well. Sure he was strong, a bit on the rough side, but anyone that really knew him knew him as lovable goofball, a mama’s boy, someone who would do anything for a friend. But you couldn’t’ deny that the way he was acting the day your classmate disappeared, mixed with his nonchalance at hearing what had become of him, was unsettling.

Even with Josuke’s name being officially cleared, you couldn’t stop the cold dread that would grip you whenever you let your mind wander to that night. Josuke knew Takashi was coming over, and having spent his entire life in Morioh, he would know the hidden places attacks could be carried out away from prying eyes. Josuke could have done it, made it seem like a horrible accident or a random attack. It wasn’t’ so long ago that a serial killer was walking the streets of your peaceful town, it would seem like maybe they had returned. It would divert attentions away from anyone at the school. And if he did it once, what would stop him from doing it again?

But if Josuke did have a hand in this and you chose to remain at his side, would you be able to live with yourself?

---

Before you knew it your high school career was drawing to a close. The only people left you could openly talk to were Josuke and his group of friends. Even then, if you tried to reach out to any of them individually, you always managed to get intercepted by Josuke. But you guess it really didn’t matter, on the rare chance you did get to talk to anyone alone you couldn’t seem to get your true emotions across to them, or they would brush you off. Josuke loved you. He protected you. After all the bizarre drama that had happened in the past months, he was the only one still steadfastly by your side! Any thoughts you had otherwise were just residual fears lingering, side effects from everything you had been through.

You felt like you were going crazy.

And so your relationship sat, teetering on the edge of toxicity and paranoia up through your final days of highschool, through the dwindling days of summer, into the present where you sat now.

You had long since decided to break it off with Josuke, but it was much easier said than done. The love you held for him in your heart was still there (albeit much less intensely than it was at the get go) and you felt melancholic thinking about what could have been, what the two of you could have become if things had been different. Josuke was your first for so many things, and you earnestly hoped he could have been your forever.

But his evasive nature in conversations, the iron clad grip he has on your social life, the constant barrage of questions and phone calls while you are away from him even the smallest amount of time, and then the varying degree of verbal scolding’s you would get if you happened to interact with anyone Josuke didn’t approve of…. It wasn’t healthy. The joy you once had towards any relationship you had in your life was now a mere shadow of what they once were.

You wanted your life back.

“Hey pretty girl, mind if I sit here?”

You jumped in surprise at the familiar voice, your head whipping up to see Josuke leaning above you, an enamored grin spread wide across his lips. He was always so genuinely pleased to see you that despite it all, it still made your heart skip a beat. You diverted your eyes, afraid if you looked too long your courage to break it off would disintegrate.

He chuckled, pressing a firm kiss to the crown of your head, “Oops, did I startle you? Sorry baby doll.”

He went to the seat opposite of you, falling into it in an exasperated huff. It was then you noticed his disheveled appearance. The crumpled shirt, his uneven breathing, even his normally immaculate hair had a few strands out of place. He noticed your eyes roam his form and a rosy hue lit up his cheeks, running his hand over his hair in a futile attempt to straighten himself out.

“Oh, uh, I must look like a mess, huh,” he laughed a bit in embarrassment, “Sorry about that, I was running a bit late because I bumped into Koichi and that bastard Rohan and they held me up. Once I saw how late it had gotten I booked it here,” his eye locked with yours, “I’m sorry, it’s scummy of me to not only make you wait but also to come looking like a disaster, especially when you are looking damn gorgeous. But then again, that is your default state.”

He finished with a coy wink, instant heat rising to your cheeks. Even a bit out of sorts Josuke looked nothing short of incredibly handsome lounging across from you. The sleepy smile on his lips, warm glow in his eyes, and unabashed compliments did little to help your resolve.

“It’s no big deal,” you tried to sound cool, grabbing the menu in front of you to shift your focus off of him, “I wasn’t waiting too long, and I know how you can get around Rohan.”

You smiled a bit when you saw him with hold a groan at the mention of the artist, before you continued.

“I also appreciate the compliment, but I’m just rocking average attire myself, so don’t worry about a wrinkled shirt on my behalf.”

He smirked deviously, a twinkle in his eyes, “Don’t be so modest on my behalf (name). You could be in a burlap sack and still draw every eye in the room,” his voice dropped a bit, “Though I’d prefer only my eyes on you, and you dressed in a lot less. Does that pretty red shade you are trying to hide on your cheeks extending to any other part of your body, I wonder…?”

He purred his last words, his foot gently bumping yours under the table. Feeling yourself grow ever redder, you lifted the menu up higher, suddenly becoming engrossed in it. Your heart only started to calm down when he was fully blocked from your site.

“Josuke stop,” you cleared you throat a bit, trying to sound more in control then you felt, “we are in public.”

“What’s it matter,” you heard him say before two fingers gripped the top of your menu, gently yanking it from your grasp so that you were once again face to face with him, “I’m the luckiest guy to have you as my girl, and I don’t care who the hell sees it. In fact, I’d be pissed if someone looked this way and didn’t immediately recognize that you are mine. We don’t want anyone getting any funny ideas now, do we?”

“Josuke…”

Before you could say more, he sighed, a disgruntled look overtaking his features as his eyes scanned the small restaurant.

“Though now that you mention the public, it is a bit crowded here, isn’t it? Couldn’t they have put us in a more private booth? It bugs me that all these people are around.”

Confused, your eyes also passed over the restaurant. Other than yourself and Josuke, there was only three other parties, the largest of which was a family of four, none of them directly near you and none of them even remotely keyed in on your existence.

You laughed in amusement, “Josuke there is practically no one here. I think we will be OK.”

He pouted, his eyes once again turning to the ‘crowd’, a dark gleam in them this time.

“I just don’t see why the waitress couldn’t have sat you somewhere else. You probably told her you were waiting for your boyfriend and everything and she still sat you near all these jerks. There is no privacy at all.”

Your laugh turned to a frown, “I think that’s a little unfair, Josuke. Yeah she sat me here, but it’s late and it looks like she is the only one on shift so she probably wants all her tables near each other. It’s really no problem at all, especially if it makes it easier to help us, you know?”

He opened his mouth to retort when, as if summoned by the conversation, the waitress came bustling over.

“I am so sorry,” the girl (who was around your age, if not a bit younger) began, bowing a bit as she focused her attentions on you and Josuke, a friendly smile on her lips, “I didn’t realize your company had finally shown up quite yet or I would have hustled over faster!”

“Oh, it’s no problem,” you smiled back in return, noticing the irritable expression that befell Josuke’s feature, “He just arrived, he hasn’t even looked at the menu yet.”

“Ah I see,” she nodded, “he slipped by me when I wasn’t looking! Well sir, if you haven’t had time to look things over I can start you off with a drink and give you some time to browse?”

“Don’t need that,” he responded curtly, waving his hand in a dismissive manner at the girl, “Just get me a soda, I guess. The atmosphere of this restaurant doesn’t really put me in the mood for eating.”

You shot him a warning look, gently kicking his leg under the table. He didn’t respond, averting his eyes from both you and the waitress.

“Don’t mind him,” you piped up when you realized Josuke wouldn’t apologize on his own, “he’s just in a grumpy mood from someone he was dealing with before, he didn’t mean it.”

“Oh, um, I see. But regardless I apologize sir,” the waitress replied, looking crestfallen as she scribbled in her notebook, “I will make sure to get your drink out quickly and appreciate your patience. Is there anything else I can get for you, miss?”

Still feeling troubled over how he spoke to her, you smiled in response.

“Actually yes, I was eying a few of the dessert options, but couldn’t decide on one because they all looked good,” You responded sheepishly, “I was wondering if you could recommend your favorite?”

Lightening up considerably, she returned your smile, “Well they are all good, but I highly recommend the carrot cake. It’s my all-time favorite.”

“Carrot cake it is then,” you replied, closing the menus swiftly and handing it back to her.

She took it with a smile before bouncing off to her next task.

“Josuke what the hell was that?!” You grumbled, roughly jabbing him with your foot.

“What,” he responded defensively, “I wasn’t lying, I really didn’t want anything.”

“OK, but did you have to be a jerk about it?”

His eyes glazed for a moment at your comment, a look you had become accustomed to seeing as a warning to end that line of conversation immediately.

“I wasn’t being a jerk, I was just-“

“Here we are,” the cheerful voice of the waitress intervened, “One soda and one carrot cake!”

As she was placing the food in front of you, her eyes fell to your hands and her expression lit up.

“Oh how pretty, I love the color!” She commented, pointing to your freshly painted nails.

“Thank you,” you responded, holding your hand up so you could better appraise your work, “I know it’s not perfect, but I did pretty decently not causing a mess this time.”

She chuckled, “I hear you, I always struggle when it comes time to paint my hand that isn’t dominant. But that shade is incredible, where did you get it?”

Your smile deepened, pleased to be having such a casual conversation with someone that was in no way linked to the man across from you, “I actually just purchased it a few days ago from the drug store down the street. They had plenty in stock, you should get one.”

“I know what I am doing on my next day off, “she beamed, shooting you a wink, “You guys enjoy, and thanks for the info!”

Before the waitress even had time to fully leave the area and the glow from the pleasant interaction was still alight in your eyes, Josuke made sure that his displeasure was shown.

“I thought she was never going to shut the fuck up, damn.” He groaned louder than was necessary, his glare sharp on the waitresses back, “Do they only hire idiots here? They post ads saying ‘dumbasses who don’t know how to keep their mouths shut only’ apply?”

You noticed the waitress falter for a moment, before ducking her head and picking up her pace to leave the area. When she rounded a corner, you swore you saw some tears trickling down her cheek.

Mortified, you wanted to go off on Josuke. Right then and there you were ready to end it, dump what was remaining of your soda in his face and book it out of that restaurant. You wanted to hop in your car, drive away and move on. This cruel man… Whoever Josuke had become, he was no longer the bright eyed sweetheart you fell in love with.

And yet, you found yourself unable to respond, let alone move. You couldn’t explain it, but an intense presence seemed to suddenly fill the booth you occupied, suffocating you in what felt like a strong embrace. Phantom limbs snaked around you, gripping you so fiercely you felt like you might burst.

Your eyes traveled down to your body searching for answers as to what was happening, however there was nothing to see but you yourself. Then why did your chest feel so heavy? What was causing your breathing to be so strained? Why could you not move your arms??? Completely unnerved, you began to panic.

“Josuke?” You questioned, your voice coming out meek under the strain on your body.

As if snapped out of a daze his attention immediately pivoted your way. The strange weight on your body lifted once he did so, freedom once more coming to your limbs. You let out a shaky sigh, stretching out your arms a bit as a test of your mobility. What had just happened?

“What is it, baby,” he asked with concern, leaning over the counter a bit more to inspect you, “You feeling OK?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Do you want to leave? You look pale, fresh air should help, being in this stuffy shack of a restaurant probably caused you to feel sick. I think it’s time we ditch this place, don’t you? I know of a place around here that’s a great place to take a load off. I’ve been meaning to show it to you, and it looks like the perfect opportunity has presented itself. ”

Smirk on his lips, he rested his head in his palm as his piercing gaze lingered on you, “Not many people go out that way, and at this time of night it will definitely just be us. Sounds perfect, right babe?”

Eager to get out of the now completely soured environment of the restaurant, you nodded hurriedly, only half listening to what Josuke was saying. “Yeah, that sounds good. Let’s go.”

His smirk grew.

“That’s my girl.”

#jjba #yandere jojos bizarre adventure #jojos bizzare adventure golden wind #yandere jjba #josuke higashikata #yandere josuke #yandere josuke higashikata #yandere x reader #yandere jjba x reader #yandere josuke x reader #yandere jojos bizarre adventure x reader #my boy is RUDE this this damn #thank you for reading!#josuke higashitaka x reader #yandere reader insert

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nugnthopkns · 4 years

Text

take the sadness out of saturday night

word count: 2.8k

warnings: insinuated fem!reader, a couple of curse words, alcohol consumption, vaguely described feelings of inadequacy

recommended listening: chinatown | bleachers featuring bruce springsteen

a/n: will i ever write anything more than 3k? probs not. also this baby is completely self indulgent but i don’t even care

All you want to do is sleep. Or drink an entire bottle of wine. Maybe both.

Graduate school is a lot harder than you expected it to be. You obviously weren’t naïve enough to think it be as easy as your undergrad, but you didn’t think it would be like this. It’s competitive; with people doing whatever it takes to get ahead. You’ve almost had your thesis topic stolen twice. The workload is also incredibly different. Gone are the days of small tests and assignments: everything relies on your thesis paper being of the utmost quality. You feel like you’re drowning in the middle of the ocean.

Today was the worst in a succession of terrible days. On the way to campus you dropped your coffee but didn’t have enough time to get another one. The conditions didn’t get any better once you reached school. Your lunch got left behind on the kitchen island and your advisor didn’t show up for your meeting, putting you another two weeks behind schedule. To top it off, you left campus later than usual and caught in the horrendous Philadelphia traffic. By the time you reach your apartment complex you’re thoroughly exhausted and two seconds away from crying.

How you can afford your current lodging is beyond you. Tuition is waived by the university, which certainly helps, but you’re mostly relying on loans. It will be a bitch to pay off in a few years, but you don’t have any other option. The building isn’t ridiculously flashy, with semi-outdated furnishing, but it’s in a central location that anyone in Philly would kill for. Every day you wake up grateful there isn’t an eviction notice on your door; though you’re very careful to pay rent on time. Only the small lamp in the entryway is on when you unlock the door, but you keep it that way. Kicking off your sneakers and haphazardly hanging up your jacket, you shuffle into the bedroom portion of the studio. The pyjamas tucked under the pillow are calling your name, and it feels so good to free yourself of business casual clothing.

The next stop on your mad-dash around in order to plant yourself on the couch as quickly as possible is the bathroom. You scrub your face vigorously, knowing you’ll pay for it in a few days when a breakout appears, but you can’t find it within you to care. It feels so good to be clean and in control of a situation. The kitchen is where you meander to next, filling the largest glass you can find with rosé. A bag of candy is grabbed as well, and then you’re tucking yourself into the corner of the couch and piling on the blankets. You open Netflix and briefly debate what to watch before deciding on something you’ve seen a million times before that won’t require your full attention.

Half an hour into the film you get hungry, but with no ambition to cook for yourself. Take out it is. You place an order at your favourite sushi joint and lazily return your gaze to the T.V. The scene on the screen no longer appeals to you, so you dig around the cushions to find your phone. It’s been a while since you’ve called your mom and you know she’s been missing you; truth be told you miss her a resounding amount. Philadelphia is a long ways from home and you can’t afford to travel often. Not being near your pillar of support is definitely wearing on you. She picks up on the fifth ring.

“Hello?”

A tear slips out at the sound of her voice. Yours catches in your throat slightly, and your response is garbled. “Mom,” it breaks at the end, and the tears quickly turn into a waterfall.

“Oh honey,” she sighs, chest filling with pain at your apparent despair. “What’s the matter?”

You sob for a minute or two before it subsides enough for you to actually speak. Through hiccups and sniffles you detail your horrible week, and the one before that for good measure. Your mom stays silent, listening with intent, and the one sided conversation eventually turns into you fretting about how you feel inadequate in your academic community and how you can’t picture a future. Only once you’ve ran out of words does she speak, negating the argument put in place by your imposter syndrome and doing her best to inflate your ego.

“You’ve earned your seat at the table Y/N,” she says with conviction. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you deserve to be there. You’re cut out for this; no one is more passionate about their work than you.”

Another hiccup slips past your lips as you respond. “Thanks Mom.”

You don’t have to see her to know she’s sporting a smile. “We’re so proud of you honey, and always will be. No matter what you decide to do. Hell, you could move to Peru to become an alpaca farmer and your dad and I would be the happiest parents on Earth.”

The comment is meant to make you laugh, citing the time you called her during your undergrad to inform her you were dropping out and moving to the Andes. It works. You can’t help it, and have to admit it feels good after days of negative feelings. She distracts you further, recounting a story about your youngest brother’s recent baseball game that ended with a trip to the hospital after an unfortunate sliding incident. You wince at the mention of the basemen’s cleat colliding with his ankle, and chuckle when she talks about Connor singing showtunes in the recovery room. The story swapping continues, and it brings comfort. If you close your eyes you can envision yourself sitting on your mom’s bed, hiding your face in a pillow when anything embarrassing happens.

A knock at your door ends your conversation, and the sadness slowly trickles back into your bones. “Mom, I’ve gotta go. The delivery person is here.”

“Okay sweetie. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Having lost track of time, you’re wildly unprepared to pay for your food. “One minute,” you yell in the direction of the front door, praying the person on the other side heard you. You root around your wallet for the appropriate amount of cash before sliding across the floor and unlocking the door handle. The person standing there is not in fact a food delivery service worker, but your neighbour from across the hall, holding what you presume to be your dinner.

“Nolan?”

To say you’re shocked is an understatement. Though you’d go as far to say the two of you are casual acquaintances, he’s never shown up unannounced on your doorstep. Most of your interactions take place in the elevator or hallway, and you’ve only been inside his apartment once when you left your keys in your advisor’s office. Being a professional hockey player means he typically isn’t around a lot, but you had learned from a friend he’s spending the season sidelined by an injury. He still hasn’t been around a lot from what you could tell.

His low rumble catches you off guard for a millisecond but it doesn’t take long to adjust. “They, uh, sent it to the wrong door,” he mumbles, holding out the bag to illustrate his point.

“Fuck,” you swear. “Sorry. How much do I owe you?” A ballpark figure is in your brain, but you aren’t above throwing in a few extra dollars for the inconvenience. No one wants to receive their neighbour’s food.

Nolan shakes his head profusely and shoves his hands in his pockets when you try to slip the money into them. “It’s on the house,” he shrugs. “Think of it as an apology for being a shit neighbour these past couple of months.”

“You’re a great neighbour Nolan. I have no complaints.” He returns your smile but doesn’t speak. An awkward tension fills the air between you, almost as if each of you is waiting for the other to talk.

“Well I’ll let you –”

“Would you like some company?”

The question stops you dead in your tracks. A look of bewilderment must appear on your face because Nolan starts blabbering. “It’s just that you looked upset when you came to the door, like you’ve been crying. I can also see the nearly empty bottle of wine on the counter and that’s never a good sign.” He pauses for a second to take a breath before blurting out a final sentence. “And there’s a game tonight and if I don’t distract myself from it I think I might die.” Ragged breathing punctuates the sudden stoppage, and when you look up to meet his eyes you feel a sense of desperation.

Without saying anything you open the door wider and retreat into the unit, hoping he gets the hint. It takes him all of two seconds to follow you, quickly darting across the hall to lock his door. You’re at the fridge when he returns, and turn around to ask him what he’d like to drink.

“It seems like an alcohol kind of night,” you chuckle. “What are you having?”

He looks at you sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck. “Could I have a glass of that rosé?”

You nod and gesture for him to pass you the bottle. “Never pegged you as a wine drinker,” you comment as you fill his cup.

“Travis teases me relentlessly so I don’t keep it at the house anymore. Can only drink it in private.”

At the mention of his teammate’s name you understand. It’s exhausting to fit into someone’s mould of you. “Your secret is safe with me.”

The two of you migrate to the couch and once again become shrouded in silence. It’s comfortable this time, as you nurse your glasses and watch the skyline. Just having someone by your side is enough to quell the upset you’ve felt all day. You wonder why you hadn’t sought Nolan out sooner. It seems he’s been in a similar situation; having terrible days and feeling alone. Conversation only comes once he realizes both your drinks are empty. Nolan opens the fridge to find one more bottle of wine; a cheap, fruity one that’s meant to taste like a cooler. It’s strawberry flavoured, which equal parts thrills and disgusts him. He’s thrown back to his first high school party, when this was the only alcohol he could get his friends’ older sisters to buy him.

“I feel like I’m sixteen again,” he laughs, not bothering to fill his glass. Instead, he swigs from the bottle before reaching over the back of the couch and placing in your lap. You follow his lead, drinking directly from the vessel.

“Don’t judge me,” you huff. “I like the way it tastes.”

Nolan gazes sideways at you before dropping his voice to a near whisper. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

In a streak of boldness that came from god knows where, you place a hand on top of his. He doesn’t retract but doesn’t push forward either. You’re too scared to do anything else, and soon retract your hand and place it in your lap. “So,” you cough. “You need a distraction?”

☀☀☀☀

One comedy special turned into three, and it’s safe to say both you and Nolan are feeling exponentially better than when he knocked on your door. The alcohol flowed until you ran out, but neither of you are drunk. Perhaps tipsy; most definitely content. It’s so nice to enjoy someone’s company without the pressure of maintaining a perfect appearance. Nolan must feel it too, because he slowly begins to open up, talking about his career and ambitions for a life after hockey. You sit quietly, much like your mother had done hours before, as he describes his frustration with the migraines and how he yearns to bond with his teammates.

“I’m just so scared this is it, that I’m done,” he hiccups.

You tentatively shuffle closer to him, looking for signs that he’s uncomfortable. Once you’re squished beside him, shoulder to shoulder, you take yet another page from your mother’s book. “If tonight is a good indicator of who you are, then you, Nolan Patrick, are going to be just fine. Seems to me that this is nothing but a bump in the road. You’re destined for greatness.”

He smiles, possibly the first completely real one he’s given you all night, and it reaches his eyes. “You really think that?”

“Absolutely. Wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t believe it to be true. You see, in my line of work, truth is of the utmost importance.”

At Nolan’s incessant prodding you talk about school, your thesis, and what you hope to achieve. It doesn’t sting the way you thought it would, possibly because you’re speaking to someone who’s completely enamored with the topic. Academia clearly fascinates Nolan, though he makes it clear he has no interest in joining the community. The only way you can describe the feeling of explaining everything to him is refreshing; he asks insightful questions about your research and isn’t bogged down by the technicalities like so many of your fellow scholars. When you’ve exhausted all you can say and Nolan’s ‘poked’ holes in all of your theories, he gets a serious look and turns so your body is framed by his.

In this position there’s no denying how attractive he is. Of course you’ve always found him easy to look at when you passed in the halls, but knowing him as intimately as you now do makes you realize how much you like him. “Come to a game with me?” he asks.

Your rhythm is once again thrown off by the man in front of you. “A game?”

Nolan nods enthusiastically. “A game. I’ve been meaning to go to one for a while, but I can’t find the courage to go alone. The next home game is on Tuesday, but we can obviously go to another one when it fits your schedule. If you want to come, that is.”

He’s yet to be this excited about hockey all night, and who are you to deny your newfound friend something he wants so badly? “Tuesday’s perfect Nolan.” He pumps his fist in happiness and you giggle at his antics.

“I’m so happy I could kiss you.” It slips out before he realizes, and the shock on his face lets you know it was an accident.

“You can if you want.”

You’re surprised at your own boldness, but don’t have much time to read into what the statement could mean because Nolan’s leaning in to rest his forehead against yours.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The moment his lips touch yours it feels like a homecoming. He’s gentle but firm, letting you know he doesn’t want this to be a one time thing without saying anything at all. Nolan brings to you a sort of warmth that settles in your chest that makes you truly content with how life is going. You lose yourself in him, letting your heart steer the ship. He never waivers from you, only pulling back slightly to card his fingers through your hair. They settle at the nape of your neck and make shivers tingle your spine. You’re impossibly close, but you wish it would never end. After what feels like a millennia you break apart, chests heaving slightly from the lack of oxygen.

You can’t find the words, but you know you never want to be without Nolan again. All the anguish you experienced earlier feels light years away after a few short hours of truly knowing him. It seems that he’s on the same page, because Nolan makes no effort to remove himself from the situation. In fact, he seems perfect content to never move again: arm comfortably around your shoulder as he places a chaste kiss to the crown of your head.

“So is Tuesday a date now?” You squeak, voice small. You’re worried you’ve ruined the moment, but he cuts off your overthinking with a squeeze your bicep.

“It’s whatever you want it to be,” he replies, and you know he means it.

You can’t help yourself and slot your lips against his once again. “I’d like that a lot. There’s one condition though: I want to meet Gritty.”

Nolan’s laugh echoes off the walls and sounds like the sweetest melody you’ve ever heard. “Think I can manage to pencil you in to the schedule. It has a soft spot for me.”

As he reaches for the remote to put on highlights of the game that’s well over, you shuffle to rest your head comfortably in his lap. Your fingers find his and lazily combine. Nolan mumbles something you don’t quite catch, something about a play Travis made, but you hum in agreement anyways. He’s most likely right. Your eyes begin to droop, and as you fall asleep you forget why you were even sad in the first place.

☀☀☀☀

taglist: @jamiedrysdales if you want to be added shoot me an ask :)

#nolan patrick imagine #nolan patrick x reader #nolan patrick fic #philadelphia flyers imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #cwrites

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mc-lukanette · 4 years

Text

All Marinette wanted was to have a nice time at the festival with her friends. Play games, eat some snacks, and maybe win a prize or two. It was simple and exactly what was reasonable to expect from a festival.

She didn’t know what part of that included being stuck in a haunted house attraction with Luka. She’d tried her hardest to avoid that area specifically, yet she’d somehow been shoved into it alongside Luka the moment she’d let her guard down. It wasn’t that she’d hated the idea of getting one-on-one time with him, but the location wasn’t exactly ideal.

As they walked into the next room, trying to find their way out, something leapt out at them from one of the fake walls. When Marinette had originally imagined she and Luka harmonizing, she thought it might be them singing along to one of Jagged Stone’s albums, but instead, it was them screaming in unison for the nineteenth time as they bolted ahead.

They stopped in the following room to catch their breath, with Marinette whining at nothing in particular, "How big is this place?"

"I have no idea," Luka lamented. Taking in a large breath, he added, "I’m so sorry, Marinette. It’s just like Jule to do something like this."

"What?" She spun around to face him. "No, it wasn’t just Juleka!" She paused, noting, "I-I mean, I know that’s not really better, but don’t apologize for it! You didn’t do anything!"

He let out a noncommittal hum, looking away with an embarrassed blush dusting his cheeks. "Not directly, but I’m sure Jule wanted to see me freaked out."

Perplexed, she tilted her head. "Why would she want that?"

He sighed. "Because I can usually play perfectly, so people like to see me miss a note or two."

Marinette frowned, having never thought about that. Hoping it sounded somewhat comforting, she chimed in, "People do the same to me, but—ah—not because I ‘play perfectly,’ obviously." She toyed with her fingers. "I think they just think it’s funny to see me react to things."

He gave her a sympathetic look and she vaguely wondered if this was really better than trying to get through the haunted house as quickly as possible. They were technically delaying the inevitable next - and hopefully last - scare, but at the same time, it was still nice getting her alone time with him.

A thought occurring to her, she pointed out, "I didn’t know you hated anything horror-related. O-oh! Unless you told me and I didn’t remember, in which case—"

"I never told you," he confirmed. "Jule was always watching horror movies late at night when it was dark. I guess I was too—" He glanced off at the side, his modest self probably finding his words weird to say. "—nice, to ask her to turn it down."

"Having siblings sounds terrible," Marinette half-joked.

Luka snorted, though his frown didn’t fade. "She’s great, but once she figured me out, she liked scaring me every now and then."

"Really?" She’d never taken Juleka for the type.

He shrugged. "I never said anything because—" He paused, and she could see that he felt like he was being ridiculous. "—I didn’t want it to change how you saw me."

"Change—" Marinette blinked, a mix between confused at what he meant and charmed that he cared so much about what she thought of him. "—how? If anything, I’m relieved!"

He straightened, giving her a weird look. "Relieved?"

"Yeah!" She threw her arms out in dramatic fashion. "You’re human!"

Luka’s eyes went wide, then he jerked forward, stifling a chuckle.

"I’m serious!" she insisted, even while smiling herself. "I thought you might’ve been a perfect angel descending on us mortals!"

He chuckled again, nearly breaking into a giggling fit. Looking up at her with a fond expression, he waited until he was calmer to reply, "I could say the same thing about you."

She blushed. He seemed to realize what he said, given the way his brows rose, but he didn’t take it back either. She was only now feeling all the romantic atmosphere in the room, knowing very well that this was not the place to be having it.

"A-ah—so!" She leaned forward to take his hand in hers - okay, maybe that wasn’t going to help anything - then turned away. "We should get out of here! The longer we stay in here, the worse it’s going to be!"

She could sense his smile. "Yeah, let’s go."

She was glad he didn’t misinterpret what she’d said. He’d always had a way of reading her that she really admired.

They continued on, the room cluttered and with multiple diverging paths. It seemed like a perfect place for someone to pop out or make some spooky noises, but Marinette was thankful to be not as "on edge" as before, a lot of tension drained away from her conversation with Luka.

Then, the already-limited lights went off.

Marinette jumped, feeling Luka clutch her hand tighter as he flinched. She blindly reached out, but abandoned the idea immediately, not having the courage to try and feel her way around.

"It...it’s okay!" she tried to reassure, turning to him even if she couldn’t see anything. "We’ll just use what we remember seeing before to figure out which way to go! Um—" She looked around, trying to envision what the room had looked like. "I-I think there was a break in the curtains this way?"

She hesitated, waiting to see if maybe Luka had any other ideas. He was oddly silent, however, and she was starting to worry that the hand she was holding would end up not being his.

"...You’re incredibly brave, Marinette," he suddenly said.

"Huh?" She was briefly thankful to the darkness for hiding her dumb surprised face. "No, I’m really not! This is terrifying!"

"That just makes it all the more impressive," he argued. "You're scared, but you don’t stop. You keep going no matter how many times you think you slip up. Even with Adrien, you never quit. That takes a lot of courage."

She blushed red, now thankful to the darkness for a different reason. She wasn’t sure whether to thank him or brush off the compliment, but—

"Wait," she began, squinting. "With Adrien?"

"Hm?"

Realization hit a moment later, embarrassing her. "Oh. That’s right. I never told you. I guess—it just never came up?" She shrugged, knowing that he might at least feel it through their joined hands even if he couldn’t see it. "I...I moved on from Adrien a long time ago."

"Really?" he asked.

Without the light, she only had his voice to work off of. It almost made it easier, as his face often didn’t give things away unless he wanted it to. She could hear a hint of hope in his voice that he clearly tried not to make known.

Staring down at their hands, she confirmed, "Yeah. Um, I love someone else now."

He didn’t respond verbally at first, but just by the way his grip on her hand lessened, she imagined that the hope died out.

"They're very lucky, Marinette," he said, voice quieter than usual. "Have you tried telling them?"

She paused, swallowing her nerves and hoping that she wasn’t imagining things. After all, he did flirt with her earlier, unless she was just reading too much into it. Outside of how long it took her to realize her feelings, she didn’t have any reason to believe he didn’t still feel the same.

Squeezing his hand, she whispered, "I want to - I don't even have an excuse for holding back, since they already confessed to me - but..." She breathed up, adding quickly, "I can't see their lips when it's this dark."

His fingers twitched against her hand; another nonverbal reaction. She squinted at him, hoping to see any hint of his reaction, but she couldn’t even make out his silhouette.

It hadn’t even occurred to her that they haven't been jumped by anyone for a while.

Finally, Luka spoke up, a clear lightness in his voice. "Do you think you could remember what you saw before to figure it out, Marinette?"

"Remember—" She stopped, realizing what he meant, and her heart did a flip in her chest at how happy he sounded. Absorbing the moment, she looked down and ran her thumb along his hand, needing a few seconds to confirm to herself what was happening.

She felt his other hand fall upon her shoulder, the feeling alone letting her use her memory to visualize him in front of her: his casual attire, the earrings he never took off, his gorgeous highlights that she'd daydreamed about feeling between her fingers, and his vibrant blue eyes that sent waves of calm over her.

She reached up. On her first try, her hand found his cheek and her thumb slid gingerly over his lips. Luka giggled in response and she shuddered at the way his lips twitched, like he was tempted to kiss her thumb just for effect.

They both leaned towards each other, exchanging a long overdue kiss. It never occurred to them that maybe it wasn’t that no one had tried to scare them, but that they’d just been too into their own little world to notice it.

#lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

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jungshook69 · 4 years

Text

Love is a myth :: 03

DISCLAIMER: This doesn’t represent the members’ actions or the army’s actions in any manner it’s pure fiction. This is an original work, do not copy. The taglist is open if you want. Taglist is now closed.

WORD COUNT: 4.3K words

MAIN PAIRING: musician! Yoongi X waitress! female reader

SIDE PAIRING/S: Jungkook X female reader ; Taehyung X female reader

GENRE: FWB! au ; Strangers to lovers! au

WARNINGS: Implied smut (Forgive me cuz I suck at writing it, no puns intended) ; Mentions of alcohol and smoking (I do not condone smoking) ; Profanity ; Mentions of infidelity ; Heavy angst ; Self loathing (Namjoon’s about to wack me in the head with his slipper) ; I apologize in advance if there’s any spelling errors.

SUMMARY: "You covered your bare form with the silk sheets beneath you, as you watched him walk out your door without a word." // "Love is a myth. All that existed between you two was pure lust." // "The last rule was if anyone of the two of you caught feelings for the other, the deal would be off."

SERIES MASTERLIST: Trailer » Meet the cast » Chapter #1 » Chapter #2 » Chapter #3 » Chapter #4

STATUS: Complete

It was a pleasant morning, and you thought it couldn’t go any better. At least that’s what you thought, before your luck was inevitably snatched away from you.

You heard a gruff voice clear their throat, in close proximity to you, before they spoke up, “Y-Y/N?”

You looked up through your round lenses, and your jaw dropped open at the sight. Your eyes roamed the man’s face, unwilling to blink. It took you a nice long 10 seconds, to find your voice, which still came out small and slightly wavered, “J-Jungkook?”

“Hi…” his soothing voice managed to mutter, his shocked expression mirroring your own.

“Long time no see…” you say with a heavy breath.

You observed his figure. His beautiful doe eyes were shining with the same sparkle as they did back when you both were lovers. His face had gone from being a bit boyish, or babyish as you liked to call it, to a bit more structured. His jaw had sharpened, although there were no visible wrinkles lining his face, except for some adorable smile lines beside his crescent eyes. His hair was far different from what is was back then. You used to call him coconut head, in owe to his soft brown hair that lay across his forehead. But now his hair was much longer, and a dark shade of black, lengthy enough to be easily pulled back into a man bun. His shoulders were broader and his body looked much more buff, and his arms were fairly big as compared to a few years ago. He was adorned in black trousers and a white button down, with the top 2 buttons undone, giving you a slight peak at the tattoo you had grown to love, on his right collarbone.

“Do you mind if I take a seat beside you?” his melodious voice asked softly, contrary to his rough exterior.

“Y-yeah sure…” you said, shutting your journal close and making room for him on the small park bench.

You lay your hands across your lap, unsure of what to say next. But he saved you the pain and spoke up first, “How have you been?”

“Good… you?”

“Great…” he said his gaze fixed on the playground.

“Still married?” you ask. You want to mentally slap yourself for letting such a question slip, before he interrupts your thoughts.

“Yes… you see her?” he says pointing to the playground. Your eyes search for a female, perhaps the same height as Jungkook, but your eyes widen at what he says next, “You see that small girl with pigtails on the swing?”

“Y-Yeah…” you manage to speak.

“Her name is Hana, she’s my daughter.” He says letting out a deep breath.

“O-Oh…” you didn’t know why you were surprised. He was married. It had been 6 years. Of course he had a child. You watched as the small girl giggled, as a woman with straight platinum blonde hair, a smile on her lips, stood behind the swing and pushed the little girl back and forth.

“And that’s my wife… Sana.”

“Wow… you got a whole family… nice…” you cringe at the words that left your mouth. You felt a twinge of envy. How did everyone around you have their life so put together? Were you the only one who would never settle down with a special someone? Were you only made to work and never love?

“Not the family I envisioned, but none the less, a happy family.” He whispered to himself. “So… you seeing someone?” he asks.

“Not at the moment no…” you speak, ashamed of your toxic lust-induced lifestyle.

You share a moment of silence, both of you keeping your eyes fixed on the playground. “Y-You still where that?” Jungkook spoke up.

“Huh?” you looked up to see him pointing at your fingers which were unconsciously playing with the band of your silver ring. “O-Oh yeah… umm… just— yeah I wear it… it looks cool…” you cringe in disgust at your word vomit, knowing he wouldn’t buy it.

But he knew better, and didn’t question it further. You laid motionless as you tried to keep your emotions at bay. You were mad at him. Infuriated even. He left you in the dust. But at the same time, you loved him dearly. He was the only one you could trust in this cruel world. He was the only real thing that happened to your young naïve 16 year old self.

You immediately froze in your spot when you felt a warm touch of skin on the back of your hand. You looked down to see Jungkook’s tattooed right hand laying over your hand, which was on your lap.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I’m sorry for doing what I did and hurting you.”

Your eyes were glossy, tears threatening to overflow, as you fixed your gaze on the woman and the small girl in her arms, as they walked into the neighboring convenience store.

“We weren’t meant to be…” was all you could muster out.

“We were meant to be… I was a coward.” He says, his hand not leaving yours.

“Don’t blame yourself. It was my fault, I pushed it too far, by planning to run away.” You try sounding cold and stern, but it comes out as a whimper.

“The people were right…” he says, his finger absent-mindedly playing with the ring on your finger. “…the timing was wrong.”

You control your rapid heartbeat as you feel a tear slip out from your right eye, staining your cheek, as the drop slid down the length of your face. You hear the loud piercing sound of his ringtone, before he picks up the call and puts the phone up to his ear, his hand never leaving yours. You hear the loud voice on the other end.

“Baby, I got the diapers, I didn’t see you anywhere. Will you come to our car in the parking lot?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in 2 minutes.”

“Okay bye baby!”

“Bye.”

You here the beep of the phone call hanging up as you feel his figure shift next to you. You gasp as his hand tightens his grip on yours. You swear your heart stops when you feel his other hand turns your shoulder to face him. This is the first time you’ve looked straight into his eyes, in the last 6 years. He looks at you with the same warmth and guilt, as his large hands clasp your tiny ones.

“I missed you.” He huffs out.

“I missed you too. But you have a family to get back to.” You sigh sadly.

“I hope we meet again Y/N.”

“I don’t.” you mutter out too low for him to hear. It was too painful even thinking about seeing him again.

He stands up, his figure looming over yours, before you decide to do the same. He then leans in and wraps his arms around your waist, in an all-too-familiar manner, which breaks the last wall you’ve been holding up. You feel his breath skim the skin on your neck, sending goosebumps down your spine. You feel his warm cheeks brush against your collarbones. You try to hold yourself back from surrendering and dropping yourself in his strong arms right then and there. He slowly backs away from you before you could do so, “Bye Y/N…” he says giving you a sad smile.

You’re unable to form words, as your hands feel cold, needy to feel his warmth again. You watch his retreating figure, until he disappears behind the rows and rows of cars. You slam your journal into your sling and run back home as fast as your feet can carry you. You promised yourself, you would never let another man get to you. You’d never let another man, make you cry for him again. But you never expected the same man from your past, to break you a second time.

The first 10 minutes after you reached home, you just blankly started at the white wall in front of you. The next 20 minutes were spent with you cleaning up the mess after you broke a glass plate in anger. You didn’t know what to do with yourself. You’d never been so devastated in the last 6 years. You’d learnt to control your emotions, and to not take love seriously. But when a certain someone had walked into your life for a mere 20 minutes, all of that had gone down the drain. You felt helpless. You felt powerless. How could a man have such an effect on you?

You were on the ground sweeping a few remnant glass shards, when you heard a soft knock on the door. You opened the door to reveal a smiling Yoongi, a rare sight you would’ve teased him for, if it weren’t for the horrible morning you’d had. His smile immediately dropped on seeing your red eyes, concern washing over his features, “You okay?”

“Yeah” you mutter out uninterested, walking back into your apartment. You watched him drop his phone and keys onto your shoe stand, as he took off his beanie placing it down, ruffling his soft hair.

“I was actually gonna ask you if you wanted to get an early dinner together, some friends from my college are meeting up. What would you like? Maybe ramen, ooo how about gimb—”

“You can go without me, I’m not feeling too well…” you say trying to stop your voice from cracking.

“You sure?” he asks again.

“Yeah…” you say louder than you intended to speak.

“O-Oh… ummm okay…” Yoongi says before you here the jingle of his car keys and the click of your front door. Yoongi wasn’t one to pressure people into doing things. He liked giving people space. As soon as he left, you let your tears flow. They were unstoppable. You were still wailing, as your form dropped to the ground, even though there weren’t enough tears to flow out.

It was 9 PM. Your eyes were puffy and your sinuses hurt from crying for the past 2 hours. Your head was throbbing and your empty bedroom was filled with the sounds of your sniffles. That was before there was a loud knock on your door.

You slipped out of your bed, still dressed in your pajamas, as you made your way to the door. You peeped through the hole and saw Yoongi’s form leaning against the door frame. You opened the door and made sure to turn around immediately in a feeble attempt to hide your mess of a face.

“Hey sorry to disturb I left my beanie here.” He said picking it up. His eyes narrowed as you walked back towards your bedroom. “You can close the door on the way out.” You say, failing to contain a crack in your voice.

Yoongi notices and closes the door, with him still inside. “Y/N, seriously what’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing, I just have a cold…” you sigh, your back facing him.

You hear his consequent footsteps getting closer as his hand lands on your shoulder, whipping you around. His eyes widen, as he sees your puffy red eyes, and distraught face stained with dried tears.

“A cold huh?” he says his eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah…” you say softly, sniffling.

“What’s going on Y/N?” he says, his tone serious.

“Why do you care? You’re my fuck buddy, not my counselor!”

“I’m your friend, before any of that.” He says sternly, before he grabs your petite withering form in his strong arms for a tight hug. Your face collides with his firm chest and before you can overthink it, you wrap your arms around his waist, nuzzling your face closer into his warm neck. His hand threads through your hair as he whispers, “It’s okay I’m here…”

You woke up to the sound of a phone ringing off the hook. You were quick to realize that it wasn’t your ringtone. Your eyes fluttered open as you realized the position you had slept in. Your arm remained draped over Yoongi’s chest, and you were snuggled into the crook of his arm. You were leaning into him, while he had slept partially upright on your couch. Your legs were covered by a blanket, while Yoongi’s feet were propped up on the coffee table.

It all came back to you. How you had cried onto his shoulder for the umpteenth time that night. How he had cuddled your shivering form and insisted to stay with you, afraid of leaving you alone. You carefully let go of his sleeping form, trying very hard not to wake him up. You reached over to see a phone call from an unknown number, and put his phone on silent. You checked to make sure he hadn’t woken up. You got up and pushed your hair into a neat ponytail. You blinked hard to get the remnant sleep out of your pupils, as you tried to decipher everything that happened yesterday. Yoongi had stayed over with you… why? It went against the rule you’d made in your agreement. You weren’t complaining though because you needed someone last night. And you were more than glad that it was Yoongi. You just didn’t take him to be the type to break the ‘cuddling’ rule.

You cleared your mind of all these thoughts, brushed your teeth and took a much-needed shower. By the time you were out of the shower, in your work clothes, you found Yoongi awake, sitting upright on the couch, his head hung low, hands cupping the back of his neck. You slowly walked towards the back of the couch and laid your hands on his shoulders, your thumbs extending to press into the back of his neck. He visibly flinched, not expecting your presence, but soon relaxed under your touch.

“I’m sorry, your neck must be hurting because of the uncomfortable position you slept in last night…” you say, with a guilt-ridden voice.

“No it’s okay…” he hummed out.

You make your way around the couch and sit next to him. Confrontation. It was the solution to every problem. “Seriously, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have forced you to stay last nigh—”

“I stayed… because I wanted to stay.” He says, rubbing his eyes. “What’s the time?”

“O-Oh… it’s 10 am.”

“Don’t you have to leave for work in 10 minutes?”

“We have to leave for work.” You say chuckling.

“O-Oh… I was actually thinking of not coming in today… ya know… my back hurts and stuff…”

You were suspicious of his stuttering but decided that you tortured him enough, and just let it slide. “Well I have to leave, you can take a shower if you want, you already know where it is, and please close the door when you leave, okay?” you say grabbing your purse and your coat.

“Yeah sure… hey Y/N?” he says.

You stop in front of the door.

“Are you okay?” he says sincerely.

“Yeah I am, thank you Yoongi…” you smile and leave for work.

While you were in your own little bubble, occupied at work, Yoongi, having showered and carefully locked up your apartment, was headed to a certain someone’s humble abode, on his day off. He stood before the wooden door, as he knocked, waiting for his doom residing on the other side of the door. The door opened to reveal a familiar female, long pink hair pulled into space buns, her lips chewing on a pencil.

“Yoongi… didn’t expect to see you back here after a month… come in…”

“Actually I’m gonna make it quick” Yoongi says rubbing his palms together. “Where is Maria?”

“Oh she actually had to turn up at work, they were understaffed today…” her pink-haired roommate said.

“Oh okay thanks for your help.” He says leaving the doorstep, headed back to the restaurant. He walked in, and his eyes immediately searched for you. You were nowhere to be seen so he assumed that you were probably back in the kitchen. Then his eyes searched for a female with a short black bob, in uniform and spotted her at a table, close to the washroom. He walked up to her and tapped her shoulder.

“Oh Yoongi, hey…” Maria said, surprised to see him.

“Yeah hey, can we talk?”

She smirked at his question, assuming that wanting to “talk” was code for a hook up. She latched onto his collar and pulled him discretely towards the washroom. Before Yoongi could protest she slammed him against the empty washroom walls.

Yoongi never got to say, what he wanted to, what he had gone all the way to her apartment for. His mouth was clasped shut when Maria’s heavily-glossed lips landed on his own. He struggled to push her off, but before he could pry her off of him, he heard the sound of a toilet flushing, and a washroom stall door creaking open. He finally pushed Maria away and met your eyes, widened in shock.

You stood there, horrified, as you watched Maria smirking at you, an eyebrow raised in a challenging manner. You looked over to see Yoongi panting, against the wall, his lips swollen and smeared with Maria’s red lipstick. You held your whimpers in, and merely walked, no more like rushed out of the humiliating scene.

You walked out the back kitchen door and took in a deep breath. You calmed yourself down and did not allow any tears to flow. He was kissing her. So what? You were no one to decide who he kisses, much less sleeps with! You both had mutually decided upon staying anonymous about your personal affairs. Then why did it hurt? Why did it hurt to watch another woman lunge herself at that man? Why?

Your thoughts were interrupted by Maya’s voice, “Hey ummm… the customers are starting to line up, we need your help.”

“Yeah, I’ll be right there.” You respond facing away from her.

“Okay…”

Back in the washroom Yoongi watched you leave, his mind in utter chaos. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Yoongi asks in frustration, turning to Maria.

“You were the one who wanted to ‘talk’.” She says scoffing.

“Yeah I wanted to ‘talk’, literally talk.”

“Don’t lie to yourself Yoongi. We’re both hot and we both obviously have a lot of sexual tension between us. What would it take for you to let go off her puny ass for once and give us another try?”

“I already told you! When I slept with you a month ago, it was a mistake! We were both shit drunk!”

“What does she have that I don’t?”

“She has some god damn respect and dignity. She doesn’t just throw herself at me, when I say no. No means no. At least she respects my decision.”

“Jeez what happened to you Yoongles? You were never like this… like a lost puppy following around that bitch Y/N.”

“Don’t you dare call me Yoongles.” He says, his tone dead serious. “And look in the mirror when you call Y/N that.”

“You’re just as fucked up as she is.” She says scoffing.

“Just stay away from me. I’m never gonna come back to you and sleep with you. Give up already and find someone else to latch onto.” With that Yoongi leaves the washroom and exits the restaurant, feeling an unhealthy amount of guilt in his heart.

When you got absorbed into work, you couldn’t care less about Yoongi’s absence. But your eyes did drift over to the young gentlemen who was playing in Yoongi’s place today, and everytime you looked over, your eyes would drop down in disappointment of the person that met your eyes. Maria pretended like nothing happened and you went along with it. Confronting her would lead nowhere sensible.

Soon it was night time, well more like early morning time, and you were walking down the dark midnight streets, Jackie and Mark by your side. You had all decided to walk to a bar down the street and have a few drinks before turning in for the night. You needed to drown your misery in shots, and were more than happy to receive an invitation to accompany your friends.

“Y/N?” Jackie spoke up.

“Yeah?”

“Please don’t be mad…”

“Oh no, what did you do?”

“I observed that you sorta looked sad today. And I wanted to cheer you up…”

“Oh no…”

“I’m afraid to say it, but yes… I kinda reached out to a good friend of Mark’s and set you up on a blind date for tomorrow night.” She finishes.

“What?!” you exclaim.

“I’m sorry okay, but I thought you needed to brighten up a bit…”

“First of all what were you thinking, setting me up on a work night? It’s Tuesday tomorrow for Christ’s sake!”

“It’s the only time he was free! He has a busy schedule okay?” Mark defends, looking up from his phone screen.

“Ohh Mr. businessman is busy. I hate boring people, I’ll pass.” You say rolling your eyes.

“He’s a model… wait for it… for Gucci.” Jackie says, eyes shining.

“Keep talking…” you said, suddenly interested.

“His name is Taehyung. Age 24, same as yours. Aspiring to become an actor. Currently a model for Gucci. Also… he’s a god damn work of art.” Jackie says.

“I should be jealous, but I can’t lie, he’s too pretty to be human.” Mark says pitching in.

“Hmm…” you quietly think to yourself.

“Please, just try it out once? Get out there, have some fun!” Jackie pleads.

“Why the fuck not? YOLO right?” you say chuckling, heading to the bar, to drown all your obsessive thoughts.

Unlike waking up to your neighbor’s baby screaming loud enough to summon Satan like always, you wake up to a throbbing in your forehead. Your eyes scan your surroundings and finally focus on the clock on your wall. 11 am! You had to be at work in 15 minutes. You ran around your apartment, your brush in your mouth, one hand through the sleeve of your white button down, the other searching your dresser for your hairbrush.

You were at work. Even though you were 15 minutes late, and looked as though you had just survived a hurricane, you were still present, and that’s what mattered. Luckily, Mark had taken care of inventory for you, so that left you with enough time to polish yourself in the restaurant washroom before the doors opened for business. The washroom brought back unwanted memories from a day ago, but you ignored those, and focused on fixing yourself up, trying to make yourself presentable enough to match the class of the restaurant.

You were in your pajamas, happier than ever, watching a really good kdrama, ‘Its okay not to be okay’, definitely recommend 10 outta 10. Your work shift had ended early. You all had gotten a call from the owner and manager Kim Seokjin, that there was gonna be an extermination. You couldn’t be happier as you relaxed into the comfort of your couch. It hadn’t been 3 minutes into the new episode, when someone knocked on your door. You groaned in irritation.

“Just as it was about to get good.” You huffed out and approached the door.

You opened the door to a rather dim looking Yoongi. “Oh hi… ummm… wassup? Were the only words you could form.

“Can we talk?” Yoongi asks rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sure come in…” you say stepping back and closing the door behind him.

“I’ll get straight to the point…” Yoongi sighs. “What you saw, it wasn’t what you think happened.”

“What’re you talking about?” you asked chuckling nervously.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about Y/N.”

“Oh that… yeah right…”

“Listen, I just want to clarify that yes I did sleep with Maria a month ago, back when we never used to talk, when we used to ignore each other 24/7. But I haven’t slept with her since. What you witnessed today was me telling her to back off, but she kissed me without my consent, and you happened to walk in at a bad time.”

You let out a huge sigh and folded your arms. “And why’re you telling me this?”

Yoongi’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion. To that, you poke again, “I don’t control who you sleep with or who you choose to date Yoongi. We had a deal. We don’t get involved in each other’s personal lives.”

“Well I’m sorry if I seemed to be ‘involved in your personal life’ after we told each other something that I thought was personal to both of us.” He speaks out, in irritation.

You looked down at your ring and remember how you had told him about your past. You remembered how you both had shared a moment, sitting at the piano, which reminded you of the fact that he had also shared his past with you. But you were scared, terrified even. You were scared to let someone close to your heart again, afraid of being left alone again. You were frightened that someone would finally get through the tough walls you’d put up around yourself, and steal your fragile heart, only to break it into a million pieces again. The pain was too much.

“Well maybe we shouldn’t have shared that with each other!” you yell out without thinking twice.

You heard nothing but silence on Yoongi’s end. It took a minute before he spoke up, “So you regret it huh?” his voice alarmingly calm.

“I-I- I don’t know…” you say, unsure guilt settling in your heart.

“Well that just about explains every fucking doubt I’ve been having about this relationship.”

“That’s not wha—” you protest.

“Save it.” He said sternly. “I made a mistake. I tried to get us to be friends. We should go back to our old ways. Just text each other when we’re needy, and ignore each other at all other times. Got it. If that’s what you want, then that’s what you’ll get.” He storms out of the apartment, slamming the door with a loud bang on the way out.

You felt a tremendous guilt envelope your heart. You didn’t want things to go the way they did just now. He was never the issue. It was you. You were the coward who had commitment issues. And you didn’t want him to waste his time trying to get you to open up. This was the only way. You were never suited for love. It was always lust.

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A/N: Don’t forget to follow @jungshook69 for more content:) You can check out more works of mine here. Have a great day:)

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milstrim · 3 years

Text

Comfort in My Shadow

Chapter 3: You Oughta Know

By @iwritedumbshit for @iron-mum

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Ned Leeds, James “Rhodey” Rhodes

Summary: Soulmates are definite in the universe. Nobody knows exactly why they exist, or what dictates who is bonded to who, the only thing known is that they are never wrong. But Peter’s not so sure about that.

Living at the group home had taught Peter a lot about laying low and how to stay alive when nobody cares. But he’d always clung to the hope of the shadow at his feet reflecting his soulmate that had watched over him for years.

Typical that his soulmate is actually a superhero that Peter is convinced shouldn’t want anything to do with him. Maybe, just this once, the Universe was wrong.

But Tony Stark is desperate to prove that it is right.

Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8

---

Tony dropped down onto the grass near an empty playground just by the water, laying Spidey on the ground gently before breaking his way out of the suit. The mechanic kneeled beside the teenager, grabbing his wrist and tearing the webshooter off of it. He pressed two fingers against the boy's wrist, sighing in relief when he could make out a surprisingly strong pulse. The relief only lasted for a moment before he moved onto the fact that the kid still wasn't moving.

Hesitating for only a moment, he reached for the mask.

A hand shot up just as his fingers brushed against the fabric, slapping his own hand away sloppily. Tony didn't mind, only letting out a sigh and sinking back onto his knees in relief as Spidey sat up, coughing so hard his whole body shook. The kid tore his mask up to his nose to throw up mouthfuls of murky water before settling back onto his elbows and pulling the mask back down harshly. Tony resisted the urge to pat the kid on his back, instead keeping his hands wrung and watching the vigilante sharply.

He coughed, "Uh, hey, Mr. Stark."

"Hey, kid." Tony offered him a smile. "Jeez, I leave you alone for one day and you almost drown. I think you're more danger prone than me, if that's possible."

"Yeah, you'd be surprised," Spidey said, sitting up farther before freezing and turning to regard Tony suspiciously. "How did you find me? Did you put a tracker on me or something?"

"No. No, kid, I didn't, I promise. My AI's been keeping an eye out for you, and she seemed to think you were in trouble."

"You're spying on me?"

"No, not--I'm not spying on you, kid," Tony rushed to assure. He paused and then conceded with the decency to shrug in embarrassment. "Okay, sorta maybe. Yeah. I'm kinda spying on you, but I also just saved your life, so."

"I had it," Spidey muttered, but it was ruined by another cough. Tony raised an eyebrow at him. "I did! At least, until that vulture guy showed up."

"Vulture guy?"

In a flurry of words, Spider-Man explained, and Tony was happy to listen. He was happy to hear anything the kid was willing to say to him, even if it began with him stalking out a weapons deal and ended with a man with metal wings grabbing him out of the air.

"--and then he just, he just, like, swooped down like a monster and he picked me up and, uh, he took me up, like, a thousand feet and just dropped me!"

Tony shook his head, wishing desperately he could see beyond the suit at any injuries the kid may have as he reattached his webshooter. He did seem okay though, if a little thin, if the way the soaked suit practically hung off of him was anything to go by.

"What were you thinking?" Tony asked, unable to keep the scornful fear from his voice.

"The guy with the wings is obviously the source of the weapons that I've been seeing. I gotta take him down!"

"Take him down now, huh? Steady, Crockett, there are people who handle this sort of thing."

"The Avengers?"

"No. No, no. This is a little below their pay grade," Tony explained. Spidey's eyes narrowed at him. "Look, forget the flying vulture guy, please."

"What? No! He's putting weapons out on the street, my street, I've gotta keep looking for him."

Tony pursed his lip, resisting the urge to argue further and wrap this kid up in bubble wrap. He relented, for the time being. "Fine. I won't stop you."

"Not like you could anyway."

"You're meaner than I remember."

"Yeah, well, get used to it I guess."

"Does that mean I get to hang out with my soulmate from now on? Possibly know their name?"

Spidey froze, staring past Tony in a tired manner. He slumped down onto the grass dramatically. "What time is it?"

"You're not gonna run out on me or anything are you? Or if you do, can you at least leave something behind for me? Like, a boot maybe?"

"Are you calling me Cinderella?"

"Sure. Cinder-kid. Cinder-whatever-your-name-is."

Spider-Man turned his head to glare at his persistent fishing. "I'm surprised you don't already know."

"I've got a list. Twenty-eight kids so far."

"I'm not a kid," he mumbled. Tony smirked.

"Nice try. I know your birthday." Spider-Man groaned. "Still no name?"

A moment. "Ben."

"There's no Ben on the list," Tony answered immediately.

"What, you just have that memorized?" When Tony didn't answer, save for the raise of an eyebrow, the kid groaned again. "If I tell you my name will you please tell me the time?"

Tony checked his watch. "8:17."

A very long, very tense moment before finally, "Peter."

"There's no Peter on the list either."

"Then your list sucks." Tony stared at him. "I'm not lying, you just need to be better at being a detective."

After a moment, Tony accepted it, though he didn't completely believe it. "Fine. Nice to meet you, Peter. I'm Tony."

"Yeah, I knew that."

"Are you always this mean or are you just in a bad mood?"

Peter ducked his head guiltily. "Sorry. Just kinda hungry. I didn't--uh, I didn't eat dinner. Yet."

"I can fix that," Tony said, holding out a hand. Peter stared at it for a moment before hesitantly taking it and allowing for Tony to pull him up. Both of them glanced at where their shadows switched. Peter tensed before tearing his hand away and shoving it in his pocket. Tony tried to not let his hurt show.

Peter let out a groan of annoyance, distracting Tony from where he'd been staring at the switched shadows to look at the kid, who had pulled out a phone as wet as it was cracked. The billionaire grimaced just looking at it.

"Yikes. If you need to call your parents, I have my phone with me."

Spidey winced. "No, uh, it's fine. Just, ah, I left my friend at a party, he's probably wondering where I'm at."

"Okay. If you're sure," Tony said. Peter nodded. "So, dinner?"

"I'm okay, Mr. Stark. I've got to get back to the party. My friend's mom is picking us up in an hour."

"Then, can we talk?" Peter dug his boot into the ground in such a childish manner it physically hurt. He clearly didn't want to talk, but that didn't stop Tony. "Here and now would be preferable."

"About what?" the kid rasped.

"A few things. The fact that we're soulmates, why you got involved in this, why you run around as a vigilante in the first place--"

"--I literally told you last night--"

"--and why you ran away yesterday," Tony finished, ignoring him.

"I have a curfew."

"What's your curfew?"

"Ten," Spidey muttered.

"So you were already late. If you'd waited a little bit longer I probably could've explained to your parents why you were late."

Spidey's head shot up, eyes narrowing. "That I was out being a vigilante?"

"That you were meeting your soulmate."

"Oh. That." The boot scuffed against the ground again, and Tony tried not to let his sullen voice get to him. "I don't think he would've cared."

That sounded horribly wrong to Tony's ears. He asked incredulously, "Your dad wouldn't have cared that you met your soulmate?"

"He's not my dad."

Oh.

"Who do you live with then?"

"Group home," Peter answered with a shrug. "Our curfew has no exceptions, so."

Tony hesitated. "Peter, can you take off your mask?"

"Why?"

"I mean, why not? I already know your name and birthday. I can find you pretty easily."

"I'm okay, Mr. Stark. I'm good. Besides, I should be getting back to my friend, so."

Peter moved to walk away, but Tony grabbed his arm hastily, desperate for this not to be how his first real meeting with his soulmate to go. Peter flinched immediately, and the mechanic let go as the kid stumbled back. That horrible suspicion in his chest only grew.

"Sorry," Tony apologized as Peter continued to stare at him. This wasn't going how he had envisioned at all. Soulmate meetings were usually thought of with an air of overwhelming happiness, maybe a few shed tears and a lot of hugs. But all Tony had was a first name, a smattering of depressing facts, and the knowledge that this kid didn't want anything to do with him. "Not an Iron Man fan, huh?"

Peter shrugged, but Tony noted it as a small victory that the tension leaked out of his small frame. "Thor's actually my favorite, so."

"Well, as long as it isn't Mr. America, then I'm good." There was an awkward silence only broken by the mechanical whir of Spidey's goggles as he glanced to the side, clearly searching for an escape. Tony bit down a sigh. "Go back to your party, kid. I'll see you around?"

"Sure. See you around, Mr. Stark."

Well, he didn't sound completely miserable about it, so Tony counted it as a win. He watched as the kid swung off of the trees back towards the neighborhood, a hint of hope warring with his hurt. Only once the hood slipped off of his shadow did the mechanic start moving again, stepping into the suit, which lit up as he fired into the sky.

"Okay, Fri. Find me a kid named Peter born on August tenth, 2001 with all the earlier guidelines."

"There isn't one, sir."

Tony thought for a moment. "Oh! Remove siblings as a statistic, look for one in a group home instead."

"One match."

"Save it to the file. I'll check it out when I get home."

---

Toomes stared at the retreating figure of the Iron Man suit, his mask highlighting the flying hunk of metal before he turned away to stare at the playground where he and Spider-Man had been talking. Peter, apparently. Stark's soulmate.

He'd have to be careful, very careful, about how he played this.

Adrian had been set on flying away immediately after dropping the vigilante so that he could chew out Brice for being so reckless, but the sight of the Iron Man suit dipping under the water had stopped him. What the hell was the billionaire doing near his house? It had made him wary enough for him to dive down and perch a football field's length away, allowing for his helmet to pick up on the two's conversation.

That decision had probably been one of the best ones of his entire life. The kid was clearly very insistent to go after him and his business, while Stark not so much, but that didn't stop the fact that Peter was clearly desperate to take him down and had Iron Man even more clearly wrapped around his little finger. That was dangerous, and it was bad for business.

After checking once more that Iron Man was no longer nearby, he shot back up into the air towards his warehouse as he made a note to put Mason u[ to finding out who this Peter-kid was and he searched through multiple names in his personnel, looking for the best to keep an eye on the kid. No one was going to mess with his business. With his family.

---

"Alright," Tony said as he entered the lab through the window, stepping out from his suit and back over to his desk. He grimaced at where the web fluid had exploded over the desk while he'd been gone. Hopefully that would fizzle out in an hour or two. "What have you got for me, Fri?"

A screen popped up immediately, and Tony was shown his first true glimpse of his soulmate's face. His heart tugged both at the adorableness of the kid pictured in front of him and the fact that he was seeing the kid for the first time through a screen. He shook it aside, taking in the kid in front of him.

Peter.

The yearbook photo left the smile hilariously forced but no less adorable, especially with the way the kid's eyes read embarrassment and boredom in only a way a teen's could. His hair was tamed down generously for picture day, but a few stray curls forced their way loose. Somehow, he was exactly what Tony had imagined.

"Okay. Full life synopsis. Let's go," he ordered the AI.

"Peter Benjamin Parker was born on August tenth, 2001, to Mary and Richard Parker, both head researchers at Oscorp before their deaths in 2006 in a plane crash. Guardianship was transferred to Richard's brother and sister-in-law, Ben and May Parker. They were killed during a mugging six months ago."

"Yikes, kid. Not a super easy time for you, huh?" Tony glanced at the picture of the kid again. "Where does he live now?"

"At the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys under the guardianship of Andrew Fowler."

"Pull up his file. Any records of abuse or illegal activities?"

"Fowler has two DUI's from when he was nineteen and twenty-three, but nothing else. Nothing unusual about him, boss."

Tony hummed, crossing his arms and pursing his lips. After all of Peter's little flinches and shakes, he was still skeptical, but with nothing to prove, he left it alone. For now.

"Mr. Parker does, however, have a record."

His head turned. "He does?"

"He does." Multiple files were shoved in his face. "Nothing serious, sir, but he has multiple accounts of sneaking out and degenerate behavior. Smoking, loitering, and two misdemeanors."

Tony hesitated for a moment, but shrugged it off. He was a kid who'd had a rough life, and, really, Tony had done some similar shit when he was the kid's age, and the sneaking out could be easily waved off by Peter's vigilante actions. He moved on.

"How's the suit coming along?"

"Trials are finished and ready for 3D printing. All that's left is the fluid, boss."

Tony glanced at the table still completely covered with the white formula. He grimaced. "We'll deal with that later. Go ahead and print the suit, and I'm gonna need a couple of things before we completely shut down for the night."

---

I, Peter thought, am an idiot.

After returning to the party, he had changed back into his regular clothes and managed to draw Ned out from the crowd, who had been more than a little confused at his dripping wet hair and slightly bruised face.

"Dude," Ned had asked. "What the hell happened? What happened to the plan?"

"Sorry," Peter had muttered. "There was some weapons dealers. They got the drop on me and dropped me in the lake. And, uh, I met Mr. Stark again."

Ned had gasped. "Really!? Oh, my gosh, is he here? Can I meet him?"

"No, he left, Ned. He saved me actually."

"This is the coolest! You're superhero buddies!" He'd gasped again. "Oh, my God! Are you Iron Man's sidekick?"

"What? No, Ned. I'm not his sidekick." I'm his soulmate, which was honestly worse. Peter would be a better sidekick than a soulmate. "It was probably just, like, a favor thing since I saved him yesterday."

"Super. Hero. Buddies."

There hadn't been any arguing with Ned, he'd been too excited. But, thankfully, the arrival of Iron Man had distracted his friend from going back to the party and they'd called his mom so they could leave early. Not ready to take anymore chances that night, he'd asked Mrs. Leeds to drop him off right at the group home. Mr. Fowler hadn't been there when Peter had tiptoed through the door, so he'd just slipped up the stairs and taken a hot shower, not even bothering to try and take something from the kitchen. He didn't have the heart for another strike.

His spider sense had been going off the entire time, just like it had when he'd been talking with Mr. Stark. It had prevented him from falling asleep that night, thankfully it had been a Friday. But the fact that his senses wouldn't calm down, even now on Saturday morning, was more than a little concerning. Was he dying? Maybe it was the lack of food? Or were his senses trying to warn him about Mr. Stark?

That was the worst thought of all, but it'd popped into his mind whenever he'd caught sight of his shadow while he was eating breakfast the next morning. Everyone in the group home was at the table to watch his nervous jitters as he tried not to look too starved while eating his cereal. Tim and Eric had glanced at him a lot, clearly desperate for him to play some games with them today. The other two younger boys, Aaron and Juan, were much more calm, staring down at the table in an attempt to not draw attention to themselves. Though Jeremiah was winning that competition.

Mr. Fowler sat at the head of the table, a plate of eggs and bacon sitting idly in front of him as he rifled through the mail with annoyed mutters. The man had a lot of junk mail--seriously, he had more magazine subscriptions than Peter could count--so the boys could usually tell when he finally stumbled across something he liked in the mail. His muttering would pause, the rifling would stop, and he would hum in approval before setting the piece of paper aside. This morning, he found something he clearly didn't care for.

Mr. Fowler's muttering paused, the rifling stopped, and Peter waited for the quiet hum, but instead there was a displeased grunt. Heads turned as the junk mail smacked onto the table and a vanilla letter stood out in Mr. Fowler's hands with large letters scrolled on the front of it. Peter's name sat scrawled on the corner.

"Who the heck is 'TS?'" Mr. Fowler asked, glancing at the letter again. "With no return address?"

Peter panicked, almost choking on his off-brand Cheerios as he searched for an excuse that wasn't as flimsy as a feather.

"It's, uh, a pen pal. Thing."

Sure. Not flimsy at all, Parker.

"A pen pal?"

Peter nodded. "Yep. Um, through--through school. It's new. And we deliver them, by ah, ourselves. I delivered mine yesterday, so, no return address?"

"Fun... What's their name?"

He took another bite of his food to stall, mumbling through the soggy cereal, "Tony."

"Tony...?"

"Smart." Mr. Fowler glanced at him. Idiot, idiot, idiot. "Yeah. Tony Smart. He goes to Bronx... Anyway can I have that letter please?"

With a grumble, Mr. Fowler tossed the letter on the table in front of Peter. He quickly pocketed it, finishing his cereal as fast as humanly possible and placing it in the dishwasher. He passed by the table, promising to help the other kids with their dishes and their homework, before walking out the door and sitting on the steps outside the small and rundown building, ignoring the way his senses were still going off.

Peter muttered confusions under his breath as he pulled the surprisingly thick letter out of his hoodie, turning it over in his hands once before finally ripping it open. There were four things inside. He grabbed the letter first, unfolding it to read the loose lettering scrawled inside.

Dear, Mr. Parker,

Letters aren't really my thing. I'm more of a talker, as you may have realized last night, so I've left a new Starkphone in the envelope to replace the one you broke last night. For talking. And whatever the hell teenagers do with phones too.

Peter blinked, narrowing his eyes and his chin dropping as he fished the phone out of the envelope. It was horribly expensive under his fingers and he immediately flushed as he thought about how much it must cost. He didn't think it was even on the market yet. He shook his head and blinked furiously, returning to the letter.

I've also included a Stark Industries badge that will get you into the tower for the next week or so until we move to the compound. You'll receive a new one once badges are printed for the Avengers Compound. My forehead of security will be very excited to be on the job. There's also a credit card connected to my account if you're ever in trouble or in the mood for something to eat. Of course, I don't know what your schedule is, but call me whenever, and you're always welcome in Casa de Stark.

-TS

P.S. Stop by the tower if you can today. I've got a surprise I think you'll like.

Go to the tower? Peter glanced around the street nervously. He guessed it couldn't hurt, as long as he got all his Saturday chores done first.

After a moment of hesitation, the teenager folded up the letter, stuffing it in his pocket before turning back to the rest of the contents in the envelope. Like Mr. Stark had said, there was a Stark Industries badge, with his embarrassing yearbook photo and his name printed in bold letters, and an ebony credit card that practically gleamed even in the weak light of the gray day.

"The hell..." he muttered, staring at it. He didn't even want to begin thinking about how much stuff he could buy with this thing. The thought made him nauseous, and he moved to stuff it in his pocket as well, when he paused. His pocket was a horrible place to put this thing. He didn't plan on using it, but he'd have an actual stroke if he managed to lose it, or worse, if someone stole it. Mr. Stark already didn't seem overwhelmingly thrilled to have a snotty kid as his soulmate, no need to disappoint him further.

Peter went back inside, placing the card in his thin leather wallet that he kept in his bag, clipping his badge to the backpack, and then stuffing the letter underneath his mattress. Before he went to move back downstairs, his stomach rumbled and his eyes strayed back to the card. Mr. Stark had said he could use it whenever...and it wasn't like snacks were going to drain his account or anything. He bit his lip, forcing himself to turn back around and down the stairs. He wasn't a charity case, and he wasn't going to just abuse Mr. Stark's money like that.

The teenager shook his head as he hurried back to the common floor to begin cleaning up the kitchen as he tried not to think about how hungry he was going to be tonight. Only breakfast was allowed when grounded at Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys, so tonight was going to be so much worse without a school provided lunch. And falling asleep last night had been almost impossible thanks to the gnawing pain in the pit of his stomach. Whatever. He'd figure it out somehow.

Cleaning the kitchen didn't take very long, both him and Jeremiah burning through the dishes and putting away food in less than ten minutes while the younger kids sat silently at the table, trepidatious noses stuck in books, though they'd been allowed a moment of calm reprieve when Mr. Fowler had stumbled upstairs for a few minutes before plopping back downstairs into his usual seat. Once the two were done, Jeremiah went to take out the trash while Peter stepped over to Mr. Fowler, who was just finishing scribbling on a thin piece of paper.

"I expect the receipt as usual, Parker. Not a penny missing." The man thrust the list in his hand along with a wad of tightly wrapped cash that Peter accepted more than a little nervously. Mr. Fowler was very particular about his money. "And don't forget to check the eggs to make sure they're not broken."

"Yes, sir," Peter nodded.

"And take the others with you. I need a few hours of peace."

"Yes, sir," he said again.

He motioned for the children to grab their bags from the hooks by the door while Peter dashed up the stairs and back down again with his own. He never left home without it, and the kids needed something to hold their stuff. Not that he would mind carrying a couple of books, but they had to carry all the groceries back, so the more free hands the better.

The ragtag group bounced onto the cracked sidewalk, the kids waving goodbyes to Jeremiah as they headed off towards the nearest grocery story. There was some excited babble as they all crowded around Peter, words tumbling from prepubescent lips as they all finally got their chance to inform Peter of their very eventful week. Mr. Fowler was never very excited to have the kids talking all at once. It disturbed his constant hangovers.

"One at a time, one at a time," Peter said with a reluctant smile. The chatter died down. "Youngest first."

Eric grabbed Peter's hand in response, the nine year-old babbling away about something new he'd learned in class and something funny his friend had said on Monday that he'd been waiting all week to tell Peter. Next was Juan, who had similar tellings, but the teenager responded just enthusiastically as he did Eric until they went all the way through the stories and ended up at the cheap grocery store.

Peter stopped them before going inside. "Rules?"

"Don't touch anything," all four chorused, continuing down the list. 1. Don't touch anything. 2. Stay by Peter. And 3. Hold your buddy's hand the whole time. Once they'd repeated them all, Peter nodded and led them inside.

The teenager tried his best to get everything on Mr. Fowler's list quickly, but refused to not double check for the cheaper brands that Mr. Fowler was always so insistent he buy. It irked Peter off, especially since grocery money came from the state and not the man, but there wasn't anything Peter could do without getting another strike, so he grabbed the blandest cheerios and the most unhealthy oatmeal and placed them in the basket in annoyance, doing his best to avoid any aisle with some kind of bright sugar. He still caught the other kids looking at cookies and cartons of ice cream longingly though.

Finally, after an agonizingly long time, they were all checked out and laden with groceries as they headed down the sidewalk back to the group home. There was more chatter from the kids as they pointed at fluttering pigeons and scurrying rats. There was even a parrot at one point that Peter was sure someone was looking for. He'd check around online later and see if he could give someone a tip about the scarlet bird that's shit narrowly missed Eric.

All was going well until the chime of an ice cream truck began down the small neighborhood street. Feet stopped and heads turned as the bright pink vehicle stopped in front of a group of clamoring kids. Peter could practically feel their want for something other than the same breakfast and dinner they got every day. Their most interesting meal was usually their school lunches, which was honestly more pitiful than anything the teenager could ever dream of.

Peter bit his lip as he stared at the ice cream truck and then sighed, setting down his groceries and opening the pocket of his backpack where he'd placed his wallet earlier. The wallet that now had a shiny black card connected directly to a billionaire that could give these kids a fun morning for once.

The wallet that was nowhere to be seen.

"Fuck," Peter muttered.

Eric gasped, pointing at Peter who was now practically tearing apart his backpack looking for the thing, panic rising in his chest. "Peter said a bad word!"

"Shit," Juan said in response. There were some giggles from the older kids but Eric gasped again. Peter ignored them, strangling in a reluctant breath as his hands finally stilled after coming away with nothing.

How the hell had he lost it? He'd had it for barely an hour! Think, Parker, think. It had been in his bag, he knew that. He'd put it in the second lowest pocket of his backpack, which he'd left upstairs. All the boys had been at the table, and Jeremiah had been cleaning the kitchen with him the entire time. Had someone stolen it at the store? It was possible but unlikely, what with his spider sense and the fact that four kids who'd grown up in New York's foster system paying constant attention to him. So how could it have--

Peter paused, bringing his hands up to cover the bottom half of his face as he clenched his teeth harder than he remembered having ever done before. Mr. Fowler had gone upstairs. And Peter's story had been complete bullshit. He must have found his wallet and taken it upon seeing the shiny black card just perfectly poised for the taking.

His legs stiff with terror, Peter stuffed everything he'd taken out of his bag back into it haphazardly, zipping it shut so harshly the tab ripped completely off. He grunted, throwing the piece of plastic to the ground and clutching his groceries back in his hands before stomping off. The kids stumbled after him once they'd realized he'd begun to move.

"Peter!! Wait up!" Tim called.

Peter forced himself to pause for them, but continued on the moment they were caught up to him. He tried to calm himself, but he couldn't stop the way his face contorted and he seethed in fury. He didn't give two flying shits about the crumpled bills in his wallet the man had taken, or the few personal items he'd kept in the wallet from his late uncle, but he was horribly angry that the man had taken something that was barely even Peter's.

There was no way in hell the teenager was going to explain to Mr. Stark that the card had been stolen from him not even a day after he'd gotten it. There was no way in hell was Peter going to explain that he, an enhanced that had just touted last night that he could take on the flying vulture guy, that he couldn't stand up to his foster father. Mr. Stark dealt with aliens. Peter could deal with Mr. Fowler.

His steps faltered.

He could. He could do it.

As he later found out, he couldn't.

---

Peter crept up the stairs of the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys, having already set all the groceries he'd had on the kitchen counter for the other kids to put away. He tried to keep the shaking from his fear, unsure if it stemmed from fear or anger, but he was largely unsuccessful as he stalked past the kids' rooms and approached the one at the end of the hall.

As far as Peter knew, no one had gone into Mr. Fowler's room before. There usually wasn't a point. The man kept such meticulous track of his belongings that it was impossible to take something without him noticing sooner or later, and, not only that, but Peter was used to the click of a lock sliding shut whenever the man left his room unattended or went to sleep for the night. It left the teenager facing the unknown as he finally stepped in front of the door that was, in that moment, bigger than anything he'd ever seen.

He took in a shaky breath. Maybe this was a bad idea. The ringing of fear trembling up and down his entire self told him so.

But the anger wasn't completely overridden by the fear, and Peter was full of bad ideas anyway, so he raised a fist and knocked rapidly. There was no response, so Peter knocked again, just as forceful as last time but now more hesitant.

With a horrifying shiver down his spine, the door swung open. Peter swallowed but refused to take the step back that he desperately wanted to as Mr. Fowler towered over him. The smell of alcohol wasn't any kind of freshly strong like it had been a couple of nights ago, which was the only thing reassuring about the moment.

"What do you want?" Mr. Fowler demanded.

"My wallet." He willed his voice not to break.

Mr. Fowler's eyes narrowed as a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "What?"

"My wallet. You took it and I want it back."

"It's my house, so it's my wallet."

"No it's not! It was my uncle's!" he protested.

"Oh, and was this your uncle's too?" The shiny black card was pulled out his pocket as Mr. Fowler flashed him a toothy grin. Peter's hands twitched with the need to reach out for it, but he kept his fists balled at his side. "Lying to your foster father now, huh? That was a nice little letter under your bed, too. New sugar daddy or something?"

Peter blanched, but then his face turned ghostly white. His voice was a horrified whisper. "You took my letter?"

"Under your bed? Really? You didn't even try, son!" Mr. Fowler taunted, pulling out a piece of crumpled paper and forcing it into Peter's hands. He tore it open, but the paper was so wrinkled he could barely read it anymore. "So, Tony Stark? I don't know if you sucked his dick or something, but I'm sure this card has plenty for me to use if it's connected to his account."

"What? No! That doesn't belong--"

He was cut off by a hand tugging a fistful of his hair. Peter winced but refused to let out a yelped cry even as he was dragged into Mr. Fowler's room. It wasn't much, he realized as he peered through squinted eyes at the bedroom. It was somehow grimy and tidy at the same time, with dust and dirt covering just about every corner, but his belongings were neatly lined and organized on the desk and bedside table. The only other thing that screamed about Mr. Fowler's uncleanliness was the bottles littering the floor that Peter had to fight not to trip over, made only harder as the fist let go of his hair and slapped him into the nearest wall.

"Now listen here, you little shit," Mr. Fowler started, cornering the scrambling teenager as his voice boomed so loud that surely all the kids downstairs could hear him. "I clothe you and house you and feed you, and I will not tolerate your levels of disrespect when you do nothing but run around like the little ungrateful shit you are! Anything you earn while under my roof belongs to me!"

"No it doesn't!" Peter found the courage to shout back. Mr. Fowler blinked in scowled surprise. "And you barely do any of that shit! I had these clothes before I got here, and you barely feed me! You barely feed any of the kids down there!! What the hell is wrong--"

His face stung with the slap that met it.

He grit his teeth, blinking away angry tears. It didn't hurt, it didn't hurt. He was Spider-Man. Being dropped into a lake had hurt, this was nothing. He couldn't really be hurt while he had these powers. He couldn't.

"SHUT UP!!!"

Peter cowered.

"You know nothing about what you're talking about, son," Mr. Fowler breathed, stalking forward until his face was only inches from Peter's and there was nowhere left to run. He scrunched his nose and screwed up his eyes, holding his breath against the man's stale breath as he turned his face away to stare past the man's shoulder. "Whatever you think, this is my house, and I took you in after your last foster parent got sick of your teenage horseshit. Sneaking out wasn't tolerated there, just as much as disrespect isn't tolerated here. So I think that's another strike, don't you? Or a good enough recommendation could get you to a juvenile detention center instead."

"No, please--"

The hand was in his hair again, tearing him forward with a pained wince and forcing him through the door. When Peter smacked up against the wall, he realized it wasn't the door to the hallway.

Scrambling, he swung around just in time to see the door slam shut and then click with the eerie noise of a lock, leaving Peter in the dark closet that was full of nothing but the stench of dirty clothes piled around his feet and the clinking of dusty bottles. He swallowed, wishing desperately he didn't make such stupid decisions, that he'd just kept his head down and forgotten about it and--

"Stay nice and quiet, and you'll be let out soon," Mr. Fowler called before the sound of the door clicked shut and the groaning of wood told him that the man was walking away.

And Peter was horribly alone.

---

Tony glanced between the metal case sat on the table and the window displaying the New York night sky one last time before sighing and stepping off of the stool, Peter's shadow following him. He hadn't been Spider-Man all day, so Tony had no idea what could be holding him up. The kid hadn't texted at all either, though he was sure he'd at least set up the phone already.

Nervously, the billionaire tapped his fingers on the table, one of the last pieces of furniture that had yet to be packed on his floor. He'd delivered the letter himself, clearly addressed it to the kid and everything, but maybe he hadn't gotten it? Maybe it had been a little sketchy for a kid to get a letter with just initials on it and no return address. But he couldn't have gotten in trouble for anything like that, right? And Peter's foster father didn't have anything bad surrounding his name...

With a tired sigh, he asked his AI, "Anything?"

"Mr. Parker has still not entered the building."

"A few blocks out?"

"He does not appear on any security cameras." A moment. "It is past ten, sir. I do not think he is going to come."

"Keep an eye out for him, just in case." He continued to tap the table with a thoughtful hum. Just to double check. "Has the phone been activated?"

"Yes, sir. It started up this morning."

Okay, good, so he had gotten the letter.

"And the card?" he asked. His AI paused, and something hard settled in his stomach. "The card, Friday?"

"It has been in use multiple times since this morning." Tony blinked. That was something of a surprise, but he couldn't say he was disappointed. The kid looked like he could use a good meal or two. He took his jacket off, moving towards his bedroom.

"Great. Glad it's being put to use."

"Three hundred dollars have been spent on alcoholic beverages."

Tony froze where he stood, suspended in a feeling he couldn't even describe. Disappointment? Terror? Hurt? He stared down at the curly-haired shadow, eyes narrowing as he gaped at it. He hadn't exactly pegged the kid as someone who would buy boatloads of drinks, and he didn't even know if a fake ID would work for the kid. He looked all of twelve.

"Cut off the card until the next time I talk to him."

"Yes, sir."

"And track his phone. Where the hell is he right now?"

"His phone's location relays that he is in his foster home."

And that was that he supposed. The kid couldn't buy anymore alcohol and there wasn't anything Tony could do without talking to him directly.

Tony stepped into his bedroom, slipped into some old pajamas, and flopped onto bed with a twist in his gut. Something just felt wrong, and it was more than the kid buying alcohol that likely would barely affect him anyway.

His mind racing, Tony turned restlessly under the covers as the lights shut off around him. Peter's shadow disappeared, the room going with it, and when Tony blinked again, he found himself in complete darkness only broken by the shifting of clothes, the clink of bottles, and the sniffles of someone coming off of a breakdown.

He blinked back awake, sitting up and reaching for his phone. He scrolled through it until he found Peter's number and hit call. It rang. And rang. And rang.

"Hi, you've reached the voicemail of Peter Parker! I'm busy right now, I guess, so call me later, and yeah! Have a good day! Oh! And leave your message after the beep! BEEEP!!"

Tony didn't know whether to laugh or not.

Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8

#friendly neighborhood exchange #tony stark #peter parker #Iron Man #spiderman #irondad #spiderson #irondad and spiderson #ironman fanfiction #spiderman fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #soulmate au #platonic soulmates #not st*rker

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taehyungiejiminie95 · 4 years

Text

Yoongi - Arranged Marriage

You had tried screaming. You had tried crying. You had trying running away. You had tried fighting. You had tried begging, bargaining, threatening, everything you could possibly think of to stop this from happening, but your parents simply wouldn’t listen. Deep down, you know they love you and only want what is best for you, but this is not how you envisioned them showing it. Seriously, an arranged marriage? To some random business partner’s kid? Were they joking?

No, apparently, as you found out the hard way. Your wedding day was not what you dreamed it would be as a young girl. You barely even had a say in the proceedings – although as you had no say in your husband, this is hardly surprising. At the last minute, you nearly ruined your make up crying in your mother’s arms, pleading with her not to do this. You hadn’t even met the man and you already hate him! Anyone who goes along with this is a terrible person in your eyes and you had no desire of meeting them, let alone marrying them.

Mint green hair. Bad first impression. He couldn’t even give you enough respect to have a reasonable hair colour on your wedding day! Insane. It made you hate him even more. The ceremony passed torturously slowly, and you didn’t look him in the eyes at all in fear you’d burst into tears all over again. You barely managed to choke out your vows, and your hands shook uncontrollably as you exchanged rings. In the blink of an eye but also after an eternity, you were pronounced married, and your new husband (you nearly retch at the thought) pressed a gentle kiss to your lips to seal the deal.

You barely exchanged words for the rest of the night, other than such comments as ‘excuse me’, or ‘no thank you’. All in all, it was just as much of a horrible experience as you expected. You knew then you would never forgive your parents for handing you off in such a way, no matter how lovely they think he is, or whatever good it does for your family’s business and reputation. When your husband opened the car door for you so you could go back to the hotel where you were to be spending the night, you didn’t so much as thank him. At least he had the sense to book a night somewhere with two separate bedrooms, and all you could do was pray he didn’t hear your sobs when you closed your bedroom door behind you, tearing your dress off as you found yourself unable to hold back the tears anymore.

A few weeks passed in much the same way. You didn’t speak to your new husband, and you spent most of your time locked up in one bedroom or another just crying. The two of you were going to the Caribbean for a ‘Let’s Get to Know Each Other’ honeymoon, but you didn’t leave the hotel. When you left your room to use the bathroom, you found warm food on a silver platter, probably put there by room service. So that’s what you did for a week. You probably saw your husband three times in total over that 2-week holiday. Once on the plane out, once on the plane back, and once you accidentally ran into him when you were going back to your room from the bathroom. He had looked at you with wide eyes, filled with a concern you were sure was faked. By the time he had managed to stutter out an apology, you had locked the bedroom door again.

You’re going to have to talk to him soon. You’re married now, just try to make the most of it.

The words ring inside your head now as you sit in what you assume to be one of the guest bedrooms at your new house. You know it’s what your mother would say to you, but you try to cast it out of your head. You haven’t answered any of her texts or calls since the wedding. Nevertheless, though, whoever’s advice it is, it’s right. You’ve sulked for nearly a month now, and you’re getting a bad case of cabin fever locking yourself up all day. It’s becoming hard to remember the last time you felt the sun on your face. With the new resolve that you may be overreacting a tad, you get up and dressed into presentable clothing. Even now you have no desire to seek out your new husband, so you decide to start by walking around the garden. The two of you have been (very generously) gifted a large estate as a wedding present from your families. It has a few acres of land, with ample room to get lost in if you so wish. And you do so wish.

It’s bright outside, and you wince a little as it stings your eyes. You get over the sensation quickly and set off towards the orchard section of the grounds. It’s very well cared for, and when you reach the freshly mowed grass, you can’t help kicking your shoes off to venture further. As a young girl, you loved the feeling of grass tickling your feet, and it brings a ghost of a smile to your face. In hindsight, you always knew this was going to happen. You parents had an arranged marriage, all of your friends too, and the fact has never been hidden from you. It just feels… wrong. It feels like everything was stolen from you. The first date; the first stolen kiss under the moonlight; the butterflies and the shaky knees when he picks you up from your house; meeting his family and being adored by them; him meeting your parents and being given the age-old ‘DAD TALK’; a surprise proposal at a meaningful place; the giddiness of telling everyone, of planning a perfect wedding with the perfect man. Love. You feel like love was stolen from you,

“Your mother told me that the blossom trees are your favourite,” You hear a low voice utter from behind you. You nearly jump out of your skin as your lurch around to see who had followed you so quietly out here. It’s him. Of course, its him. Who else could it have been? With his stupid green hair and his too-expensive tailored suit, “I can see why. This time of year is perfect for them,” He offers you a shy smile. You can see he’s standing at a respectful distance, hands carefully folded in front of him. Very non-threatening. You want to scoff, but something in his face looks a little wary. Nervous,

“Is that why you had them put in? Thought it might soften the blow of a glorified kidnapping?” You question plainly. There’s no venom or harshness in your tone, but the man’s face falls ever so slightly anyway. You should feel bad, but you don’t. He’s as much a part of this as your parents, you’re sure, “It doesn’t,” You turn away and look back to the tress that rustle gently in the summer breeze, “But they are calming. I’ve always thought so,” You add quietly. The most you’ve ever said to your husband. A little longer than your vows, which you had kept blunt and bare. You hear the man shift behind you, his polished shoes making noise on the fallen blossoms as he walks to stand in your eyesight again,

“Look,” He sighs, his composure cracking ever so slightly, “I know this isn’t what you wanted. Your father explained it to my parents very simply that you did not want to wed. I get it. I wasn’t all for having my life picked out for me either,” Your eyes meet his with shock. You didn’t know. You thought he wanted this just as much as they did, “But this is the hand we’ve been dealt. If you want to ignore me and hide away from me, be my guest. By all means, do it. But I’m prepared to make the effort to get on with you. I don’t expect you to fall for me or even particularly like me, but if we can just…” He breaks off to roll his eyes and move his hair out of his face, “If we can just talk to each other once in a while, maybe have dinner on occasion, that would make this a hell of a lot easier,” You blink as his rant apparently ends, and his words hang in the air, filling your ears. You take your time to process it, thinking about what he’s asking. Re-evaluating your assumptions about him. He’s stuck in this situation just as much as you are, but he’s not sulking or crying or hiding. He’s trying to swallow down the truth and get on with it. Could you do the same? Do you want to do the same?

After a while, he assumes you’re just not going to respond. You have this blank look on your face, so he sighs again and makes to stride away. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch his purposeful steps, his head held just a little too high, as if he’s hiding something. Maybe hurt at your rejection. All he wants is to make this easier for the both of you. As he reaches the edge of the lawn, you find the words to call out,

“Dinner sounds nice. I’m in the mood for Italian,” Your husband turns around with a shy smile and nods,

“I could go for some Italian. Come to the dining room at 7. You don’t have to dress up or anything,” You don’t have to dress up? Hmm… maybe you can get along with your new husband. Maybe. It depends what kind of Italian food he gets for you.

Yoongi gives himself a small smile as he walks away. That wasn’t the biggest victory ever, some of his friends who got an arranged marriage didn’t have this problem at all, but it was something. He lets himself into the kitchen and asks the on-site chef to take the rest of the night off and return the following morning instead. You’ve given him a chance to show you this won’t be a complete nightmare, being married to him and all, and he doesn’t want to blow it. He takes a couple deep breaths as he glances around the kitchen. You can’t go wrong with a bit of homemade lasagne. Another tiny smile plays across his lips as he sheds his suit jacket and reaches for an apron. It really has been too long since he last cooked, and what better time to pick it up again that to win over his new wife, the woman he’s going to spend the rest of his life with?

#bts #bts yoongi #bts suga #bts angst #bts fluff #bts reactions #bts scenarios

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