#and so uncertain and stressed and I just think someone should give them a hug :(

[thefortysecondolive]

Jedes Mal, wenn ich Cottbus Kopflos schaue, stört mich Vincents Charakterisierung in der Folge weniger.

Er ist was, Mitte dreißig? Ist aus Berlin und zurück in seine Heimatstadt (oder direkt über die Brücke) gezogen, hat’s in anderthalb Jahren von „dem Polizeikindergarten“ zum Teamleiter geschafft, hat den ersten und einzigen Ermittlungspartner ohne Wort oder Warnung verloren und dessen Position übernommen, hat ne ganze Sprache (wieder?) gelernt, und ermittelt jetzt mit wechselnden Partnern, die er eigentlich kaum kennt, geschweige denn an sich ranlassen kann.

Und in dieser Folge muss er kurzerhand nach Cottbus reisen und all seine typische Gewohnheiten unterbrechen, um mit Leuten zu arbeiten, von denen er nichts weiß und nie etwas gehört hat, ohne sein ganzes Team — mit dem er doch ziemlich gut klarkommt. Und das alles auch während eines Festivals, das er offensichtlich sowieso nicht mag und das ihm die Arbeit erschwert. Und obendrauf trifft er immer wieder auf diese Vorurteilen von Leuten wie Markus Öehling und muss immer wieder zu sich stehen, weil das ja sonst kaum jemand tun wird, und als Polizist muss das auch noch ein gutes Stück schwieriger sein, also eigentlich erwartet er wahrscheinlich nicht, dass er sich während dieses Falls überhaupt wird entspannen können.

Und dann wird er auch noch angeschossen auf ihn auch noch geschossen!

I'd be a little bitchy too!

[sunatooru]

Hewwo :3 I won't lie i saw this idea in an another blog but i loved it too much. Headcanons for Suna, Tanaka, Aone and Kita's reaction if their s/o acts weird and suspicious like she is hiding something and cancel their dates for a week. Then she text them "we need to talk" and they think she'll break up with them, she starts to talk like a break-up speech and they got scared, say something like "we can talk, please don't break-up with me" she says "what? I was just trying to propose marriage!"

Hii I love this idea! If you could tell me where you first read this I would love to read it and see the boys worrieddd and if you see this interact! (I love angsty stuff) x

Hope you enjoyyy and also I have no reason why some are long and some aren’t xx

Suna

* You hadn't replied to him in 5 hours

* He knew you could be busy, I mean you both usually are, but it's almost tradition that you send an "I love you sleepy" at this time

* He has noticed that your conversations have gotten shorter

* He thinks you're probably stressing out and doesn't want to press you

* He tries to set up a date, booking a private dinner room in hopes of relaxing you

* You had an excuse on why you couldn't

* He'll send you morning texts and general messages but you'll rarely reply

* He's not loving the distance

* He decided to go to Osamu's shop and bring you some onigiri

* What he didn't expect was to see you hugging Osamu as he closes the shop

* He's having so many thoughts right now as he walks back to his house that he doesn't realise the buzz of his phone

* It's only a shower later he sees you've messaged him

* "Hey, we need to talk"

* No emoji, no nickname, no suggestions that this is not a break up text

* He could barely sleep, had to force himself to open the door when the knocking woke him

* He felt his heart freeze at the sight of you, your hand fidgeting with your sleeves as you nibble your lips

* He didn't want you to leave him, not when he's loved you so hard, not when he knows he'll never love anyone like he has you

* And then you start to speak, he has to control the pain beginning to ache in his heart

* "So I know we've been together for a long time now and it has been amazing. You're amazing and I hope what I say next doesn't change your view of me because I-"

* "Please don't leave me!" His voice cracked at the end and your eyes widen

* "What?" And you see him looking at you sadly

* "I- please don't break up with me...I can't...even if you like Osamu..I can't love anyone else." Hug him please

* "Rin what? I'm not breaking up with you! I'm trying to propose!" You comfort him and he's shocked

* "What..? But what about last night at Miya's?" "I obviously wanted your best friends help, I'm been trying to propose for days but end up ignoring you. I'm sorry baby."

* God he's softly chuckling now

* "Yes" He grins, kissing the corner of your lips

* "I haven't asked yet"

* "Doesn't matter. It's always been yes."

Tanaka

* You're already his life partner in his eyes, adores you and always messages you

* Gets so excited to communicate to you in any way

* So he's not sure what's he's done to receive the cold shoulder from you

* Everything was smooth sailing until a week ago

* You suddenly stopped receiving his calls, choosing to text and even then they were short

* You've cancelled on him twice already

* Both reasons being you was busy

* Too busy for him?

* He tries not to overthink anything of it

* Doesn't allow doubt to creep in knowing that you two were strong, right?

* But then he notices how your calls with him got shorter, your texts becoming less frequent

* He would zone out thinking about what's going on with you two

* He would reread over you texts

* Gets a little depressed when he realises something is wrong

* He can feel a heat creep into chest, tightening when he sees your latest text

* "We should talk"

* His heart just cracked, he's pacing in his room

* He's not ready, you're his one, he's crying at the thought of you not wanting him anymore

* A day later he sees you in his living room

* His anxiety shoots up the moment you open your mouth, he closes his eyes

* "Don't break up with me!"

* "Huh?" He opens his eyes, you're on one knee as you have a ring box open

* "I've never wanted to. I'm sorry for being distant... I was nervous. Would you marry me?"

* He's crying, relief spreading around him, he digs into his pocket and kneels in front of you

* "I've been saving this for months. I'll take you if you take me."

* I headcanon Tanaka carrying a ring always once he knows you're the one

Aone

* He picked you were acting strange recently

* You would greet him fast and leave faster

* He doesn't really understand what's happening

* As a way to have you around him more he offers you dates

* "There is a new restaurant, so you want to go?" "Sorryyy I'm really busy today but maybe next time!"

* "It's hot today, I can buy you ice cream?" "That would be nice! but I just need to finish stuff"

* He's starting to feel neglected. A whole week has gone by and he hasn't seen you

* He's feeling pain

* He frowns when he sees his lock screen of you

* Starts to write a message but then deletes it

* He doesn't even know who to talk to about it, his sister? His friends? His pet?

* If it he could, he can't voice his concerns, as if he doesn't know if his voice can handle the words or his feelings

* Doesn't know how he ended up thinking about you not wanting to be with him anymore

* "We need to talk" his chest tightens, for some reason those words have him sad

* A day passes and all he can think about is what you want to say, doesn't realise his vision starting to blur until he he feels a tear run down his cheek

* Stares at the ceiling and frowns, he would never hurt you, so why are you?

* The next day you arrive at his home

* He welcomes you silently and senses that your feeling jittery

* "We can talk but please don't break up with me.." he needed to speak first

* "Aone?! Baby no what? I don't.. don't want to break up...I was just trying to surprise you." You mumble

* "I love you. Will you marry me?"

* Enjoy his crushing hug, never worry him again please

Kita

* He knew something was up the minute you didn't send him a good morning text

* He knew something was wrong when you didn't replace the text with kissing and heart emojis

* He knew something was wrong when he felt his head get heavy when you didn't send him a single text the whole day

* When you did finally message him he was relieved but still concerned

* You ended up meeting the next day but he could tell you were acting strange

* You seemed to avoid his gaze, barely relax around him, wouldn't even hold his hand for longer than 5 seconds

* He was not happy, why won't you let him hold you?

* Starts to get annoyed when you pay more attention to your phone then him

* Tries to glance at it but you're fast to not let him see and point to something else

* This goes on for days

* Except he hadn't seen you in those days

* You've either seen his message to meet late or have a reason why you can't

* Reasons he does not believe

* Tries to call you but you decline

* What? He's apprehensive now

* You've never declined before, what's going on

* He start to overthink, do you not like him anymore? Is there someone else?

* Tries to run his errands but can't do a complete job without his thoughts going back to you

* Thinks about how you've been tense around him, less touchy, secretive and he wants to know why

* He want to know why you have been distancing yourself from him

* Why when he thinks about you this last week he feels like crying

* He's suspicious and doesn't want to be

* He thinks about the things he lacked

* The things he couldn't give you that you wanted

* He's fragile but he doesn't want to give you up

* "Can we talk later?" He should feel happy you messaged him but why is he feeling uncertain? Why does he want later to never come?

* And now you're in front of him

* "Shinsuke, I know I haven't been talking to you recently but I've just had things on my mind. I really wanted to talk to you earlier but I just got nervous. You know I love you and we've been together for a while now but-"

* "Please..don't break up with me.." he lets out a sob and your eyes widen

* "Kita no no I'm just trying to propose! Please..don't cry please" you rush to comfort him

* "Propose?" "Uh yeah I was waiting until the ring was done by the jewellers but then got scared you might say no.."

* "Why would I say no?" You raise your brows at him

* "Silly, when have I ever said no to you" he chuckles and then kisses you

[dameronology]

Can you Please do number 4 OR number 1 with Matt

matt murdock + 4) "i can't call you a stranger, but i can't call you" - tell me how, paramore

Matt knew your body inside and out; he had your little mannerisms and all your cues. Nobody else noticed how much your voice dropped when you were stressed, or the fact you walked ever so slightly faster when you were excited. Not even you knew that your heart picked up every time you were around someone you loved, or that the tips of your fingers were a little drier than your hands because you always forgot to moisturise them. Your body, to him, was like a map; one that he'd explored and knew well. One that he didn't need to read, but took joy in memorising.

It was all a memory now, though. Matt still remembered it as though it were fresh in his mind from this morning but it had been months since he'd heart your heart or felt his hands in yours. It was coming up on a year, in fact; a year since you'd finally had enough and walked away. And it was funny, really - because Matt constantly went out your way to remind you of how great you were and how much you deserved. It was in remembering that worth he always preached about that you realised you'd deserved better than all those miscalls and late nights. All the days you went without hearing from him, all the arguments you'd had in which he'd danced around lies and fed you a bunch of bullshit. Even though he loved you more than anything in the world, it just wasn't enough. There wasn't enough time in the world for the man to be a lawyer, a vigilante and a partner.

So he'd sacrificed the latter - perhaps with your blessing, perhaps not so much.

Eleven months had passed and maybe you were good now. Not because you'd spoken and agreed to be, but because it felt like enough time for things to have cooled down. You'd probably taken the brunt of the break-up and if you were okay now, you figured Matt should have been too. He'd probably taken out his frustrations in his own way; on criminals, most likely. You'd just binged ten seasons of Friends and called time on your grieving.

So, when you saw him across a crowded room, you didn't feel the need to runaway. He was with Foggy, who you considered to be a friend - even if you'd met him through Matt, and consequently lost him a little in the break-up. There were no hard feelings there, either. It was only natural for him to get custody, right? Even though Foggy wasn't a child, and you and Matt had never been married (even though there had been times when both those statements were debatable).

"Matt!" you called his name with some kind of uncertain gusto.

He turned around from the pool table, looking as gorgeous as ever; tousled hair, five o'clock shadow, sleeves unevenly pulled up around his elbows and tie loosened. That was your favourite version of him. He wasn't work Matt, or vigilante Matt. He was just Matt. Hanging out with his friends, beer in one hand and a pool cue in the other. That's how you'd met him, and it was how you liked to remember him.

"Wow, hi," the lawyer greeted you with a smile.

He was stood with a blonde woman - she was tall and slender and beautiful, and had a warm smile. From the way she was stood, you didn't think she was involved with your ex. Why was that even a concern of yours? Just natural, you figured. Some part of you would always love him and hence, some part of you would always want him to be yours (of course, he always would be - in the same way some part of him would always want you to be his).

"I forget you guys always hang out here," you said. "I just stopped in to use the restroom, to be honest."

"They're disgusting, right?" the blonde chimed in.

"Oh, awful," you replied. "I don't know how Josie keeps this place open."

"Well, she has some pretty good lawyers," she grinned. "I'm Karen, by the way. The unofficial secretary of Nelson & Murdock."

"Nice to meet you," you tried to hide the relief in your voice. She was just the secretary. You stuck out your hand, offering your own name in return.

"Did I just hear who I thought I heard?" the cries of the drunker half of Nelson & Murdock came across the bar. "Oh my god, I did! It's you! It's really you!"

"Hi, Foggy - oof!" you greeted the lawyer, letting out a squeak as your chests collided in a tight hug.

"It's so good to see you here!" he exclaimed. "And you've met Karen, too!"

"How do you guys know each other?" Karen kindly asked.

Ah yes, the question you were dreading. She hadn't visibly reacted when your name had been revealed, which lead you to believe that Matt probably hadn't said anything too incriminating. He was habitually keeping to himself now, letting the introductions play out before he stepped back in.

"College," you quickly said.

"Oh, we were friends alright!" Foggy grinned, turning his attention to Karen. "I had the BIGGEST crush on them, but so did Matt, but we were all friends, and then they were way more than friends for - what was it? Like five years? Then they broke up and they were really not friends after that, and...oh no, I've made it awkward, haven't I?"

"I think it was awkward before that," Matt bit his lip. "But you certainly haven't helped the case."

"What Foggy is saying, is that..." you trailed off. Actually, what the fuck was Foggy saying?

"We're not exactly strangers," Matt finished the sentence for you.

It was a weird position to be in. One day you'd been each other's everything, and now you'd gone eleven months without speaking. You were the opposite of strangers, but you definitely couldn't pick up the phone to call him for a chat, or to wish him a happy birthday. There was some kind of weird middle ground; your relationship was history. Your relationship had a lot of history, before the thing itself became history. Just a lot of...the past being the past. Even if it sucked.

"Since you're not exactly strangers," Karen began. "I propose you join us for a drink."

You glanced over at Matt for some kind of signal- and even though he couldn't physically see it, you knew that he'd know. That was all but confirmed when he gave you a subtle thumbs up, hand disguised by the pool-stick so that only you could see it.

"It is a Friday," you said. "I guess one drink won't hurt."

Matt smiled to himself, giving a solid nod. He'd missed you more than he cared to admit - you'd been a pretty foundational pillar in his life. It had gone a little tits-up since you'd left but he'd learnt to adjust, even if it meant making his own coffee in the morning and just hoping that his hair looked okay without your tired input.

And as you walked to the bar, he couldn't help but notice how your heart was picking up a little.

[parvulous-writings]

Roman Sionis SFW alphabet

Summary: SFW alphabet for Roman Sionis.

Warnings: Violence, murder, explicit language, sexual undertones (I know it’s meant to be SFW, but Sionis makes that almost impossible). This is by no means a healthy relationship. 

Notes: Because I said so :) My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!

Not my gif

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

Roman does not show affection in the conventional, lovey-dovey sense. There will be an occasional kiss or hug, but mostly he shows it through gift-giving. Expensive gift-giving.  Although, there is a less appealing way he tries to show his affection and please you. Should someone bother you in any way, he will suggest you let him take care of them. Should you accept his offer, you won’t see that person again. Even if you decline, you probably won’t see them again.

B - Best Friend (What would they be like as a best friend? Where does the friendship start?)

He is one of those brutally honest friends. He would not hide anything or sugar coat his answers to questions. The friendship would most likely start with him critiquing something about your style choices- he’d drag you out to purchase something that isn’t “A fucking eyesore”. 

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

Only on occasion, ‘moments of weakness’ as Roman dubs them. When his ego is bruised and he needs some comfort.

D - Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking, cleaning, ect?)

He may want to settle down- I don’t think even he can decide that himself to be honest. He doesn’t cook or clean for himself, and never has done. He has paid people for that sort of thing. 

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

He’d just up and leave, expecting you to get over it. 

F - Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? Do they wanna get married?)

Maybe? He might propose to you for the spectacle, but whether you get round to getting married is still uncertain. He feels like he might be able to commit to you; you are better than past relationship. 

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

Unless you are having a literal, full on breakdown, he probably won’t be gentle with you. And even then it’s not guaranteed. 

H - Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it, and what are they like?)

His hugs are ultra brief. Almost non-existent. 

I - I Love You (How fast do they say the “love” word?)

No. He’s said it maybe... Once?

J - Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What are they like when jealous?)

This man turns green should someone even breathe in your direction. His jealousy knows no bounds; and he gets angry. So, so angry. His already short temper gets even shorter, and he usually blows his stack. 

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

They are either brief as all hell, or passionate and full of heat. There is no inbetween. Either he’s on the way to a meeting and decides to kiss you goodbye, or he’s horny.

L - Little Ones (How are they around kids?)

Please, unless you want someone to be pressing charges against him for infanticide, do not let Roman near children. 

M - Morning (What are mornings like with them?)

Contrary to what you may believe, mornings are pretty slow and sweet with Roman. Unless he has a meeting. Then he’s up and at ‘em at the crack of dawn. 

N - Nights (How are nights spent with them?)

Again, slow. Usually winding down from very long, stressful days. I can envision the two of you sitting by an electric fire, him sipping at some alcohol that cost god knows how much.

O - Open (When do they open up about themselves?)

Usually in moments of anger or venting. He doesn’t like letting his facade down very often. 

P - Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Error 404 - patience not found. It just doesn’t exist with him. 

Q - Quizzes (How much do they remember about you?)

... He remembers your favourite drink? Not that much, really. 

R - Remember (Favorite memory with you?)

Most of them consist of the looks of wonder you give at the things he gives you or the places he takes you to. 

S - Security (How protective are they?)

If you’d let him, he’d send a personal guard with you every waking moment he isn’t by your side. It isn’t that he doesn’t trust you; it’s everyone else. 

T - Try (How much effort do they put in?)

He’ll try when he knows he’s fucked up :) 

U - Ugly (What are their bad habits?)

Drinking, the killing and face-peeling, losing his temper far too often and far too quickly. 

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

Very. Everything is linked to his appearance somehow. And just look at him, he spends at least a couple hours getting ready every day. 

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

It’s unclear. He might do, but then again, he could have anyone he wanted in Gotham. 

X - Xtra (Random HC)

When he does starting putting more effort in to your relationship, he becomes so much more enamoured with you- if that’s possible- and he’ll take you to many theatre shows. He secretly loves them. 

Y - Yuck (Things they don’t like either in general or a partner?)

Basically anything he does. 

Z - Zzz (Sleep habits)

Though he has many late nights, he sleeps like a log when he settles down. 

[delimeful]

(dont) take this the wrong way (6)

warnings: misunderstandings, trauma responses, illness

-

Patton and Roman went in circles for a moment on who should carry Logan, eventually settling on Patton, since Roman was the quicker between the two of them and they were alarmingly unsure of what the small mer was planning— or how negatively that plan would affect the little guy.

Roman couldn’t help but be a little jealous anyways at the sight of the human pressing his tiny face against the palm of Patton’s hand, still mostly unconscious despite the jostling. It was unfairly adorable, and he never got to hang out with humans that weren’t terrified or fled at the sight of him.

Logan had started off scared too, sure, but after they’d cleared that little misunderstanding up, the human had shooed him away with an itty bitty stern look.

He’d listened, of course, he certainly owed these two that much, but internally he was gleeful at how bold Logan was when hanging out with them. Maybe he’d even come back and they’d learn more of his language and he could needle the nerd into telling him more about surface life—!

But of course, that required that he get better first.

It seemed obvious now, with the feverflush to his skin and the subtle tremor even as he slept, but the signs were so tiny on him, they might not have noticed for ages yet. He was inordinately grateful that the little mer had brought it to their attention, even if it also meant learning just how lowly the little guy thought of them.

When they returned from the air room, the tiny mer hadn’t twitched from his spot, though he looked as though he wanted to vibrate right out of his skin.

Agonizingly, he only seemed to get more stressed at the sight of Patton’s cupped hands, gaze darting between them for a moment before he flitted forwards and pressed an earfin to the makeshift airseal, staying in place only long enough to catch the sound of Logan’s little raspy breaths.

Roman opened his mouth, arms sliding up to gesture, and the tiny mer shot all the way back across the room like quicksilver. He had a moment to realize that with that speed, they’d never have ‘caught’ him in the first place if he hadn’t been trapped by that net, and then he felt immensely guilty for clearly spooking the little guy.

“How about you lead the way?” he asked, trying to distract their flighty little friend before he started tearing hair out. “The exit is one cave down, we’ll follow to wherever you think is the best place.”

He was shaking his head before Roman even finished. “No, I’ll follow, you— whoever stole him, you have to take him back to that beach. You remember... right?”

Roman turned to glance at Patton, who nodded firmly. “I’ll get us started then, kiddo.”

He cradled his cupped hands to his chest and swam deeper, easily twisting through the exit tunnel into the open ocean. Roman nodded at the little mer and followed, hoping that the little guy wouldn’t just vanish.

Only a moment later, he flitted out after them, and Roman caught the desperate longing that crossed his expression for a moment at the sight of wide open terrain. It vanished after a single glance at Patton’s cargo, replaced by a grim scowl.

If it weren’t for the human, Roman had the feeling that the mer would have turned and vanished, too quick and small for them to ever see again.

Instead, he hovered carefully out of lunging reach as they traveled, watching their every move with narrowed eyes. Every unconscious twitch of Patton’s hands seemed to make him flinch in response, as though he was expecting something horrible would happen to the human at any moment.

Normally, Roman would have been quite offended about this implied slight against Patton’s character, since his friend was just about the gentlest guy he knew. With circumstances what they were, however, he remained silent. He knew that this wasn’t really a reflection on Patton, but rather someone else entirely, a phantom presence that was still haunting the small mer.

Roman let out a breath of relief when they finally resurfaced, a human beach visible nearby. Patton unfolded his hands as soon as they were above water, and they both peered nervously down at the human.

“He doesn’t look like he’s gotten any worse,” Patton murmured, angling his hands so their small tagalong could see as well. “This is fairly close to the beach I found him at!”

“It seems the early hour has served us well,” Roman added, making sure not to gesture as he usually would. “There doesn’t appear to be anyone else around. Should we set him on the beach?”

The tiny mer jolted when he realized that they were both looking to him, flitting back and forth in nervous motions. “Uh, yeah— Yes. But be careful. And make sure you put him high enough that the tide can’t drag him back.” He continued in an undertone, “With his luck, it’ll be ages before another human appears.”

“I’ll do it!” Patton announced, already pushing forwards to shallower waters. “Roman’s likely to beach himself if he goes too far inland, and that’s shore to make things difficult!”

Roman groaned, flicking his fingertips at the siren. “That was one time! One-time incidents don’t qualify for pun-based bullying!”

Patton’s muffled laughter got quieter as he shifted to lay vertically, scooting forwards until his chest was scraping the sand and his arm could extend to set Logan gently against the beach incline. Logan’s head lolled to the side, but he seemed unlikely to go anywhere, and was in plain sight of anyone passing by.

Roman glanced down at the tiny mer, who was staring over the waves at the human, finally looking a little less stiff and stressed.

Patton wiggled back until he could tread water upright again, sharing a little cheer with Roman at a successful quest. Their guest’s tension returned immediately, that little shadowed gaze snapping back onto them.

Roman and Patton exchanged a glance, uncertain of how to proceed, but before anyone could speak, they heard a small, hacking cough.

Logan was awake, just a little too late for him or Patton to say goodbye. He probably wouldn’t have understood, but it would have been nice anyhow. Roman watched as he rolled to something resembling upright, his limbs trembling weakly. He was looking back and forth, not just noticing the new decor, but searching.

Roman glanced down to the small mer, who had set his shoulders and continued looking firmly away from the beach. He sunk a little lower in the water, trying to make eye contact. “Would you like to go and say goodbye before he leaves? Or, tell him what’s going on, perhaps?”

He shook his head once, sharply, and Roman felt a little pang of sympathy at the way his ear fins kept angling back at every noise the human made.

Logan was calling out now, the same word repeated at increasing levels of urgency. “Virgil?”

The mer still refused to glance back. “I’m not breaking the deal. You upheld your half, and you’re going to keep upholding it, and I’ll uphold mine. I’m not going anywhere.”

He’d drifted closer to Roman as he spoke, but it didn’t feel like any sort of progress. He’d tucked all those extra flares and frills away, smoothing himself down as though he was calm— or resigned.

Roman glanced up at the beach, where Logan still called. As he listened, that little voice cracked midword, desperation slowly turning to despair. He moved to cup his hand underneath the little mer, his heartstrings pulling at the way he let out a slow, shaky breath and closed his eyes, even as Roman lifted him up from the ocean entirely.

Patton opened his mouth as if to speak, but Roman met his eyes and shook his head, promising with his gaze alone that he knew what he was doing. His friend glanced down at the little guy worriedly, but held his tongue.

With one strong push, Roman slid up to the beach’s edge, grimacing slightly as the water became shallower and shallower. His arms were longer than Patton’s, though, and so he had little trouble reaching over and depositing his handful of seawater & tiny mermaid directly next to Logan.

“Virgil!” the human said, relieved, and he reached out to latch onto the mer, confirming Roman’s name suspicions.

‘Virgil’ had yelped like a baby seal upon being upended onto the beach, and he was now blinking between Roman and Logan with an air of extreme bewilderment.

“Virgil,” Logan said again, now in a very different tone. He wore a tiny, furious expression as he launched into what sounded like a somewhat-feverish lecture. He also reached over and pulled the mer into a hug, confirming Roman’s ‘he had no idea Virgil was going to pull this’ suspicions.

Roman was so right about so many things today. Everyone should listen to him all the time!

He wriggled back a little, intending to give them some privacy to talk, and made absolutely no progress. Uh oh. He glanced down at the others.

“I am just a little bit, slightly, somewhat, completely beached again,” he told them, his face growing hot. “I hope you two appreciate that I did this even though Patton is absolutely never going to let me live this down.”

“Need me to reel you back in, kiddo?” Patton called, right on cue. Roman sighed, planting his face in the crook of his elbow for a moment.

“Just a moment,” he called, and then met Virgil’s wide eyes from over Logan’s shoulder. “It seems like there’s still much for you both to discuss, my undersized acquaintances. We shouldn’t stay so close to land for long, but I imagine you’ll feel better if you keep him company until someone comes for him, right?”

Logan’s brief spark of energy seemed to be flagging, but every time Virgil attempted to disengage from the hug, he clung on tighter. After a brief moment of hesitation, Virgil conceded to the clinginess and simply nodded at Roman, still half-braced for something awful.

Roman gave him his most reassuring smile. “Then that’s what you’ll do. You know where to find me or Patton, if you need us!”

“Really?” Virgil asked, hands fisting in the back of Logan’s shirt. “You’ll let me-- you’ll leave us alone? Just like that?”

Roman nodded, lips twisted in sympathy. “Just like that.”

Virgil’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, fins flattened against the sides of his head-- and then he took a deep breath, loosened his grip just slightly, and nodded back.

[just2bubbly]

Imagine Angsty Kaider about breakup their relationship bc E.C not accept Cinder as empress, i need that.,,,

Masterlist

Well anon firstly 'Thank You!' for sending the ask, I definitely enjoyed writing it- I might have also grown attached to seeing it in my ask box but it's about time I replied to this, I know I took forever but you had popped up the request when I had already written 'Sometimes Love Stays' and I wanted to write in a new light so I too a long time, but here it is without further ado!

Love Hurts, Love Heals!

Ship: Kaider

Words: 3k

Genre: Angst

A/N: Italics present in the further part of story is a flashback.

Cinder's Perspective:

"Kai! What were you thinking?" she barked.

"Your Majesty, are you hurt?" Torin enquired.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me Your- "

"Gosh, Kai stop making shitty excuses!"

"It's nothing really, you both don't have to fuss over me."

"You don't get to tell us that after pulling that stunt!" she exclaimed.

"I did not know those people would backlash like that. Besides, I can't stay hidden in the palace forever!" he reasoned to his furious fiancee.

"Don't you go logistics on me right now. Get cleaned up I will bring the first aid box- Torin keep an eye on him for me!" she ordered.

"Sure You- Cinder." He replied breaking out of his habit to call her 'Your Majesty'.

As she left the room, they both exhaled, Kai, laid on the sofa and seemed to flinch as his arm hit the soft cotton inside.

"Kaito, you really should not have done it," he said preparing himself to give the young reckless and selfless Emperor quite an earful.

"Not you too, Torin!" he groaned.

"Why would you go out knowing that there is a public backlash over the prospect of you marrying Cinder- any person in their right mind would avoid a public event like the one you held- that too without prior notice to your own advisor! Why would you put yourself in a position of danger like that??"

"I can't hide forever just because I'm marrying Cinder, can I now Torin?"

"You can't- but you can choose to wait for things to calm down first. Honestly, I wasn't expecting such an extent of backlash over the prospect of your marriage."

"Same, I thought it would die down in a week or two, it's been going for months now with no signs of peace out and now I'm really doubting of what will really happen at the wedding. I'm afraid things are not going to turn out as I wanted them," he said, rubbing his forehead that was injured and looked red with the young man's dried blood.

"You should wash up Kai- at least before Cinder comes back, she is really worried."

He nodded grimly and asked, "Do- do you think- er, wonder if-"

"If the wedding would have to be called off?" Torin provided.

"Yes... I'm doubtful of what the future holds for us."

"Kai, whatever happens, happens for good and only good will happen with you both. Don't stress yourself over that," he urged.

Kai smiled bitterly and said, "The past doesn't seem to agree with that. "

They both shared a choking silence- one which reflected upon the uncertain and bleak future of the Emperor and his fiancee.

"She is going to be a handful today."

"I know."

"She was scared for you Kai, from what I know of her she will shut herself out rather than hurt you. I'm afraid she might be walking on eggshells right now."

"She is not sleeping well- we both are on the edge for a while now. The worst of her expectations are coming true," he confessed.

The shut of the door was enough indication of Cinder's arrival.

"Why haven't you cleaned yourself yet, Kai? Shoo, now- Torin thank you for looking after him. I hope you have yelled at him for his mistakes."

Torin grinned at her and said, "I will leave you to that, I just merely helped it start."

Looking at the sofa where Kai had been recently sitting she said, "We have avoided it too much- I'm just going to get over it for once and all."

"Don't give him a hard tonight," he requested.

"What are you two conjuring up behind my back?"

"How to kill you before you do it yourself," she criticised, saying that she was cross with him would be an understated lie.

"I will take your leave - don't want to be stuck in between the crossfire. Take care, Kai and Cinder, take it slow!"

"Good night Torin- thank you for today."

"Night Torin and sorry about it."

And as Torin left the room only for the remaining two to confront their problems- that they had been avoiding to talk about as long as possible.

"I'm sorry, Cinder."

"I don't care," she said and walked towards the plush green sofa.

"Come here," she required and Kai followed in her footsteps.

As she drew his hair back with her metal hand to analyse the damage, the cool metal helped ease the dreaded feeling he felt about the issue at hand.

"Where all are you hurt?"

"Besides the injury on the head, I have a small scratch on the elbow and I might have also sprained my leg in the hurry," he told.

She exhaled sharply and asked, "Why did you go?"

"Uh- I had postponed my meet with factory owners for a long time now and well, the common people learned about my arrivals and a mob was present when I reached- I could not control the situation so-"

"Stop underselling yourself- you could not have done anything before an angry crowd. Nothing! However, you should have at least told me or Torin about it. Torin- he has to know- he is your advisor!" she yelled, calmly if that was possible, her voice quiet and slow but a note higher than usual. It was a tone that would scare the listener and make him feel guilty.

"You would have denied me from going- it was necessary! After the announcement of the engagement, things are stagnant among the aristocrats- quite tense for a while."

"Are you blaming it on us now?"

"I never said that!" he retorted.

"You implied it."

"Can we not have this conversation tonight?"

"How long before you agree that we have to talk about the problems our engagement has caused?"

"It has not caused any problems, Cinder-"

"Keep telling yourself that."

"I have reached a point where I neglect my problems until it loses the essence."

"It's not going to work this time- not with us in question."

"Not today, Cinder," he requested.

"C'mon Kai- we need to-"

"Please," he said pleading with his eyes for her to let go of this topic.

"Fine but we are not talking about it first thing tomorrow," she declared.

"Okay."

They turned silent as Cinder looked at his wounds- applying antiseptic that stung slightly but he didn't complain.

"Remove your coat so I can check your arm."

"Uh- Cinder you might have to help me out-I'm unable to fold my elbow due to the stinging sensation."

She helped him out the coat and rolled up the sleeves of his dress to get a clear view of the cut. He hissed when her hand met near his elbow.

"Sorry."

And as she discarded his suit, dropping it on the floor and looked at her fiancee's arm, she gasped, "Kai."

"Ahh..," he cried through gritted teeth. It was a patch of a red and blue bruise along with a pinkish tissue scar and blood dried around it. The injury was by no way minimal.

"We are going to the medical wing now!" she exclaimed and tugged at his non-injured hand.

"Cinder it is 2 in the morning- I don't want to bother anyone."

"There is always someone in the medical wing who is awake to look after the Emperor if the need comes so ever!" He was truly testing her patience- was he always like this?

"I'm not going."

"Why can't you and I agree on something for once?"

"You are being adamant."

"I am but aren't you being reckless?"

"I have to run a nation."

"Exactly what I'm talking about. Running a country requires sacrifices, Kai- I know it."

"I'm not doing it."

"Why can't you just discuss the problem?"

"You promised we would not talk about it today."

"Let's not destroy our future over something as frivolous as love, Kai!"

"Fuck, Cinder but we are not 18 anymore to call it trivial- we are engaged."

"People call off their wedding all the time, Kai. Why make it a big deal?!"

"It's because I want to marry you. I'm the Emperor, I make the laws here and I want to marry the person I love. Ain't that acceptable terms to you or the citizens?" he yelled, loudly in her face.

"Kai aren't you understanding?! Y-you almost fainted because you are marrying me!!"

"It was a stone Cinder, NOT a bullet-"

"Are you waiting for a bullet to call off your wedding then?!"

"Are you so desperate to not marry me?"

"Yes," she said not thinking her words through and soon realizing the mistake she had committed. Hurriedly, she responded, "Kai I didn't mean it I'm-"

"Why say yes if you were so against the notion of marrying me then!" "I- it came out wrong. I just don't know what to do. My heart wants to marry you- my conscience tells me to disappear for the remaining of my life so I won't hurt you anymore."

"You are hurting me anyways, Cinder."

"I'm sorry, Kai," she murmured and sat in silence, her head hung low from embarrassment. The sudden silence followed by a lot of loud pitched yelling felt too harsh.

"I'm so sorry, Kai but-"

"Don't apologize and leave like you don't love me- just wait, hold on for me, for us. Stay with me. Don't leave me, please!" he said his voice wavering in the end. He was trying not to cry- he looked so vulnerable at that moment. Halting her inner turmoil and internal debate of convincing Kai to let her go, she enveloped him in a hug- a tight embrace to comfort him before a final blow. She drew circles on his back, it helped to calm him down while she prepared an argument.

"You have to understand, Kai," she said at last when he had calmed down. He sniffed for a minute before looking straight into her eyes- his chocolate brown eyes daring her to defy him.

"Promise me."

"I won't."

"Marry me."

"Kai, why don't you understand- what's the point of love that hurts more than it heals?"

"Our love is not hurting me."

"Then I am," she said sighing and looking away to the electronic portrait kept of them. Unlike their present, they looked so happy.

"I think we should let go."

"I'm going to pretend that I didn't hear that."

"Kai," she breathed with a heavy heart and a painful head. At least one of them could cry their heart out. This was being more difficult than she had expected. She held his hand and calmly looked at their intertwined fingers, she looked at the matching bands they were wearing- a gold ring with two diamonds and their respective birthstones in the centre. A carving of wire cutters on the underside. She was going to miss wearing the ring, she was going to miss him.

"Sometimes love doesn't mean two people living under the same roof, it doesn't mean them getting married- I think we are that kind of people. We don't need a ring to prove our love. So let's not bind ourselves to the norms of society. We almost had it, Kai, that's what matters. We have come so far. Thank you for loving me, Kai!"

"I'm not calling off the wedding. No matter what you say, what I have to go through - I'm not going to do it. I know what I signed up for when I asked you to marry me. You know what you agreed to when you said 'yes, we expected this all along- I don't want to run from the first sign of danger."

There was no use convincing him so she left- she might as well catch up sleep before her meeting at 7 in the morning.

The silence stretched between them- there was no distance between but the gap that their love was feeling right now was immense- it divided them like the river divided two adjoining lands, a full stop dividing a sentence, like an axe chopping off the branches of the same trees. They were Kai and Cinder. They were two intertwined lives, separated by the same fate, separated by the same prejudice, the same stigma.

Lunars, Cyborgs and Earthens, just the boundaries created by the human mind. Weren't they all humans, living because of the same oxygen, dying because their hearts stopped, surviving as a society, hating each other as a society. That's what humans are best at- hating each other, never trying to stand united but pretending as they do. Cinder was angry- a burning passion of fury in her heart to the wretched people who had hurt Kai, who were protesting against their marriage, who had been the cause of all her problems for a while.

"Send the witch back-"

"Lunars don't deserve to-"

"She is controlling the Emperor-".

Those were the very words that had been spoken by the crowd of people while Kai was away- that was the tiny part she had heard before Torin had closed his device.

"I'm really sorry Cinder for what you are suffering. I can't believe they are protesting against you after all that you have done-"

"It's okay Torin, it's not like I can wipe out prejudices overnight. Is Kai okay?"

"The guards say that he is slightly injured but other than that he is safe."

"You sure he did not tell you before going?"

"He did not. I'm sure he had a reason but I have no idea for why he left before informing."

Kai did not join her for a long time. There were sounds- tearing the bandages, hissing at various times, clearing the mess left behind, dropping stuff, the noise of flowing water. She felt sorry to give him a hard time while he was suffering but he wasn't understanding the prejudice people had in their minds and hearts for cyborgs, irrespective of if they were marrying the Emperor or not. They did not care whether the Emperor loved them or not. He was destroying his future, his public image for her.

Swiftly she felt the mattress dip when Kai sat on the very corner, hunched on the foot of the bed trying to get a hold of his emotions. No one said anything.

"Cinder," he called.

"Hmm.." she replied.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm tired, Kai."

"Please Cinder- don't go."

"What's the use in waiting Kai?"

"We deserve happiness Cinder, believe me- please!"

"I want it too but-"

"No buts Cinder."

"I don't know, I'm so tired of all the shit we are going through. I want a break, just a minute to breathe."

"You don't have to leave for that."

"I can't do it by staying here as well."

She looked at him, his hair was dishevelled and wet from the recent shower. He had changed into his pyjamas. His body looked fresh but his face showed concern. She cast a glance at his elbow- the bandages were sloppy but they would hold for a night - at least until she took him to see Dr Chang herself.

"I'm afraid Kai- I just don't want to become an example of right people wrong time. We are both being two ahead of our times is what I'm feeling. I'm not sure I can handle this for the rest of my life," she confessed what had been eating her mind for a whole lot of days.

"You love me?"

"Obviously, I do."

"I love you."

"I know."

"That's the only thing that matters."

"It's not Kai- you don't want protests because of our wedding. I don't want headaches because of it. I don't even know what I want right now- a good night sleep, some calm, being a human, you- the list is so long and I have not achieved any of it," she rambled.

"Look at me, Cinder," he said, lifting her chin up to look into her eyes, "- we are going to make it. Even with all the troubles, we are going to be together."

"You don't say things that are not in your hands, Kai."

"I know- but I know you will be my wife, the love of life and my partner for the remaining of my days and no one's going to change it. Trust me on this one."

"I want to."

"Then do it- no one's stopping you, just hold my hand and I will be there for you through thick and thin, through pain and misery and joy and love- I will be there to rub your shoulders after a busy day, I will stay beside you when the world leaders keep complaining on a boring day, I will be there to make you breakfast on Sundays and to bring you to bed when you stay out late in the palace garage. I want to just be there for you. Allow me to do that."

She breathed his smell- fresh sheets, cedar and sharp mint, she remembered how she joked he smelled like 'freshness in a person'.

It would be easier to leave him than to be with him- the hardships, the guilt and the regret that would come with leaving him alone would be impossible to deal with. Even if she goes through all the trouble to keep it away from him, to keep herself away from him, she might wake up one day thinking that if she had only been a little more strong enough to hold on for them- she would have been married to him, she would be the one who knew the cause behind all his laugh lines and she would be the one to make him laugh on a bad day. She could be the one- that she could have been that person if she had just tried instead of letting go, and that thought was what made a difference. However, there would be no point fantasizing 10 years from now when the time to do the right thing had already slipped from her hands.

"I won't leave, Kai. I promise."

A sigh of relief, followed by a bone-breaking hug and some sniffling and weeping along the way and murmured 'thank yous' and 'I love yous' was all that they required.

Love hurts, love heals but the most important thing is staying in love. Forever and Always, that's what it needs. In the end, some people are worth the pain, they are worth the fighting you have to do for them.

__

A/N: We are done! I couldn't help myself- I just love to bring Torin in each and every fic I write, tbh he deserves more representation so sorry not sorry! ;)

It was angst with an happy ending so I guess I fulfill @cinderswrench latest wish as well!

I think it would be good to say that I don't have any angst lined up for a while unless you all are kind enough to make some angsty requests!!

Thanks for reading! and for the readers who read on WP I have not published there yet!

Tagging: @cinderswrench @gingerale2017 @shellyseashell @shelbylmkaider @kaider-is-my-otp @linhcinder686 @kaiderforever (Tell me if you wanted to be added/ removed!)

[the19thduckpotato]

@allmightluver  I didn’t want to spam you and I figured a few others might enjoy this as well, so here is that fluffy dream snippet I promised to share.  <3  

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

Toshi made a soft noise in his sleep.  The arm draped about Izuku tensed for a moment, as if trying to protect the boy.  Then it fell away, no longer a hindrance. "Nnnu... wakeup....." Izuku slumped against Toshi's chest, sticky eyelids closing. One last dissatisfied grunt, and he lost the battle to sleep far quicker than he should have. Toshi unknowingly returned the grunt, but it was a pleased, almost victorious grunt.  He shifted, Izuku's weight settling against him.  Satisfied, his breathing evened out. Golden afternoon sun painted the wall over their heads.

. .. ... .... The child clutched his backpack, eyes wide and nervous.  The roads didn't make sense here.  They should have.  They seemed almost familiar but each time he turned a corner, expecting to see home, the roads turned unfamiliar.  Home felt farther and farther away the more corners he turned. Unsettling fear crept in.  He just wanted to go home.  He looked about for help, trying to quell his panic. Everything was glaringly, dishearteningly, unfairly devoid of people.  The world loomed far too large and the child bit back a cry of terror. One more corner Surely someone is here. Please please His sneakers pounded the pavement as he rushed the next corner, as if hoping to catch the world in the act before it shifted on him again. However, he had also squeezed his eyes shut, scared that this new corner would also look unfamiliar.  So he didn't notice the big kid until he thudded off of him. "The hell?" the big kid snarled.  Behind him, two other big kids watched as the first grabbed the child by the front of his shirt and shook him.  "Why doncha watch where you're going?!" I know you The child's blue eyes lit with fear, trying not to glance at his backpack. please don't please don't please please One of the other big kids yanked the backpack from the child's hands, ignoring (or enjoying) the whimper. "What's the lil nerd got?" "Comics!" the third remarked, barking laughter.  He held up one.  "Wondorous Woman?!  That's a GIRL'S comic, you lil dweeb!" someone please "You don't need to read this crap!" PLEASE The third big boy gleefully tore the first page off, a messy diagonal rip.  The child screamed angrily and swiped at him. "Oh HO, the lil nerd's got spice!" the first one sneered.  "Let's show him what we think of that."  He pulled one meaty fist back. someone please help me!

A small figure barreled out of nowhere and shoved the bully out of the way. A (very) young voice screeched angrily "YOU LEAVE HIM ALONE!!" A freckled face that couldn't be more than six years old scrunched up with anticipation  of coming pain and righteous anger. The face flickered, as if reality was glitching, being replaced with an older, more tired version of itself. Eyes of thirteen years old glared out, far more subdued and cynical than they had any right to be. Jaw locked, arms up to guard his face. Daring the boys to come closer. Another, stronger flicker, and the small body grew taller, more muscular, green lightning flickering around. Standing as tall as his five foot six body would allow, broadened shoulders yelling a silent get lost, anger contained for fear of injuring the attacking children. One last flicker, a blurry form glitching into being. Six feet tall, eyes glowing powerfully. Blue(?) wings drooping heavily to the ground, a lion's growling half-roar cut off with a choked gasp as the apparition looked at his hands. A final, somehow loud flicker occurred, and the boy dropped to his knees, his form hovering indecisively between the ages of thirteen and eight. Whh-- wuuh....

"What the hell?!?"  The first bully dropped the blond child and backed up, unsure how to react to this new threat.  Beside him, his cohorts threw the backpack on the ground (spilling issues of Wondorous Woman everywhere) and bolted.  The first bully, dismayed at being abandoned, pointed a finger at the blond--"next time, you lil punk.  Freak," he added then quickly followed his friends. The child turned about, studying this new person-apparition with naked curiosity.  One hand reached out--whether to help or just touch, he wasn't sure.  He didn't seem scared but merely waited patiently for the newcomer to decide on a form.

The flickering boy's wide eyes turned to the outstretched hand, his own hand starting to reach out. The eyes focused on the face attached to the hand, suddenly becoming wider and more uncertain. Warped sounds of stressed whimpers carried through the air around him, and he pulled his hand back, wrapping his arms around his head protectively and curling into a ball, hiding from the world around him, until-- Quiet. A child of five years old peeked out from behind his arms and unfolded himself, looking up with soft round eyes at the curious blond sunburst.

A young Toshi gazed at an even younger Izuku I know you and the ten year old continued to hold out a helping hand, this time with a dazzling delighted grin. "HI there!  I'm Toshinori!  But you can call me Toshi if ya want.  That was pretty cool what you did just now.  You look really str--" He paused, remembering a moment ago the little kid had looked like some avenging angel, enveloped in crackling energy.  But his hand didn't waver. "--SUPER strong!  Plus Ultra Strong!  How did you do that?  Is it your Quirk?  Is this your all the time shape or just what you're ok with right now?  Sorry," he added with a sheepish grin, "I ask a lot of questions."

The small Izuku didn't speak, just made a soft noise, big eyes still staring. He took the outstretched hand in both of his, pulling himself up.

Toshi felt a warm glow within, his sheepish grin growing back to that brilliant delighted smile. I'm helping someone! At his feet, the torn Wondorous Woman comic fluttered and he blushed.  "Oh no, hang on a sec--!"

Izuku reached down and picked up one of the issues that had spilled, opening it curiously.

"That's Wondorous Woman!" young Toshi exclaimed.  "She's amazing and powerful and she can fly--i think--and she has this Quirk that makes an energy field that traps bad guys and make them tell the truth and--" He paused amid his fanboy gush and blushed more, twisting one bang nervously.  "Well, -I- think she's cool," he mumbled almost defensively.

A pudgy little finger poked at a picture of Wonderous Woman, then a whole hand brushed over the smooth page. Izuku looked up at Toshi again and nodded, agreeing that she was cool. He wondered if the blond boy had ever heard  of his favorite hero. "...All Might?"

Toshi's brow furrowed, as if almost remembering some lovely dream.  Then he shrugged.  "Never heard of them.  That's an awesome name, though--did you make that up?  All Might," he said, testing the name out and unconsciously posing, fists on hips and chest puffed out.  "If I was a hero, that'd be a great name!  But..." He laughed lightly and messed his own hair up.  "I bet you'd make a great hero with that Quirk of yours!"

Izuku's face dropped, and he seemed to shrink into himself, mouth shut tight.

"You don't like talking about it?  I'm sorry!"  Toshi sat on the ground next to the little boy, then hugged his knees to his chest.  "Is there something you do like?"  The young blond smiled cheerfully.

Izuku's eyes flicked around nervously, still not talking. He mirrored Toshi's pose, sitting down and pulling his knees up. He held out the comic, offering it back if Toshi wanted it.

Toshi grinned again.  "Go ahead, you can keep it--wait!"  He dug into his backpack where a few issues remained.  "Let me get you my favorite one--and it's not torn or dirty.  Here!"  He almost bounced in glee but instead contained himself.  "This one is super important.  This is when Wondorous Woman goes up against her arch nemesis--that's a super awful bad guy," he explained to the little boy.

Izuku leaned closer, interested.

"And he's kidnapped all her friends and hidden them away and he's fighting Wondorous Woman but making her think no one is coming to help." He remembered the first time he read this particular issue.  Hiding under his blanket with a flashlight so as not to bother his roommate at the foster home.  Scared of being caught and made fun of... but even more scared for Wondorous Woman.  Whispering tiny words of encouragement to his favorite hero with each page turn, praying she wouldn't give in or give up. "And just when all hope seemed lost," he said in a dramatic voice.  "Just when it looked like she was going to lose the fight, her friends showed up!"  His eyes shone, whether with love for Wondorous Woman or for her faithful companions coming to her aid or both, it was hard to tell.  "And they beat the arch nemesis and saved the day!" And everyone went home happy. Young Toshi ran a hand over the comic fondly then passed it to the little green haired kid.  "Here!"

The small boy shook his head, pushing it back gently. "Noo... yours!"

"It's a thank you gift!" Toshi insisted.  "Please take it."

"But..." He looked at the comic in his hands, brows wrinkling sadly. "S'your favorite... dun wanna take it away...."

"But it would make me happy sharing with you and maybe you'll like her, too!"

The boy made an uncertain face, cradling the comic to his chest. His face showed a hint of a flicker, and he breathed in sharply, reflexively clutching tighter.

Young Toshi smiled.  "Thank you," he said.

Wide green eyes stared back, as if to ask what comes next? What now?

Toshi gathered the rest of his comics and put them in his backpack... then held that out to the kid as well.  He quickly looked away before he could regret it, instead looking about for the kid's parents. "Do you want to go home now?" where is home?

Izuku took the heavy bag with a grunt of effort, eventually letting it rest on the ground. Okay, I'll carry it for you... it's kinda heavy though. He looked up at the question. "...What?"

"Home?  Where you live?  Your parents?"  He tilted his head at the kid struggling and shouldered the backpack himself, then held out a hand to the little boy.  "Wouldn't they be worried you're out alone?"

Izuku's eyebrows wrinkled more, genuinely confused. "Parents?" He wrinkled his nose, vague memories of green hair and soft noises floating through his memory, but not much taking shape. A...alone? Something cold and frightening started to scrape at his heart.

"They're big people that  love you.  They feed you when you're hungry and play with you when you're bored and take care of you when you're sick and--" Toshi's brow furrowed and he brushed his free hand over his eyes.  Then he smiled sunnily down at the little kid.  "I bet you have parents looking for you right now!"

Izuku shook his head, eyes sinking towards the ground. "No." He was sure without really knowing why.

"No?  That can't be true!  You have a great Qu--" His heart hurt to see the little kid he just met so sad.  He knelt down, squeezing the small fingers twined with his. "--what I mean is, if you want, I can be uh--" a dad?  Not old enough.  Family?  But they just met.  Brother?  Maaaaybe? "--we can stick together till we find someone, ok?  How's that?  Much nicer than being alone."

Izuku looked up wonderingly. Then down at the hand that held his. He stepped a little closer, leaning against Toshi in something like a hug. I like you.

Toshi was wide eyed for a startled moment.  Then the biggest grin yet spread across his face.  And some warm feeling glowed in his chest again, happy that the little kid felt safe around him.  "C'mon," he said.  "Lemme show you my favorite spot by the river and we can read all the comics!"

A small smile sprang to life on Izuku's face, then grew to a big grin. "Okay!!" He wrapped his arms around Toshi's neck, ready to be picked up.

"Oompf!!"  The kid's weight, coupled with his backpack, made Toshi stagger and he wished for a moment that he was stronger.  But the little kid's smile fueled his energy and Toshi proudly carried both kid and comics.

Little Izuku giggled, happily looking about from his new vantage point.

Toshi giggled too then wrinkled his nose as his bangs got caught in his mouth.  He didn't want to put his little friend down.  "Cou' you ge' my 'air?"

"Huh?" Izuku took a second to get it. "Oh, uh-huh." He pulled Toshi's bang out of his mouth and dropped it, wrinkling his nose and grinning. "Eeeeeeww."

Toshi laughed even harder, his heart swelling with joy.  He jogged along the river bank, trying not to jostle the kid.  "Yeah, eating hair isn't smart," he snickered.  "Extra not my hair--it's loooong!"

Izuku took hold of the other bang, looking at it intently as he bounced along. "Shiny. Like it."

Toshi blinked as the bang's end got in his eyes.  "Thanks.  Could you hold it out of the way so I can see, please?"

Izuku held it up above Toshi's head, still gazing at it and rubbing the strands between his fingers, fixated on how gold it was in the sunlight.

The pair trotted merrily along, soon at Toshi's favorite tree.  He knew he was supposed to put the kid down now but somehow, doing so felt like losing a part of himself. weird, huh? "Uhm," he said.

"Mm?" Izuku dropped the bang and started patting Toshi's head, smushing the floof.

Toshi scrunched his face happily.  "Kid!" he said, squatting down and letting small feet touch the ground.  "Thanks, I think?"  He felt his hair, a bit messier than usual but smooshed with love.

Izuku sat down on the ground, looking up at Toshi. His gaze drifted up towards the tree branches, and he laid down on his back, staring up at them and smiling. One hand reached up as if to touch them.

Toshi flopped beside him, grinning. home? And the grin flickered to confusion for a moment.  What? h o m e? He looked to the little kid he just met, the little kid who had saved him, and Toshi felt an overwhelming desire to protect this small person with his small but powerful smiles. He too reached one hand up toward the branches.

[prettyboybarzal]

Dancing with Our Hands Tied (2)

Pairing: Pierre Luc Dubois x Reader

A/N: Hello, angels!!! Here is part two... As always, let me know what you think! Part three is almost done and will be out next Sunday at 8pm. 

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Alcohol consumption

Previous Chapter // Masterlist // Next Chapter

“You’re practically jail bait for these men, do you understand?”

“I’m 21, not 18,” Sadie protested. It was 9 p.m. on a Friday night and you were standing outside Josh’s apartment dressed for a night out. You were reading her the riot act, knowing damn well that it was probably going in one ear and out the other.

“21 is young enough,” you argued. She rolled her eyes as you continued. “If you can’t find me while we’re out, look for Josh. Or Seth. Or Boone.”

“YN, everything’s gonna be fine.”

“I really hope so.”

The entire week leading up to Sadie’s arrival was stressful to say the least. You had to childproof your entire life just to have a problem free weekend with her, and that included childproofing the boys too.

Because Josh had met Sadie plenty of times before, he was more than happy to have everyone over his house for pre-drinks. It took a weight off your shoulders because being in an enclosed space with your closest friends meant it would be easier to keep tabs on how much alcohol she was consuming. And the more people she met before hitting the club meant there were more people keeping an eye out for her, and you need all eyes on her. 

Well, almost all of them. You could do without Pierre’s.

Josh’s apartment was already loud when you arrived, which came as no surprise considering about half the Blue Jackets were inside. When you entered, Sadie gazed around at his apartment like a kid in a candy story.

“This is where Josh lives?”

“This is what a cushy job gets you in Columbus.”

“Why didn’t Mom and Dad force us to become athletes?”

You ventured into the living room and were greeted by an assortment of hoots and hollers. Josh swept Sadie up in a big hug before introducing her to the rest of the boys and some girlfriends in a pretty general introduction. Seth slipped a beer into your hand with a knowing smile that screamed, “I got you. Stop stressing.”

Pierre wasn’t there and you were naive enough to think he might’ve passed on a night out, but then the front door swung open and he was sauntering in with a rack of beers in his hand. Sadie’s eyes cut to yours as he made his rounds to say hello.

When he reached her, he came up short. He narrowed his eyes as he studied the all too familiar facial features.

“You’re YN’s sister,” he spoke. “I’m assuming you already hate me.”

“More or less.”

“I’ll have fun trying to prove you wrong tonight then.”

He stepped away from her and said hello to the remaining few before completely ignoring you and slipping into the kitchen to put his beers in the fridge.

---

The executive decision was made to leave Josh’s apartment around 9:30 p.m., so while you ran off to the bathroom to get ready to go, Sadie flitted off to the kitchen for one final drink. Pierre did the same. When he entered, she was standing in front of the liquor, studying each bottle.

She didn’t even spare him a glance, having clocked him through her peripheral vision and deciding not to engage. He opened the fridge and reached in to receive a new bottle.

“You go to Ohio State, right?” he asked after popping the cap off.

She looked uncertain of him when he asked, but responded, “Yeah, I do.”

“You’re in the,” he paused, thinking for a moment about her class placement, “third year?”

“Yep.”

“How do you like it?” he asked, cocking his hip against the counter. He watched as Sadie poured herself another drink. She sipped it for taste, then added a little more Vodka. “I always got a little jealous of my friends who got to go to school.”

“It’s great,” she answered. “But I don’t think you’re missing out. If you make anything close to what Josh does, I should be jealous of you.” He chuckled softly, lifting the mouth of the bottle to his lips for a swig. She narrowed her eyes at him. “What did you do to my sister?”

He placed the bottle on the counter beside him, fingers swiping along the condensation settling against the label.

“I didn’t make the best first impression and she never gave me the chance to right that wrong,” he answered honestly. “It’s all good, though. I don’t need her to like me.”

Sadie caught the uneasy shift of his eyes from hers to the bottle beside him and decided that he had a shit poker face. 

“She’s a tough cookie sometimes,” she murmured. He nodded in agreement, eyebrows nearly raised to his hairline. 

“She’s determined, I’ll give her that,” he huffed, shaking his head to himself and taking another sip of beer. 

“I’m pretty sure she didn’t like me the first five years I was alive, so don’t worry, maybe you’ll win her over,” Sadie shrugged, giving Pierre a knowing look that he tried to ignore. If he was going to go around spilling secrets to anyone the last person he would choose was your little sister.

“Crazier things have happened, right?”

“Sure,” she said softly. Her eyes lingered on him for a moment like she was trying to decipher what he wasn’t saying. Pierre felt uncomfortable under her gaze, lifting his beer bottle to her and slipping out of the kitchen before she could make him sweat anymore than she already had. 

---

As soon as you walked into the club, you threw an arm over Sadie’s shoulder and led her to the bar. Josh and Pierre followed a few steps behind you as the rest of the group left to grab a table. Sadie’s eyes lit up as she studied every bit of the place you all frequented, overjoyed to finally be a part of your Columbus crew.

Sadie propped herself up onto one of the barstools at the bar and you stood beside her to wave down the bartender at the other end. Behind you, Josh and Pierre waited, deep in conversation about something to do with the team.

The bartender was quick to attend to your needs, dropping your drinks off swiftly before moving on to the next group of patrons.

You were busy surveying the land for potential suitors for the evening, not exactly sure if you wanted to end up in Charlie’s bed again or not. For some reason you were finding it hard to take interest in any of the men mingling around the bar with Pierre’s cologne overwhelming your senses as he stood just a few feet behind you. 

Sadie seemed to have no interest in the men that were hanging around the bar, which made you feel better at first. That is, until you realized she was eyeing up Pierre and then shifting her gaze back to you. She was up to something, that was never a good sign. 

“His name matches his face,” Sadie spoke after glancing at Pierre over your shoulder.

“What does that even mean?”

“He’s fucking hot!” she exclaimed. Her voice carried and while you choked on your drink in front of her, Pierre choked on his own in front of Josh.

“You heard that?” Josh asked him with an amused smile. He nodded slowly, desperately trying to push her words out of his mind. “YN’s blood is probably boiling.”

“I have a feeling I’m going to be castrated by the end of the night.”

“It was nice knowing you, buddy,” Josh teased. 

As you and Sadie stepped away from the bar, Josh grabbed your sister and pulled her into his side. Left in their wake, Pierre fell into step with you. 

“You talk about me to your little sister?”

“Only to tell her how insufferable you are,” you informed him. He grinned, like he always did, like he was one step ahead of you. “Whatever she said to you, don’t believe. She’s a liar.”

“So, she was lying when she said I’m fucking hot?”

You turned to face him, standing tall even though he was basically a foot taller than you. You raised your voice just enough to beat out the music, growling, “If you try anything with my sister, I will literally--” 

“Holy shit, I’m kidding,” he said gruffly, an exasperated sigh attached to the end of the sentence. He shook his head, mumbling as he brushed past you on the way back to the booth. “I don’t want your little sister, YN.”

---

Two hours later, Pierre was wandering the bar in search of someone new to occupy his time. He’d been with a group of co-eds for a bit, one of which he’d slept with once before, but they’d decided to leave for another bar. And though he’d been invited, he decided to stick with his real friends.

It had to be somewhere around midnight when he slipped past the bar and noticed Sadie at the end without any of her appointed babysitters and immediately felt worry bubbling up in his stomach. She was the youngest in the bar and seemed a little unsteady on her feet, and even though you told him to stay away, the creeps eyeing her down from the other side gave him bad vibes.

So, he stepped up beside her and leaned against the bar with a smile. 

“Bonjour!”

“Hey, Sadie,” he greeted her. She hiccuped. “You good?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” she slurred. “I’m getting another Tequila shot.”

“Do you need one?” he asked. His tone of voice was teasing, but the concern was clear on his face. When she turned to look at him, he saw how strikingly similar she looked to you. It was probably the glare on her face that did it.

“I want one,” she repeated. “And you’re going to take one with me.”

“Well, okay.”

Pierre had seen this one too many times before. He knew this shot was going to be the end to her night, but it didn’t matter how hard he tried to stop her, it wasn’t going to work. The bartender brought the liquor over and after some convincing on Sadie’s part, he poured a shot for himself as well.

The tequila went down easy for the two men, but the look on Sadie’s face told Pierre that she also knew that shot was going to be her night’s death sentence.

“You look pale.”

“Let’s go sit,” she murmured, grabbing his wrist and pulling him with her towards the booth with the rest of the group. Seth caught Pierre’s frantic eyes as they approached.

“She’s going to be sick,” he whispered as soon as they were standing beside each other. They both looked up at Sadie who’d taken up residence at the end of the table, knuckles white from from clutching the top. “Where’s YN?”

“I have no clue,” Seth answered. “The bathroom maybe.”

Just as Pierre started to look around the bar, hoping to find you in the crowd, Sadie lurched slightly. 

“I need to get her out of here,” he said. “If she throws up here, YN would never want to come back and she loves this place.”

“Do you want me to just take her?”

It was a good question and Pierre stopped to think for a moment about the answer. Seth could take Sadie off his hands and he could go about his night normally, or he could prove to you that he wasn’t the asshole you painted him out to be. For whatever reason, he chose the latter.

“No, I got her,” he said. “Let YN know what’s going on, would you?”

---

You returned to the table not even fifteen minutes later, already pissed off because of how long the bathroom line was. Needless to say, Seth letting you know that Pierre had taken Sadie back to your place was not what you wanted to hear. 

“You let her leave this bar with Pierre?”

His fingers danced nervously along the beer bottle in his hand. The 6’ 4” defenseman was utterly terrified of your wrath, and had you not been so pissed off, you would’ve thrived in the feeling. “I know you hate him, but he was just trying to help out.”

“Help out?” you repeated. “You think Pierre would do something out of the kindness of his own heart for me, Jonesy?” He nodded a bit sheepishly. “You’re delusional.”

With that, you snatched your purse off the table and stormed out of the bar in pursuit of your apartment. The walk was only about ten minutes long and, quite frankly, you didn’t give a shit that you were walking through the city at night in a short little dress. You were a woman on a mission and anyone that crossed your path with the wrong intention was going to get your wrath, and it seemed that everyone knew that because you weren’t bothered once. 

You threw your door open once it was unlocked and the decorations on the wall rattled as the door hit the wall beside it. Pierre, who’d been standing outside the bathroom door, jumped out of his skin at the sound. He righted himself and stood tall as you entered the hallway unsure of what type of reaction he was going to receive from you. 

You hardly looked at him as you barked, “Where is she?”

“Puking.”

He leaned forward and pushed the bathroom door open a bit wider, revealing Sadie with her head on the toilet seat. You huffed as you entered and kicked the door closed in his face before slumping down beside her.

“Sadie, what the fuck?”

“I suck.”

“How much did you have to drink?” you asked, hand rubbing comforting circles on her back. 

“I was trying to keep up with your friends,” she murmured before gagging into the toilet again.

“You know that they’re all well above six feet and weigh like two hundred more pounds than you, right?” you stated. She nodded and groaned pathetically. “You should’ve known better.”

She didn’t offer a response to your chastising and instead sat up to look at you and said, “I thought I wasn’t going to like him.”

You raised your eyebrows at her.

“Pierre?”

“Yeah. He’s actually a really nice guy,” she grumbled, dropping her head back into her hand that was propped up on the toilet. “Held my hair back for me.”

With an eye roll and a grunt, you stood to leave her to fend for herself.

“Wait,” she called as soon as your hand was on the door knob. “Can you tell Pierre that I’m sorry I ruined his night?”

“Sure.”

“Be nice to him.”

“No promises,” you grunted, pulling the door open to kick the hockey player out of your house.

---

Pierre was uncomfortable in your apartment. Before you arrived, he was too worried about Sadie to even think about the fact that he was in the middle of your personal space. But now, as you sat with her in the other room and he stood in the living room lurking, he knew he didn’t belong.

There were books decorating your coffee table and plants hanging from the ceiling above him. The television stand was cluttered with picture frames of your family and friends from home. His eyes caught on a photo strip from a Blue Jackets event. Josh’s arm was slung over your shoulders, yours wrapped around his waist, both of you clearly hammered and smiling like two idiots who’d been sitting at the open bar all night. 

Although he couldn’t remember much of that night, thanks to the date he was entertaining, he did remember one thing. He remembered the dress you wore. 

It was this dark blue, almost navy dress, and there was a slit up your leg to your thigh that he kept finding himself gazing at. For the first time since he met you, he thought about what it would be like to feel your body against his, to slide his hand up and between your thighs in the middle of a team event just because he could. 

When he got home later that night after dropping his date at home, he jumped beneath a cold stream of water in the shower. He was desperate to clear his mind of every dirty thought that included you. In the end, the only thing that could clear it was release and he ended up jerking off in the shower despite himself.

“I could’ve used a text. I was worried sick.” 

You snuck up on him, leaving him with no time to pretend like he hadn’t been staring at you in each of your photos.

“I would’ve texted you but, in completely unsurprising news, I don’t have your number,” he said defensively. 

It wasn’t like he was expecting you to grovel at his feet for making sure your sister didn’t vomit in the middle of your favorite club, but he would’ve appreciated a little less attitude or a simple ‘thank you’. 

“Her phone was dead, too, and she started throwing up in a bush, so I was a little more concerned about holding her hair back than calling you right away.”

Your mouth snapped shut.

“Anyway, you’re welcome.”

Your mother would kill you if she saw you now. You didn’t even say thank you. 

But, before your mouth could catch up to the thanks at the tip of your tongue, Pierre was pulling the apartment door open and disappearing down the hall. Not even a parting glance was sent your way.

[darker-soft-starker]

High School AU Part 8 (1...7)

---

16.k

---

The silence that follows Tony’s exit only lasts for a single, deafening heartbeat. 

In the seconds that follow the aftermath, silent and struck with confusion at the lightning-quick turn of events, Peter doesn’t remember getting to his feet and excusing himself. He just remembers that the moment he decides to act feels impossibly longer than it should, punctuated only by the harsh slam of the front door.

Ed, understandably, seems suspended in the moment, torn between his guests and, well, his other guest. Without thinking, Peter stands and doesn’t bother to excuse himself before leaving the table and following the trail of fire that Tony left behind. 

“Pete,” someone calls behind him.

“Stay here, I got this,” he turns for a moment, hands held up placatingly, before jogging through the living room, out the front door. Outside it’s bitterly cold, the snappish, freezing winds whipping at his face, his bare arms.

Stark is stomping furiously towards his car when Peter spots him, a shadowy figure against the dying sunlight. He sets into a jog to catch up.

“Tony,” he yells through chattering teeth. “Wait!”

“Fuck off,” Tony snaps without looking back, hands balled into fists as he heads to his car.

“Where are you going,” he rushes to catch up with him. “What are you even doing here?”

“You don’t have to worry about me ruining your little Hallmark family moment, Parker,” Tony pulls out his keys. “I’m getting the fuck outta here.”

“Wait,” he stresses, legs moving faster, not understanding what exactly is happening. “Tony, wait.”

He makes the mistake of getting between Tony and the driver's side door in a thoughtless effort to keep him from leaving, one that seems to backfire rather spectacularly when Tony gets inches away from his face, seething. This close, his fury is palpable, and he suddenly seems taller, larger, coming at Peter like a tempest, swift and devastating.

“Move.”

Face set in a snarl, he looks angrier than Peter has ever seen him. “Tony, wait for just a second --”

He flinches when two palms slam down on the car on either side of him and Tony is suddenly towering over him, his eyes dark and unrecognisable. 

“I said get out of the way.”

“Calm down, can we just talk --”

“You have three goddamn seconds before I --”

“Before what? What are you going to do,” he juts out his chin defiantly, even though his hands are trembling. “You going to hit me, huh?” With courage he doesn’t really feel, he stands up taller, until they're nose to nose and he can feel his warm breath on his face. “Go on, asshole. Do it.”

The provocation gives Tony pause. His lips purse and his gaze flickers between fury and uncertainty. He doesn’t move his arms from where they have caged Peter in, but Peter can see the opening he’s created, as if Tony were a ticking bomb with seconds left before zero and he has once chance to cut the right wire.

Adrenaline racing through his veins, his circles Tony’s wrists with his fingers, pressing gently, intent on pushing him back or comforting him or something. But Tony doesn’t budge at all, he just stares Peter down until the offensive anger visibly bleeds into defensiveness. Tony dips his chin for just a second before meeting his eyes again, and it’s like watching a portcullis slam down behind them. In that moment, he feels any camaraderie they developed quickly vanished in a puff of smoke.

“I’ll stay out of your way if that’s what you want, but just don’t be a fucking idiot. Ed was really looking forward to seeing you.”

“It’s Jarvis, not Ed, you braindead asshole,” Tony says finally, voice hoarse. “And stop holding my hands, I’m not your fucking prom date.”

Immediately Peter takes his hands away and Tony steps back, hands still balled into fists, albeit lowered at his sides; so it’s come to this again. Peter nods shakily, putting his hands up in surrender.

“I don’t know how you know them,” or what happened to you, Peter says, softly, as if not to spook him, chest heaving. “But you shouldn’t drive off. It’s late and you’re angry.”

“Yeah, because you’re here.”

He swallows around that particular sting.

“I told you about Margaret and May. Look, just come inside, okay? I’ll stay out of your way.”

The other boy still looks uncertain, but his anger is draining out of him fast, the rigid line of his shoulders slumping, arms crossing over his chest in a last ditch to protect himself from whatever phantoms Tony is seeing in Peter. 

A little heartbroken by the sight, Peter croaks out, “Please.”

Tony’s face falls before the impassive, drawn expression returns.

“I’m - I wasn’t going to hit you. I’m not like that.”

“I know.”

“You’re shaking.”

“I’m cold.”

“You’re - I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, just -” he sighs, dipping his gaze to meet Tony’s. “Let’s go in. Foods still warm.”

Tony keeps his stare affixed to the ground for a long moment that has Peter waiting with bated breath, still outwardly appearing unsure and on edge, like the slightest misstep would startle him into racing off like the other day.

“Did Peggy make her pecan pie?” he then asks, very quietly, as soft spoken as Peter has ever heard him, arms unravelling to tuck his hands into his jean pockets.

“Yeah,” he smiles encouragingly when Tony finally looks at him. “It’s good, right?”

“The best.”

“So, you coming?”

“Okay…” he says, exhaling through his nose. “I’ll stay for pie.”

“I can’t think of a better reason to be here.”

“The company does leave much to be desired,” Tony nods agreeably, but there is no heat or sting in his words.

Their sides brush on the way in and Peter thinks, backwards and forwards, push and pull.

“Peter?”

He pauses before the front door, startled by the use of his first name.

“Yeah?”

For a second it looks like Tony is going to apologise again. But in the end he shakes his head, face closing off.

“Forget it. Let’s go in.”

----

Inside, Ed and Tony exchange some hushed words in the living room, while the remaining occupants talk idly about the spread, as if perfectly cooked green beans were the most interesting thing of the night. 

When Tony re-enters with Jarvis, his demeanour a still a touch skittish, eyes low, but no longer appearing like he’s bracing for a fight. No one mentions the theatrics, and, like it was a deleted scene in real life, welcome him in. There’s a flimsy attempt to cover the awkwardness that lingers, everyone still clearly a little rattled, but May is the first to rise to give Tony a hug. 

Margaret makes a big show of bringing in a spare chair and providing Tony a plate with a veritable pyramid of steaming meat and sides, taking his face in her hands and kissing his cheek. 

And Peter sits there, awkwardly sipping his water far too frequently to be considered normal, trying to appear as unassuming as possible, and staring at the print of Caillebotte’s Rainy Day on the opposing wall, as if it were the most fascinating thing this night.

With a similar air of queer ineptitude, Tony seats himself at the table, settling in tightly next to Jarvis. As soon as he is seated, Friday immediately startles him by leaping upon his lap, tail flicking his face.

“You brought the literal embodiment of bad luck to the lake house,” Tony says. “That explains everything.”

It’s enough to break the air of tension in the room as the adults laugh and Tony breaks out into the first genuine smile of the night, dropping his fork so he can scratch Friday under her chin.

“Well, this is such a surprise,” May comments lightly, though looks genuinely pleased to see the other boy. “How do you guys know each other?”

Tony and Ed speak at the same time.

“They used to work with my dad,” says Tony.

“Tony works afternoons at the garage,” says Ed.

A beat of silence follows.

“They used to work for my dad and we kept in touch. Jarvis lets me work for him after school,” Tony corrects.

Peter blinks, a little floored by this revelation, mind rapidly connecting the dots. Not only did they know each other, but Tony had a job? 

Torn between being confused and oddly delighted, he recalls suddenly each and every time that Tony was antsy to leave after school, about his ‘priorities’, he was just trying to get to work. Like a real job with money and taxes and responsibility. Holy shit.

Without voicing it, he queries what on earth a trust fund baby like Tony is doing working a blue collar job, certainly not for a lack of money, and certainly not because it was a quaint after-school activity. 

But then Peter takes stock of his face - recalling all the injuries he has ever seen him with and he suddenly understands. 

At once he feels very ashamed, and very sick.

From the corner of his eye he assesses Tony, eating slowly with one hand. Indulging Friday with the other, and Peter comes to understand that he’s either assumed too much about Tony or, given all the evidence, assumed too little.

“I didn’t know you two knew each other,” Jarvis tops up his glass of wine, peering curiously between the boys. 

May explains, when neither of them speak up. “They go to school together. They’re friends.”

She utters the last part with marked uncertainty, evidently the scene from earlier still on her mind. Peter understands. Tony’s anger and fear play over in his mind too, not just from this evening. With a sinking heart he recalls the night at the party, remembers drunkenly accusing Tony of getting into fights on purpose, that he would openly indulge in being violence. And Tony, nonchalant, not reacting at all like Peter would have. Took him home and took care of him.

He feels like the biggest piece of shit in the world.

Has a difficult family arrangement and needs a bit of respite.

“I didn’t know you had a job,” Peter says delicately, swallowing down the bile in his throat. “That’s cool.”

Tony shrugs, sneaking Friday tiny cat-size morsels of food from his plate, getting flicked in the face with her tail as a reward. He doesn’t offer anything other than forced, casual nonchalance, despite seeming so tightly spun he could snap without a moment's notice.

“Peter said you were good with cars, that you restored yours,” May mentions, salting her potatoes, missing the surprised look Tony sends the both of them. “Makes sense.”

“He’s a natural,” Ed beams proudly at his employee. “An absolute genius.”

“Told you,” Tony looks up from under his lashes and smirks at Peter, addressing him directly. Genius, he mouths, pointing at himself with his knife like an idiot.

Which is apt when Peter mouths back the word idiot at him.

“That’s perfect,” May says, clapping her nephew on the shoulder, shaking him a little as if to rouse some enthusiasm. “Maybe you can diagnose the Volvo. You’re staying for the weekend, right, Tony?”

“Oh, no I’m not - I don’t want to intrude on -” 

“Nonsense, you didn’t come all this way for one meal and I’m not having you drive back in the dark,” Margaret cuts in, her voice stern, her eyes knowing. “Stay the weekend, darling.”

“You’re having family time.”

“Stay,” May reaches over from where she sits opposite Tony, briefly gripping over his hands with hers. “It’s no bother to us, right, Pete?”

The entire table falls silent and the weight of several stares fall heavily on him, almost oppressively, but he’s only looking at Tony, trying to gauge his reaction. He’s met with an air of casual indifference, but the line of his lips is thin, and he’s stopped stroking a disgruntled Friday. 

Risking a sonic boom, Peter kicks him under the table, testing his reaction. He smiles when Tony’s expression goes from cautious to irate, eyes finally flickering with something more familiar, and he deservedly gets kicked sharply on his shin in return.

It hurts, but also floods him with relief.

“Fine by me.”

As if he was ever going to say anything else.

----

After dinner May and Peter corral their hosts into relaxing by the fire while they attend to the clean up, hushing any protests to the contrary with tried-and-true Parker stubbornness. Once they were sure the hosts were situated in front of the old TV they’d set to disposing of the scraps and cleaning the plates by hand. This, at least, feels like something familiar, something he knows how to do without fear of stepping on a landmine.

They work efficiently like they do at home, May scrubbing and Peter drying and returning the cutlery and dishes to their rightful place. It’s the least they can do for the hospitality they’ve been provided.

“It’s such a weird coincidence,” May says lightly, passing him a freshly washed gravy boat. Peter accepts, swapping to the drier end of his kitchen towel and swiping away at the porcelain. “Tony, I mean.”

“I know.” He shakes his head, a huff emitting from his nose, echoing the same sentiment. “Small freakin’ world, right?”

“Do you think he’s okay? With the whole,” she gestures to her face worriedly with a soapy hand. “You know, at home? Should I call somebody?”

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “He doesn’t tell me those kinds of things.”

“I just mean, I thought - You were - you’re, y’know...”

He accepts a dripping plate, still hot from the running water. It scalds his fingertips upon contact and he nearly drops it before securing his grip, lowering it to the sink. “I’m what?”

“Y'know,” she hedges, voice deliberately light in a way that puts Peter on edge. “Dating.”

“What?” He hisses, staring at her. “No, we are not dating. Why would you even think that?”

“It would be okay if you were, you can tell me --”

“We’re not,” he pauses his drying to look her in the eye, mortification surely written all over his face, heard in the suddenness in which he stacks the plates. “We don’t even like each other like that. That’s not what this is.”

“I’m just saying if it was, it would be okay with me -” “- oh my god, you did this with Ned, stop -”

“- it’s just you two seem awfully close.”

“We’re not close. It’s not a thing.”

“Well, no need to sneak if it was.”

“It isn’t.”

“Okay,” she turns off the tap, shaking her hands over the sink to rid the excess water. “I just never know. You’re awful good at keeping secrets these days.”

“Wonder where I learned that from,” he mutters, hastily drying the last plate, placing it back in its cabinet a little roughly. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he gives his best try at a smile, wiping his hands on his jeans and backing out of the kitchen. “I’ll see you in a bit, okay, just getting some fresh air.”

She stops him, gently grabbing him by the sweater.

“Just let him know he’s welcome, okay. I think he needs to hear it from you.”

----

It was a gentle stomp out the front door that brought him to the porch, a willingness to find calm in the stillness of the night, in the serenity of their surrounds, the chirp of crickets, the opportunity to see the stars, bright, crisp and speckled, like paint splatters against black paper, an inverse connect-the-dots. 

A lot of people tell Peter the stars make them feel small, reminding them that they are just tiny specks in a gargantuan, ever-sprawling universe. But for him it’s the opposite, when he’s lucky enough to have a view of the night sky like this, he feels bigger, connected to the universe that he knows is alway there but often forgets. It’s a moment to marvel at the stars dying before him and revere them light years too late.

Perched on the top step and illuminated under the porch light, Tony has a burning cigarette between his fingers and, judging by the headphones over his ears, hasn’t noticed Peter’s presence. He’s not looking up at the stars like Peter has been, instead he stares out at the inky lake.

The yellow light does nothing to improve the discolouration on Tony’s skin, casting shadows over the contours of his face, he tries to not stare as he sits on the step beside him, careful and slow as to not spook the other boy.

They sit in relative silence together, Peter peering up at the round full moon as he digests the day, this arduously long day. It seems terribly wild that it was only twelve hours ago he was sharing pretzels with May and resigning himself to a delightfully boring, uneventful weekend with his aunt and people that he used to know, playing scrabble and skipping stones on the lake. 

That was the plan, of course, before Tony blustered in like the thunderstorm that he is, and always has been since Peter met him. 

Loud, dark, hard to ignore.

Tony slips his headphones down to cradle the back of his neck and takes a drag before speaking.

“You want?” He offers the cigarette, face impassive. “You look tense.”

Peter takes the offered cigarette, staring at the lit end, the pale wisps of smoke that curl from the end. Maybe it’s the guilt swirling in his gut that makes him do it, desperate for a distraction, or maybe it’s wanting to wipe away the morose contemplation etched on Tony’s face.

Instead of bringing it to his mouth, he stubs it out on the concrete, feeling satisfied when Tony makes an indignant noise.

“Those are expensive, you know.”

Peter shrugs, popping the stub into Tony’s makeshift ashtray. “Maybe you should stop smoking. You’re going to look like a leather bag by the time you’re thirty.”

He fishes another smoke from his pocket, lighting it and taking a deep drag. 

“Wrong,” Tony tilts his head and exhales towards the sky. “I’m going to age like fine wine, princess.”

“You’re going to have emphysema before college,” Peter mutters, pulling the sleeves of his sweater over his hands to keep them warm, tucking his arms to his chest. It’s so cold out here and yet, at a glance and in only a shirt, Tony doesn’t even seem remotely perturbed by the biting winds. 

It’s because he’s hellspawn, it’s the only reasonable explanation.

“This is fucking weird,” Tony says after a moment, “I don’t like it.”

Peter nods agreeably.

“Yep, even in New York. Six degrees of separation. Could have connected the dots if you’d mentioned your job earlier.”

“Would have, but it’s not exactly any of your business.”

Right. Because they’re not friends. They aren’t anything.

“I didn’t lie,” he says, “in there. I think it’s cool.”

“I’ll head out in the morning,” Tony offers, in lieu of responding to Peter’s faint adulations. 

“Don’t be dumb,” he sighs, a little frustrated. “I don’t care that you’re here. Might be nice to have someone around my age, actually.”

“What, you think we’re gonna sing Kumbaya by the lake and tell each other ghost stories at night, or something? Thanks, but I’d rather jerk off with a potato peeler.”

“I’m not saying that. I told you I’d stay out of your way, if that’s what you really want.”

It’s disappointing to even have to say it. He thought they were getting along.

“You don’t gotta do that, it’s fine,” Tony flicks his ashes onto the steps. “Just leave me the rest of the pie and we’ll call it payment for putting up with your ass. But I draw the line at hymns by the fireside.”

Not the pie. Anything but the pie.

Peter opens his mouth to argue, but shuts it quickly, eyeing the other boy as he puts out the cigarette in the ashtray. It’s a small price to pay, isn’t it really, for all of the time Tony has fed him, to absolve some of the guilt he’s carrying like a stone. And for respite, as he himself has had a long, topsy-turvy kind of a day - but undoubtedly not as onerous and difficult as Tony’s must have been. And a small price to pay to keep him here, safe.

For Margaret and Ed’s peace of mind, of course.

Also, because the mental image he’s conjured of Tony sadly eating pie all by himself is deeply amusing.

And maybe to soothe the weird ache in his chest, too.

“You really got a sweet tooth, don’t you,” he states, silently agreeing to the deal.

Tony sighs.

“You should see me on Halloween.”

----

When they head back inside only Peggy and his aunt are still awake, though looking far closer to the verge of sleep, blearily watching a Charmed rerun, bottles of beers and mixers littering the coffee table. They perk up, however, when both boys enter the living room, and maybe it’s roaring fire, or the near darkness inside, but Peter suddenly feels as tired as they appear, warm and weary all at once, like a plug has been pulled unceremoniously from the base of his spine.

Knuckling his eyes like a small child, Tony looks much the same.

“Bed time,” May croaks, her back audibly cracking upon standing. “Come on, boys.”

Peter politely averts his gaze when May draws Tony into a hug, pretends not to hear how happy she is that Tony is staying. He extends that particular pretence when his counterpart stands stock still, hands reluctantly returning the embrace seconds too late to be natural.

While May washes up, Margaret leads them to the last room at the end of the hall. It occurs to him very quickly, that he hadn’t quite factored in the math when he implored Tony to stay the weekend. Their approach turns trepidatious when he realizes that there are only three bedrooms in this house and five people; a couple, an adult, and two teenagers. 

The hinges squeak horridly when Margaret opens the guest room door, revealing a double bed, a dated quilt and a musky smell revealing the extent of the rooms disuse. 

“If Peter doesn’t mind you sharing,” she says, gesturing to the bed that Peter had already dumped his stuff on earlier, “or one of you can sleep on the sofa, but you’ll have to share the bathroom. There are spare blankets in the closet.”

Peter’s heart pounds as they’re left alone in the room, staring at the bed, experiencing the sort of breath-stealing trepidation one he imagines might have when the roller-coaster you’re on gets stuck mid-way through a loop.

“I can...” he clears his throat roughly, gesturing to the living room. “I wouldn’t want to make you - unless you want to sh- ”

“I’ll take the sofa, we can alternate,” Tony says with finality, already backing away, duffel slung over his shoulder. 

Peter, blissfully glad that Tony cut him off before he could embarrass himself by suggesting something foolish like sharing a bed, says, “Okay, yeah.”

As a rare act of partisanship he locates the blankets and helps set up the couch, giving him one of the spare pillows from the bed.

While Tony uses the adjacent ensuite to brush his teeth and empty his toiletries, Peter waits, sitting on the edge of the bed, clutching the material between his fingers, listening to the tap water run and waiting his turn. It’s not a large bathroom and brushing their teeth together would be weird, too intimate, even though he and Ned or he and Bucky did it all the time. He and Tony aren’t friends, in fact, Peter doesn’t know where their boundaries lie anymore, especially after tonight. He supposes, for a start, that he isn’t supposed to feel electricity around friends and frenemies.

Because maybe their elbows would brush as they crowded the sink and maybe they’d meet eyes in the mirror and maybe Peter might like that and, yeah, it would be super weird for them.

When Tony emerges he’s dressed only in his shirt and boxers, jeans slung over his arm, the glow of the bathroom light on the back of his head like a fiery halo. Somehow, seeing his bare legs for the first time, the curve of his calves, his naked feet, somehow was a lot more intimate than the idea of sharing a bathroom.

“So you do have something under all that denim,” he swallows, then cringes.  

“You gonna cream yourself at the sight of skin or something, Parker?” he asks on a yawn. “Hmm?”

“No. You’re just...so pasty.”

“Whatever you say. Anyway, I’m out.”

Peter calls his name without thinking and Tony pauses in the doorway, the muscles in his back tensing for a moment, as if bracing for a fight, before relaxing again. 

“I,” he says, unsure what he wanted to say. Settles for, “I’m glad you’re here.”

The look that Tony sends him over his shoulder is quick, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it flash of gratefulness, and in Peter’s imagination, reciprocated fondness. That is until Tony taps on the door frame and opens his big mouth again.

“Night, Parker, I shall rid you of my pasty legs. Try not to get the sheets sticky thinking about my bare ankles.”

Asshole.

---- 

“You’re up late, kid,” May says the next morning, peering amusedly at his bleary-eyes and morning-induced disgruntlement over the rim of her coffee cup.

“Couldn’t sleep, his voice is hoarse with sleep, pouring himself his own cup of coffee and sitting beside her. “I kept hearing this clicking and beeping all night. You didn’t hear it?”

She shakes her head. “Was out like a light. Maybe someone was up watching TV.”

“Yeah, maybe. Where is everyone?”

“Peggy’s and Jarvis are in Syracuse.”

“Black Friday?” Peter wonders, recalling the hauls of gifts in his younger years whenever the couple would return from their hectic, discount driven ventures.

“Yep.”

“And Tony?”

 “Out front, working on the car.”

“You really put him up to work?” He asks, leaning against the counter, bringing the cup to his mouth to hide his disapproving slope of his lips. “He’s on vacation.”

May holds her free hand up in defence.

“Don’t blame me. He offered and I turned him down. He’s stubborn, that one.”

“I’m very aware of that.”

“Once you’ve finished your coffee, be a darling and take out some water for him, won’t you? I would, but,” she winces, shifting on her seat. “my back’s killing me.”

“You okay?”

“Fine,” she waves her fingers at him dismissively. “Just slept funny.”

“Do you need anything?”

She pats his cheek, smiling from ear to ear. “Maybe another biscotti, bubby, if it’s not too much trouble. Love you.”

There’s something to be read in the way that she doesn't meet his eyes to follow her statement. In his heart he knows May, knows that she is still lying despite his attempts to have adult discussions with her, in the frank and embarrassing way he’s had to open up to her when he was younger and felt frighteningly not himself - except he’s nearing adulthood now. And maybe that’s the kind of transparency he seeks from her, because that’s what adults do, don’t they, they bring down the curtain when it comes to serious things.

And of course he brings her another biscotti, and while he’s up, he does as requested, filling a glass of water in the squeaky kitchen sink and takes a muesli bar from the pantry, pocketing another one for himself.

It’s chocolate covered. Not his favorite, more of a yogurt covered oats-bar fan, but it’s the least Peter could do for Tony’s free labour. 

Outside it’s chilly, fog hangs low over the lake and frost clings to the grass in tiny ice crystals. There is a family kayaking out of The Narrows, a far away blur of bright boats and hi-vis life jackets, paddles parting through the still water like hot knives into butter. 

Taking a moment to breathe in the clean air, Peter marvels at just how quiet it is, compared to the city. No traffic noises, no subway nearby and no neighbours creating all kinds of racket at ungodly hours. The only apt words that Peter can think of to describe it is: still. Nothing changes here. Or everything changes here and the houses and the lake and the trees have the good grace to stay the same while the rest of the world is in constant metamorphosis.

Peter likes it here, mostly as a novelty thing, and even more so for the company. But he’s a city kid through-and-through, loves the people, the awe of the tourists, the near helter-skelter way of life. It was a reflection of the orderly chaos in his own mind. 

Here, there is nowhere to run from his thoughts.

Tony is bent over the open hood of the car, an old boom box by his feet playing Don McLean, a socket wrench in hand, twisting away at the insides of the car. He looks alive, happy. In his element with his hands smeared with rust and oil, dexterous fingers at ease with the tool in his hands.

Here, there is nowhere to run from his feelings.

Because there it is again, Peter pauses, struck by the rudeness in which it blooms; that feeling from the other day. 

Not butterflies. More like pushing down on a bruise.

An exquisite ache.

It radiates through his whole body, his sternum the epicentre. Without thinking, he rubs at his chest, as if it might make the ache go away, but it doesn’t. It’s always been there, locked up in a little cage behind his ribs, set free these last few weeks.

Tony turns as he’s approaching, twisting the wrench in his hand like a cowboy with a pistol. 

“If it isn’t Sleeping Cootie,” he greets. “He wakes.”

His mood seems to be greatly improved from the night before, seemingly back to his usual self. Whether that’s a good night's sleep, or their surroundings or getting his hands dirty, Peter’s not sure, but he’s not complaining.

“Here,” he says, just loud enough to be heard over the radio, holding out the water and the muesli bar.

He accepts with muttered thanks and drains the whole glass back, sticking the bar in his back pocket. Peter, for some silly reason, doesn’t stop looking at Tony’s bottom lip the entire time.

The ache ebbs and flows, the closer he gets, and when he boldly presses their sides together, it’s almost completely gone and unbearably worse at the same time. And so he lingers, for a moment that stretches far longer than a passing interest in the innards of a Volvo.

Tony seems to notice. 

“You know anything about cars?” he asks, pinching Peter’s side, smiling cheekily when he squirms, ticklish. “No?” he asks, dodging Peter’s protesting arms and pinching him again.

“A bit,” he elbows Tony back, their hands settling close enough on the mouth of the hood that their fingers brush. “Not much.”

“Stick around then, cotton-tail. Let me teach you a thing about radiators.”

----

Peter knows a lot about robotics. He knows a lot about computers. Cars, albeit a different species, aren’t all that different. He knows the basics. 

But watching Tony explain in-depth the specific parts needed for specific models, the tools that are necessary, it’s another thing. It’s more than just soldering and nuts, bolts and pliers. Each model and make is like knowing a person. A Ford from a Peugeot, from a rear wheel to an auto transmission. It was like being a veterinarian, for big machines.

And so Peter watched as Tony explained that morning, and well into the afternoon, as enraptured as he’d ever seen him in what is evidently a deep love, flanked by the autumn trees and yellowing grades of sunlight. A memory he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget. 

He shows Peter the track of water through their radiator, the leak, the speed of water versus engine output. They will need a new replacement part, he says, he can probably do it for free with Jarvis’ approval, which is so guaranteed, he assures, it’s called a discount, hello, Tony had said, but they will have to order the part in because this car is ancient and no one should drive these deathtraps -

“But in the meantime, we can put in some Chem-i-Weld, that should get plug up the leak long enough to you to the garage and we can replace it -”

Peter just nods, allowing Tony to manipulate his hands to drip coolant into the narrow opening of the radiator, the bright-green fluid dripping into the grass below when some spills over the steel mouth in their haste. 

At some point Margaret and Ed return with their purchases, bringing them lunch from the diner they’d stopped at. Ed hangs around for a bit, listening to Tony’s assessment of the vehicle’s ails, nodding and immediately agreeing to the free repairs without needing to hear a pitch.

It wasn’t all that bad, he guessed, even when Tony deliberately smeared engine oil on Peter’s cheek and Peter punched his arm in retaliation. 

It was kinda fun.

And maybe Peter didn’t mind so much that their shoulders brushed, when he once would have shuddered. 

And maybe he didn’t squirm when Tony put his hand on the small of his back when he was pointing something out, but leaned into it.

In all honesty, it’s one of the best days he’s had in a long while. He tries not to read in too much that some of his best days lately were the ones where Tony was in it.

But of course, nothing is impermanent, and even good days go bad.

----

Some time mid afternoon, Tony heads out to an auto store in town, keen on doing a full oil change on the car, which was completely unnecessary, Peter had argued, and was told to shut the fuck up in return.

Which, fine. He could afford Tony the distraction he was in clear need of.

He heads inside then, hungry and a bit sweaty and wanting to check in on May. He feels a bit bad for having left her to her own devices all day.

It doesn’t take long to find her, she’s in the living room, fast asleep and snoring on the sofa. Margaret sits beside her on the armchair reading a newspaper, glasses perched upon her nose, bags of her purchases by her feet.

He reaches over to gently retrieve the glasses from Mays face without waking, placing them on the table. Knowing his aunt she’d probably flail in her sleep and smack herself in the face and break them. She’s done it before. 

So has he.

“Poor thing has been through the gamut, hasn’t she,” Margaret mutters, without looking up. “I keep telling her to get on stronger medication.”

“For what,” he slowly rises. “What does she need medication for?”

She stares at him. “Her pain, darling.”

“What pain?”

Margaret swallows. “She hasn’t spoken about it with you.”

“No,” Peter says, “but I know something is wrong. I’ve asked. She won’t tell me.”

She sighs, dropping the newspaper to rub tiredly at the bridge of her nose, her glasses nudging up with the motion. “Right. Of course she wouldn’t. Look, Peter, it’s not my business to say, but she’s okay. Don’t fret. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“If there was nothing to worry about, why wouldn’t she tell me?”

“For the same reason you keep things from her.”

“I don't --” he stops himself. “She doesn’t think I can handle it, does she.” 

“Darling, you know that’s not why.”

No, he doesn’t know that. What he knows is that May always has his prescription filled every month, always two days before he’s due to run out of meds. He knows that when things start to go south for him she cries when she thinks he’s asleep.

But he voices none of this, says instead, “I’m just gonna get some fresh air. Do you need anything?”

She doesn’t, and he can’t get out there quick enough.

----

Once, when Peter was thirteen, some jerks in his class found out that he did gymnastics. They teased him all day, called him a fruit, a fairy. That it was no wonder Piggy Parker was queer. Which wasn’t untrue, he was indeed very queer, but it wasn’t because he did gymnastics and they didn’t need to shove him against a locker for it or call him a pussy.

That was the first time that Flash ever stood up for him.

And it was the day he first thought about quitting gymnastics.

Not because he didn’t like it. But because of the way Ben looked when he picked Peter up that day, how his face twisted when he saw Peter’s black eye through the rear view mirror. And then the way he spoke to May in low tones later that night when she had gotten home from work when they thought he was sleeping.

He was good at gymnastics, and he thought he loved it. But nothing was worse than the feeling he’d had that day, something monstrously dark and twisted in words like burden and shame.

He’d always been an anxious kid. He’ll never really know if it was the result of losing his parents young, the fear of abandonment, or if that’s just the way he naturally was. There were the panic attacks, the social anxiety, the waking up in the middle of the night so sure the world was ending.

And now this. 

He didn’t want any more pity or coddling.

The next day, on the way to school, he told Ben that he didn’t want to do gymnastics anymore. He didn’t have to tell him why. Ben already seemed to put two and two together. They argued about it. Ben said he was giving in and giving up and it doesn’t seem like he ever told May about how Peter wanted to quit because of that day, she never brought it up and he never told her.

But none more so than the day Ben died. The vehicle that would later become known as the May-Mobile was at a mechanic somewhere, something else had gone wrong with it, once again. So, keen to get Peter to gymnastics, despite his vehement protestations, Ben had borrowed a car from his work colleague, just for the afternoon. 

The front passenger seatbelt hadn’t been working, it kept getting stuck and couldn’t be buckled properly, so Peter had been sitting in the backseat. At the time he was tight lipped, giving one word answers, arms crossed petulantly over his chest. He wasn’t being taken seriously. Again. He was so mad that day, he hated everyone. Wished everyone would just leave him alone.

Then they were at a stop light.

Having gently tolerated Peter’s childish indignation the entire ride, Ben had turned around in his seat, one hand on the wheel, the other steadying himself on the passenger seat to implore with Peter. 

To tell Peter to just give it a shot, just keep going with it, that he shouldn’t give up what he loved for anyone --

If he hadn’t been looking away from the road, maybe he would have seen the drunk driver that crossed traffic before it plowed head-on into their car. He might have been able to avoid it.

If he hadn’t been such an ungrateful, insolent child, Ben probably would have swerved and survived. 

Peter never told May about the arguing. That Ben’s death was his fault.

She had enough on her shoulders. It was enough that he knew - and it was his to live with.

So in a weird way, he kinda gets it.

Doesn’t make the jackhammering of his heart ease any though. If anything, the air in the house starts to get thinner, the occupants more intrusive to a cohesive stream of thought, even if they aren’t in the same room.

Spying his sneakers by the door, he slips them on, too eager to get out to bother with socks. foregoing socks and taking a run by the lake.

He has blisters by the time the house has disappeared in the distance, but he doesn’t stop. Not when Tony drives past him, looking at him with surprise through the window, not when he feels blood slipping down his heels, not until he’s out of breath and his feet can’t carry him anymore. Even then, the thought of going back inside makes his stomach curdle. 

It’s not even that he’s mad. He isn’t.

It’s just that everything in his head, the catastrophe of it all, is too big, and the house is too small to contain it. The thought of stepping foot inside has him feeling claustrophobic.

So he walks along the dock and sits, hoping the outdoors will swallow his thoughts.

----

There was something about this lake at this time of year. The leaves of the trees flanking the water, ruddy and ocherous, the way the water was so still as if it were straight out of that Monet painting, Morning on the... something or other, he can’t remember. But if Peter sat down long enough and stayed still it felt like he became a part of the canvas. If he didn’t move he could stay, etched forever in the sublime tranquility. 

But something always moved, even if he didn’t. A bird. The light sprinkle of rain rippling across the lake. Tony settling down next to him on the dock, jostling him when their shoulders brush. 

“You look like a sulking pomeranian,” Tony says, apropos of nothing.

“Well, I’ve been called worse, I guess,” he says quietly, digging deep to find amusement in the comparison despite the maelstrom of thoughts, the heaviness in his chest.

Tony nudges his side. “Spill. Tell me what’s earned your scorn today.”

“You remember the letter? The one from the hospital?”

He feels, more than he sees Tony stiffen beside him, the mockery gone from his voice when he answers. “Yeah. What ended up coming from that?”

“Nothing. May insists she’s fine. Peggy knows something but won’t tell me what, but says it’s fine.”

“Could it be possible,” Tony says dryly, “that everything is fine?”

“If it was, then why wouldn’t they tell me?”

“Don’t know, princess.”

 “I just wish they’d tell me so I can stop,” he points to his head and makes an explosion noise, “you know.”

“Adults,” Tony shrugs. “Can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em. Well, at least according to state law.”

He looks over to the bruising on the boy's neck, chest going tight at the sight. It must have really hurt. It must have been scary. 

“You seem to know a bit about that,” he hedges.

“I guess,” Tony looks down at his hands. “Doing my best to live without one particular adult.”

Has a difficult family arrangement and needs a bit of respite.

He clears his throat, willing his nerves to settle before he says the next part, the memories of the previous night at the forefront of his mind. “I know we’re not,” he gestures between them, “y’know, and I’m not your favorite person, but If you need a place to stay, you can always stay with us.”

Stark is quiet for a long minute as he looks out to the lake. 

“Thanks, but I don’t need any handouts. I can take care of myself.”

“Not saying you can’t. Is that why you work at the garage? And take money to help others cheat?”

“You know about that, huh,” Tony grins wryly, but it quickly fades, voice getting darker. “Yeah. Been saving up. And now I don’t have to ask anyone for anything.”

“You know that’s not a bad thing, right. You can ask for help.”

“I don’t need help.”

“But do you want it?”

“Just leave it,” Tony says as gentle as he’s ever heard him, as if Peter were the one who needed comforting. “I made it this far. I know what I’m doing.”

Peter twists his lips, wants to be defiant and try to give this guy hope from where it had clearly and literally been beaten out of him. But it’s not right to insert himself like he knows anything more about the situation than the glaringly obvious. Like it was with Bucky, all he can do is be there, if someone wants him there.

“I’m sorry.”

“If you’re heading into a pity party, Parker, I’m going to stop you there.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he shakes his head. “I’m sorry I just assumed that you were just some rich asshole, that you were an angry kid. That you were violent.”

“I am angry,” Tony interrupts. “I am violent.”

“You’re not.”

“I am. You don’t know me.”

Peter scoffs, shifting on the dock until his knee nudges Tony’s thigh, a small point of contact meant to keep them both grounded. He releases a breath when Tony doesn’t move.

“I know that you drove me home while I was drunk and paid for my meals when you didn’t even like me. I know you could have hurt me when you hated me, but you didn’t. You made sure I had a ride when it was raining.”

“No need to get all starry-eyed,” Tony shakes his head. “I’d clock Rogers’ stupid fucking face again if he wasn’t too chicken shit to come near me. I’m not a saint.”

“No,” Peter bumps their shoulders together. “But you are a sucker. And angry, violent people just aren’t suckers.”

“Says who.”

“Science.”

“That’s some pretty questionable science, Elle Woods.”

“How about you shut up and take my word for it?”

 Tony exhales, shaking his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

They sit quiet and unmoving for a while, becoming still with the scenery again, becoming surreal with it, sitting long enough for the moment to process, and for Peter’s heart to stop beating so fast. But something always moves. 

By the time Tony moves to light another cigarette the kayaking family are back, tiny patches of yellow in the far distance. The sun has started to get low, taking the precious few degrees of warmth with it.

This time when Tony offers his cigarette, Peter doesn’t turn him down.

“Aren’t you afraid of getting my cooties,” Peter asks dryly, accepting the cigarette, placing the filter between his fingers, inspecting it. He’s never smoked before, never thought about it, never wanted to. May would lose her damn mind if she ever got whiff of nicotine on him.

“Terrified,” Tony nods seriously. “But, in the common interest of getting you to unclench, it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”

“I am unclenched,” Peter mutters, bringing the cigarette to his lips, right where Tony’s lips were before and inhaling.

Tony’s only response is to lean back on his hands to leer at his ass, no doubt to evaluate that claim, his eyebrows raised dubiously in Peter's direction when he straightens. 

There’s only a split second for heat to curl pleasantly in his stomach before he inhales too quickly, smoke seizing the breath out his chest. The other boy laughs, whacking Peter on the back as he catches his breath, taking the cigarette back from his fingers.

Despite himself, a little embarrassed, Peter laughs as well, vowing not to take up that particular habit, not even when he wanted Tony to look at him like that.

“Alright, toots,” Tony says loudly, and without warning reaches over to tug the brim of Peter’s cap over his eyes. “Enough feelings for one day, I’m starting to break out in hives. Let me show you how to do an oil change.” 

----

They head back to the Volvo then, Peter’s stomach growling which he ignores, his feet aching. He’s sure that these shoes must be ruined now, the blood from his heels tacky, sticking to the fabric of the insides of the sneakers. He just should have worn socks, for fucks sake.

“I hit him first,” Tony says suddenly, breaking him from his thought. “I’m not a victim. I hit him first.”

His throat is immeasurably dry when he goes to answer, even though he’s not sure of what to say. He swallows and tries to buy himself time to find the words, to be the person that a kid like Tony might need.

“He shouldn’t… he shouldn’t have hit you back.”

 “Yes, he should,” Tony’s voice is like gravel. “You don’t get to hit people and not get what’s coming to you.”

He gets the acute sense that Tony isn’t talking about himself and, for once, he wisely doesn’t prod him on it, can see in the tautness of his body that he’s wound so tight the barest brush could have him snap. 

“Why’d you hit him?”

“He was talking shit about my mom. He wouldn’t stop.”

“Where is your mom?”

“Cliffside.”

“Where’s that?”

From the corner of his vision he observes his profile. Tony’s lips twist derisively. 

“Malibu.”

Tony is quick to change the subject from there, though the conversation is light, the gravel never really leaves his voice much as he explains the relatively simple, if not tedious ways to do a complete oil change on the car. 

While Peter’s sure he’s never really going to need to know, he let’s Tony gravitate to other easy repairs, apparently while he was getting oil he’d bought a new air filter as well, and also new brake pads, but without a ramp or a hoist, the pads couldn’t be changed, but keep them in the back seat and he’ll change them when he fits in the new radiator.

Peter lets him talk and talk and talk until his voice grows hoarse and the buzzing swarm of thoughts in his head go quiet.

----

“What are you smiling about,” Jarvis asks later when Peter enters the kitchen, keen to help out with dinner. A lasagna, if the minced meat and flat pasta sheets are a sign of what's to come. He washes his hands free of all the dirt and oil before putting them to culinary use.

“Nothin’,” he treads over, taking the wooden spoon over by the sizzling pan, homemade marinara sauce underway. He dips a pinky in, tasting it. It’s far too acidic, verging on metallic, like as if it came straight from a can. “Needs sugar,” he says, scrunching his nose.

Ed leans over to taste, humming with agreement before pausing midway, sniffing his hair.

“You smell like cigarettes and grease. What on earth have you been doing all day.”

“Tony taught me how to do an oil change,” he says, spooning in a touch of sugar into the sauce.

“Did he? He’s a good lad, that one.”

Momentarily distracted by the sound of daughter, Peter pauses to sneak a glance into the adjacent living room where Tony is regaling May with some story, his expression open and comical, his gestures exaggerated and broad. She’s laughing though, snorting through her nose, which catches Tony by such surprise it sends him off too. Then, the ache is back, sharp and unexpected.

It’s like the pain he sometimes gets in his right humerus, the pain he always gets on a rainy day. He broke his arm when he was eight, falling from the still rings during gymnastics training. The ache isn’t so bad.

Peter declines to respond, lest it get back to his protege, but silently agrees.

----

Tony, it would appear, does not hold the same reservations as Peter when it comes to domestic tasks, like brushing their teeth together, if the way he barrels right on in, shoving Peter a bit when he reaches for his toothbrush, is any indication?

“Don’t you knock, asshole? What if I’d been naked?” Peter asks around the toothbrush in his mouth, a little disgruntled by the constant jostling as Tony vigorously brushes his teeth, nearly elbowing Peter in the head.

“Why would you brush your teeth naked?” Tony gives him an odd look. “Weirdo.”

“That’s not what I -” he starts, stopping himself with an annoyed, minty huff. “Nevermind. You’re such a dick.”

As he suspected, it is oddly intimate - for him anyway - the heat of Tony’s side pressed against his, their bare arms brushing. Peter pointedly looks away from the mirror and gets a rush of self consciousness, and a little vulnerability, as he rinses and spits. Wiping his mouth free of any lingering suds, he makes the mistake of looking into the mirror. There, Tony addresses his reflection.

“You done yet? I need some quality time with the crapper.”

Peter scrunches his face up, shoving Tony out of the way so he can exit, the boys snickering following behind him as he heads to the sofa for his turn that night. Friday vacates her spot on the sofa, as if sensing his need for rest, leaping on the armchair with a disgruntled purr.

It’s pretty lumpy and smells faintly like mothballs and a bit like May’s perfume. He turns on his side, body exhausted after the long day. Body exhausted, yes, but as standard, his brain doesn’t know how or when to click off. The house is too quiet. 

He takes his phone out and texts Nat and MJ and asks them about their weekends, hoping desperately for an opening in which he can talk about his own. 

They’re two of his most reasonable friends. While the laughter and mockery he receives isn’t entirely uncalled for, and eventually subsides over the course of the next hours, he values their opinion almost above all of their bloated circle of friends, classmates and teammates. 

Call me if you need an out, MJ texts as a bookend to their conversation sometime near midnight. Seriously. My cousin Drew is here and he keeps talking about his anal fissure.

Say the word if you want a rescue, I know how to hotwire Yelena’s bike, is what Natasha sends. 

He loves his friends.

He closes his eyes, thinks of Tony the next room over, and drifts, drifts away.

----

He wakes while it’s still dark, not remembering having fallen asleep. 

There’s an ache in his neck, and a blanket over his shoulders that he didn’t put there himself. Odd. But then, maybe he did, he doesn’t remember falling asleep either.

Before sleep again tugs him under, he hears a faint click, clack.

----

On Saturday, Tony wakes up to the sound of Northern Cardinals tapping at his bedroom window and the occasional chirp, and quite immediately regrets not bringing ear plugs or having an extra pillow to suffocate himself with. 

For some reason everyone says the red bird has a lovely song. 

Tony thinks they sound like squeaky toys being stepped on.

Consciousness is a horrible thing, and as soon as his brain becomes aware that he is, in fact, conscious, there’s no going back. Because now he’s all too aware of how unfamiliar the mattress underneath him is, the scratchiness of the sheets that bind his legs and how badly he needs to pee. 

It’s with his eyes half cocked that he stumbles over to the adjacent bathroom, waking incrementally. He shivers as his bare feet hit against the tiles and relieves himself, groaning deep in relief, heading into the shower after. 

Lucky for him, the water is blissfully hot and lasts long enough for him to wash and to soothe his aching lower back, compounded by sleeping on the sofa the night before and being bent over the hood of a car for hours yesterday.

Once out he wraps a towel around his waist and brushes his teeth, wincing when the cut on his lip stretches a little bit with the motion. Once done, he slaps his face with cold water to wake up a little more and prays to any deity listening that someone has put on a pot of coffee for him to guzzle.

Yes, he thinks, inspecting the fading bruises around his neck, refusing to think about how they got there. What’s important is caffeine, mother-fucker. The life source. Piping hot, right down the gullet. That’s what the doctor ordered. The doctor, being Tony.

He’s so distracted by the idea that, as he turns to leave, he doesn’t notice the bathroom door being opened and walks straight into a tired looking Peter Parker.

“Holy shit, I’m sorry - “ Peter immediately apologizes, clutching a towel and a change of clothes, “I didn’t realize you were -”

It’s when Peter’s eyes not-so-subtly rove over his body that Tony quickly remembers, hair dripping droplets down his neck, that he’s half-naked and covered in a towel.

His hands fly to cover his stomach and his nipples and he gasps, pretending to be scandalised for being caught in such a state of dishabille.

“Buy me dinner first, hornbag,” he chides disapprovingly, deeply amused when Peter stumbles back, gaze averted to the ground, mumbling more apologies. Tony can’t tell if he’s shy or just exceedingly polite, but his cheeks are blooming pink and he looks as if he’s trying to melt through the floor. It’s funny. 

Clearly a virgin.

“I’m just gonna...” he trails off, squeezing past Tony to get into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Tony places his hands on his hips and grins to himself.

Great start to the day.

----

Despite the rough, splenetic start to the weekend and the shit-show that he knows he has to go back to tomorrow, Tony is actually, surprisingly, in rather high spirits. He’s not a dweller, so, that helps.

And it’s the location. The great outdoors and all that garbage, as people say. 

Maybe it’s the company as well. Parker excluded, of course.

And it’s definitely assisted the hot brew of coffee in his hands. 

“You complete me,” Tony whispers over the rim of his mug, taking another sip. It’s hot, almost scalding the roof of his mouth, but it’s so freaking good, his desire positively carnal. “Hell fucking yeah, baby. Get in me, that’s it, just slide on inside.”

Jarvis, across the table, blinks at him. “Are you quite alright there, Anthony? Do you two need a moment alone?”

Tony shakes his head, taking a bigger sip. 

“No, we don’t mind people watching.”

Friday enters the kitchen then, and upon spotting Tony, hurries over on her delicate paws to rub her head against his calves, her purr rumbling as she weaves through his legs like an infinity sign. He indulges her then, leaning down to scratch her tiny face with his free hand.

“Hi, stinky,” he greets, delighted when she butts her head against his palm.

Pets were the best. Not that he has any.

“Don’t feed her,” Jarvis warns, “I already gave her breakfast.”

“Sure,” Tony lies, already sneaking her a sliver of bacon from his plate.

What. He’s helpless against big, water eyes. It’s not his fault.

Speaking of, Prissy Parker is taking forever in the bathroom. By time he comes out, hair gelled perfectly into submission even though it’s mostly hidden under a Mets cap - of course this loser goes for the fucking Mets - Tony’s already on his third cup of coffee and is silently working on his ability to disassociate on command after having heard more anecdotes about May and Peggy’s college life than he ever cared to know.

“Long shower,” he whistles as Peter heads for the near depleted coffee pot. “Took my advice about not getting the sheets sticky, huh?”

“Shut the fuck up,” he says, punching Tony in he arm as he passes. 

Jarvis, who had been enjoying his tea, looks up in mild alarm.

“Gee, he’s so sensitive,” he leans in to whisper.

Peter’s eyes flash over to him as he waits for a new pot to boil, a flare of anger that Tony is all too familiar with. The fire in his eyes reminds him of when they first met, when Tony turned down his offer of friendship, a brilliant, flawless augury of many moments to come.

But Tony can see the heat for what it is, just a front.  

Because he knows, it’s all a mirage, isn’t it. Both of them. It makes him think of how their sides brushed yesterday while working on the car, something that would have incensed the both of them in another life, would have had them flinching as if they’d been burned. Disgusted with themselves. Each other.

Sometimes still are.

But Tony knows; a flame manifests and scorches in resoundingly different ways.

What a fucking world, he thinks, that fire and singe. He sips his scalding hot coffee again, locking eyes with Peter.

The smirk around the rim of his cup is sidelong and gleeful. What a fucking world indeed.

----

Tony doesn’t know why he does it. Doesn’t know why he does anything, really, barring the gratification he gets from succumbing to his impulses.

Maybe that’s why he does it.

Or maybe it’s because of the terse conversation he overheard between May and Peter after lunch that day. Something about pain and medication, Tony doesn’t know, he wasn’t meaning to pay attention. They were on the porch and their voices drifted in through the open door. He really was too busy kicking Peggy’s ass playing Super Smash on the dusty old Gamecube to pay attention to it. 

But what he does know is that May came inside and went to go lie down in her room after and Peter didn’t come back in.

It wasn’t until he went out for a cigarette some hours later that he spotted Peter, sitting by the docks, much like he had been yesterday. He stares for a moment, trying to reconcile the figure hunched over on the dock with the person he knows Peter to be. 

For all of Tony’s memories are worth, Peter has always been this annoying larger-than-life figure. But, emphasis on the annoying. From the moment they met, Tony had pegged him to be some old-money, football playing degenerate like everyone else on his team. 

The moment he tried to befriend Tony two years back was jarring, infuriating, because the kid was new and had clearly sniffed out the influence where he could smell it. He’d had Barnes and Rogers on either side and although Tony wasn’t at the top of the social pyramid, his familial connections had him in the upper echelon of the so-called food chain.

That’s what he thought it was, back then. 

He didn’t need to think about disdainfully slapping away Peter’s literal and metaphorical hand of friendship, it was obvious to him what value he was after and it had nothing to do with Tony. 

But, the assignment taught him in many ways that his impulses and his own assumptions were categorically erroneous in this instance. 

Because he didn’t have enough data to base his hypothesis on, then, just a petty first impression. How was he to know that the torn jeans and ratty hoodie weren’t a fashion statement. How was he to know that Peter was genuine, when his smile looked as practiced as everyone else's. 

He’s not proud to admit that it took a real peek into his life to know that Peter wasn’t who Tony thought he was.

Turns out he really was larger than life. Tall and strong. Handsome, even with his dorky glasses and signature scowl. Super smart and modest and what Tony had thought was pandering was really just Peter giving away love like it was for free. Everything Tony wasn’t.

But right now, at the edge of that pier, Peter looked small. Scattered. Like a short gust of wind could knock him over.

Tony didn’t like that much.

And maybe that’s why he does it.

Maybe that’s what convinces him, half-burned cigarette tucked between his pursed lips, to shed his jeans and sunglasses right there on the porch, despite the frigid air. It’s the impulse, and he hasn’t ever been real good in saying no to those.

It’s definitely the urgent impulse that convinces him to set off into a run, leaping over the stairs and sprinting for the dock. Perhaps that’s what convinces him to hurdle himself over Peter’s hunched figure and cannonballs directly into the lake, knees clutched to his chest. 

It’s worth it, to hear Peter shriek in surprise as the water splashes over him until he can’t hear anything.

And the look of outright indignation when Tony resurfaces?

Bliss.

“Asshole,” is all Peter says, wiping his phone free of water. He tugs his cap further over his eyes, and directs his attention back to his phone as if Tony had not just executed a perfect dive into a dirty, rotten lake.

That is not acceptable, Tony thinks. 

He swims for a bit, gliding on his back, and staring at the sky. The clouds are grey and swollen, lingering overhead and threatening a deluge of something unpleasant.

“You think it’ll snow?” Tony asks, moments later. 

Sullenly, Peter shrugs, attention focused on his phone.

Larger than life Peter may be, he’s still inexorable when he wants to be.

Not that he’s ever been particularly chatty with Tony even on his best days, but it’s hard to miss how he’s been growing steadily more quiet this entire weekend, giving clipped, one-word answers. And Tony’s pretty sure that the fidgety fingers and the restless legs have a lot less to do with him and more to do with whatever existential crisis a sixteen year old might have, or perhaps with his ailing aunt.

Tony tries not to take notice for all of about four seconds before he gives in. In the peak of the noon sun, Peter has abandoned his sweater, donned in only a graphic tee and jeans, slouched so low that his spine almost looks like a sagging crescent, the sleeves of his shirt riding up on his remarkably toned arms.

Oh, I do declare, Tony thinks amusedly, fanning himself in his mind. 

Anyway. 

Priorities.

“What’s up with you, hmm?” Tony presses, wading closer. “What's gotten stuck up that bubble-butt of yours?”

“Nothing,” says Peter, tapping away at his phone, not even acknowledging Tony’s backhanded compliment. “What are you so happy about?”

“Your misery.”

“I really hate you,” Peter mutters without feeling, putting his phone away to stare moodily out at the lake.

Well, that will just not do.

“C’mon now, chin up, frog-face. You look like you’re about two seconds away from needing to breathe into a paper bag.”

Tony’s probably not far off the mark. He saw the half empty bottle of Klonopin with Parker's name on it stashed in the bathroom cupboard. You learn something new every day with this guy. 

Not that pharmaceuticals were a personality trait.

But, well.

Moving on.

“Don’t call me that.”

“You really do have your panties in a twist, don’t you,” Tony says, mostly to himself. Peter doesn’t even bristle like a snooty cat like he usually does. Just stares forlornly to the distance like he was in some indie film. It’s weird. “You know, someone who pulled one off recently isn’t usually this tense.”

Finally, Peter’s attention is firmly on him.

“I’m not tense and I pulled one off just fine.”

“Oh, did you,” Tony teases, enjoying how pink Peter’s complexion suddenly turns. “How saucy. Did you think of me and my pasty skin, hmm?” he prompts. “It was the sight of my perky breasts, wasn’t it, you little perv.”

“No,” Peter adjusts his cap, cherry-cheeked. “You’re weirdly bent on when and where I jerk it and I’m the perv?”

“I’m not bent. I just think you’re uptight and need to relax. Ergo, penis-colada.” 

“I am very relaxed. Ergo, you are an idiot.”

“Oh, precious,” Tony flicks water up at him. “Come on, be honest.”

“What,” he says defensively. “If I’m uptight it’s because you deliberately wind me up.”

“In a sexy way?”

“In a ‘I’m going to disembowel you and feed you to Friday’ way.”

“We’ve talked about your sweet nothings,” he tuts. “Terrible. Zero out of ten. My dick just shrivelled in on itself to seek shelter. Look.”

He holds up a single pinky finger and wriggles it.

It has one of the possible intended effects when Peter laughs through his nose, the tight line of his shoulders easing. And this, this is what Tony has found in recent days that earns him a great deal of satisfaction - winding Peter up just the right amount when warranted, and getting him to uncoil when it’s not Tony that’s done the winding. 

“C’mon, stop being such a buzzkill,” Tony implores. “We’re not at school. Could you stop being chronically constipated for a minute and have some fun.”

Peter looks at him suspiciously.

“And what happens when we go back to school?”

Well, he hasn’t considered that yet, and doesn’t really want to.

Instead, he makes a show of scanning their surroundings and appearing contrite, peering up at him through his eyelashes. He watches as Peter’s defensiveness gives way to curiosity, the tautness in his arms melting as Tony swims closer, beckoning with one hand as if he had a secret to tell.

“Don’t tell anybody,” Tony whispers, hands sneaking up to grip at Peter’s wrists, “but here’s the plan. I think we should --”

“Tony, no,” Peter realizes a second too late, already pulling on his hold, voice raised with barely restrained laughter. “Do not, stop, stop - don’t you fucking dare - ”

Then he pulls, Peter shrieks loudly before he hits the water.

“Tony!“

----

Peter emerges from the water furious, a scowl that could rival the mythical scorned, cheated out of their fate, water dripping from his eyelashes, his perfect hair a sodden mess over his face, snorting lake water inelegantly from his nose.

For his troubles, Tony gets an angry splash of gross lake water in his mouth and hands pressing down on his shoulders, pulling him under.

And Tony gets the uproar, because this lake is really not made for swimming. It’s dirty and more suited to kayaking than it is accidentally inhaling the water in any orifices, but Tony is nearly seventeen and if he wants to play around in scum and dubious bodies of water, that’s his decision, poor or otherwise.

He’s close enough to the lake floor that he can plant his feet on the rocks and thrust upward, thwarting Parker's half-hearted attempts to drown him, laughing at Peter’s put-off expression even as he fights to catch his breath.

“You are the fucking worst, I could kill you right now,” Peter says, low, with what Tony guesses is supposed to be a menacing expression as he wipes his glasses free of water with his abandoned sweater. It’s quite adorable. 

He spreads his arms wide and grins.

“Do your best, baby.”

---- 

There’s a lot of things that Tony would never have thought he would say.

Like, for example, that peanut butter and cottage cheese on toast were a good combination.

Or that The Black Parade was the modern incarnation of Bohemian Rhapsody. 

Or that Peter Parker looked strikingly handsome, wet and sputtering after being unwillingly pulled into a dirty body of water, and that having a water fight with him would constitute as a good time.

And it’s not that Tony hasn’t ever thought that he wasn’t attractive. Of course he was, with a body and a face like his, sprung to life as if it came carved from marble, it was undeniable to anyone with functional vision. But while Tony lumped him and his dumbfuck teammates and friends in one category, it never struck him just so.

“You didn’t answer my question about school,” Peter says during a truce, wading in the water, seemingly content with his new habitat.

“What, my dear, was the question?” Tony blinks, eyelashes laden with droplets, genuinely having forgotten. “Be precise.”

“What happens when we go back? Do we just... ignore each other like before?”

Tony places a hand on his own chest. “I never ignored you.”

“You were an asshole to me.”

“And you were such an angel to me,” he rolls his eyes. “What’s your point. You wanna hold hands in public or something?”

“No,” Peter flushes. “I don't know, just act like we don’t actively despise each other?”

“Don’t we? Are we friends now?”

“No.”

“You crushin’ on me?”

“No.”

“Then?”

“You don’t hate me,” Peter breathes, swimming closer. “And I don’t hate you. You know what, yes, actually. Let’s hang out. Come to the game next week. It’s against Aldrige.”

“Football?” Tony huffs amusedly, locking his eyes with Peters. “You think the path to reconciliation is in me watching a game I don’t even like played by the future, festering dregs of our society? Think again, dollface.”

“I think you think too much,” Peter says before splashing him in the face with freezing lake water.

“And I think I have better things to do on a Thursday night.”

“Like what,” Peter swims closer until they’re nearly nose to nose.

“Becoming one with my bed, cutting my toenails, crying myself to sleep,” Tony ticks off his fingers. “Literally anything that isn’t sport. If I wanted to watch a bunch of repressed angry dudes jump all over each other and hump grass I could just watch porn.”

“So, I’ll see you there?” Peter grins in that cheeky-cherub way of his. 

“Are you even going to play?” Tony tries, his will faltering. 

Peter had taken the brace off his wrist over the weekend, but that didn’t mean he was done being benched.

“I’ll get cleared next week. Just don’t rub one out in the bleachers if the grass humping becomes too much for you. They frown upon that.”

“For the record,” Tony says flatly, “I dislike you very, very intensely. Especially right now.”

“Feeling’s mutual, bub.”

Neither of them move, and somehow they’ve managed to gravitate disconcertingly close to one another during their back-and-forth. The fire is back in Peter’s eyes, utterly magnetic and a gust of unexpected want barrels into his body. 

Tony wants so excruciatingly in that moment to bridge the gap, wants with his whole body, whether it’s to dunk him under the water or to pin him to the dock, kiss the cocky out of him. Wrap his arms around him and keep his lips and body warm from the freezing water. 

God, wouldn’t they be something. All push and pull. 

The want just keeps building like a score reaching crescendo until he can feel it like a suffocating pressure, right to his very fingertips, in his nails, and it just makes him want to reach out and do things he has no permission to do, even when they’re so close that he can feel Peter’s breath on his face, even though Peter’s eyes have gone dark and heated, so all that’s left to do is -

Peter’s outraged squawk when Tony splashes him again is terribly satisfying.

Not as satisfying as kissing him might be, he imagines.

But it will do.

----

Tony has learned a lot about Peter since the time they started working on their assignment, but nothing near the information he’s managed to accrue over the course of this weekend. How his nose scrunches when he sneezes, that he’s allergic to nickel, that he’s the worst type of human being: read, a morning person. 

Peter fucking Parker. Really? 

This guy wears punny shirts and hums the Star Wars theme as he’s studying, Tony’s been on the unfortunate receiving end of it so he really, truly has to ask himself. This dweeb?

Yeah, his heart beats in response. This fucking dweeb. What are ya gonna do about it?

If he had a Magic-8 Ball to shake it would likely land on some ambiguous and unhelpful advice.

Who the fuck knows?

----

They’re saved the disgrace of having to walk back dripping wet and half frozen into the house - while they have been dilly-dallying the day away in a cold, dirty lake, the adults have set up a bonfire between the porch and the dock, largely without their notice.

By dusk Tony is starving and accepts his pyramid-like stack of food graciously as he settles in a rickety wicker chair by the fire, diving into his helping of steak, corn on the cob and potato salad. Jarvis heartily offers a boat of mint-flavored gravy which Tony declines because he hates mint in anything that isn’t gum and even then cinnamon is clearly the superior alternative.

Once dinner is finished the marshmallows and crackers are distributed - and Tony is shit, he means shit, okay, at getting the marshmallows right, too bored to keep an eye on it, but Parker does it right nearly every time. He passes his best around the fire and keeps the few horribly charred ones to himself and that used to be something that Tony would want to sneer at him for.

Goody-two-shoes.

Now, it just makes Tony want to watch him. 

Beside him, Peter shivers as the warmth of the flame starts to burn some of the chill from his skin, their clothes slowly starting to dry. It makes him think back to how May had tutted fondly at their wet appearances after they had emerged from the lake, flocking to the fire like overgrown human moths, running back into the house and emerging soon after with towels for them both, tugging Tony’s around his shoulders playfully like a scarf. 

She’d been so… patient. And warm. The reprimand never came, not from anyone, despite Tony's expectations.

Now, he stares at the bonfire, idly listening to the faint music and yelling from a party at the other side of the lake, finally allowing himself to relax. 

You can never be surprised by someone's actions in the heat of the moment if you’ve already tested their limits beforehand. That’s what people were. Full of variables, yes, but predictable once you knew how they responded to particular stimuli. It wasn’t a perfect methodology by any means, but at the very least Tony could count on knowing what might earn him a fist to the face with most people. Or a flinch.

It’s the first proper Thanksgiving he’s had since he stayed with the Potts two years ago. Rhodey and his parents always go to Minnesota each year to see family and last year Tony’s mom came up from California, and, well, wasn’t that was a fucking disaster.

So this? This is one of the nicest nights he’s had in a very long time. 

Nobody expects him to be proper, to sit upright, to only be seen or heard if he was being useful. He wasn’t being useful. He was getting the seat wet underneath him and he planned on convincing Peggy to let him have a beer and he’s sure his unexpected presence was akin to a meteor collision on this otherwise quaint family weekend. 

But no one looked at him like he should be punished, or like he was an outsider. It was like he was supposed to be there all along.

His own mom, as much as he adores her, wouldn’t be caught dead in this scene.

But still, Tony might call her later and tell her about it.

They stay out there for a while, Jarvis’ boom-box playing Cold Chisel on some local radio station, but it's just slightly not tuned right and the noise is a bit pixelated.

It’s a long time before he draws his eyes from the fire. The adults are laughing about something and Peter is on his phone again, though his features are much lighter than earlier in the day.

“Your hair is curly,” Tony observes, they’re both dry now. “Huh. I didn’t know that.”

Peter’s hand flies to his hair, running his fingers through it, chip dipped in what Tony can construe as a self-conscious habit, his low laugh short and void of genuine amusement.

“Hah, yeah,” he tugs a lock in front of his brow, pulling it straight before releasing it. “You can see why I don’t walk around like this all the time.”

“No, I don’t,” Tony says, not understanding.

Peter looks at him oddly.

“I should head to bed,” he says eventually. “We have to leave early in the morning.”

Tony doesn’t want to be out here alone and he doesn’t want this weekend to end so he nods, stands and follows him inside.

It’s good timing then. It doesn’t snow, but the sky does finally split open and it rains.

----

At first observation it seems everyone has already gone to bed. Save for the TV playing Jeopardy the house is quiet, dark and still. However both stop dead in the living room, pausing when Jarvis, asleep on the sofa, snores loudly.

They stare, transfixed, as he mumbles answers to the game show in his sleep.

Friday is curled on his chest, looking very pleased with herself.

“Right. Well, I can just,” Tony gestures to the floor after a moment, as it’s his turn for the already appropriated sofa, “the carpet is fine.”

It won’t be a comfortable night, but it can’t be any worse than the time he camped out in the cramped backseat of his car after a fight with his father.

“We can share,” Peter rolls his eyes, already heading to the room. “The bed’s pretty big, so. As long as you keep your hands to yourself.”

Tony follows with an air of casual disinterest and aims for puerile with his next words, just for the small thrill of winding Peter up. 

“I’m going to tell everyone at school you propositioned me to get into your bed.”

“Shut the fuck up or sleep on the floor,” is all Peter says before he locks himself in the bathroom. Tony grins to himself.

Success.

They settle very awkwardly on either side of the bed after they’ve both had the opportunity to piss and brush their teeth, looking around each other but not really meeting eyes, flinching any time their skin nearly touches. Yes, the bed is fairly big if you’re a teenage kid and the sole occupant, but, as it were, the bed looked impossibly small now, as if it had shrunken overnight

Well, no time like the present is there. Tony’s the first to move, pulling back the sheets and climbing in. Peter’s quick to follow suit, lowering himself gingerly, shuffling awkwardly until they’re both settled on their sides, facing away from each other.

“You better keep to your side. I swear to god,” Peter says in the darkness, “if your butt or any other part of you touches me...”

“And sully my reputation as a perfect gentleman? Please.” Tony fakes a yawn. “We both know you’re the sexual deviant here.”

“You’re a moron.”

Tony smiles in the darkness.

----

It’s been twenty minutes of rigid backs, carefully measured breathing and staring at walls, glaring evidence that neither of them are asleep or even close to it.

“Can you hear that noise?” Peter whispers. “That clicking noise?” He imitates whatever his freakishly good hearing is picking up, sounding like a vaguely predatory, foot-high dinosaur, but Tony knows what he must be referring to, even though his own hearing doesn’t pick it up - or is so used to it by now it doesn’t even register.

Tony’s eyes widen as he thinks of his bot, stashed in his duffle in the closet, the zip slightly open so he can ‘breathe’.

“Nope,” he says. “Don’t hear anything.”

----

An hour later, both still very much in the same place they were before with added sighs of annoyance and the occasional cough. Sleep isn’t coming any time soon. Sleep and Tony have had regular disagreements for as long as he’s known it.

“You wanna watch Gordon Ramsay yell at people?” Tony says, turning onto his back.

“Okay.”

After fishing out his laptop, Tony has to very carefully open an entirely new window to stream an episode of Kitchen Nightmares, lest Peter see the thousand and one tabs Tony has open on his main window. Some of them benign, like google results of what does fremdschämen mean, others a little more embarrassing like the numerous PornHub tabs and the YouTube playlists of questionable reality TV shows.

Best to avoid that situation completely.

----

“It’s fuckin’ raw,” Tony does his best impression of the accent an indeterminate time later, the laptop stowed away, the room pitch-black save for the strip of light under the door and warm, sleep finally tugging him down to its dark depths.

“I’m shutting it down,” Peter imitates with vigour, laughing softly to himself.

Tony closes his eyes and allows the sandman to do his work.

----

When he wakes he notices three things.

One, is the sound of the kettle boiling, a screech of noise as it hits crescendo. The second is that it’s very cold, the heat of the fireplace not quite sufficient to reach the guest room, the snappy, waspish wind against the window a sign of the conditions outside.

The third is the warm huff of Peter’s breath on Tony’s face. 

And that leads to the observation that they’ve drifted closer to each other through the night, facing one another, faces inches apart. This close, like earlier in the lake, Tony can count Peter’s eyelashes, the stipple of pale freckles upon his nose. His face is lax with sleep and his lips are parted slightly.

He’s snoring, just slightly.

Also, he fell asleep wearing his glasses.

It definitely is not endearing.

The bedside alarm clock says it’s only just past five, which would explain the tired ache around his eyes, and why Peter is dead to the world, motion behind his closed eyelids as if he was in a dream. 

For some reason, the only thought that accompanies the sudden swell of emotion in his chest is, Toto, I've a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.

There’s a warm looking flush dusted over Peter’s cheeks, and of course there is, Tony thinks, he’s gone and stolen all the blankets through the night, leaving Tony little more than a pitiful square to cover his torso. That’s why he’s shivering.

Shit-head, Tony thinks, sliding closer under the comforter, hoping to share some of Peter’s heat, desperate to go back to sleep.

Except sleep doesn’t come, it never does. 

Not when Peter unconsciously shifts closer, sighing softly as his bare legs brush Tony’s, not when he gravitates like a planet in orbit, close enough that they’re sharing a pillow, lips smacking drunkenly on their combined body heat.

Not when Peter wakes some moments later, eyes opening confusedly before dimming with fondness, like maybe that was what more or less than what he had expected. The thing that annoys Tony is that he doesn’t know which - they’re so close their breath mingles, and their toes and knees brush under the blankets and it’s more intimate than friendly - so which is it, he wonders; more, or less?

“Hey,” Peter says, shifting closer until Tony can feel the soft brush of Peter’s hair against his forehead. “Morning.”

Tony’s betting on more. Peter is braver than Tony is - and this - this is.

His stomach drops, courage slipping from his grasp.

“Do you know what really annoys me about you?” Tony whispers in lieu of returning his greeting, his voice shaky and easily blamed on the lack of sleep. “What really annoys the shit out of me?”

“What,” Peter queries softly, eyes still closed.

“This,” Tony extends a finger to flatten the hairs of Peter’s ridiculous wayward eyebrow, stupidly captivated by the way that Peter leans into the touch ever so subtly, like a cat being pet.

He feels the huff of laughter over his lips before he hears it.

“My eyebrow?”

“Yes,” Tony mumbles, stroking over the hairs again to ensure they remain flat, like a normal eyebrow should be. “Why is it always like that.”

“Not sure,” his bed companion hums, careless and minute, slurred with sleep enough that Tony might not have caught if he weren’t already studying the lines of his face. “Maybe it just likes to annoy you.”

“It’s very successful in annoying me. As is every other part of you. You’re infuriating.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

To steel himself he takes a deep breath, drawing on his remaining reserves of courage as he breathes out, encouraged ever so slightly by the way Peter hasn’t yet flinched away. 

Tony allows his finger to trail from Peter’s eyebrow down the slope of his nose, his skin sleep-warm and smooth. Then his finger moves to trace the curve of Peter’s cheekbone, and that’s when Peter’s eyes open. 

His stare errs on soft, curious and Tony doesn’t know why he’s doing it, except that the need to touch is too great, feels drawn to him, like this is the perfect state of being, intertwined and silent. And that the way Peter shifts closer to him until their foreheads touch means maybe he feels that way too. 

Curiously, always pushing boundaries, his finger trails from his cheek, to gently stroke his philtrum, and then down to the soft bow of his upper lip.

“This weird?”

“A bit.”

Ever so gently, he traces the curve of his lips, sighing when Peter’s hands come to clutch his shirt, not flinching, not looking away.

“Do you like it?”

Peter just nods, shifting even closer until the tips of their noses touch.

“Can I -” he asks, cutting himself off, letting go of Tony’s shirt to raise one of his hands until one of his fingers touch the apex of his shoulder, stroking down over his arms, the bump of his elbow and down the sharp slope of his forearm, resting at the underside of Tony’s wrist where his pulse beats fast and fierce. 

They remain like that, the moment sweet and gentle in a way the two of them rarely were. Courage builds at the same time that his fear escalates, like standing at the precipice, sick with nerves but elated at the prospect of taking the leap.

He wants to lean in so badly and capture those lips with his own. Wants to climb over Peter’s body and press him down. To bite that full lower lip, to cradle his hips with his thighs and pin him down, make him gasp, beautiful and breathtaking.

“Tony,” Peter whispers, pressing his lips against his thumb. He thinks he will move it and lean in and replace it with his own lips.

But before he can there is a loud knock at the closed door. 

They still, lips the barest width apart.

It’s May.

“Pete?” She raises her worried voice through the wood. “Time to wake up, kiddo. We gotta go soon.”

“Okay,” Peter calls back, still staring at Tony. After the footsteps retreat from he inhales deeply before letting the breath go and taking his hand away from Tony’s.

Neither of them move for a moment, Tony’s thumb still resting on Peter's plump lower lip, their gazes heated and locked, but then, Peter’s hand slowly slides up from his wrist, feather-light, to rest over Tony’s hand, clasping around it. 

At this moment, their only point of contact were their touching foreheads, their hands and Tony’s finger on Peter's lips, but his whole body felt as if it were floating, buoyant, like being grounded and suspended in the air at the same time.

Underneath Tony’s thumb, the lips stretch into a resigned smile.

“I gotta go.”

For a moment he doesn’t let go and wishes that the universe would go his way, just for once, wishes that time would do him this one favour and stretch these seconds interminably, hit the breaks, play itself out like the movies where everything pauses.

If it did, he would shift, slide his nose against Peter’s and wait for him to give Tony a sign, or for Peter to bridge the distance. But time doesn’t work that way and the universe rarely indulges him such hedonistic impulses.

As it was, in real life, his finger drifts to stroke the sharp line of Peter’s jaw until it reaches his chin then, down his throat, just for a second he lets his touch linger, not knowing when or if he will get this chance again. 

“Tony,” Peter whispers, soft. 

Conceding the moment to the whims of time, Tony pulls away then, shoving down the floaty feelings. A mocking grimace crosses his face as he decides to go for push, instead of pull.

“If you lift up that blanket and hotbox me I’m going to break your nose.”

And just like that, the moment broke.

Peter snorts before sitting up, swinging his legs off the bed. “Your dirty talk needs work,” he mocks.

“You shouldn’t fart the bed, honey,” he leans up, resting on his elbow. “How’s that?”

As has become the impulse of the day Tony sneaks his free hand from under the comforter and pinches Peter’s side where he knows he’s sensitive. As predicted, Peter squirms and bats away at Tony’s offending hand and takes grip of his wrist, laughing breathily.

“I’m going to tell everyone at school to call you Farty Parker.”

Peter squeezes his wrist, thumb stroking the underside, his expression, Tony might dare say, indulgent.

“No, you’re not. You wouldn’t do that to me.”

No, he wouldn’t.

Well, maybe he’ll tell Rhodey. Then he’ll look at Peter with judgement and Peter will know what Tony told him and it will be hilarious. 

Tony watches while he gets to his feet and reaches his arms over his head, back cracking with the effort. Neither of them say a thing when makes no effort to hide the way he stares appreciatively at the sliver of skin that gets exposed when his shirt rides up before he saunters to the bathroom.

He stays in the bed and listens to the sound of the shower running, the creak of the old plumbing, replaying the last few minutes in his mind. Tony was going to kiss Peter.

And Peter was going to let him.

Tony’s lips stretch to capacity.

“What are you smiling about, Mr. Stark?” Peter asks, when he returns. Something soft hits Tony in the face.

“Nothing, Mr. Parker,” he says, clutching what appears to be a forest-green hoodie, one he knows he’s seen Peter wear before, and often. It’s the same one Tony pulled the strings on to annoy Peter those weeks ago. “What’s this?”

“Collateral,” Peter replies, towelling dressed in a white shirt and jeans he slings a duffel over his shoulder, looking like James Dean, eyes roving Tony up and down. “Until I give back your jacket.”

Tony manfully waits until Peter leaves the room to bring it to his nose and breathe in.

Fuck.

----

“You come over whenever you want, sweetie,” May hugs Tony at the open front door, kissing his cheek again. “You’re welcome at any time, remember, I mean it.”

“Thanks,” he hugs her back, warmth blooming in his chest, giving her a grateful smile when she releases him.

Peter walks back slowly towards the car, waving a hand and visibly softening when he gets a wave in return. “See you tomorrow,” Peter calls back, adjusting his cap and biting his bottom lip, managing to make it sound like a promise. Cute tells, Tony thinks, those are the variables he can work with.

“So,” Jarvis says once they’ve driven off, a knowing look on his face, “that the guy?”

“Don’t look so smug.”

“I’m not smug, Anthony, I’m English.”

Tony sighs. He can’t really argue with that, can he.

What a weekend, he thinks, throwing an arm around Peggy and Jarvis, steering them to the kitchen for coffee. What a world.

For once, he can’t wait until tomorrow.

---

*

*

---

tagging: @bylerboyfriends @ravens-starker-stuff, @starker-rays, @ironspiderstarker, @muse-of-gods, @notfor-temporaryuse, @tabbycat1220, @sugarfreecult, @rebel13lion39, @plueschpop, @spideravocados, @jellybbunny,  @booktrashme, @elfkido, @mycatislickingmybedsheets, @queerghostboyo, @disneyprincessdominatrix, @cherrygoldlove @starkerflowers@starkeristheendgame @thewolffearsher @starkersugar , @starkerforlife6969, @css1992, @parkerrbitch, @fuckmemrstark, @blankblankityblank, @ilovemoreid, @blaquedecember, @killmylonelysoul, @notfor-temporaryuse, @arvaen, @chaos-with-a-pen, @notnormallaura, @portiamarie02, @bloodymisanthropist, @ser-no-tonin, @staticwhispersinthedark 

[primergon]

Hello! I’m so glad you decided to take scenarios and matchups ☺️ Could I get a matchup for a pseudo-parent please?

I’m a non-binary ace lesbian, but I can’t tell my family. I’m an INFJ who deals with anxiety and derealization issues. At first appearance, I’m told I come off as cute and unassuming but I’m scary as hell when angry.

I plan to go into biology (ecology, specifically) and work in helping ecosystems hurt by the climate crisis. Science has always been a bit of a guilty pleasure for me, but I don’t say it much because it makes me feel like a smart kid stereotype. Speaking of, I’m a very good student and have a record of straight A’s.

In the past I used to be very shy around other people, but I’ve been working on it and I’m simply just very quiet now. I’ve also been trying to work on my confidence, and one of my proudest moments was when I seperated from a toxic friend.

I used to suffer from some eating problems, but I’ve gotten through the worst of it. I’ve always been thick, and am starting to feel good in my own skin for the first time. Because of this, I’m getting interested in fashion and such. I like oversized sweaters and sweatshirts and I swear I’m about to break my combat boots from how much I wear them.

When I’m familiar enough with someone, I tend to have a dry, anti-joke sense of humor with a hint of self-deprication. Almost every friend I’ve ever had has said that they were surprised at how loud and outspoken I was when we got closer.

I’m very stressed almost all of the time and have a tendency to people-please, but if I get annoyed enough with someone I won’t hesitate to speak my mind. I also am extremely tired during the school year because I need more sleep than school allows me.

This is probably WAYYYYY too long, so I’m sorry in advance 😅 hope you have a good day!

+ additional details you wanted me to add: I completely love music. Like, I think I’d die if I couldn’t listen to music for more than ten hours. I love all kinds of music, and I’m involved with my school’s band. Marching, concert, pep, jazz, anything. I’m also a field commander for the marching band this year.

A/N: Hello Anon! No worries, as a fellow INFJ I understand that we tend to put in a lot of details and I enjoy that too so don't worry :) This will be my first time in making a (pseudo) parent matchup so I hope I don't ruin it, but I think idw Ratchet would make a wonderful parent figure for you.

1. As an INFJ, Ratchet understands you in the sense that he sees himself in you. You remind him of his early days in the academy: all the sleepless nights spent on studying and preparing himself for a future that once seemed uncertain. Ratchet started becoming protective of you when he heard you talk about school with First Aid. He catches on to the fact that even if you're a brilliant student, it doesn't mean you didn't struggle with anxiety. With a major like yours, it's hard for the medic to not feel proud and worried at the same time. While Ratchet was happy that you aim to make the world a better place with your major, he knows the kind of pressure that comes along with it: so one night he just sits next to you with an Energon cube in his hand and said ' talk.'

2. Eventually, the two of you fell into deep conversation, from your accomplishment as this year's marching band's field commander to your journey in parting ways with a toxic friend. It was nice to hear Ratchet tell you he's proud you made the right choice knowing it wasn't easy. He gave several sarcastic remarks here and there but you knew hidden underneath was a word of advice: cleverly concealed by someone who has a hard time expressing his emotions ( not that you mind. ) He left with " keep up the good work" and you knew from that moment on that he cares.

3. The thing about Ratchet is that he shows his support subtly. He knows about your interest in fashion - even if he, a Cybertronian, can’t fully grasp the appeal, Ratchet makes an effort in trying. So he sends Swerve and Brainstorm to your habesuite - “ C’mon, it can’t be any different from designing an avatar right ?” “Swerve the eighties called I think they want their fashion trends back.”

4. When you walked into the medbay, the old medic would compliment you. “Hold the test tubes properly, you don’t want to stain that nice sweater.” “Don’t let First Aid soil those boots of yours with the chemicals, it’ll be a shame.”

5. Every time you fall asleep in the med bay or Brainstorm’s lab, you would always wake up to a blanket around you. Whenever you ask either Velocity or Perceptor, they would smile and shrug at you as if to say ‘ you can thank Ratchet for that.’ Sometimes, others would wake you up, urging you to go back to your room to rest. “ Ratchet wouldn’t want you to hurt your back so he sent me to wake you.” You always return the blanket after, but every time you fall into a quick nap, you will never wake without it.

6. If not in the medbay or the lab, Ratchet would find you at Swerves. Either laughing with the minobot over a shared deprecating sense of humor or putting Getaway back in his place when he gets a little too disrespectful towards the other patrons. He would sometimes join you, staying to drink for a while before going back to work, all the while ignoring stories of him being a ‘party ambulance’ back in medical school. If he stays long enough, you find the courage to give him some advice regarding Drift, and the old mech would deny everything even if he made a mental note to every word you said. “ Gifts? Pft, you’re a sap.” “ Trust me, Ratchet! “

7. One time on shore leave, you were separated from your group, pulled away from them by the crowd passing through the markets. The local authorities you bumped into had asked for identification, but you knew as an Earth citizen, you didn’t have the proper permits. Before the officer could drag you away, Ratchet had stepped in, one hand shielding you - “ And what is your relation to the Earthling ?” “I’m their Sire. I have a permit to be here.”

8. The officer took one glance at Ratchet’s credentials before leaving. He didn’t bother to ask whether Ratchet was actually your parent or not ( which obviously was questionable ) instead you were free to go with no trouble. The whole time Ratchet was scolding you for going astray, you were smiling at the thought that he chose to lie as your parent, even if he could have lied about anything else. He could have called you his apprentice, the ship’s liaison, heck, he could’ve lied and said you were a prisoner. Yet, in the moment of danger, his first instinct was to protect you as his own. You had hugged him right there and then, stopping him in the middle of the bustling crowd. Hidden by the swarm of people, Ratchet finally caved in and returned the gesture.His worry was evident from the way he held you close.

9. After that, everyone on the ship treated Ratchet as your pseudo-father, and Ratchet went along with it. If someone wants to find either of you, they know where to look. All they need to do is follow the music playing from the med bay, your laughter should follow not far behind. 

A/N : I hope this was accurate Anon ! i hope you like it, i’m sorry it took quite a while <3

[tinisprout]

No Doubt in Us

Chapter Seven - They'll Be Fine *written chapter below*

Fiance!Haknyeon x Fem!reader

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Synopsis: Life is great, you have your dream job, you finally got your first big break, and you are now engaged to the love of your life. Happier than you’ve ever been, you live life one day at a time. Then one day a terrible accident happens leaving you in a coma. Where you finally awake, everything is not as you remember. Amnesia takes away 3 years of your memory, forgetting your beloved Fiance. Faced with a reality that seems unreal, as your mind is stuck in a past with uncomfortable memories, your future with him is uncertain.

Send me an ask if you want to be put on the taglist for this series

Taglist:@my-summer-night @deputyjuyeon @juhaktheoneforme @sunqnew

Sorry for the late chapter I've been very busy

Word count: 3.6K

Neither of you knew who fell asleep first, let alone at what time you fell asleep. What you did know is that it wasn't enough sleep. Both of your eyes were red and heavy after waking up by your alarm. Maybe setting it to 9:30 was a mistake. You look at Haknyeon who was sitting up trying to keep his eyes open.

"You know I love you, but I blame you for this." He uses his hands to refer to both of you.

"Excuse me, if I remember correctly we both were tweeting, Diamonds aren't forever lyrics." Bickering like this with him seemed to be so far away before yesterday, but after talking with him last night you felt a lot closer, he felt like a friend.

"Ugh fine, equal blame." He smirked, enjoying this little banter. You get up from the floor hitting your face to wake you up a bit more.

"Better." You reach your hand out to him, and he takes it pulling himself up. "Alright, clean up time." You swipe your phone off the ground checking to see if there was anything new. Just in time, your phone buzzed a new message from your mom.

Mom: Hey Honey, I know we said we'd come over noonish, but your father got very excited to make something for you guys. He already bought everything, so forewarning. We'll be there in an hour give or take. See you soon.

You turn to Haknyeon showing him the message. When he looked back up at you, you asked, "Since when did my dad cook?"

"Hmm, maybe a year now?" He says almost unsure of it himself. "But that's a story for later, your dad will love to tell you. We have about an hour to get this place in order before they come." You text her an, “ok”, back.

"Okay, let's get some speed cleaning done." You both work together to fold the big comforter. "I'll bring everything back upstairs." Haknyeon nods at you.

"I'll take care of the kitchen area," he calls out to you. You felt a little bad, you left a lot of dishes there. I'll just work faster so I can do other things. The sounds of clinking dishes and shuffling feet filled the house, both doing various tasks around their home. When they were finally satisfied with their work they both went to sit down on the couch to rest.

As if cursed preventing you from resting, a knock came from the door, making you both stand up again. You check your phone, 10:53 a.m. a little over an hour from the time your mom said. You both scurry to the door. You could hear the familiar voice of your mother conversing with your father, it brought a smile to your face. It felt like it had been such a long time since you last saw them, and maybe that was the case, you weren’t sure. Still, you opened the door eagerly for them.

“Mom,” you say with a big smile on your face. You see that she is carrying bags in her arms and you take them from her, ushering her inside. “Come in.” Following behind her was your father with bags in his hands as well, “Dad.” You set the bags down and your father does the same.

Everyone except Haknyeon was crowding the entranceway. You looked at your parents, they seemed a little bit older than the image you had of them in your memories, and you felt your throat tighten. When they looked at you, they scanned you from head to toe, touching your face, lifting your arms, making sure you were really okay. Their actions make you chuckle, “I’m okay, I promise,” you say trying to reassure them. Their baby girl was really okay.

“You’re okay,” Your mother wraps you in a hug, “It’s okay, you’ll be okay, honey. I promise.” Your words being thrown back at you like that made tears prick your eyes. You brought one of your arms around your mother and your other hand reached out and tugged your father’s shirt urging him to join you two. Creating this group hug the three of you had a tearful reunion, saying I love and I miss yous to each other.

Despite how close he was to your parents he still felt like it wasn’t his place to be there in your moment, so he waited patiently by the side, smiling at the happy little family reunion. Your father pulled away looking and looked in Haknyeon’s direction while wiping away the tears forming at the corners of his eyes. “Come here, son. You’re part of this family too.” Haknyeon was shocked by your father’s words.

Regardless of how close he was to your family, this moment felt like it was too personal to be a part of, especially with how things are now, so he hesitated to come closer. You and your mother pulled away from each other and she looked to Haknyeon as well. “It’s okay, Dear. Don’t act like a stranger.” As she said that, your mother spread her arms out, welcoming him. Your parents looking at him as one of their own, Haknyeon felt overwhelmed with emotions. They looked so sincere to him and he couldn’t deny them, so he came to them as they wished.

“It must have been hard on you too.” The three embraces and Haknyeon felt a different kind of comfort compared to his friends’ comfort. This parental comforting feeling that he didn’t know he was craving. Since the whole incident, he didn’t tell his mom about a single thing, he knew she already had a lot on her plate, he didn’t want to stress her out. Tears pooled in his eyes, your parents could feel his shoulders tremble and their hearts broke.

Crying the stress away felt so much relief and gratitude for your parents. Haknyeon thanks them and everyone takes a moment to clean themselves up, wiping away the tears, this peaceful calm now over the room. You and Haknyeon both take the bags your parents brought and lead them further into the house, dropping the bags off in the kitchen. “So, Haknyeon said I should ask you guys about Dad cooking. Why is that suddenly your thing?” You ask, bringing in a topic that should be a happy conversation.

Your parents hum at the same time thinking. “It’s definitely because of Haknyeon,” your mother says while nodding her head.

“It was when we came over. You are your mother went to go get something, so you left the task of cooking to Haknyeon,” your father chimes after. You look to Haknyeon and he nods confirming your father’s answer.

“I had your dad help out a little here and there. I think he first got interested in the seasoning process.” Haknyeon smiled as he thought back on the old memory. Your father and Haknyeon recounted their first cooking experience together, many laughs filled the house. Then your mother piped up at the end of the story looking at you.

“Needless to say when we got back home, take-out needed to be ordered. Whatever scaps they salvaged was not enough to feed the four of us.”

“I was lucky your mother let me touch a stove again, let alone walk in the kitchen.” Your father passes a playful smile to your mother.

“That’s right, you’re lucky that the scraps you offered were not that bad. Now that I think about it that was Haknyeon’s doing, wasn’t it?” She teases him and your father feigns sadness.

“It hurts me that you would think that way, Dear.” This familiar banter between your parents brought a smile to your face, they were still as in love with each other as you had always seen them. Your eyes subconsciously moved to Haknyeon, a smile still holding on to your face. You didn’t expect to see Haknyeon's eyes already on you, the corner of his lips lifted, your eyes went wide. Haknyeon, as if caught doing something bad looks aways, but realizing how silly he must look, his eyes found their way back to you.

He gave you a bashful smile and you tittered at the display. The moment is broken up by your mother motions you over to her. "Well you boys can have fun cooking together again, I need to catch up with my daughter."

"Have fun, Ladies. We'll call you if we're done here before you." Your father shooed you away from the kitchen and took your spot by Haknyeon. You and your mom decided to go out to the back porch, taking a seat at the small table set up you had.

"So, honey, how have you been lately?" You sigh.

"I have been better, but I'm working on it."

"And what about you and Haknyeon?"

"It was a little difficult at first, but we decided to try and work it out. He seems really nice and he is fun to talk to, but I don't know if I can fall in love again, it's all feels so sudden.”

“That’s understandable. We love Haknyeon, but if you feel he isn’t right for you anymore, don’t be afraid to say so. We’ll be here for you no matter what.”

“I know, I think falling for someone like him would be nice, but life isn’t that easy.” Knowing how your relationship was with Haknyeon, she thought it was almost impossible that you wouldn’t come to love him again, but she kept her mouth shut. That was something you needed to figure out on your own, she didn’t want you to feel like you had to be with him, even if that’s what she hoped for.

“What about your friends how have they been fairing with this?”

“We’re good, I think. They are understanding about everything even the ones I don’t remember. They seem like good people.”

“You always had good taste in friends, if Chanhee is any indication of that.” You release a deep sigh, feeling your soul shrivel up at the thought of Chanhee. Your mother looks at you with confusion, “What happened?”

“We got into a little argument.”

“Some things just never change do they,” She chuckles. Watching the both of you grow up she witnessed some of your fights and had sometimes been the one to help you two patch things up. “You’ll be fine,” she really wasn’t worried, the two of you always found a way to make up.

“Yeah, I’ll work on it.” The conversation veers off from its current direction. The two of you talked about what you could and couldn’t remember. She told you about stories of yourself she could recall, and then some stuff about her and your father. There didn’t seem to be a big change with them and that brought comfort to you, knowing that some things were still the same as you remembered.

Meanwhile, inside the house, the two men were cooking. Your father was instructing Haknyeon on how they were going to make lunch. When the cutting proceeded, your father spoke up first.

“So, have the two of you made any decisions yet?” it was a sudden question but he could only assume he meant about the status of your relationship.

“Well it was a little complicated at first, but she said she wanted to try dating me again, so we kind of started our relationship over again.”

“You think you can make her love you again?”

“I- I’m trying to be hopeful. What she saw in me before, she can see again.”

“Personally, I don’t think you should worry that much. I’m not saying to not try and win her over, that will still take some work, but I can’t see her not falling in love with you again. Do you know how much happiness you brought her? I think you’re already set up for success, just don’t screw up.” With his last words, the knife he was using slammed into the cutting board with a loud thud, cutting through a carrot and the cut-off piece went flying.

“Please be careful,” Haknyeon says as he picks up the carrot piece and throwing it away.

“That was an accident, I was distracted.” He stops trying to cut and looks a Haknyeon. “But on the off chance that things don’t turn out good and she decides that she can’t love you, through no fault of your own, then just know whoever she picks after, I won’t like them as much as you. You’re like the son I never had.” Nothing like a little dark humor to lighten the mood.

“Thank you, Sir.” Haknyeon felt sheepish at his words, even though it wasn’t the first time he’s said something like that. Light-hearted small talk continued as the two continued prepping, besides the one mistake in the beginning the cooking process goes on without a hitch. Soon enough the house filled with a tantalizing smell. When all is done, your father goes outside to call you can your mother back for food.

When you finally come back inside with your mother you are greeted with the sight of Haknyeon contentedly setting the table for everyone with care. Your eyes lingered on him, looking at the half-smile to yourself, His smile is nice. It gives him a friendly endearing look and you didn’t notice you started smiling looking at him till your mother nudged your arm, dragging you back to reality from the daze you were in, giving you a knowing smile as she looks from you to Haknyeon and back. You turn away from her not saying anything feeling flustered at the realization of what you were doing and walk ahead of her. You could hear your mother snicker, this causes Haknyeon to look up at you then your mother and his smile grow.

“What’s so funny?” You felt your face heat up, Why did he have to look now?

“It’s nothing.” You try and hide your embarrassment with a smile and Haknyeon looks at you suspiciously before letting it go and telling you both to have a seat at the dinner table. Taking up the offer you sat and soon the table was set and everyone was seated. To your delight, the food looked, smelled, and tasted good. “My compliments to the chief,” you nod at your father approving of his cooking, and glance at Haknyeon in acknowledgment of his help.

“Careful, Honey. Don’t inflate your father’s ego too much now or he’ll start to think he’s better than me.” It’s true, it wasn’t as good as your mother’s cooking, but he had potential.

“Just you wait, I will be one day.” Your father shoots a stubborn glare at your mother, causing everyone to laugh. The meal warms you up from the inside and you stuff yourself with your first meal of the day. Thinking about that you realized two things: Haknyeon also didn’t eat before this and this is the first time you’ve had a meal with him, so you glance over at him, catching him mid-bite. If your eyes could they would have gone as big as when he opened his mouth to take a bite.

Haknyeon greedily shovels the food in his mouth and when he notices you staring, he stops mid spoon, mouth still agape. You bite on your top lip to stop yourself from laughing at the silly look he had. Sure, it was shocking to see him open his mouth like he was about to unhinge his jaw, but in its own, weird way, it’s cute and charming. Haknyeon just felt like he was embarrassing himself too much today. You mouth an apology and he pouts his lips a little, your small interaction going unnoticed by your parents as they were currently in their own world.

Lunch with your parents continues with light conversation and when everyone had their fill you started to help clean up, but your mother stops you.

“Thank you, but we got it. You and Haknyeon go take a rest for a bit we’ll be done soon.”

“You sure?” Both you and Haknyeon ask.

“Yeah, go, go.” For the second time today, you are shooed away in your own house. You went going to cross swords in helping since you felt your tiredness hit you again after eating. The two of you decided to take a seat on the couch, leaning back into the cushions and leaning your heads back. You felt this amazing comfort perfect for dozing off, you wonder if Haknyeon is feeling the same.

“It’s not just me, right? I feel so warm and sleepy now.”

“Hmm?” Way ahead of you already he was starting to doze off too and you smile.

“Sleepy?”

“Yeah…” You both can’t help but let sleep take over you despite the noise coming from the kitchen. When your parents finish cleaning up they call out to the two bodies on the couch, but neither answers. So your mother goes up to both of you and holds back a gasp. She waves your father over and the sight he is greeted to is you and Haknyeon leaning on each other.

As if unconsciously drawn to each other’s warmth, your head rests on his shoulder and his head was laying on the top of yours. Both pairs of legs lean towards each other.

“I was planning to stay here a little bit longer, but I think we should leave now.” Your mother whispers to your father. He nods and they get prepared to leave. Your mother left a note on the counter and your father decided to take a picture of the two of you, making sure to send it to Haknyeon. They leave both thinking the two of you will be just fine.

***

You stirred in your sleep state bringing yourself closer to the heat you felt beside you, but the movement brought pain to your neck and shoulders waking you up. Opening your eyes you lifted your head and felt a terrible stiffness, you realize your head was laying on Hakyneon’s shoulder. Not just that, but you were also in close proximity to each other, almost like you were cuddling. You look at Haknyeon checking if he was awake but all signs led to a no, eyes closed, as his head was leaned back on the couch in an uncomfortable-looking way, his lips parted slightly, chest rising and falling rhythmically. You admittedly feel a little weird being with him like that but it wasn’t bad, besides the pain you felt currently.

You carefully get off the couch so you don’t wake him up. You grab your phone from your pocket, checking the time, 6:48 pm. Surely your parents weren’t here still. You find the note left on the kitchen counter.

I remember you said you mentioning you were tired, so we decided we should just let you two sleep. Don’t feel bad about falling asleep on us, we had a lot of fun see you guys again. Take care.

Love Mom

You go back to Haknyeon on the couch, looking at the position of his head again. Figuring it would be better to wake him up now or else he would end up having a greater pain in his neck. Drawing closer to him you get a better look at his face, his skin was flawless, it looked even better than Chanhee’s skin. You get even closer for a better look and before you realize what you’re doing your fingers slide across his face cupping his cheek, skin just as soft as it looked. You lightly shake his face calling to him, “Haknyeon... Haknyeon, wake up.”

His eyes flutter open, a dazed look on his face, like at any moment he could go back to dreamland. His eyes focused on the visage in front of him, blurry yet he could still see the ever recognizable beauty that was you. His lips moved in an arc and he brought his hand up to your face cupping your cheek in the same way you did his. That is what brought you out of your trance and you were petrified in an instant. You felt your heart shoot up in your throat when you saw the loving gaze he directed at you while rubbing your cheek with his thumb.

This killing blow in it all is when he called you, “Hey, y/n,” with a deep husky voice that you were wholly unfamiliar with. You felt your face and neck heat up, with the intimacy of the situation. Does he realize what he is doing or is he still half asleep? You shot up from the couch not sure if you wanted to know the answer, stepping away quickly, trying to distance yourself from the state of affairs. Startled Haknyeon sits up snapping out of his daze.

“I- uh, sorry.” Haknyeon looked as confused as you were shocked.

“Did I just- I thought I was…. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He truly thought you were just in his dream, it was such a common occurrence that he didn’t think twice.

“No, I started it. it’s my fault.” He recalled the touch of your hand, that kind of contact made it feel almost as if nothing between the both of you changed. Neither of you knew what to say at the moment, so there was a bout of silence. You opened your mouth again after thinking of something to say, asking a question straight from left field, “Can you help me? I need to apologize to Chanhee.”

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[readyplayerhobi]

Flower | 38

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, slight angst

; Word Count: 4.7k

; Warnings: Slight mentions of body insecurity/self-hatred

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: Only two more chapters after this one! I apologise if this isn’t good or anything...I wrote it all today as I wanted to make sure I keep hitting one a week for you! This should mean that Flower should officially end in two weeks! 😢 it’s sad to think about but I hope you’ve all enjoyed the journey with me too! Also...once you’ve read the chapter then you might want to look at this link....it’s an important link

; Flower Masterpost

-

The dress shop you’d chosen for today was exactly how you’d imagine a wedding dress shop to look inside. The elegant interior design gave everything an expensive appearance; creams and golds and muted greens tastefully blended throughout the furniture and the walls. While you knew that wedding dresses weren’t cheap anyway, the whole atmosphere of the shop made it all appear so much more costly.

You had no real idea of how you were meant to find a wedding dress, and your first suggestion of just ordering one offline had almost given Chungha and Soyeon a heart attack. Even Hoseok had looked at you a little funny when you’d mentioned it, making you realise quickly that you’d made a bad decision.

Just ordering one from the internet wasn’t a good choice because you likely wouldn’t get the dress you imagined. Plus, Chungha had pointed out that you had no idea whether you’d even like the dress in person or whether it would look good on you.

That had been all you needed to realise that going to a store would be the best option. You were just a little nervous about it, worrying that they might not even have wedding dresses that would fit you or something. Or that you’d look too fat in front of everyone or you’d rip a dress accidentally.

Despite the reassurance your best friends had given you, you were still convinced that you weren’t going to find a dress you liked. Maybe a dress that didn’t look half-bad as long as you didn’t look in a mirror or any photographs in the future. You may have come a long way in terms of self-acceptance, but you still had your moments of doubt and self-hatred.

Formal events were most definitely one of them. The knowledge that your wedding was supposed to be the one time that you would look perfect and be the centre of attention was horrifying for two reasons. One, you were terrified that you’d just end up highlighting the fat on your stomach or your arms and two, you still hated being the centre of attention.

Already you’d been discussing with your therapist about this, pointing out that you were dreading your wedding day instead of being excited. Hoseok was understanding of it as well and was trying to help you overcome the issues and instead get you hyped up for it, but the knowledge that everyone would be focused on you was nauseating.

How did people enjoy it?

Still, you’d searched around for dress shops that looked to be friendly and held the kind of styles that you’d be most interested in before finding the best looking one. You knew there was every chance you might not find a dress you liked here so you also had a list of backup stores to visit at a later date.

For today though, you had your mom, Hoseok’s mom and your best friends here with you. All the people who would give you the right advice about what dress to pick. You’d told them all to be honest as the last thing you wanted was for them to try and cheer you up by lying.

At the moment, you were sitting on one of the couches that were set around the small room as you waited for the assistant to come back. The store had three rooms that were used for bridal parties to try on dresses and pick their favourites, away from anyone else who might happen to wander by. You’d like the privacy it offered which had been another factor in choosing them.

Before attending, you’d specified the types of dresses that you’d prefer to try on and the colour schemes. Upon arrival, she’d looked over your body with a critical eye that had made you feel uncomfortable before disappearing out of the door once more. As she had a lot of experience in helping brides find the perfect dress, she was now weeding out the dresses that she knew for a fact wouldn’t suit you.

Maybe someone else wouldn’t like that, but you appreciated the extra effort. Plus, you knew that you could always ask to see them if you didn’t find any from the dresses that had been specifically picked out for you to try today. You figured that you’d let her get on with it though. She had way more experience than you did in this area.

You were nervous though, your leg bouncing quickly while your fingers were tapping at your jean-clad thigh. Everyone else just seemed to be excited but the large mirror on one end of the room filled you with dread. What if you looked fat and ugly in every dress? You wanted to look perfect but you weren’t unrealistic. There was only so much to do with an average base, after all.

Unsurprisingly, your mom notices your quiet and shy demeanour. Not that you were naturally outgoing anyway, but mom’s notice these things. 

Reaching over from where she’s sat next to you, her hand firmly takes your own and presses it against your leg, stopping it from jerking. Glancing over to her, she gives you a soft smile before running her fingers along your cheek in a gentle movement.

“What’s wrong? Worried?” Nodding self-consciously, you try to avoid her gaze as you feel heat spread through your body. Even your fingers tingle with embarrassment, not wanting to cause a scene in front of everyone.

“Aren’t I supposed to be worried?” 

“No, you’re supposed to be excited. But don’t think about what you’re supposed to be. Just enjoy the moment and have fun dressing up!” She encourages you, giving you a bright smile while squeezing your hand. It attracts Soyeon’s attention from your other side, causing her to stop chatting with Chungha and Hoseok’s mom on the opposite couch.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Now it’s her turn to try and comfort you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder before hugging you tightly. It causes you to smile softly before looking at her, shrugging underneath her embrace.

“Nothing. I’m just...you know me. If there’s one thing I can stress over then I will.” You can almost hear the audible sigh in the room. There’s no doubt that it’s not meant maliciously, but you know that everyone was probably hoping that you’d be able to enjoy today and get excited. Instead, you’ve just made it clear that they have damage control to do.

“What are you stressing over? Not finding the right dress today? The wedding itself? The cost?” The questions are peppered at you from your mom and each one is almost right. As excited as you were to get married to Hoseok, you’d never been one of those girls who fantasize about a wedding. As such, you’d never particularly cared to pay attention to what weddings require.

What Hoseok and you had discovered over the last few months was that weddings required a lot of money and a lot of different people involved. The florist, the venue, the interior design of the room, invite makers, catering, suit makers, wedding dressmakers and so much more. It was a headache to think about and you’d tried to get everything sorted as quickly as you could and for something that wasn’t going to bankrupt you both.

Despite that, you were still looking forward to finally getting to marry Hoseok. It was just the whole process getting there that was causing you anxiety. You wanted to look your best for him. Blow his socks off and all that jazz.

“Yes and no. It’s stupid,” Your voice lowers, almost to a whine. “You’ll think I’m being stupid.”

“Hey...no. No, we won’t. You know we won’t, we never have.” That comes from Chungha and you can see that she’d like to be part of the ‘physically comforting’ crew. But there’s not enough space for her, so she’s relegated to just talking to you from over the glass coffee table between both couches. There’s a fresh bouquet in a pretty vase on the tabletop alongside copies of wedding magazines scattered along the surface.

A quick, unsure glance takes in Hoseok’s mom and you feel even more anxious as you wonder whether she’s judging you. Is she unhappy at what she sees? Uncertain whether or not she wants her son to marry you after getting to witness firsthand your anxiety and fears? You know that she knows about that stuff. Hoseok had told her over the years with your permission, but it was another thing entirely to see it in person.

There’s no judgement in her eyes though and it settles you a little. Instead, there’s concern, a frown on her forehead as she leans forward and watches you closely.

Swallowing, you sigh before finally deciding to just be honest with them. You needed their support right now and you wanted to be excited about picking a dress. This was going to be the dress that you’d remember forever. The one that you hoped would make Hoseok cry when he saw you.

“I just am worried. That...you know...I won’t look good. In my dress. Or any dress. Or that I’ll look fat. Like it’ll highlight my fat bits or something. I know he’s going to look gorgeous because he’s always beautiful and a suit is just going to make him stunning. So I’m afraid that I won’t look good next to him.” The little ball of anxiety in your stomach is growing bigger as you speak, paralysing your chest and making it a little harder to breathe as you imagine all the ways a dress could highlight your bad points.

Your mom can tell, purely, by the way your movements beneath her hand start to get a little more forceful as you try to fidget. She presses down a little harder, forcing you to stop and look at her. There’s so much love in her eyes, but you also see the concern and upset.

“You’re going to look beautiful, sweetheart. You know why? Because you’re already beautiful! Everyone will be in awe of you, thinking you’re the prettiest girl in the room on the day and that’ll be because you will be. Because you are.” She finishes, squeezing your hand while a firm smile is pressed onto her face.

“She’s right,” Hoseok’s mom interrupts, causing you to look over and see that she has her supportive smile. “You’re going to look amazing. And as someone who knows my son pretty well, I have every confidence that he’s going to cry like a baby when he sees you. Hoseok thinks you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. You in a wedding dress is just going to be the cherry on top.”

That makes tears fill your eyes as your breath catches. Pulling your hand away from your mom’s grasp, you wipe at them daintily before sniffing. You’d carefully applied makeup this morning in a possible replica of what you might want your wedding makeup to look like. Smoky eyes and a neutral lip with a subtle natural look to your face. The actual makeup would be more in-depth but you figured this would be enough to get an idea with the dress included.

Before you can say anything in response to her, the door opens up again and a moveable clothing rail is rolled inside. It’s loaded with beautiful dresses, all carefully wrapped up in plastic or paper to keep them pristine for their potential bride to try on. The sight of them makes your stomach knot up in both anticipation and fear.

Your assistant, Fatima, closes the door behind her before giving you that brilliant white smile, full of customer service as she gestures to the dresses.

“Okay, so I’ve kept almost all the ballgown style dresses. I know you said that was your ideal silhouette and I’ve picked out all the ones in ivory for you. There’s only one or two that are shoulderless. I know you said you weren’t fond of that but there are some really pretty ones that I think would work with your body. Minimal lace as well though there’s one or two with some nice designs on them.” Standing, you head over to the rail and gently finger through the dresses with wide eyes.

There were so many of them.

As if she could hear your thoughts, Fatima speaks again. “You don’t have to try them all on if you don’t want to. If you find the dress then just let me know! Don’t force yourself if you’ve fallen in love with one, okay?” 

Nodding slowly, you look over at everyone else with raised brows. Understanding the silent question, almost everyone laughs and gestures to the dresses with excitement.

“Oh my god! Get trying!” Feeling shy, you carefully take the first dress off the hook before disappearing into the en-suite changing room. Taking your clothes off and carefully folding them onto the little seat in the room, you let Fatima in once more to help you slip the dress on. She hurries around you, adjusting bits of the dress and smoothing out areas before bringing you back out into the main room.

This one is pretty plain and simple with a ballgown style that reaches down to the floor in gentle swathes of soft, ivory fabric. The bodice consists of what seem to be two pieces of the same fabric, carefully designed so the right side slips underneath the left side in a criss-cross over your chest. It gives you a classic neckline that only gives the slightest hint of cleavage and helps to enhance your breasts while the straps rest on the very edges of your shoulders.

You love the style and overall design of it, appreciating that the shoulder straps are thick and the sweeping bodice manages to highlight the good parts of your body. For a moment, you wonder if you’d managed to find the dress on your first try, but turning around and examining it from all angles you soon realise that you haven’t quite got it yet.

Turning to the others, they all tilt their heads in various directions and make contemplative noises. Slowly, you spin around for them to get a good idea of the whole dress before you look at yourself once more in the mirror. Running your fingers down the luxurious cavenza, you acknowledge that it’s a beautiful dress.

But it’s not yours.

“I don’t think this is the one,” You say. “I think it’s too simple?”

Raising a brow, you look at the girls to get their opinion. They hum for another moment before nodding agreement with you.

“It looks beautiful but you’re right. It’s not quite...right. A little too boring. You look amazing though.” Smiling shyly, you turn to look at the mirror once more with a little hesitation.

You’d been so worried that a dress might just make all of your more unsightly bits even more obvious than normal such as the belly you could never seem to get rid of or your thick hips and butt. Thankfully though, the silhouette style you’d decided to try seemed to be doing a great job of disguising all those bits.

The only thing that you weren’t quite happy about was your upper arms, the fat there a little too much for your liking. Frowning, you take a deep breath and try to ignore it before looking at Fatima.

“Not this one. Can I try the next?” She nods eagerly before gesturing for you to re-enter the dressing room.

The next hour carries on like that with you trying on dress after dress and finding a reason to dislike every single one. It begins to get a little disheartening and you worry if you’re not going to be able to find the right dress. What if it didn’t exist or something? Wasn’t there supposed to be some magical moment when you’d put on a dress and it’d just feel right?

Like a sign from the heavens that you’d found the One?

Shaking your head at the mirror in exasperation, you turn back into the dressing room and begin to peel off the dress you’d been trying. This one had been an instant dislike with the train being far too long and the bodice making your body look particularly frumpy. You were more than happy to get out of it.

As Fatima helps you, undoing the laces at the back and making sure the dress comes off without any tearing, you give her an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry. I hope I’m not wasting your time.”

She laughs at that, shaking her head as she carefully places the dress back into its protective wrap and hangs it up. Taking the next dress off the rail, she pulls it out of its wrap and turns to you with the same happy expression on her face.

“It’s okay, honestly! It’s what I get paid to do. Besides, it’s all a process. You wouldn’t believe how many brides have to go through multiple appointments before we can find the right one for them. Don’t stress yourself if it’s taking a bit longer than you might have hoped for. It just means that the right one for you is still out there! And trust me, you’re a lovely bride compared to some I’ve dealt with.” Fatima says, smirking before gesturing for you to spin around.

Wincing slightly, you wonder how many bridezillas she’s had to put up with over the years. You’d think it was a sexist term but you’d certainly read enough Reddit to know that it was, unfortunately, true for a sadly large number of brides out there. Hopefully, you wouldn’t even remotely be considered one.

“Not many left to go through now.” Fatima sing-song’s, carefully zipping up the pearl buttons on the back of the dress. Inhaling, you hold the top to your chest to help her along before watching as she continues her routine of making sure any unfortunate creases disappear.

Lifting the skirt slightly, you follow her back out into the room and stand in front of the mirror. It’s not one mirror, but more like a mini-wall of mirrors. There’s five, with one big one in front of you, two slightly smaller to either side and at an angle, while another two are angled even further in. It helps to give you a good look at everything from as many angles as possible while the bright lighting illuminates all the good points of a dress.

Tilting your head, you examine it closely before turning from side to side to try and look over all the angles. Humming lightly, you spin and watch as the skirt flares out dramatically. It had a slightly longer trail than some of the dresses you’d tried but it’s not so long that you’d need someone to carry it or anything.

“What is this one made of?” You ask, letting your fingers trail over the delicate design that makes up the bodice of the dress and spreads down onto the skirt. It feels soft and you feel pretty wearing it, admiring the leaf design and the way it creeps up your shoulders to cover up the straps.

“The leaf design on the bodice and the shoulders are ivory lace, tulle and Royal Organza with an ivory gown, tulle illusion and beading,” She gestures to the material that covers the bottom of the gown, the material light and see-through in an elegant manner. “The back of the dress is a v-design and the leaf design also continues around here. I must say, it looks beautiful on you!”

At any other moment, you’d be wondering if she was just trying to hurry the appointment up to get it moving and have you putting a deposit down already. You’d taken up so much of her time today that you wouldn’t be surprised.

But she sounds genuine, and you’re too busy admiring the dress to care. Because you agree with her. It’s a stunning dress and for once, you think it does look beautiful. It hides all the bits you were self-conscious about yet outlined your body perfectly to give you a body silhouette that you loved.

The lace design extends along with the skirt in all directions but it’s only directly in the front and behind where it extends almost to the edge. It’s intricate and so delicate, causing you to wonder how people managed to make these. You certainly wouldn’t have the patience for it.

“I...I love it.” You find yourself saying, eyes wide as you look yourself over in the mirror. Shifting around, you turn to everyone and give them an expectant look. Posing for them slightly, you shift in all directions to make sure they can see it all properly before spinning and letting the dress flow out.

“Oh my god, it’s so beautiful.” Chungha breathes out, pressing a hand to her chest as her gaze is focused firmly on the dress. Soyeon is nodding too, a huge grin on her face before she squeals and claps her hand as her excitement takes over.

“Ahhhh! It’s amazing. Oh my god, it’s perfect!” 

Hoseok’s mom nods, standing up to move over to you and get a closer look. She slowly moves around you, taking in the gown up close before reaching out to gently trail her fingers over some of the lace. You let her, watching closely to see what she thinks.

“Oh my, Hoseok is going to cry. You look amazing.” Her words cause a sudden surge of emotion in you as you look over your shoulder, taking everything in once more. It’s not the fairytale moment you’d imagined it might be, but it feels close enough. There’s not a single thing you hate about the dress.

You don’t even particularly hate yourself in it. Biting your lip, you try to imagine yourself on the day itself; the veil trailing down your back while your makeup has been professionally done and a specially made bouquet is held in your hands. The feeling in your stomach isn’t anxiety or self-hatred but...excitement.

“Mom?” Looking at your mom, you see the way there are tears in her eyes too. She’s got her hands covering her mouth and you frown, hoping she’s okay. Stepping over to her carefully, you reach out and take her hands gently.

“Mom? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” You’d crouch in front of her but you didn’t want to potentially do anything to ruin this dress. Not when you’d taken so long today to find it. Maybe you were just lucky that it had only taken one session to find it. You didn’t know, nor did you care anymore. 

You’d found it.

“Oh honey, you look so beautiful! I told you that you would, didn’t I?” Wiping at her eyes, she gives you a watery smile before giving a weak laugh. Slowly, she stands and places her hands on your shoulders, taking you in from a little distance with such a fond and happy look.

Feeling a little shy under her stare, you look down at your hands before taking a careful step back and letting her look at you from all directions. Chungha and Soyeon are almost vibrating with excitement as they stand to the side, clasping their hands together and giving you the biggest smiles possible when you laugh at them.

Looking over at Fatima, you smile at her. The look on her face is satisfied and you guess she’s probably content that she’s managed to fulfil her job today. Another bride was satisfied with her choice, after all.

“I think I’m going to have to put a deposit down on this one.” Looking back down at the dress, you run your hands down it once more in wonderment. It was odd to think that you were going to be wearing this in a few months, only then you’d be walking down the aisle to Hoseok. For a moment, you imagine what his face might look like.

Glancing at everyone else, you smirk slightly as you feel a little mischief taking over at the thought of him.

“Hoseok was bugging me this morning about if he could be allowed to see the dress. Trying to say that traditions are silly and everything. I’m going to call him, right now. Wearing this. Just to tell him I’ve found it. It’s going to drive him up the wall knowing I’ve picked it and he’s not allowed to see for months.” That makes his mom snort in amusement while Chungha let’s out a whoop of delight.

Your mom is shaking her head, amusement thankfully drying up her tears. Reaching to her, you embrace her in a tight hug that’s a little rare from you. But you’re thankful to her for everything she’s done and for all her support so far. Plus, you get the feeling she needs to have a hug right now.

She hugs you back just as tightly, patting your back before rubbing at it in soothing motions that make you feel young and small once more. When you pull away, she gives a slightly exasperated look before rolling her eyes.

“Go on then, go call him. Honestly. Do you two ever go a day without teasing each other relentlessly?” Laughing, you nod at Fatima who exits the room. You presume there’s more to go through before you’ll finally be able to leave but at least you can stop getting in and out of dresses finally.

“Never. Besides, this is revenge for him eating the last of the Crunchy Nut this morning.”

[clanoffetts]

Tales From Bespin, Vol. III: Someone Different

Lando Calrissian x Reader x Boba Fett

Warnings: porn with a smidge of plot (18+); anal play, butt plugs, lando is an extravagant bisexual who loves fashion; boba is a reserved bisexual who only cares for the color of butt plugs; threesome!!; name calling?

word count: 5.6k

“Good afternoon, love,” a smooth voice says from the doorway. “Your room is still suiting you well, yes?” 

“Yes, Lando, they are” you reply, turning to look at the man. Clad in extravagant burgundy robes today, he was a brilliant contrast to the constant bright white of everything in Cloud City. 

He smiles, allowing himself to venture further into your room. “I’m glad, darling,” he says, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. Always with the nicknames and the flattery, Lando was. Today he seemed to lay it on heavy, though. 

“Something is wrong,” you say. It is not a question, and Lando knows that. 

And yet he answers with, “No, my dove, nothing is wrong.”

Your eyebrow arches at him. You’d learned enough from him over the past few months to know better than that. 

“Yes, it is,” you insist. “You’ve been wanting to gain my trust, and yet you lie.”

His voice is a whisper now, and he leans close. “It is not without good reason. Lord Vader is coming.”

You suddenly wished you had let him lie. “What?”

“Lord Vader is coming to Cloud City. He requests I negotiate with him,” Lando says. There is worry in his eyes, he can’t out-talk Vader, much less out-smart him. 

You pull him into a hug, clinging onto him tightly. You’d never held him this tight. Not even those days and nights on the ship when you’d woken up in his arms in the shared bunk. Nor when you’d kissed him. Nor when you’ve fucked him. 

Lando wanted so badly to relish the feeling of your arms so tight around him, your forehead in the crook of his neck. But he couldn’t, not with the fear of Vader’s impending arrival, not with the feeling of your tears on his neck. 

“It’ll be alright,” Lando says. “We must cooperate.”

“We?”

He nods. “Yes, darling, we. I must cooperate with the Empire, you must cooperate with me.”

“I’m a grown woman, Lando. I can handle myself.”

“No one can handle themself when it comes to the Empire,” he says. “We will move your things into my rooms. They’re bigger, they’ll be more comfortable for you to stay in while Vader is here.”

You pull out of the hug enough to look at him. “Am I to be held hostage by you, Calrissian? Is this not the same as the situation you got me out of?” 

Your words are a dagger. When Lando’s heart began to swell with attraction on the ship after he’d rescued you, he’d promised you a place in Cloud City. And that he’d never harm you. 

“My dove,” he sighs. “You don’t have to. But it will be safer, I think. Besides, I can’t take you with me to negotiations, stormtroopers will be everywhere, and this room will get boring.”

You’re uncertain still, more out of stubbornness than anything else. “Lando, I don’t know. And it’s not like you’ll always be with Vader, right? We can still dine like normal. Stormtroopers won’t harm me if I keep to myself.”

His hands find your forearms, holding them in desperation. “Darling, if you dine with me like normal, if you follow me around the city, Vader will know you are important. They’ll know how much you mean to me.”

A smile spreads across your features despite your worry. It’s been a long week of waking up early, letting Lando press one of the many plugs into your ass, going about your business meetings and fashion fittings, and then having Lando fuck the soul out of you every night. Sometimes you’d wander back to your room if you’re done quite early and Lando leaves to play a game of sabacc, which you’ve learned can accomplish more than business meetings often could. There wasn’t a title on what the two of you were, but you were certain he’d gladly call himself your boyfriend. And you’d gladly be his girlfriend. 

“You’re important, too,” you say. “But I guess you can’t hide away in your room.”

The smile he gives you is dripping in pity. “Darling, I’m sorry. But they shouldn’t be here long. At least, Vader shouldn’t.”

You sigh. He just wants you to be kept safe, how can you be mad? After all, he’s seen much more of the galaxy than you. There have been a lot of dangerous criminals come through Cloud City, and this is the first time he’s been properly worried. “Alright.”

His eyes light up. “What should we bring? Your sewing stuff? Fabrics?”

“Well,” you start. “Do you think the Empire will be here long? If not I could use a break but if they’re here for a while I’ll need to keep working…”

“Better safe than sorry darling,” he replies with a smile. “I have a threepio unit get on that. For now, though, let’s have one last lunch outside.” He offers his arm for you to take, and you do. 

Out on the little balcony there was a table set with sandwiches and other snacky things, along with different juices. Ever the gentleman, Lando pulls out a seat for you. When you sit, a small whimper escapes your lips. 

“Are you alright, beautiful?” Lando asks with a smirk. 

You roll your eyes at him. “Of course I am.” You feel heat rise to your cheeks at your shared secret. The secret? The dark red jeweled butt plug that Lando had worked into you earlier that day. You’d gotten used to it for the most part, but somethings still send shivers up your body and sounds out of your mouth. 

“Wanted to ask you something,” Lando says. 

“And what’s that?”

“You mentioned something the other night,” he starts. “About all three holes…”

“Lando!” you gasp, looking around for anyone who might’ve heard him. “Someone could hear you!”

He laughs a little. “Darling, there’s no one else out here. I promise.” You sigh, and motion your hand for him to continue. “I was thinking I could start looking for someone. You know to help fuc-”

“Lando!” You whisper-yell. “At least be quieter!”

He lowers his voice this time, “Someone to help fuck you. Unless you already had someone in mind?”

“I’m not sure,” you reply. “Not a friend or anything. Or someone who’s here too often, I wouldn’t want things to get weird.”

“Well, I’ll keep my eye out,” he says with a wink.

The lunch was nice, though somewhat bittersweet because of the Empire’s dark shadow that looms over the planet. But it also filled you with excitement. The mix of the plug pressing in your ass and the talk of a threesome had you on edge for the rest of the day. Well, most of the day. The first Imperial ships arrived at dusk, casting shadows over the usually bright planet. All of your essentials were moved into Lando’s room and so you spent your evening designing new clothes, working on orders, and scrolling through the news feeds to see what people were saying about the Empire’s presence. Of course, most of it was positive, but a few negative things slipped through the filtering. 

You were already exhausted from being in Lando’s room, but you knew he was under enough stress having to entertain the Empire without having to worry about you.

-

Lando’s mouth hurt from fake smiles. His voice ached from fake laughter. Finally, he slipped away from the Moffs and Admirals and other people who find themselves to be extremely important. Lando maintained Cloud City’s reputation, though. There was lots of drinking and gambling and fucking, and usually Lando would indulge, but he really did wish to be back in his room, with you, easing out the small plug for a larger one...what he wouldn’t give.

Instead, he slipped away into a darker corner that he thought was unoccupied. “If it isn’t Lando Calrissian,” a deep, modulated voice said from behind him.

Lando whipped around, cloak swishing violently. “What is a Mandalorian doing in Cloud City?”

“Bounty,” the Mandalorian replied. A lightbulb went off in Lando’s head. Maybe this bounty hunter could be the third in your threesome. Especially if he’s only here on work.

Lando held out his hand. “I’m Lando, though you already knew that.”

The Mandalorian shifted his blaster so he could take Lando’s hand. “Boba Fett.”

“Do you like Alderaanian toniray, Boba?” Boba nodded curtly. “Let me buy you a glass then. Gotta get some before it’s all gone.” With Alderaan destroyed not that long ago, toniray had become a hot commodity. And not one that Lando offered freely. However, he’d wine and dine anyone if it made you happy. 

“As you wish,” Boba said and Lando led the way to a private booth. Well, it would’ve been private if it weren’t for the stormtroopers stationed outside any secluded place that could be used to conspire. 

Lando tried to spark conversation with the Mandalorian over the glasses of the light blue liquor, but it did not work. Boba did not even remove his helmet. He’d brought a straw. “You know, it tastes better if you don’t have to suck it like that, it messes up the taste,” Lando had said but Boba obviously didn’t care. 

Eventually, they just sat and listened to the stormtroopers talk. Boba had said one thing, though, and it was, “They’re so dumb, it’s entertainment.” And, Maker, he was right. 

After some quite dumb debates over little things, one of the troopers said, “You know the female orgasm is a myth?”

“Huh?”

“Yeah. Read it on the ‘Net. In every species, too, not just humanoids.”

Lando turned to look at Boba, who also turned to look at Lando. Lando couldn’t see Boba, but he knew that Boba was, at the very least, grinning at these two idiots.

“You sure? I’m pretty sure I’ve made a girl come,” a trooper said.

The other trooper replied, “No, man, it’s, like science or something. I read it on the ‘Net.”

Lando turned to Boba and said, “I really didn’t think any men thought that.”

Boba nodded. “It’s a shame really, so many women don’t come,” he said matter-of-factly. 

“My girlfriend told me about that the first time we slept together,” Lando hoped you wouldn’t mind the oversharing if he brought back this hunk of a Mandalorian. “Fixed that, though.”

Boba chuckled. “Good,” he said. “Women deserve more than idiots like that can give them.”

Lando started testing the waters now. “She’s gorgeous, my girl. Beautiful when she comes. Beautiful when she squirms, too.”

“Yeah?”

Lando nodded, tipping the rest of the toniray down his throat. “In fact, she’d be willing to show you. If you wanted to see, of course.”

“You’re offering me a threesome?”

Lando nodded. “We’ve been talking about it. You seem like her type.” It was a lie, Lando didn’t know what your type was. The Mandalorian believed him.

“Well, where is she?”

“I’ll take you to her.”

-

You sat on the huge bed, watching some holovids when the door creaked open. You still wore the gold dress that hugged your chest and then flowed like a river down the rest of your body. “Lando!” 

“I have something to tell you, darling,” he says as you rush to hug him. You cocked your head. “I think I found our third person.”

“Oh?”

“He’s a Mandalorian named Boba,” Lando says. “He’s not necessarily nice but I’m pretty sure we can trust him. And I’m definitely sure he’ll make you feel good.”

You smile. “If you trust him, I trust him. Where is he?”

Lando motions to the door, and you open it. Standing there was a man clad in green Mandalorian armor, it’s seen better days, but it seems to have held up pretty good. He’s not super tall, but kriff he is imposing. The weapons on him alone are enough to intimidate but his entire aura is commanding. His presence is so similar to Lando’s yet so different.

“Hello, Princess,” Boba says. “Or should I say Baroness?”

He’s said all of seven words to you and you’re already at a loss for words. You knew Lando was a Baron or whatever, but you’d never thought much of it until now. 

“I’m not really a baron,” he says. “But she does like being called names.” Lando is beside you, an arm around your waist. “Alright, gorgeous, what are your limits for tonight?”

You bite your lip. “I’m not really sure. I mean, nothing too hardcore, but maybe just ask me before you do something?”

“I figured Calrissian would’ve shown you enough to know your limits,” Boba teases. 

You suddenly feel defensive. “He has- He has shown me a lot,” you babble, your face heating up. “Just haven’t arrived at my limits.”

Boba just nods and moves on. “Surely we aren’t going to fuck on a sofa?”

Lando chuckles and shakes his head. “Bed’s through here.” Lando leads the party through the door and whispers to you, “Remember, we can stop any time.” You nod and squeeze his hand.

Lando leaves your side for a moment to draw back the tapestry that covers the large mirror at the end of the bed. Meanwhile, Boba has made himself comfortable in a char near the foot of the bed. “Why don’t you hop up on the bed, little one,” Boba suggests, motioning his hand towards the bed.

You feel awkward hoisting yourself up on the large bed with Boba’s eyes boring into you. The visor of his helmet gives nothing away, and while the mystery turns you on, it also scares you. But if Lando trusts him…

“Gorgeous, darling,” Lando says with a warm smile. He climbs onto the bed behind you, pulling you to rest against his chest. “Let’s present you for our new friend, hmm?” He lifts your legs up over his, spreading your legs and hiking your dress up so much so that you’re sure Boba can see your bare pussy. 

“She is very pretty,” Boba remarks. And that’s all. He has sat the blaster on the floor next to him, and you count that as him getting comfortable. 

Lando hands are running over the smoothness of the dress, and he finally stops at your tits. “You want to show Boba your tits, darling?”

“Yes,” you whimper, glancing over at the dark visor. Kriff, you wish you could see his eyes. “Boba,” you say, and he perks up a little. “Could...Could you take your helmet off?”

Lando tuts. “You’re forgetting your manners, darling,” he says. 

“Boba could you please take your helmet off? Please?”

He nods. His fingers mess with clasps and then there is a hiss and then there is his face. He’s gorgeous, tanned, scarred skin, strong brows, and poorly trimmed curly hair. You smile at him, but all he does is nod. 

“Now I think we can show him your tits,” Lando murmurs. And you nod and whimper a please. Lando’s hands come to the straps of the dress and gently ease them down before easing the tight bodice over the well of your breasts down to your stomach.

As each breast pops free from the tight restrictions of the gown, you faintly hear Boba suck in a breath. “Gorgeous tits, mesh’la,” Boba murmurs. You don’t know what the foreign word means, but it makes you feel warm inside.

Lando presses a kiss to your temple as he squeezes your tits and teases your nipples. “He’s right, pretty girl,” Lando says. “Gorgeous.”

Lando’s hand runs from your breast down to your stomach, pushing the dress even further down. He’s looking at you like one of the many art pieces he’s acquired over the years. “Bounty hunters like Fett don’t know how to appreciate works of art like I do, sweetheart.” His hand runs up to your breast again, tweaking a nipple and smiling when you gasp.

“And little rich boy love-makers like Calrissian,” Boba says, standing from the chair. “Don’t know how to give them a good fuck.”

You can’t help but giggle at the two men bickering over who could treat you the best. You’re not sure your body can handle it. 

“Then why don’t you show me,” Lando says. “Show me how to give her a good fuck then.”

“Gladly,” Boba smirks, approaching the bed. “Move out of our way, Calrissian.” Lando moves from his place behind you to sit beside you, watching with awe at how Boba approached. 

“Let’s get you out of this flimsy little thing,” Boba says, and you lift your hips so he can pull the dress all the way off. He tosses the gold fabric over his shoulder without a care in the galaxy. “So kriffing pretty,” Boba says, running a hand over your stomach to your hip and giving you a squeeze. “Your boyfriend was telling me some filthy things about you, princess.” 

Your breath grows ragged as you think about Lando and Boba discussing your sex. “Oh?”

“Mhm. Told me you’re pretty when you squirm,” Boba’s gloved hands were starting to warm up on your skin, as he continued to rub the skin of your hip. “I’d like to see you squirm.” 

You arch your back up, trying to push your tits up so that he’d touch them. “Mesh’la, you’re already so desperate,” he tuts. “She always this fucking needy?” He asks Lando.

Lando’s hand comes to pet your hair. “Always. I have a little trick, though.” Boba raises an eyebrow. “Turn her over and find out, Fett. You’re supposed to be the teacher, not me.”

With curious hands, Boba helps you turn onto your belly. “What’s your boyfriend’s little trick, mesh’la?” He asks, gently rubbing the globes of your ass. “Can I spank you, little one?”

“Please,” you whisper. 

And he does. He lands a fairly soft smack to your ass, but you felt it deep inside, thanks to the plug. “Hmm,” Boba pretends to think. “I think he’s plugged you up, am I right?” You whine, and Boba’s hands are spreading your ass. Nestled between your cheeks is a gorgeous dark red jewel, and Boba groans at the sight. “Very pretty jewel,” Boba says, applying some pressure to the plug and gently moving it around. “However, I think you’re matching your boyfriend.” Of course Boba had noticed your coordination with Lando’s capes. 

“Coincidence,” Lando laughs.

Boba shakes his head. “I wasn’t born yesterday. We’re going to have to change that, little one. Got any dark green plugs?” 

“She’s got every color,” Lando smiles as he goes to retrieve the box of plugs. And when he returns and presents them to Boba, he chuckles. 

“You’re both dirty things, aren’t you,” he says, selecting the medium sized emerald green plug from the box. “Grab her some lube, Calrissian,” he commands.

You clench your thighs in anticipation. It’s really starting, now. “Gonna take this out of you, mesh’la,” Boba murmurs against your back. “That ok?” He presses a few opened mouth kisses as you whimper a yes, and then his hands fly to the plug. He grasps the rounded jewel and gently eases it out of you, twisting and teasing a little along the way. 

Lando returns with the lube as Boba spreads your ass cheeks again, “Look at that tight hole,” Boba says. “Stretching it little by little.” 

“She’s doing so good training her asshole,” Lando praises. “Gonna take my cock one day, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“Maker, yes,” you respond, voice breathy and needy. 

Lando is back beside you as you hear the bottle of lube open. “Ready for a bigger plug?”

“Yes,” you whimper.

Lando pets your hair again and whispers, “Manners, darling. That’s no way to treat a guest.” 

“Yes, please,” you correct and as soon as the last syllable leaves your mouth, you feel the cool lube on your hole. “Please,” you whine a little louder this time.

“Patience is a virtue, mesh’la,” Boba teases, but you don't have to wait long before the tip of the plug nudges against the tight muscle. “Gonna split you open, mesh’la,” he says as he pushes the plug deeper, and finally your hole closes around it and the rest of the way is easy. “Much better,” he says, tossing the dark red plug to Lando. 

Boba’s leather gloves are back on your hips, manhandling you back onto your back. “Open your mouth, princess,” he commands, and you obey. He slips a finger in your mouth, and you swirl your tongue around it. You can only describe the taste as leather with a hint of Boba, some kind of musk from the underbelly of the galaxy that you’ve never visited. “Bite down.” You do, and he pulls his hand from the glove, leaving just the leather in your mouth. He takes the glove and tosses it to join your dress, and then has you repeat it with the other. 

“Now, go give your lover a blowjob, princess,” he says. “Put that pretty mouth to use.” You obey, crawling up towards Lando who was already freeing himself from his pants. He was hard, precum already leaking and you ached to have him inside you. “Go on, mesh’la,” Boba encourages. “Suck Calrissian’s cock like a good girl.”

You pump Lando’s cock with your hand a few times before taking his head in your mouth, sucking softly. Your knees are folded under you, and you go to move, but Boba holds you in place. You gasp around Lando’s cock as something wet touches your clit. It’s Boba’s tongue. 

“Boba,” you moan, popping off of Lando’s cock. 

“No, no,” Boba reprimands. “Don’t let me distract you. I told you to be a good girl and suck Calrissian’s cock.”

You nod and return to Lando, taking his cock as far down your throat it would go without gagging. Boba also returns to his ministrations, and as you moan around Lando’s cock, his hand tightens in your hair. “So pretty with a cock in your mouth,” Lando praises. “Making me feel so good. Such a good girl.” 

You continue sucking Lando’s cock, swirling your tongue around the tip while your hand strokes his shaft. Boba’s slow licks to your cunt bring you closer and closer to the edge, the pace impossibly measured. You try to grind down on Boba’s face but his hands quickly move to hold you in place, his tongue never missing a beat. You slip Lando’s cock out of your mouth to whimper, “I’m going to come!”

Boba’s tongue is gone just as quickly as it came. “Not yet, mesh’la,” he says. “We want to see you squirm.” 

Lando strokes your cheek. “You gonna be good and not come until Boba lets you?” You nod. “Alright, good girl, ask Boba what he wants you to do next.”

“What do you want me to do next, Boba?” You ask quietly, growing shy again. 

Boba grabs your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. “I want you to suck my cock now, pretty girl.” He relaxes back against the pillows now, shedding the codpiece of his armor to reveal his bulge. “What do you want Calrissian to do, mesh’la?” You tear your eyes away from the outline of Boba’s cock to look at Lando. 

“Will you finger me, please?” 

“Since you asked so nicely,” Lando says with a smirk.

You turn back to Boba, who has finally freed his cock from his pants. And kriff  he is huge. He’s average length, but he’s so fucking thick. Lando is longer, though not as thick. “I don’t think staring constitutes good manners,” Boba taunts. 

You swallow as you bend down to take him in your mouth. You work your lips around him, already feeling so stretched. You almost forgot that you’d asked Lando to finger you, but as he spreads your thighs apart you remember. “Your pussy is swollen, pretty girl,” he says. “Barely gotten any attention and she’s already swollen, Fett.”

“She’s a needy little slut, aren’t you, mesh’la?” You hum around his cock and then truly moan as Lando works two fingers inside your dripping hole. 

“I think I prefer the red plug,” Lando says as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. 

Boba’s hand is buried in your hair now, pulling harder than Lando would. “Funny, Calrissian,” he says, and then groans as you whine around his cock. “But green is obviously her color.” Boba starts guiding you on his cock, never making you take him too deep. It’s almost as if he can read your mind. Especially as you started to think you couldn’t do it anymore, your jaw was getting sore, and Boba pulled you off him. “Good girl,” he praises. “Are you close to coming?”

“Almost,” you whine, pushing back on Lando’s fingers. He curls them in just the right spot and you moan, “Lando, please, please, please,” as he keeps pushing his fingers right into that spot, over and over. 

“You want to come, pretty girl?” He asks, and you frantically nod. “Then you’d better beg Boba.” 

You turn your attention back to Boba. You study his face, the slight curl of his lips, the wide bridge of his nose, the crinkles by his eyes. You stare so intently into his dark eyes and beg, “Please Boba, please can I come? I’ll be so good, I promise, please,” your babbling gets more and more incoherent as you continue but you don’t care. You want to come so bad. 

He tilts his head, offers you a smile of pity, and says. “No. You cannot.” Lando’s fingers slip out of you and you collapse onto the bed. “But you can take my cock in that pretty little cunt.” 

You whine at the thought, the idea of the stretch of his cock, of the release it would bring. But you know he will deny you again. “If it’s too much, tell us,” Lando says, and Boba hums in agreement.

“Not too much,” you say. “Wanna take Boba’s cock like a good girl.” 

Lando helps you onto your hands and knees, and Boba makes his way to your ass. Lando caresses your face with a smooth hand. “There’s my good girl.” 

“Alright, mesh’la, here we go,” Boba says. Your mouth hangs open as he pushes in, the stretch bigger than anything you’d felt, and while he couldn’t reach the same spots as Lando, he’d found his own. “So fucking tight, wow,” he groans as he bottoms out. “You want to know how to fuck, Calrissian? This is how you fuck,” Boba drags his cock out slowly before slamming back into you. 

“Boba!” You cry, and you can already feel him pulling out again. You brace yourself on Lando as Boba slams into you again, mouth hanging open and drool pooling on your tongue. 

Lando coos, “So good, baby, so good.” Lando is on his knees in front of you, holding his cock in hand, and says, “I’m going to put my cock in your mouth, gorgeous, since it’s hanging open so pretty.” 

The only response you can muster is a nod as Boba relentlessly fucks into you. It’s so different from Lando, and you liked it, but you ached to have Lando’s fast yet gentle strokes. Not that you were opposed to coming on Boba’s cock, of course. 

Lando being back in your mouth gave you a thrill. All three holes. You felt full, to say the least. The feeling intensified when you moaned, barely able to hear it because of Lando’s cock and the slapping of Boba’s skin against yours. You felt your release coming, again, as Boba slapped your ass. “Take cock so well,” he grunts. “So -nngh- fucking good!”

Boba’s hand is in your hair, and he pulls your mouth off Lando’s length. “Don’t you fucking come, pretty thing. Not yet.” 

You let out your loudest, most pathetic moan of the night as Boba gives one final thrust and then pulls out quickly. You thought the next thing you’d feel was his cum on your ass, but you don’t. “Get back here and make your girl come, Calrissian,” Boba demands. Lando and Boba switch spots, Boba’s thick cock back in front of you. “Lando’s gonna stuff your pussy with cum, and I’m going to fill your mouth, mesh’la.”

You feel Lando’s head against your hole. “Going to be such a good cumslut, aren’t you sweetheart?” 

“Yes,” you whine. “Yes!” And then you’re full. Again. Boba gives a shallow thrust into your mouth and Lando sinks himself into your cunt. Your moans are muffled again, but this time there are more, they’re needier. 

“Listen to her, Fett,” Lando says. “Adorable little whines.”

“Pathetic moans,” Boba corrects. “For a needy little girl.” 

The filthy words are too much, Lando’s consistent, deep, and yet somehow gentle thrusts are too much, the stretch of Boba’s cock in your mouth is too much. You try to warn them that you’re going to come, and miraculously, Boba understands. “Go on,” he coos. “Come around our cocks. Make us fill you with cum.”

And you do. You come in a mess of whines and muffled begging, squirming towards Lando but not wanting to move from Boba. Your body shakes with the orgasm, toes curling, fingers gripping the nice duvet. You finally regain some of your senses to hear the two men moaning. All because of you.

“Ready to take my cum?” Lando grunts, and before you know it you can feel him spill inside you, coating your walls so deliciously. You don’t know what it is about Boba that brought out the rougher, meaner side of Lando, but it was amazing.

And then it’s Boba’s turn, “Going to come, mesh’la,” he moans, and then your mouth is full. You’re so full. Boba slips out of your mouth. Both men are sitting back on their haunches, regaining their breath as you flop onto your side. Fucked out and full of cum. “Show me,” Boba murmurs, and you do, opening your mouth and showing him his load on your tongue before you swallow it. Once it’s gone from your mouth you open again. “So good,” he praises. 

Both men get off the bed, Lando helps you down off the bed for a moment. “Let me turn the sheets down, darling,” he says. You give him a blissed out smile, and his heart feels like it’s going to explode. Kriff, he’d employ Boba and do this every night if he could keep that fucked-out smile on your face. 

Just as Lando helps you up under the covers, Boba returns with a towel, damp on one side. “Here you go, mesh’la, let’s clean you up.” He wipes some of the cum from your thighs, then the cum from your chin. “There you go, princess,” he says, getting back up to take the towel to a basket. 

“Let’s take that plug out, pretty girl,” Lando coos, and you turn onto your side, allowing him access to your ass. As he eases the plug out of you, he apologizes everytime you wince. Finally, the plug is out and on the nightstand and you feel empty. You whine. 

“Hey, shh,” Lando comforts. “Give us a moment, we’ll come cuddle you.”

“We?” Boba asks.

“You gonna pump and run?”

Boba shakes his head. “Most people prefer that.”

“Not us,” Lando says as he starts to strip down to his boxers. 

Boba tries to conceal his smile. No one’s ever wanted him to stay the night before. And sometimes he didn’t have enough credits for that long. “Alright then,” Boba replies, starting to unclasp his armor. He’s not sure if it’s the warmth in Lando’s smile or the warmth of your pussy that makes him feel like he can trust the two of you, but he relishes the feeling, because tomorrow when finally secures Han Solo, he probably won’t be seen as a friend anymore.

Eventually, after lots of armor clanking on the ground, you’re nestled between the two men. Your head is on Lando’s chest, Boba’s head is on your belly, his arms wrapped around you, holding you close. You can tell the Mandalorian hasn’t felt too many soft touches, and your heart aches for him. Under his scars and his muscles, he’s a softy, you can feel it. 

“I love you, sweetheart,” Lando murmurs against your head. “I’m glad we got to do this.”

“I love you, too, Lando,” you reply. “And thank you, Boba. I think it’s safe to say you’re always welcome in Cloud City, if you want to stay. Or, at least, pay us another visit.”

Boba wishes he could. But the knowledge that you wouldn't say that if you knew he was here by a tip from Lord Vader himself or that he’d be capturing and probably killing one of Lando’s oldest friends. “As you wish, princess,” is all he can muster before he lets himself succumb to the warmth and comfort that he gets to have tonight.

@delusionsxfgrandeur @hansonveggieclub @fuckyeahbeskar @tibbietibbs !!

[joshuas]

watch and learn

♫ pairing: Seo Changbin x Reader

♫ genre: college/university student!au, slice-of-life, fluff

♫ word count: 2.5k

♫ warnings: Nil of note!

♫ summary: seo changbin is a massive flirt, and it’s new years eve...

♫ a/n: The fourth addition to my seasonal oneshots! This is a continuation from my Minho oneshot. We’ve officially moved from the christmas storyline, and well into new years, for your reference. Enjoy! Also, thank you Chloe (@writerofbts​) for the essay topic referenced in the story!

♫ skz seasonal oneshots: 1 |2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

“You know, I’m so glad you’re finally dating the person you like,” Changbin said, approaching Minho, a slightly frazzled Hyunjin and an excited Jisung. “Yeah— although it was thanks to none of you.” Minho scoffed, rolling his eyes, his gaze softening as he observed his significant other from across the hall. The end of year formal was always a lively occasion, the planning committee going above and beyond what was expected of them. “We provided you with invaluable advice!” Changbin said incredulously, slightly hurt. “We? Hyung, you literally only hung out with us once the entire time Minho was trying to woo them—“ Hyunjin broke off, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance as he stared past Changbin, “oh my god, what is he doing here? I thought Chan hyung was dj-ing, not this guy.” Hyunjin huffed, sprinting to stop a shabby-looking guy from setting up his equipment on the stage. “Besides, none of your advice was useful. It didn’t even work.” Minho rolled his eyes, adding to the conversation. “Excuse me, I know playing hard to get didn’t work but you didn’t even listen to my advice.” Changbin crossed his arms over his chest, staring down Minho. “What was your advice again? Oh yeah, being overly flirtatious. That just sounds borderline creepy.” Minho countered, whilst Jisung sipped at his drink, observing the two bicker, wide-eyed. “No! It’s just letting the other person know what you want. As soon as they know that you’re flirting with them, it’s the quickest route to a relationship. I should know, my mother won over my dad using this method.” Changbin defended. “I think there’s only one way to resolve this— Changbin hyung, you need to prove to us that your method works by romancing someone to the point that they fall for you.” Jisung proposed, standing between the two of them. “Isn’t that mean, though? What if I don’t like them the same way?” Changbin said, unsure.

More importantly, what if the person I like finds out... “It’s not like you’re declaring your love for them— you’re just asking them to go on a date with you. The rest can be figured out later.” Jisung dismissed the other boy’s worry. “I agree with Jisung. How about you choose... her.” Minho agreed, pointing randomly at a girl in deep conversation with her friend. Changbin scrutinised, uncertain, “...fine.” “Go get a girlfriend!”

Changbin paced outside, biting his lip as his thoughts overruled his mind. After all, Jisung and Minho had pointed towards the two of you, and, just by chance, they had chosen the best friend of the person he liked. Uncertainty clouded his thoughts, unsure of whether he should just give up and move on. The most important thing was not to hurt your feelings. He had just made a jerk move a couple of days back (although, it wasn’t entirely his fault) — he didn’t want to take your date for the dance as well and make you hate him. “Changbin hyung, you do know who you’re going to hit on, right?” Jisung ran up to him, stopping him in his tracks. “Of course I do.” “Well, Minho hyung’s smug, so make sure you win her over. He wouldn’t ever let you live this down if you don’t.” Jisung warned, giving an encouraging smile and lightly pushing Changbin towards the entrance You only need to ask her on a date. That’s it. And then you can clarify everything to Y/N. It’ll be fine... Steeling himself, he walked, purposeful.

“Ryujin, you don’t understand! He literally made them a playlist and expected them to figure out whether it was a declaration of love or not. Seriously, why can’t guys be upfront with what they want? If someone made me a playlist, I’d think that they were just recommending music to me.” You huffed, defensive. “I don’t think you understand. A playlist is just a modern-day version of a mixtape — generally, if a guy gives someone a mixtape, it is a clear declaration of their admiration for them. Besides, why are we talking about Chan’s love life?” “I don’t know, you wanted an interesting conversation topic? Don’t even get me started on what happened with Felix. Oh, and Minho’s whole art competition fiasco. Man, that friendship group is weird...” You observed, looking around at the conglomeration of people in the hall. “We could literally talk about anything else and you find their lives the most interesting—“ Ryujin stopped, staring at a man approaching the two of you - Seo Changbin. Also an English major, the two of you had become quite close, one would even say that you were good friends. Nothing more, obviously. I mean sure, whenever he was around your heart did beat a lot faster, and whenever you read his work you internally swooned at his eloquence and way with words, but has Changbin ever really showed any interest in you? No. So what was the point on dwelling on whatever emotions he made you feel? “Oh hi, Changbin.” You raised your hand in greeting, giving him a small smile. “Hey, Y/N. Can I just say, you look incredibly stunning tonight? Wait— that’s just every day, never mind.” Changbin smiled brightly, bringing you in for a hug in greeting. He turned towards Ryujin, “And who’s this... equally as stunning human being?” “Oh, that’s Ryujin - my roommate and best friend. Ryujin, meet Changbin. Changbin, meet Ryujin.” You gestured between the two of them. “Best friend? Oh, I’m hurt, Y/N. I thought I was your best friend.” Changbin placed a hand against his heart, dramatically mocking offence. “It’s also lovely to meet you, Ryujin.” He took her hand, softly kissing it, as he did a weird bow thing. You stared at him, (slight disgust) and confusion etched upon your features as your gaze met Ryujin’s equally confused and slightly panicked eyes. “It’s lovely to meet you too, Changbin. Y/N’s told me a lot about you.” Ryujin gave him a small smile. “They have?” Surprise captured Changbin’s expression, before a charming smile replaced it less than a second later, “I mean. That’s so odd because they haven’t mentioned you at all. How about we go to the buffet table and I get you a drink and you can tell me more about yourself.” Changbin held out his arm, guiding Ryujin across the hall. ...okay that kind of stung. It’s fine, though! Totally fine. I’ll just chill at this dance... by myself. Haha, it’s fine. It’s not like my best friend and my other best friend (cough cough crush) are going to fall in love with each other, marry, have kids and live happily ever after because of this stupid dance! Ugh, this is all my fault... Maybe, I scared him off earlier this week with my question...

[4 days earlier] “Hey, Y/N! What are you working on?” Changbin waved at you friendlily as he entered the university cafe, placing his books down and sitting opposite you, “Oh hey, I’m just working on a draft of my essay on... the role of English fever in English education in South Korea.” “Ooh, interesting. Do you want me to look over it?” Changbin questioned, propping his hand underneath his chin. “Please.” You passed the laptop to him. Brow furrowed, he read through the essay, typing quickly to add comments, “I think it’s pretty good— you have a lot of superfluous words, but other than that it should be good to hand in as a draft.” He flashed you a kind smile — one of those smiles that makes your heart flutter and just... burst with happiness. “Thank you... hey, Changbin?” You sighed, nervously wringing your hands. “Yeah?” He quirked up his eyebrow, gaze travelling to meet yours. “Do you have any plans this Thursday night?” You asked. “Thursday... isn’t that the New Years’ formal?” Changbin asked, raising his eyebrows. “Um. Yes. And regarding the dance, I was wondering if you’d like to... go with me?” You said tentatively. Surprise flashed across Changbin’s face, “Oh! Um... thank you for asking—“ “Changbin hyung, I need your help! The formal planning is falling apart and I am this close to having my hair actually turn grey from stress.” A younger boy entered the cafe, binders overflowing, approaching your table. “I’m really sorry, Y/N, I’m probably going to have to help Hyunjin out.” Changbin apologised profusely, packing up his things. “Oh. Um, yeah it’s fine. I’ll see you soon!” You said, awkwardly waving at the two of them.

“Wait, so you didn’t even get an answer??” Ryujin asked, incredulous, as the two of you decided on coordinated formal outfits, agreeing to be each other’s dates after the tumultuous day you had had. “No answer means he doesn’t want to go with me. If he wanted to go, he would’ve slipped it in before he left or texted me or something. But look. Nothing.” You held up your phone. “That jerk. I’m going to go teach him a lesson!” Ryujin started, grabbing her keys as you held her back. “How about... we leave him be, and let this entire thing go?” You smiled forcedly at her, urging her to sit back down on the chair in your room. “My best friend just got rejected by the guy they like and you expect me to be fine with it? I mean, if you don’t want me to confront him, at least let me help you dress up so much that he regrets not taking you. Let’s show him what he’s missing out on!” Ryujin proposed, organising the outfit on the bed. “That sounds a lot better than going and attacking him, so I guess I’ll let you do that.” You sighed. “Yes! We’re going to look like the most amazing power couple ever.” She clapped her hands excitedly. You sighed, looking at your phone for the billionth time, “Yay...”

[Present] As you observed Changbin and Ryujin conversing from across the hall, a hollowness settled over you as a lump formed in your throat. So he really wanted to go with someone else... Ryujin excused herself from Changbin, running over to you, “You need to help me. He’s definitely hitting on me. I don’t think he knows that I have a boyfriend. That, or he doesn’t care. Either way, you need to help me!” She hissed, panicked, quickly turning to give a pained smile to an approaching Changbin. The music swiftly changed to a slower song as Changbin held out his hand to Ryujin, “May I interest you in a dance?” He asked, charming smile fixed upon his face. Okay, Y/N, it’s time to step up and beat him at his own game. You have to be clear about your own feelings towards him. At least it’ll confuse him and temporarily stop him from flirting with Ryujin. I mean... that doesn’t sound too bad when you consider that factor. Steeling yourself, you flashed an equally as charming smile at Changbin, stepping between the two of them and holding out your own hand, “Actually, can I interest you in a dance?” “Oh— Y/N! Um..” You cut him off, dragging him over to the dance floor. You hesitated slightly before intertwining your arms around his neck as he hovered his hands around your waist, maintaining a slightly large distance between the two you. “You know... you can come closer if you want. You don’t have to be so far apart, we wouldn’t want to take up unnecessary dance floor space.” You suggested, quietly, as he tentatively came closer, placing his hands delicately at your waist. Silence pursued for a couple of seconds as the two of you swayed to the music. Changbin cleared his throat, “Did you know... that the most common letter in the English language is the letter ‘e’?” What? “Oh... really?” You stared at him, slightly confused at his conversation topic. “Yeah. It comes up in almost 11% of all English words.” “Oh, that’s interesting...” You gave him a small smile. “Did you know that there are 7,655,957,369 people living on Earth and somehow I fell for you?” You braced yourself, confessing the last part as fast as possible. “I— no. I didn’t know that...” He blinked, confused and dazed. “Which part?” You questioned, the slow song had come to an end, couples departing the dance floor, migrating outside for the fireworks. “Alright everyone, there’s one minute left till the new year—“ Chan’s voice echoed through the microphone. “Both, actually. Like how you knew that number off by heart? But I guess the more important question to ask is since when did you have feelings for me?” Changbin questioned inquiringly. 47, 46, 45... “Really? You’re asking me that? If I had to say when it would have to be when we had our first debate in tutorial. You were so eloquent, respectful, and like seriously passionate about the topic. Honestly, it amazes me how no one else fell for you that day. I mean— I don’t know if they haven’t but if they haven’t then—“ You broke off as Changbin stared at you, wide-eyed before cutting you off, “I like you too.” Now it was your turn to be stuck in shocked silence. 35, 34, 33... “You... what? When? Why? How? I thought you liked Ryujin.” You spluttered out, seriously confused. “No— it’s a long story but basically I was trying to prove that being upfront with your feelings is the best way to someone’s heart, though I guess it kind of backfired but in a good way since I really like you. As for how and when surprisingly it was at the same debate. You were always so quiet so you had initially piqued my interest. And then you were a literal spitfire when it came to debating. Not only were you fiercely passionate, but your mannerism, the way you carried yourself and how classy you were before, during and after the debate were also enrapturing. And so, I fostered these feelings for a while, but I was so scared to tell you. Before all of this relationship discussion, you were my friend, and I didn’t want to ruin that.” ...10, 9, 8... “I tried! When I asked you to the dance, I wanted you to come with me as a date but then Hyunjin came and you never contacted me, so I assumed you weren’t interested.” You explained, slightly exhausted by how oblivious the two of you were. 

7, 6, 5... “Of course I wanted to go with you! I had this whole thing planned out to ask you but then you asked me and then I was held up for the rest of the week, trying to help out Hyunjin and stop him from heightening his blood pressure any more.” Changbin explained, equal exasperation in his tone. 4... “Oh... oh! Wait so what does this mean for us?” You asked, realisation hitting you. 3... “It means...” 2... “Can I kiss you?” Changbin stepped closer to you, tilting your chin up. 1... “Yes!” You exclaimed as he leaned towards you, pressing his soft lips to yours. Fireworks resounded in your ears, the sentiment both literally and figuratively speaking. You pulled back, breathless. “Happy new year, Changbin.” “Happy new year, Y/N.”

➳ part five?  |  masterlist!

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

White Lies (Pt. 02 of 21)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves X Reader

Word count: 2.2 K

Summary: Keanu found the girl almost dead, in the wrecks of what was once her car. While she was in surgery, stuck in a coma, he gathered the best doctors of New York to attend to her. They told him she is likely to have some kind of brain damage, what may lead to memory loss. And this possibility added up wit the fact that she's pregnant, made the council come up with an odd idea. They asked Keanu to pretend to be her husband, since the stress of finding out everything that happened could put the baby in danger. He reluctantly agreed, but only if she does has some kind of memory loss. He still goes she'll wake up soon, with her memories intact.

But when you finally wake up, there's nothing inside. You're quick to find your head is empty, void, like a blank canvas. The only thing that brings you some relief, that makes you feel less lonely is the mention of a husband. And you can't wait to meet him, because you know you can't deal with this by yourself.

<- Previous part (01)

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{Keanu Reeves Masterlist}

{John Wick Masterlist}

×

Facing It Together

“Hi.” You mutter, feeling a little pathetic.

“Hi, beautiful.” The man softly says, walking closer to the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“I...” Your hopes are suddenly crushed. You thought you'd recognize him, but you didn't. He's a stranger. “I don't remember you. I'm sorry.” You start crying again, sobbing, unable to look at Keanu. There's a pressure in your chest, like your own heart is being destroyed, and your head hurts so bad it makes you want to throw up. “I'm so sorry.”

“Hey, hey. Calm down.”

His voice is a distant sound as your body is shaken by the sobs, and you hide your face with both hands. “I'm so sorry.” You repeat, defeated and lost. Because this is how you feel now. Completely, ultimately lost.

You're tired of looking inside yourself and finding nothing but a void. No memories, no familiar faces, nothing. It's like you're an empty vessel, stripped away from everything you once were, everything you grew to be. You feel the mattress moving, and hands grabbing your wrists gently, pulling them away from your face. “Don't apologize,” Keanu says, and you can't control yourself. This man is everything you have, the only person from your life that you have around. Whatever this is, wherever this leads, you need him. Biting back a sob, you throw your arms around his neck, holding on to him like you holding on to dear life.

“I-if you want to divorce me, it's ok.” The words flow out, a little confusing, too fast. You can't put him through it, it's not fair. “I can't ask you to deal with this, I...” Still, you don't find it in you to let go of him just yet. And that's when you feel his arms embracing you, strongly holding you against his chest, and it just makes you cry even more. “It's alright if you want to leave me.”

“(Y/N), listen.” Keanu pulls away, and you reluctantly let go. But he remains close, his face once a few inches away from yours as a hand comes to caress your cheek. “I'm not going anywhere. We're in this together, you and I.” Blinking to push some tears off, you stare into his dark eyes. “I promise you.”

“But I–”

“No buts.” He cuts you short, placing a kiss on your forehead. “I'm right here with you and we'll go through this together.”

“Alright.” You mumble, feeling as Keanu dries off some tears with his thumb. “I'm so sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, none of this is your fault.” He's still speaking when a nurse comes in.

“Excuse me. I'm here to help (Y/N) shower. And Dr. Harris asked to see you, Mr. Reeves.” She says, showing off a small smile.

You don't want him to go, but you can't ask him to stay. So you watch as he stands up, looking down before sighing. “I'll see what Dr. Harris wants. But I'll be back, I promise.”

Nodding, you keep your eyes on him until he leaves. But Keanu gives you one last look, along with a smile before heading out of the room.

The psychologist goes through the same things they've been talking about since Keanu agreed to this. The backstory, how to deal with headaches, confusing questions, everything. It takes hours and he's annoyed, mind wandering through the hospital, all the way back to her room.

Keanu's heart is broken. He never saw anyone suffering that much. He never saw someone who felt utterly, impossibly lost. If there was a way, it doesn't matter how much it would cost, to bring her memories back, he'd pay for it. If only medicine was that advanced.

“Mr. Reeves?”

“Huh?” He asks, raising his eyes from his hands up to Dr. Harris again.

“Is everything set at your place? We're planning on discharging her by next week. As long as the baby is alright.”

“And who will tell her about the pregnancy?” Keanu inquires, leaning forward on the table. “I think she should know it sooner rather than later.”

“You, as her husband, should be the one to tell the news.”

“Of course.” He couldn't help but feel guilty, like he's toying with her life. It isn't fair, but her reaction just a while ago changed his mind. It convinced him that the doctors were right. (Y/N) needs him, and it doesn't matter if they're both complete strangers, he feels it in his heart that this is the right thing to do. If he's willing to pay any amount of money to help her get better, he can do this too. And he will. “When can I tell her?”

“Whenever you feel like it. We're counting on you to set the pace in this. Soon enough you'll be very close, and your reports will help us find the right treatments along the way.”

He nods, despite thinking he'll be doing their job. Keanu is not a doctor, and he's not comfortable with this lie. It's too huge, too cruel to trick her like this. He's a confusion of feelings. Maybe he could've found a way to tell her the truth. That he found her, brought her here, and would stay by her side until everything is alright. But now, the damage is already done, and Keanu can't bring himself to break through this. Not now. Not after he saw how desperate she was.

Their talking went on for hours, until late at night. (Y/N) is already sleeping, they told him, so he took his time to go back home, eat something, shower and sleep for a couple of hours. It was still dark when he gets back to the hospital, silently walking into her room. The hospital gown she's wearing now is light blue instead of white, he doesn't know why. Careful, he stands next to her, looking down at her face. (Y/N) is pretty, more than that actually, and despite telling himself not to see her this way, struggling not to find her beautiful given the situation, he can't. A small smile crosses his lips as he moves to the couch in the corner, taking a seat. He'll wait, patiently, for her to wake up. As a true husband would.

You make your way back to consciousness slowly, with a persistent headache. It doesn't seem like it'll leave you alone, said the nurse, not for a while. You also feel dizzy, and the hospital room spins around even though you're secure in the bed.

“Shit.” You mutter, tightly closing your eyes once again, hoping it'll help.

“Something wrong?” The voice startles you, eyes opening and your attention being claimed by him. Keanu is here, making his way over you, looking worried.

“I'm just dizzy.” You explain, trying to move into a sitting position. But Keanu stops you, a hand on your shoulder.

“Keep still until it passes.”

“Alright.” Suddenly feeling nervous, you look away from him, clearing your throat. “I guess it's normal. Giving my... Condition.”

“Actually, (Y/N)...” His tone changes, and it makes you brave enough to stare at him again. Keanu seems uncertain, like he's fighting against himself.

“What is it?” Anxious, you push yourself up, ignoring how your sore body complains. “I-is it bad?”

“No, it isn't.” With his voice softer, he sits on the bed, taking both your hands in his. Furrowing your eyebrows, you decide not to pull them away. He's your husband after all, he must be used to this kind of affection. “(Y/N), you're... We're expecting a child.”

Gasping, your eyes go wide, a hand covering your mouth. “What?” You mutter, tears filling your eyes again. Looking down at your stomach, which is flat, you furrow your eyebrows. “A-are you sure? It doesn't look like it.”

“You're only five weeks pregnant. But soon enough it'll start to show.” Unable to control yourself, you start crying all over again, sobs shaking your body. “Hey, it's alright.”

Once again, you hug him, arms around his neck. You can't help it. If you thought your condition was delicate, complicated, it only got worse. You don't remember anything about yourself, you don't even remember your husband, and now there's a baby in the mix. “W-what and I going to do?” You cry, feeling his arms around you. “I-I don't–”

“We'll do it together, sweetheart,” Keanu says, his voice as soft as silk. You do need him, more than you thought you did. This is something you can't do by yourself. Your whole body hurts as you shake a little, hiding your face from Keanu's neck.

Slowly, you stop crying, allowing Keanu to calm you down, a hand rubbing the small of your back. A couple of minutes after, you pull away, a little embarrassed for breaking down like this. Again. Reaching out for the remote control, you push the buttons until the bed allows you to rest your back while still on a sitting position. Keanu fixes your pillow, and you mutter a ‘thank you’. “So...” You start, a hand on your stomach. “Did we plan it? Or is he or she an accident?” You ask, meeting his dark, deep eyes, voice still low and weak.

There's something in his eyes, something you can't quite place. “We planned it.”

“How long have we been married?” You burst out, a hand still on your stomach. It's a weird feeling to know there's a new life growing in there.

“A year and two months.” Keanu quickly answers.

“Alright.” You whisper, your eyes falling on his hand. Taking a deep breath, you take it, placing it on your belly. His hand is a lot bigger than yours, and your skin warms up under his touch. It hits you suddenly that it must be weird, since Keanu doesn't move. So you sink a little, looking down. “I-I'm sorry. You don't have to.”

“That's not it.” It seems like he was snapped out of his thoughts, and he leans forward a little, his eyes going to where his hand is. “I don't want to make you uncomfortable, that's all.” He breathes out, his thumb moving a little, a small smile crossing his lips.

Laying both your hands on top of his, you sigh. “Keanu, how... How did we meet?”

There's an awkward change in his expression, and he removes his hand from your stomach. “Well, I'm an actor. We met at an airport.”

“An actor? Really?” Furrowing your eyebrows, you chuckle. Looking like this, it's not much of a surprise.

“Yes.” He giggles at your expression. “You weren't really into movies, so you didn't recognize me at first. We started chatting, I asked for your number and you gave it to me.”

“...You're a little older than me, aren't you? If you don't mind me asking.” You couldn't help but notice. Keanu is very handsome, breathtaking really, but he's certainly older. In his forties, probably.

“Uhm...” He clears his throat, restless. “Yes, I'm something around two decades older than you.” Keanu avoids your eyes, looking down at his hands. You wish you could read his thoughts, and you hope you didn't hurt him in any way. “How do you feel about that?”

“I don't know.” Shrugging your shoulders, you curse yourself for saying that. This must be hard for him too, seeing you like this. Having his pregnant wife seeing him as a complete stranger. “Are we... Are we in love with each other? I mean... Do we love each other? Is our marriage good?” You don't know exactly what you're asking, but you need to know how's your relationship. You hope it's good. You hope you're not stuck in an unhappy marriage. But, in your favor, Keanu is treating you nicely, and since the pregnancy was planned, things are probably fine between you two.

“Yes, beautiful,” Keanu assures you, kind eyes as a hand comes to caress your cheek. “We're completely in love. We have been since the beginning and nothing changed. It only got stronger.”

This makes you smile. At least you had a good life before, and hopefully, you'll remember it. You'll remember him. “That's good.” You mutter, and his hand comes to your stomach once again.

“It is.” Keanu smiles too, softly and kind. It still feels weird to have him touching you, but you keep in mind that he's your husband. And you've been hurting him enough already with all this.

“Thank you for... Everything. And I'm sorry for... Driving recklessly and putting myself in this situation on the first place.” If your condition had screwed up your life alone, that's one thing. But there's someone else in this, and a child too. You'll never apologize enough.

“Stop it. None of this is your fault and we'll deal with whatever comes together. I promise you.” Keanu leans closer, and you freeze a little, a burning sensation on your core when you feel his lips placing a soft kiss on your forehead. But you manage to stay calm, offering him a small smile. “I'm with you, alright? You won't be alone through this process, or during your pregnancy.”

“Thank you.” You can't help but repeat, feeling less lonely than felt when you woke up.

×

@multific @inumorph @aestheticallywinchester @bvbwestfall @liviiii98 @allie1804-fan @gian-giannina @playboygeniusphilanthropist

[mochegato]

Covert Marriage

Covert Dating     Covert Romance     Covert Wedding

Prompt sent in by @redscarlet95 - what happens when Marinette’s family and friends find out about the wedding?

“Okay… are you ready for this?” Before Jason could respond, Marinette continued her decent into rambling madness. “Am I ready for this?  Oh God, I’m not ready for this.  We are not ready for this.  This is going to be terrible.  They’re going to hate me and kick me out and I’ll be homeless.  Homeless, Jason, homeless!”  Jason gave her a bemused smile and grabbed her hand with his free hand, his other hand loosely gripping the rental car’s steering wheel.  She had been catastrophizing over telling her parents about their sudden elopement on and off for the last few weeks, ever since they got back to Gotham from their wedding.  

“Pixie, Love, Light of my Life, we have our own apartment and you’re already making it into a beautiful home. You won’t be homeless.  And they won’t hate you.  They love you.  They will still love you after this,” he assured her.  Marinette looked at him doubtfully, her mind still racing with all the terrible possibilities her anxiety had convinced her were inevitable.

He knew somewhere in her mind she knew he was right and he would be more concerned about the reveal of their marriage to her parents if she hadn’t reassured him on multiple occasions, after she had calmed down from her panic attack, that it would be fine, really.  Her parents were amazing and they might be surprised and maybe a bit disappointed, but they would still love her and they would welcome him with open arms… eventually. So, he let her panic run its course for the time being, with only minor interference to keep it from going too dark, and instead focused on the road ahead of them, occasionally squeezing her hand to offer silent support.

Marinette looked down at their hands with a small smile before her eyes widened in horror, “Oh my God, my ring!  They’re going to know as soon as they see the ring.  I should… we shouldn’t… You know what?  We should ease them into this instead.  We should… You should be my boyfriend first.  Yeah!  I should take off my ring so they… so it will all be okay.  They can meet you as my boyfriend first… or just a friend.  Maybe you can walk by and we can pretend we are meeting for the first time?  We can tell them about the marriage in a year or two… we’ll have to have a second ceremony, but that should be fine.  We just have to let your family know not to mention anything whenever they finally meet. We’ll have to sedate Dick, but that’s for the best for everyone really.  How long do you think we can keep him sedated before causing permanent damage?”

Jason laughed before giving her a gentle look, “Marinette, no.  As much as I love the idea of tranquing Dick, it will all be okay.  Please don’t take your ring off.  Your parents would be more upset if they found out you lied to them and especially if everyone but them knew,” he said calmly trying to reason with her.  “They love you.  They can handle this.  So can we. We will be fine, Pix.  And I will be there right next to you the whole time, yeah?”

“Yeah?” she gave him an uncertain look.

“Yeah,” he said running his finger along her cheek with his free hand.  “Come on, you’ve taken on a city full of zombies. You can handle this.”

She gave him a firm smile, “Right.  We can do this.  We’re a team. We can handle anything.  Okay, recon report: Sabine Cheng and Tom Dupain.  Marital status, married… to each other.  Occupation, bakers who own their own business, a very popular boulangerie and patisserie in Paris.  One child, a daughter currently in this rental car with you, who got married to you without their knowledge.  Age, you don’t need to know.  

“Psych work up, Sabine has a glare that would put Batman to shame and although capable of messing you up, she won’t actually, physically hurt you.  She may make a vague threat on what she will do to you if you hurt me and she’ll make you feel like you disappointed her, which… which is worse honestly.  But, after everything she will give an amazing hug to make you feel better and offer you food and something to drink casually mentioning that you are part of the family after all.  

“Tom looks like he could crush you with one arm but is actually less threatening than Batcow.  He’ll follow Sabine’s judgement, but he is likely to scowl at you until he decides for himself.  He will continue to be suspicious of you even after my Maman welcomes you to the family. If you talk about how you just want to make sure I’m happy and feel loved, it will ease his suspicions.  If you add in that you really want to start a family with me someday but you want to make sure I’m in a place where I feel like I’m ready and you’re letting me take the lead on the decision, he will start calling you ‘son’.  After he accepts you into the family, he will cry.  Brace for it now.”

Jason took his eyes from the road to look at her quizzically before shaking his head with a chuckle.  “You’re not allowed to hang out with Tim anymore.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, “yeah, I’ll be sure to tell him that when we’re hanging out next week.  It might delay it by a whole hour… because he’ll be laughing so hard.”

Jason shook his head and looked at her in fake severity, “I’m serious.  It’s too dangerous to allow you two to hang out together.  Your combined forces could take over the world.”

She smiled back at him, preening at his faith in her abilities.  “Yeah, but a nice takeover, a benevolent tyranny, if you will.”  Jason barked out a laugh and grinned at her.

“I can see it now.  By royal proclamation, everyone must have a hamster, nobody is allowed to wear checks and stripes at the same time, peanut butter and jelly is strictly forbidden, and nobody wakes up before noon.”

She hummed in response, “Now that is a monarchy I can get behind.  But my plans for world domination are going to have to wait. We’re here,” she said pointing to the corner store just ahead of them.

Marinette used her key to open the exterior door and led Jason up the back stairs to her parent’s apartment.  

“Okay, how do I look?” she asked nervously, her anxiety ramped up again now that they were outside her parents’ door.

“Like you’re trying to make it hard for me to focus on anything other than getting you back to the hotel,” he answered with a sultry look.

“Good, it wasn’t too subtle,” she gave him a wicked look.  “Remember, you aren’t allowed to grab me while we’re in there.”

He growled at her and grabbed her tightly, “We’re not in there yet.”  He gave her a deep kiss, pulling her flush against him.

She pulled away breathlessly and nodded at him with a resolute look on her face, “Okay, let’s do this.”  She turned to knock on the door.

The door had barely opened before a huge man had reached out on the landing and grabbed Marinette in a bear hug.  The man was so large, Jason couldn’t even see Marinette anymore. “Sweetheart!  It is so great to see you.  Oh!  Who is this dear?”

“Papa, remember I said I was bringing someone for you to meet?  This is Jason.  Jason, these are my parents, Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng,” she said indicating her father who was still holding her close and her mother who Jason couldn’t see behind Tom.

“Welcome to our home, Jason,” Tom said with a wide, welcoming smile.

“You might need to move so they can get in dear,” Sabine commented with a kind smile.

“Of course, of course.  Sorry. Please come in,” he moved to the side and made a sweeping motion welcoming them into the apartment.”

“Thank you, sir.  It is very nice to meet both of you.  Marinette speaks of you often.” Jason shook Tom’s had with a big smile.  As he went to shake Sabine’s hand he noticed her flick her eyes up to his eyes from wherever she had been looking, a glare settling in her eyes.

“Yes, welcome, Jason.  Funny, Marinette hasn’t mentioned you at all.” She said coolly.

Jason chuckled awkwardly, “Huh… how about that… uh…” He floundered for what to say next, but Sabine’s glare never wavered.   Her eyes bore into him like they could see every secret he had, even the ones he tried to hide from himself.  Every self-doubt, every insecurity, every failing that haunted him was exposed.  Everything Marinette had been helping him to recover from was suddenly laid out for Sabine to examine and judge.  Jason stood paralyzed under her stare until Marinette grabbed him what seemed like hours later and pulled him away from her mother.  

“Come on, Jason.  I’m dying to show you the view from my balcony.  I’ve missed it so much since I’ve been away.  You don’t mind, right Maman?” Marinette was pulling him up a set of stairs before her mother could give her “Of course not dear,” response.

Jason didn’t even take in what her childhood bedroom looked like before whipping around as soon as the door closed, “Okay you were right.  Take off the ring, we’ll do it later.” He prompted her hurriedly motioning toward her hand.  

“Oh, it’s already too late.  She’s seen the ring.  We’re committed to it now,” Marinette said direly.

“What? Why would you wear the ring?” he asked exasperated.

She gave him a deadpan look, waiting for him to come to his own conclusion.  

“Why would you listen to me?  You know better.  And that glare!  I feel like I’ve never done anything right in my entire life.  How long was she glaring at me?”

“I think it was about 5 seconds before I could get to you,” she smiled sympathetically and cupped her hands around his face to stroke his cheeks.  “She does that.  It’ll be okay.  I mean, I’m not going to lie it’s going to be really terrible for a little bit but then it’ll be like Miraculous Ladybug sweeping all the pain away.  Also, it wasn’t my ring she saw.” She gave him a chaste kiss on the lips.  “I love you, Jason Todd.  They will too.  They are scared for me right now because they don’t know you.  But when they get to know you, they are going to be your biggest supporters, a second, and actually functioning, family for you.”

He let out a stressed sigh and pressed his forehead to hers.  “I just don’t want to screw this up.  And your mom is intimidating as hell.”

“You can’t screw this up.  It isn’t possible.  And yes, I know.”  They heard Marinette’s mom calling to them that lunch was ready.  “Relax.  You’ve taken down crime lords, you can handle my parents.

“Something tells me I’m not allowed to just shoot them though.”  He muttered under his breath.  Marinette gave him an unamused look as she made her way toward the door.  “What?  I said ‘not allowed’.”

“Lunch smells amazing Maman and Papa.  I’ve missed your cooking so much!  I’m going to have to rub this in Adrien’s face tonight.  He says hi, by the way.  He was planning on stopping over tomorrow if that is okay.”

“That’s nice, dear.  He knows he’s always welcome.  All of your friends are,” she said pointedly, looking sharply over to Jason.

“Thank you so much for letting me tag along with Marinette.  I am really glad to finally meet you after everything I’ve heard about you from her.” Jason tried to lighten the heavy mood with pleasantries, but Marinette’s mom was not following the lighter tone.  She seemed to have perfected the art of a biting remark with a smile.  She would do wonderfully at one of their Galas.

“Of course, sweetie.  So, how did you two meet?”

“We meet at a coffee shop.  We started talking and… here we are,” he faltered.  They hadn’t actually discussed how they were going to tell her parents and he figured she would want to be the one to say it.

“Well, we are really glad to meet you.  You must be really important to Marinette if she brought you home.” Tom offered only scowling slightly.

“He is Papa.  He is really important to me,” she paused to take a deep breath and look to Jason who gave her an encouraging nod before reaching for her hand to entwine their fingers. “He is so important to me that we decided to get married a few weeks ago.  We’re married.  He’s my husband,” she said quietly holding up her left hand to show her ring.  

Tom sucked in a breath but Sabine’s eyes went steely.  “I see,” she said in a deceptively calm voice.

“Sweetheart, are you… are you sure that was the wisest decision?” Tom hedged tentatively.

“I am, Papa.  We know it was sudden and impulsive, but we know what we’re doing.  It might not look like it, but we do.  We love each other, but we know that isn’t enough,” she looked over to look into Jason’s loving eyes.  “We know we are going to have to work at it and we are ready to do that.”

Marinette’s father opened his mouth but before he could say anything Jason continued where Marinette left off, “We know it is going to be hard at times and we’re not fully prepared for whatever is coming, but we are ready to fight for it, together.  We want a future together.  We want a family together, at some point, when Marinette is ready, little kids with Marinette’s eyes and creativity and my hair and determination, or my eyes and her smile,” his eyes softened as he spoke about their future children. Marinette grinned at the future children he pictured.  They had never spoken about kids and it was warming her hear to hear his vision.  

“I know you’re worried about me and this was a huge surprise to spring on you out of nowhere and for that I am truly sorry, but… but you need to trust me that this is what is best for me.” Marinette added timidly.

Her parents looked at one another in silent conversation for a while before turning back to Marinette and Jason.  Sabine reached across the table for Marinette’s hand, “Okay dear.  If this makes you happy, then we are happy for you.”  She was smiling at the two of them but the smile was cautious, uncertain.

“Welcome to the family, son,” Marinette’s papa said standing with a strained smile to give Jason another bone crushing hug.  “We’re so glad to see our little girl happy again and if you were the one to do it, then we are beyond happy to have you in our lives.”

The lunch continued as Marinette’s parents asked questions about Jason and his history.  After lunch they kept talking about Gotham and Marinette’s career and Jason’s family. A few hours later, Marinette and Jason were finally able to take a few moments for themselves to recover from the stress of the earlier reveal.  They were enjoying the view from her balcony, Marinette was reveling in the feeling of Jason’s arms wrapped comfortingly around her and the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back as he breathed.  “I don’t think I’d mind just staying here like this for the rest of the night,” she said quietly as she melted into his embrace.

Jason leaned down to kiss her temple.  “It’s just your friends though, right?  That one should be easier, shouldn’t it?  Less stressful?  Then we can go back to the hotel and just lay down wrapped up in each other’s arms for a while.”

Marinette winced slightly, “God that sounds amazing.  Yeah, tonight should be less stressful but… you brought your Kevlar vest right?  You might need it, Kim is going to be there.”

Jason chuckled lightly, “Sounds like my kind of people.  I should fit right in.”

Marinette hummed at him “I think you…” before she could finish her sentence Sabine made her presence known.  “Marinette, sweetie, your father wanted you to pick what you wanted to take over to Luka’s house.”

“Okay, Maman.” She looked over to Jason with a raised brow asking him if he was okay or if he wanted her to get him out as Sabine made her way onto the balcony.  Jason smiled at her and nodded toward the door, reassuring her he would be fine.  His wife’s mother wanted to have a talk with him and she deserved to have her say.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, looking at Jason to reassure him that she wouldn’t be gone long and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Once she left, Jason looked to Sabine waiting for her to start the conversation.  When she continued to silently watch the sun makes its way toward setting Jason started getting uncomfortable.  Finally after a few minutes, Jason decided to break the awkward silence.  “You have a beautiful view, Mrs. Cheng.  A beautiful home as well.”

“Sabine, please.  You’re a part of our family now after all,” she said kindly but with an edge to her voice.

“Sabine, thank you.  And thank you for being so calm about this… about us.  Marinette has been panicking about telling you since we got married.  She is really terrified about disappointing you.  I know this must have been a shock and hard to accept for you.”

“It is.  You have to understand, it’s nothing personal, but she will always be our baby and we just want what’s best for her.  This is an unknown, you are an unknown so we aren’t sure how to react yet.”

“I do understand.  I don’t take it personally.  And I fully understand wanting to protect Marinette.  I’m not going to try to force you to like me. I’m just happy Marinette is happy and doesn’t feel like she disappointed you.”

Sabine watched him for a few moments.  “I can see the way you two look at each other and I can see how much you two love each other.  But I can see something else.”  He raised his brow at her.  “I can see the way you need each other.  I want to make sure you aren’t just using each other.”

Jason sucked in a breath and glanced away. That was not the observation he had been expecting.  He didn’t think either of them was that obvious about how they interacted.  He looked back to her, impressed with her insight. “You’re very observant.  We are using each other… but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing.  We both offer something the other needs.  But neither of us is willing to take more than the other can give,” he reassured her. “And we really do love each other. We want the other to be better, to be happy.  We rely on each other and we need each other but, isn’t that the way marriage is supposed to be?  I mean, I don’t have very many models of a good marriage… or any, honestly, but that’s the way Marinette describes it.  And that is what I want, a happy, healthy marriage.  But more than that, I want her to be happy.  I’m not going to do anything that will cause her more pain.”

Sabine’s eyes softened as she gazed at him.  “I think she was right… about marriage and about you,” she reached up to pat him on his cheek.  “I’m glad you found somebody who helps make you feel complete. I’m glad you both did.  Do you mind if I give you a hug?”

Jason shook his head, too dazed to use words. “Here, let me just…”  He knelt down so he was closer to her height, “There. That’s better.”

“Ah, I see it now.” She smiled as she hugged him with a gentle but firm hug, making him feel like he was welcome and accepted.

“What’s that?” he pulled back curiously.

“Why my daughter fell in love with you.  She always did appreciate a smartass.”  Jason barked out another laugh and hugged her again.

Marinette popped her head through the trapdoor. “Well that seemed to have gone well.”

“It did, sweetie.  Now, you guys better hurry or you’re going to be late for your party. But I want you guys here for brunch tomorrow with the wedding pictures.” Sabine said with a smile, leaving the two to prepare for their next confrontation.  “Oh, and dear?” she called back before disappearing through the trap door.

“Yes, Maman?”

“This family you guys want to start, I’m won’t be finding out about it after the child is born, right?” she asked with a calculating smile.

“No, Maman.”

“Jason?” she prompted him.

“No, Ma’am… uh, Sabine.”

“Good.  Just making sure dear.  Now, have fun tonight kids.” She said with saccharine sweetness.

<><><><><> 

The party seemed to already be in full swing as Jason and Marinette approached Luka’s new houseboat.  They could hear the music and laughter from a block away.  “Just a quiet, little, friendly get together, huh?” he asked with a raised brow.

“Yep. Just like your quiet, little, friendly family dinners.  It should be a familiar environment.  You okay with it?”

“No, I mean, no, it isn’t a problem.  I’m definitely not complaining.  I like this better.  More witnesses if someone does something.”

“That’s cute.  You think we don’t cover for each other,” she gave him a wicked smile, dragging her finger along his jaw before walking ahead of him, swinging her hips for him.

“Oh, you’re in for it,” he laughed, running up behind her, picking her up, and throwing her over his shoulder without slowing down.

“Hey,” she squawked at him, laughing uncontrollably.  “Let me down, you big goof.”

“Huh. Did you hear something?” he said confused spinning around and getting smacked by the bag of pastries she was carrying.  “I could have sworn I heard something.  Nope nothing there.”

“Jason!” Marinette called slapping his firm ass.

“Oh! There.  I heard it again,” he grinned suddenly switching the direction he was spinning getting smacked by the bag on the other side.

“You are such an asshole.  You’re going to ruin the pastries,” she laughed even harder.

“Ah, it must be my loving wife,” he said setting her down in front of him with a loving smile.  “I would recognize that description of me anywhere.”

She huffed in mock annoyance at him, “Why do I put up with you?”

“Hmmm,” he hummed moving his face closer to hers and letting his hands roam up and down her sides, pleased with the contented sighs she let out.  “My charm, my amazing personality, my devilishly good looks, I believe.  Plus, I’m the only one who could survive the coming onslaught that is your friends.”

She smiled comfortingly at him, “Don’t worry, my friends are going to love you. I mean, don’t get me wrong, they’re going to threaten you, but after that, they’re going to love you.”

He rolled his eyes, “Why is it everyone you know is coming up and threatening me if I ever hurt you but everyone I know is… also coming up and threatening me if I ever hurt you?”

“Because they think I can’t defend myself,” she shrugged.

“Have you ever thought about telling them who you are?  So they know you can defend yourself?  I mean, not everyone but a few people you trust.”

“No, I don’t think it’s that.” She looked down to consider how to word her thoughts.  “It’s… it’s how we deal with things.  You lash out. I take it out on myself. Everything I do only affects myself. I withdraw from people and things, I lose my appetite, I get more tired, I lose my passion for things.  Those things don’t affect anyone else, at least not directly.  But you lash out.  You yell, you hit, you get drunk and say cruel things, you try to hurt them as much as you’re hurting.  It… the way we deal with things, makes me look weak and you look dangerous.”

He looked at her with sad eyes.  She was right and he felt comforted knowing she knew him so well, but it also upset him that she was right.  That is how he responds to negative things but he never wanted her to experience it firsthand.  “I don’t ever want to do that to you.  I won’t ever hurt you,” he promised sincerely.

“You will.  And I’ll hurt you.  We won’t mean to, but we will.  But we’re going to talk about it, right?  Instead of brooding or detaching?  We promised... and we’re fucking adults and that’s what adults do.” He chuckled but nodded, hugging her closely as if protecting her from their future fights. He pulled away just far enough to press his forehead to hers.  “I love you, wife.”

“I love you, husband,” she looked up at him adoringly, wrapping her hands around the back of his neck.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID I JUST HEAR?” they heard screamed from behind Jason.

Marinette and Jason froze, “Shit,” Marinette whispered out, peeking around Jason to see Alix standing close enough to have heard at least the last part of their conversation.

“You got married?” she exclaimed only slightly less loud this time.  

“Uh, yeah.  This is Jason… my husband.” Marinette awkwardly indicated Jason.

“When did you get married?” Alix asked hugging Marinette and eyeing Jason suspiciously.

“A few weeks ago.”

“Does Alya know?”  Marinette’s pained expression was enough of an answer for Alix.  “Shit.  Well it was nice I got to see you again before your funeral.  Good luck.  Hand over the pastries.  I don’t want them destroyed in the mauling.  I get to be there when you tell her, right?”

“I’m telling her as soon as I get there,” Marinette nodded as she handed over the bag she was holding.

“Sweet.  I’m sticking by you.  This party is going to be more interesting than I thought it was going to be.  Does Sunshine know?”

“Yeah. He was there… Don’t tell Alya that part,” Marinette added quickly.

“Oh God no.  Two murders is enough for tonight.  Well, let’s get to it.  I’d like to dig into these pastries and get some drinking done tonight.”

“Thank you, Alix.  It’s good to see you.  What have you been up to?”  They chatted amicably as they walked toward the boat.  Marinette’s hand held tightly to Jason’s as she walked.  She looked over her shoulder, giving him a tight lipped smile, betraying her nerves.  A few friends called to her from the boat as she got close.  She waved and called back to them with a genuine smile.  As soon as she stepped foot on the deck there was a rush of people each trying to give her hugs and find out about her life in Gotham.

“Back off everyone.  She needs to breathe,” Alix yelled at the crowd, causing them to back up a bit.

“Thanks,” Marinette whispered to her, smiling consolingly at her friends.

“And she needs to make an announcement,” Alix decreed with an evil smile.

“Bitch!” Marinette hissed at her.

“You reap what you sow.  Shouldn’t have snuck off.” Alix smirked at her.

“I was supposed to tell Alya first,” she hissed through her teeth.

“Ohhh, yeah.  Good point. My bad.  Oh well, too late now,” Alix shrugged and stepped back so Marinette could take center stage.

Jason stepped up behind her and wrapped his hand around her waist to let her know he was there for her.  She took a deep breath and gave a fake smile to her friends.  “Everyone, I’d like to introduce you to Jason Todd… my husband.”

Everyone stared at them slack jawed for a few moments.  The boat was so quiet they could hear the water slapping against the bow.  Finally the quiet was broken by Adrien squeezing through and hugging Marinette and shaking Jason’s hand, “Good to see you guys!  How are your parents?  Jason, I’m so glad you made it.  Max over there was just saying Shakespeare was overrated.  We need your expertise, man.  Well, no what I actually need is someone who knows what the fuck their talking about to destroy him.”

Marinette smiled gratefully at Adrien who just winked in response.  “Go savage, man.  Let the heathen have it,” Adrien encouraged, slinging his arm over Jason’s shoulders and gesturing to a man in glasses in front of them.  Jason looked back to Marinette for confirmation.  She nodded to him with a wry smile and leaned over to Alya who had finally made her way over to Marinette, “Watch this.”  She grinned proudly as Jason proceeded to give a solid 5 minute literary critique of Shakespeare’s works, the prevalence of the themes he wrote about, and the effect he had not only on his time but on future writers.

“He’s passionate about Shakespeare.” Alya observed.

“Yeah. Our place is filled with classic literature.  You should see him talk about Jane Austin,” Marinette looked down to her hands for a moment before softly saying, “I’m sorry, Alya.  I wanted to tell you first, in person.  It was very sudden.”

Alya nodded.  “Does he make you happy?”

“Yes, very,” she nodded vigorously.  “He makes me feel… again.” She looked over at Alya uncertainly.

Alya nodded again and looked away as Jason returned with a grin.  “How did that feel?” Marinette asked with a knowing smile.

“That was awesome.  I never get to geek out like that.” He said hugging her.  “You must be Alya,” he held out his hand.  “Marinette talks about you constantly.  I feel like I know so much about you already.”

“So how did you meet?  When did you know you needed to get married?” Alya nodded her head in acknowledgement as Kagami joined them.

“We met when she kicked someone’s ass and I knew I needed to marry her when she handed Batman’s ass to him in a verbal smack down for the ages after he interrupted our date.” He grinned proudly down at Marinette.

“Marinette!” Kagami chastised her as Alya smacked her in the chest.

“It was the second time our date had been interrupted!  I was pissed.  And he tried to pull that glare on me like I did something wrong.”  Marinette defended herself.

“Ooh, that was a mistake.” Alya shook her head with a laugh.

“I know, right?”

“Marinette, can I speak with you a bit more privately?  I have some concerns I’d like to address with you.” Kagami spoke sharply looking only at Marinette.

Marinette looked between Jason and Alya and for the second time they had a silent conversation about if he was okay with being left alone.  He nodded to her and motioned for her to follow her friend.

As soon as they were out of earshot Alya started her shovel talk, staring directly in his eyes.  “You understand that you are an exceptionally lucky man and you will never meet anyone as amazing as her again, right?”

“I do.” He nodded sincerely.

“And if you ever hurt her, there will be no place to hide.”

“I understand.”

Alya nodded at him but her eyes didn’t soften.  “Okay.  My girl has been miserable for a really long time.  None of us know what caused it except Adrien, but we have our suspicions. She hasn’t allowed herself to feel anything, good or bad in years.  But she finally looks happy.  With you in her life, she finally seems back to her old self so…”

“So?”

Alya squinted at him and pursed her lips, “So, I will allow it.  I will allow you to stay married to her.  But if that changes, if she becomes suddenly unhappy, they will never find the body, understood?”

“Understood,” he nodded at her.  “And just so you know, I think there’s a line now.  I think you’re after Sabine, Adrien, and Fang, not to mention several members of my family.”

“Oh no, we work together.  I do the tool supplying, Kagami does the killing, Sabine does the cutting up, Adrien does the feeding, Fang does the eating, Kim does the alibiing, and Max does the cover up.  If your family wants to get involved, we can assign jobs.”

Jason looked at her curiously, “Should I be concerned that you seem to have thought this through?”

“Not if you treat her right.” Alya gave him a pointed look.

“Which one is Kagami?  I don’t think I’ve seen her yet.” He scanned the crowd.

“That’s her skill.  You won’t see her coming,” she sent him a devilish smile before pointing to a woman leaning against the balcony railing having a serious conversation with Marinette, “Kagami was the one that was over here earlier, the one that currently is interrogating Marinette.  You’re lucky I’m the one doing this and not her.  She still might actually, but she should know I’ve already done it.  I’m higher in the hierarchy.”

“There’s a hierarchy?” he looked at her with a raised brow.

“You think you’re the first one to get this talk?  We protect our friends and we all know who gets to give the talk to who’s significant other and who is second up in case that person is unavailable.  In most of these scenarios, Marinette is the one doing the digging.  We don’t usually have the option of Fang.  You didn’t wet your pants so you’re doing better than most of the significant others.”

“Thanks.  Have you ever had to enact it?”

“Not that anyone has been able to prove.” She shot him a finger gun and a wink.

“Hey, new guy!  You look like you’re in shape.  You’re getting in on this, come on.” A large man with frosted tips tugged him to one of the ship’s two masts.  Jason looked back at Alya who just gave him a thumbs up.  “It’s a race to the top.  Whoever sits on their mast first gets a prize.” The man announced excitedly.

“What’s the prize?”

“If you win, we let you stay married to my little sister.”

“I’m not your sister,” Marinette yelled from her spot at the railing.

“She says such hurtful things,” Kim mock whispered to Jason, his hand held sadly against his chest.  “If I win, you buy the alcohol at the next party.”  Jason nodded at him and looked over to Marinette with a wink.

“Winning this one for you, Pixie.” He gave her a dashing grin and a wink.

“Show ‘em what you got, Red.  Mulan that bitch.”  Marinette yelled back.

Marinette looked over as Adrien threw his arm around her shoulder, eyeing him suspiciously, “Hey, awfully convenient you guys were talking about Shakespeare when we got here.”

“Awfully wasn’t it.  Couldn’t get Max talking about anything else.” Adrien shrugged with a false nonchalance.

“Right, classic lit.  Max’s favorite subject,” she rolled her eyes.  “Thank you.”

He gave her a tight side hug.  “Don’t know what you’re talking about, Bug.”  He shifted his focus to the center of the boat as Jason and Kim’s race started. He soon doubled over laughing as Kim slipped and fell from about half way up the mast all the way back to the deck, landing on his ass with a thump, followed almost immediately by Jason losing his footing and smacking his face against the mast but managing to keep his lead.  “You married that.  That’s yours now.  You own that.”

“Yeah, but have you seen him without his shirt on?” he shook his head.  She looked back with adoring eyes and a wicked smile at her amazing husband, engaging in dumbass challenges with her friends, “Worth it.”

Covert Pregnancy