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drabbles-mc · 2 years ago

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Won't Leave You Behind

Summary: When an op goes wrong and Steve gets left behind, the rest of his troop is left to call on the only team that is capable of getting him out in one piece. (military/no powers AU)

Warnings: 18+, angst (with a happy/hopeful ending), language, war/violence, hospitals, blood/injury

For the Alternate June-iverse Event Prompt: search & recsue

For @whumpril Day 26: short on time / explosion / "I won't leave you"

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Not me going into this fic telling myself that I wasn't going to get carried away and then getting extremely carried away. 😂 But I really did have so much fun creating this universe. It also gave me a change to include some of my other MCU faves so that was fun! I feel like I should preface this with the fact that I took every creative freedom known to man with the military aspects of this. It's fanfic we're just here to have a good time haha. Hope you enjoy! Also, shout-out to @buckybarnesevents for hosting this event! xo

MCU Taglist: @garbinge @artemiseamoon (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

The medics area was controlled chaos. It’d gone from relatively quiet to anything but that when Sam’s team came back from their last mission out. Well, when what was left of Sam’s team had come back. No one had gotten any clear-cut answers yet as to what had happened, but the doctors who were running around tending to everyone’s wounds could take a pretty good guess.

Sam was lying on the table, trying his best to be a good patient as the doctor pulled a piece of shrapnel out of his side. A few centimeters in a different direction, and Sam knew that he wouldn’t have made it back to base. He would’ve been left behind just like—

“Everyone make it back?” Clint asked as he strode up to where Sam was laying, effectively cutting his train of thought short.

Sam’s grip on the bed beneath him tightened as he tried not to move and flinch from the pain of having his wounds tended to. Gritting his teeth, he shook his head as he forced out, “N-not everyone.”

Clint’s brows knit as he looked out over the medical bay. He tried to do a quick headcount, but with all of the moving bodies he knew it wasn’t going to happen. “Who?”

He shut his eyes tightly, partially from the pain, partially from just not wanting to say it. “Rogers.”

Clint’s lips immediately dropped to a frown as Sam’s answer hit him. Clearing his throat, he asked, “Was he alive when you left?”

“Wasn’t gonna be for long.”

He hated how callous it sounded, but he knew that he couldn’t compromise the safety of the rest of his men any more than he already had because there was a slight chance that Steve was going to rally and be able to make it back with them. They’d hardly been able to get themselves out of the hot-zone—there was no chance he was risking going back into it. Not even for Steve.

There were going to be a thousand and one questions that Sam was going to have to answer. Those questions were going to be coming from people that were higher up in the chain of command than either Sam or Clint were. That’s how it always went with ops—if it went wrong, upper command got to come in and give the third degree and ream everyone out, but if it went right, upper command got to reap all the credit for it. It was a flawed system but it was the only one that they all had. None of them were doing this for the credit, anyway.

Sam finally pried his eyes open and looked over at Clint. The pain was still there but there was something else in his expression too as he said, “I didn’t wanna leave him there, Barton, but…”

Clint shook his head. “I know.”

“If I was good enough, or any of my guys, to go back and try to get him out, we would’ve. But you see this,” he gestured with one arm at the rest of the medical bay, “It would’ve been a suicide mission.”

“Think someone else would be able to get him out?” Clint asked.

Sam looked at him, curiosity almost outweighing the pain he was in. Almost. It was like he could almost actually see the cartoon lightbulb appear above Clint’s head. “Maybe. Why?”

“Barnes and his team might be able to get him back.”

Sam’s confusion only intensified. The name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t pinpoint why. “Barnes?”

Clint nodded. “Sergeant Barnes and his team are almost exclusively search and rescue now. Best extraction team we’ve got. They’re dedicated almost solely to getting back soldiers that have been taken or left behind.”

“Success rate?”

“They’re still around, aren’t they?”

Sam couldn’t argue with that logic. He gave Clint a nod, and before he could even give him any kind of direction or next step, Clint was off and searching for the people who would, hopefully, be the solution to their problem.

The doctor who had been tending to him stepped away only a few moments after Clint had left. Sam tried to take advantage of the few seconds where no one was talking to him, prodding at him or stitching him up. He knew that it was the last few seconds of peace that he was going to get for a while now.

A few minutes later, Sam heard a few different sets of footsteps getting closer. Propping himself up on his elbows, he looked to see who it was. His eyes widened slightly at the small team of soldiers heading in his direction. He had to assume that the man leading the pack was the Sergeant that Clint had told him about. He certainly carried himself like someone of importance.

Sam looked him over as he approached, unable to miss the metal arm and hand that was at his side. There was a story there, he knew that for sure. And even though Sam didn’t know what the story was, there was something about it that had him thinking that this man was cut out to survive just about anything.

He strode right up next to the bed that Sam was laying on, the rest of the team except for the woman right next to him falling back. Whoever they were, Sam could tell that they ran like a well-oiled machine. They all did—it was the nature of the job, but sometimes they came across people who just had an extra level to them that not everyone else did. Sam had the feeling that even though Barnes had a small team, each member of it had that extra level.

“Sergeant Barnes?” Sam said it like a question as he held his hand out for him to shake.

He nodded, reaching with his right hand and giving Sam’s a firm shake. “Wilson?”

“Yea.”

Bucky clasped his hands in front of him as he spoke. “Heard a man got left behind.”

Sam felt himself get defensive at the phrasing. There was no malice in Bucky’s tone, or even in his expression, but the wounds were still fresh enough for it to feel like a dig. Sam tried not to act on his emotions as he answered. “Yea, Rogers. It,” he shook his head, “it was a fucking mess out there. It all went sideways so fast. It was either risk everyone, or—”

“I get it,” Bucky cut him off with a nod. “Triage.”

Sam nodded, feeling a little less tense. “Triage.”

Bucky nodded towards the exit of the medic area, “Barton said you thought there was a chance someone could get him out?”

Sam took a deep breath, slowly situating himself so that he was sitting fully upright. “I mean, maybe. It was messy getting out. Explosions, I thought the whole damn thing was going to come down.” He paused, looking at Bucky, then at the rest of his team. “I don’t want to send you guys into something you won’t come out of, but I also can’t sit here and tell you that I don’t want to get my last man back.”

Bucky nodded. “I’ll talk to your captain. Get the coordinates.” He shook Sam’s hand again. “We’ll bring him home.”

There was something about the way that Bucky moved and spoke that had Sam believing him when he wouldn’t have had the same faith in most other people. “Thank you.”

When Bucky walked away, Sam assumed that the rest of his team was going to be short to follow. And most of them were, except for the woman who was still standing by his bedside. She had yet to say anything to him, but Sam knew that she had been studying him the entire time.

Not knowing what else to do, he extended his hand out to her. “Wilson.”

She nodded as she shook his hand, the action brief as she introduced herself. “Romanoff.”

That was a name he recognized. He couldn’t hide it on his face, either. He never knew what circumstances would arise that would ever put the two of them in each other’s paths, but he certainly never thought it would be something like this. He’d heard enough about her, the damage she was capable of inflicting. She was one of the army’s most lethal assets, so Sam couldn’t help but to wonder how she ended up on a team that was dedicated to search and rescue. From the things he’d heard, she should’ve been scorching earth somewhere.

“Didn’t think you did extraction,” he finally said.

She shrugged. “Times change. Got too difficult to sleep—figured I would try to balance the scales a little bit.”

He nodded to where Bucky was standing talking to the commanding officers. “That why he pulled this team together?”

She shook her head. “No. Couple years back, Barnes was the one who got left behind. Cost him his arm, almost cost him his life.” She took a deep breath as she watched Bucky looking through the files he was being handed. “No one came for him—he got himself out. No one in their right mind thought that he was going to try and come back after what he’d been through, but he did. This team was his idea, and he was convincing enough that nobody was telling him no.”

“That how he got you to say yes?” he asked. “Or did you go to him?”

A tiny smirk curled her lips. “Depends who you ask.” She paused, looking back to Sam after looking at Bucky. “I went to him.” She gripped the edges of the tac-vest strapped across her chest. “We get a forty-eight hour window to go in and do what we get sent in to do before we’re declared missing or killed in action. Hasn’t come to that yet, though. We keep it simple—recovery only, no extra frills.”

Sam had a million more questions that he wanted to ask her, but he didn’t get the chance as Bucky called over, “Romanoff. Let’s go.”

Looking back over at Bucky, she nodded to let him know that she’d heard him before turning her attention back to Sam. “We’ll get him back.”

Sam nodded. “I believe you.”

Bucky was behind the wheel as they made their way towards the coordinates that they had been given. Natasha rode shotgun while the rest of their team rode in the back of the covered truck. They went over the run-down of the plan, the alternatives for if and when things inevitably hit the fan. The specifics changed with each mission, but the general layout was always the same. Their designated roles had worked well so far. If it’s not broke, no need to try and fix it.

“You’re quieter than usual,” Natasha spoke up as she watched Bucky staring intently at the land surrounding the road they were on.

He shook his head, not looking over at her as he said, “Just focused.”

She frowned, not believing him but not looking to cause an argument when they were approaching such a precarious point. She conceded with a simple, “Okay,” and decided that if she was going to press him about it, she’d do it later.

Sam and his team hadn’t been lying about the carnage. Sam’s team might’ve been the ones that had to retreat, but it looked like whoever they had run up against had lost their fair share of men in the mess of it all anyway. There were buildings on their last legs, and Bucky had the pervasive feeling that they were going to have to go into one of them to find who they were looking for. It wouldn’t be the worst setting they found themselves in, but the inherent lack of structural stability put a whole other layer of danger on top of whoever they might find themselves up against.

The deeper they went into the zone, the more Bucky couldn’t help but to think that Sam’s team was lucky that everyone else had made it out alive. The injuries it all caused were going to be quite the thing to contend with, but judging by the debris, it was a miracle that only one man got left behind. More than that, it was something else entirely that he might still be alive.

Once they reached the site, Bucky found himself following the footprints left behind until he came across the blood. The longer that he followed that trail, with each hallway and stairwell he came across, the more unlikely it became that when he found Steve that he was going to be alive. He didn’t give up hope, though—he knew better than that. Plus, no matter what the outcome was, Bucky knew that he wasn’t going back to the base empty-handed. Everyone deserved answers, closure, no matter how the situation ended up playing out.

Natasha and Bucky were paired up as usual, always the ones to go deepest into the mess, only calling for the next pair in the stagger if things got too volatile for just the two of them to handle alone. They moved quickly but cautiously, trying to make their footfalls as silent as possible as they traversed the rocks and rubble left behind by everything that had happened earlier.

They both froze when they heard the sound of footsteps, other voices not terribly close by, but still too close for comfort. They were a few hallways away. Bucky and Natasha stood and waited, hoping that they would pass, recede far enough to the point where they wouldn’t be a tangible threat to them anymore, just a looming one. After a few more moments, they both came to the conclusion at the same time that while whoever it was, wasn’t getting closer, they also weren’t retreating either.

“Go,” Natasha whispered with a nod. “I’ll backtrack and post up in case they get too close.”

“We don’t split up,” he argued quietly.

She shook her head. “I won’t be far. Besides, judging by the blood,” she nodded towards the red streaks on the ground, “we aren’t far from him.”

“If things go wrong—”

“You’ll hear it,” she finished the sentence for him, although it wasn’t what he was actually going to say. “Go. We’re all short on time, but Rogers especially.”

Bucky knew that she was right, that there was no time to argue. He was just going to have to trust that if things really did start going south, she would handle it or he would be able to get back to her in time to help her handle it. They’d always figured it out so far.

He followed the trail to the end of the hallway until he came to a closed door. He lowered his gun for a moment, holding it with just one hand as he used the other to reach for the doorknob. It wasn’t locked, but when he tried to push the door open, he was met with resistance. Something was behind it—Steve was attempting to block anyone from getting it. It would’ve been a smart move if Bucky had been someone who wasn’t there to rescue him.

The impulse to barge clean through the door was there. It would’ve been easy to do, but it also would’ve stripped away any anonymity that their team still had. So, instead, he slowly tried to force the door open. There was resistance, but he was able to get it part of the way open. He almost had it opened enough to get in when he heard someone moving on the other side, and then felt someone pushing back against him.

He froze for a moment, trying to think of what the next best move would be. He pushed against the door again, listening intently to try and catch any other sounds coming from the other side. When he gave another small push, he heard someone let out a grunt of pain. It was reassuring in a strange way, because it meant that it was most likely the injured man he was looking for, not someone else who was looking to harm everyone present.

“Rogers?” Bucky spoke quietly as he pressed his shoulder into the door again. He paused and waited for a response he assumed wasn’t going to come. “Wilson sent me.” Another small push. Another lack of response from the person on the other side of the door. “My name is Sergeant Barnes. I’m here to get you home.”

It was silent for a few more seconds, and it crossed Bucky’s mind that he might just have to push his way in and hope for the best. It wouldn’t be the first time that someone fought back against being rescued out of fear. He couldn’t blame them, these people who were left to their own devices and taught that when in doubt, assume everyone is a threat, were just doing what they had been trained to do. He was asking them to go against all those months of training, against the rewiring of their instincts. It wasn’t easy—he knew that firsthand.

“I’m gonna push the door open,” he said honestly, “so you should probably move.”

Much to Bucky’s surprise, he could hear shuffling behind the door. He wasn’t naïve enough to think that that meant he wasn’t going to be met with any kind of resistance when he entered, but it was a win for now. Taking a deep breath, he gave another push, enough to make the doorway wide enough for him to slip through with ease.

Once he was inside, he brought his other hand back to his gun. He didn’t raise it, didn’t want to put that energy out there, but he also needed to be ready for the worst-case scenario. Looking around, he didn’t immediately see the man he’d been sent to rescue. Bucky assumed that he was crouched behind something, ducking and waiting to be on the defensive. That’s what Bucky would’ve done if the roles were reversed.

“Rogers?” he said, voice still quiet. He took a couple slow, calculated steps deeper into the room. “We don’t have a lot of time. You know that better than anyone, right?” Another step. “So, let’s get you out of here.”

Bucky could hear Steve’s breathing now, labored and shallow. He stepped around an overturned cabinet and came face-to-face with the whole reason anyone came back at all. Steve was sitting on the ground, back against the wall, gun pointed directly at Bucky’s head.

Bucky held his hands up in surrender for a moment before slowly moving to holster his gun, telling Steve exactly what he was doing as he was doing it. Neither of them took their eyes off the other. Bucky had skimmed over Steve’s file. What he’d read didn’t sync up with the man shuddering in front of him, and that’s how he knew how dire the situation really was. While Steve’s eyes didn’t waver from Bucky’s face, Bucky couldn’t help but to notice the fact that there was blood coming from Steve’s side, and from his thigh. At first glance, he couldn’t tell if it was shrapnel or if they were bullet wounds—there was too much blood. That was for the medics to figure out anyway.

“We’re just here to help, Rogers.”

Steve’s hands were shaking around his gun, from nerves or blood loss was anyone’s guess. “Sam sent you?” he asked, finally speaking even though his voice came out strained.

Bucky nodded, relief showing in every facet of his body and facial expression. “He did.”

The trembling in Steve’s hands intensified for a moment and then he finally lowered his gun. His muscles went slack, and suddenly he looked even smaller than he had before, which was an impressive feat for a man who wasn’t small at all.

Neither of them said anything as Bucky crouched down to help get Steve back on his feet. Bucky draped Steve’s arm over his shoulders, slipping his own arm across Steve’s back to brace him. The metal of his hand was harsh against the bruised and scraped skin of Steve’s back, but they both knew that the little bit of extra strength and power was going to be what allowed Bucky to keep Steve upright, what would give them the ability to get out fast enough so that they didn’t lose their window.

Steve was gripping onto the fabric that covered Bucky’s shoulder, balling it in his fist like it was an anchor. Every limped step forward towards the door felt like a herculean effort. It crossed his mind that he had done all this work to get so far away from it all, trying to get out of harm’s way, and now he was going to have to double-back and go through it all over again. He didn’t know if he was going to have the strength for that. He didn’t know if he was going to make it, if the blood loss was finally going to get to him.

“You with me?” Bucky asked, almost like he could hear Steve’s thoughts.

“Sarge, I don’t know if—”

“Bucky,” he cut Steve’s thought short.

“What?”

Bucky grunted as he pulled the door open a little wider to allow them both to slip through without causing Steve to slam any of his injuries against the doorframe in the process. “Call me Bucky. Everyone on my team calls me Bucky, and you’re on my team now.”

Steve nodded, trying as best he could to help them both get through the door and down the hall in the most coordinated fashion that they could manage. “Bucky, I don’t know if I’m going to make it back.”

“You will,” he said with all the certainty in the world.

“But—”

“I’ve never lost a member of my team, Rogers. Everyone always makes it home.” The one way or another was implied, but Bucky never left anyone behind. That was the whole point of it, after all.

Steve tried to take a deep breath, tried not to think about how unsteady it was, the way that it stuttered in his throat on the way down. He knew better than to waste energy on arguing with the man who was carrying him, especially when he didn’t have any energy to spare, and also when it seemed like Bucky wasn’t the type of man to lose an argument.

They were just about to reach the end of the hallway when the muffled quiet of the building was broken by the sounds of gunfire. Both Bucky and Steve hesitated at the same time. They looked at each other, each trying to figure out what the best plan of action was going to be.

“Could use a hand out here, Bucky!” Natasha’s voice rose above all the rest of it.

“Fuck,” Bucky cursed under his breath. He looked at Steve, determination in his eyes and the set of his jaw as he said, “We’re gonna keep going.”

“You can’t risk that,” Steve argued, not that it mattered much because Bucky was still continuing to get them both down the hallway. “It’s not,” he sucked in a breath, “it’s not worth it. You need to get your team out of here.”

“You’re my team too.”

Steve admired the attempt Bucky was making to try and give him something extra to cling onto, but in Steve’s mind it wasn’t the time for that. “Your real team.”

Bucky shook his head as he reached with his free hand to unholster his gun. “We don’t leave anyone behind.”

The gunfire got louder the closer they got to it. Steve hadn’t ever felt so useless. He reached for his weapon as well, knowing full-well that if push came to shove it wasn’t going to do him much good. Still, he couldn’t go into a firefight empty-handed.

Natasha spared a split-second glance over her shoulder when she heard the footsteps behind her, just long enough to confirm that it was someone who was on her side. “Good,” she said, eyes already back facing front as she quickly reloaded her gun, “you found him.”

“Yea,” Bucky waited until he saw a flash of someone trying to dart from one room to the other, pulling the trigger and being rewarded with the sight of them collapsing to the floor. “He tried to tell me to leave him.”

She shook her head, still leading their little trio and firing as she went. “We don’t do that.”

They were almost to the stairwell, almost to a few precious moments of safety, when there was a gunshot that was followed by the sound of Steve letting out a grunt of pain. He slumped even heavier against Bucky, nearly causing them both to go down. Bucky managed to brace himself, knowing that he needed to figure out what just happened but he wasn’t going to be doing triage in the middle of a gunfight.

“Nat,” he said.

That was all she needed. “Got it,” she responded with a nod as she maneuvered so that she was standing behind them, covering their backs while Bucky got them to the door that put them in the stairwell. It felt like it took longer to cover the last few feet of the hall than everything else leading up to that moment combined.

The door clanged shut behind the three of them and it was only then that Bucky let out the breath he’d been holding. He slowly lowered Steve to the ground so he could try and get a better look at his injuries.

“Where?” Bucky asked as he looked Steve over.

Steve winced through the pain as he brought his hand to his thigh, the same one that was already injured. Sure enough, Bucky could see the fresh blood that was coming out of it. His mind was going at a mile a minute as he tried to figure out what to do, trying to come up with something that he could tie it off with.

“Here.” Natasha tossed him the rope she carried in the pack that was strapped to her. Every member of the team carried some version of an escape tool along with their weapons. It was just good logistics. “Cut a piece of that and tie his leg off.”

Bucky was grabbing his knife to do it before she even finished the direction. Steve watched him, shaking his head. All the effort they were putting in and he still had the feeling that he wasn’t going to make it anyway.

“You two should go,” he said, gritting his teeth as he felt Bucky starting to tie the rope off around his leg. “Get yourselves back while you can.”

“That’s not how it works,” Bucky said as he tightened the rope just a little more, causing Steve to squirm.

“Bucky—”

Bucky pried his eyes away from Steve’s bleeding leg to look into his eyes. The resoluteness in them was enough to silence him before Bucky even said anything. “If one of us makes it back,” he put his hand on Steve’s shoulder, “we both do. If one of us stays behind,” his grip tightened just slightly, “we both do. I told you—I don’t leave anyone behind. I won’t leave without you.”

Steve wanted to argue it. The words were on the tip of his tongue, but there was something about the tone of Bucky’s voice and the look in his eyes that kept him silent. Steve could tell that everything that Bucky was saying to him, he really meant it. It wasn’t just lip-service.

“We’re in this together until we both make it home. ‘Til the end of the line, alright?”

Steve swallowed hard, trying to muster up what little strength he still had. “Alright,” he let Bucky get him back to his feet, “’Til the end of the line.”

Getting down the stairs and out of the building wasn’t easy. The only saving grace was that by the time they hit the ground floor of the building they were in, the next two members of Bucky’s team were there and ready to tag in, help cover them with enough fire to make sure that they all got out alive. It freed Natasha up to help Bucky all but carry Steve out of the building and to their truck. Both of them could feel the way that Steve was supporting himself less and less as the seconds passed, but neither of them commented on it. There was nothing helpful to say about it, so they said nothing at all.

One of Bucky’s men was already behind the wheel, keys in the ignition and engine on in preparation for a quick take-off. That was always the way they operated. Bucky drove them all in, and someone else always drove them all out. A well-oiled machine.

The back tires of their truck kicked up all manner of dust and rocks as they sped off. They could hear the pinging of bullets off the enforced sides of their covered truck as they got away. It only lasted for a short time, the people who were shooting at weren’t that determined to get them. The entire team was considering themselves lucky for that.

Once the bullets stopped, it was silent except for the thrum of the truck’s engine and the tires gripping up the dirt on the road beneath them. No one said anything, which wasn’t unusual. There wasn’t always much to say after a mission. And in this case, like many of them, the mission wasn’t over. There was a lot hanging in the balance on the ride between where they were now and the base that they needed to get to.

They had Steve lying across the seats on one side of the truck, trying to keep him as level and steady as possible. Bucky was watching the wounds in his leg carefully. The rope did a decent enough job of slowing the blood for not being a real tourniquet.

Bucky could see the way that the color was continuing to drain from Steve’s face. He gently shook his shoulder, trying to keep him from slipping into total unconsciousness. “Rogers, come on, stay with me.”

He coughed, eyes still closed. “Steve.”

“What?”

“My name is Steve. My friends call me Steve.”

“Alright, Steve,” Bucky corrected himself, nodding even though Steve’s eyes weren’t open, “stay with me.”

All the begging and bargaining in the world wasn’t going to change how things were going to play out, so Bucky didn’t bother. Instead, he did what he could. He tried to keep Steve awake, tried to ask him questions that he could give one-word answers to in order to keep him talking. He was partially successful, Steve faded in and out a couple times but he kept coming back.

When the truck rolled to a stop back on base, it’d hardly been put in park before medics were ripping the back door of it open. They fired off questions as they carried him inside, questions that Bucky answered with the most precision he could offer.

Within seconds, they’d whisked Steve off to take care of him. Out of sight, certainly not out of mind. Bucky could’ve waited, paced just on the side of the medical bay where he was allowed. Instead, he wove his way back through until he found Sam again still lying on his bed but in much better condition than when Bucky had seen him hours beforehand.

Sam heard Bucky’s footsteps before he saw him, and for a moment he didn’t want to turn and face him, afraid of what the news was going to be. He knew that he couldn’t avoid it forever, though. So he slowly turned, unable to say anything, unable to breathe, counting on Bucky to say something first.

“We got him back,” Bucky said with a nod.

Sam’s body went lax with relief against the mattress. He got himself sitting upright, reaching out and clutching Bucky’s hand in his own, pulling him into a brief embrace. “Thank you.”

Bucky nodded as he took a step back. “It’s what we all do.”

Sam noticed the way that Bucky was looking around, looking towards the door. “You should stay,” he said, “should be here when he wakes up.”

Bucky hesitated for a moment. So often it was one thing and then right off onto the next. There was always more to do, more people to save. But he could spare a few hours, he supposed, before heading off again. If he had to leave, then he would, but for the moment he didn’t see any reason why he couldn’t try to linger and wait.

“Okay.”

Sam gave a nod. “Okay.”

It wasn’t nearly as long as Bucky thought it was going to be. Before he knew it, Steve was stirring in the bed beside the chair that Bucky found himself sitting in. He was nose-deep in a personnel file, Steve’s to be exact.

Steve blinked slowly a few times, eyes adjusting to the light, brain adjusting to consciousness. “Bucky?”

He lifted his eyes from the folder in his hands, letting it drop to his lap as he looked over at Steve. “Told you we’d make it back.”

Steve chuckled, nodding as he slowly shifted himself so that he was sitting somewhat upright. “You did say that, yea.” He cleared his throat, wincing slightly as he did. “Thank you, for saving me.”

Bucky never really knew how to handle the thank-you’s. It wasn’t what he did it for, but he knew that they always came. “Every man in, every man out.”

“Every time?” Steve asked.

He nodded. “Every time.”

Steve let his head rest back against the wall, letting his eyes shut for a moment. “Your team is lucky.”

Bucky let out a small chuckle. Lucky wasn’t exactly the word he’d use to describe his team, not with some of the asks that he put on them, not with the circumstances he dropped in their laps on a regular basis. “Don’t know if they’d say the same thing.”

“They would,” Steve replied, a certainty in his voice that Bucky hadn’t had the opportunity to head when he was knocking on death’s door.

“I told you, Steve, you’re part of that team now too.”

Steve nodded, still not opening his eyes, still not turning to look directly at Bucky. “Guess that means I’m also lucky.”

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bluesfortheredj · 2 years ago

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A new beginning. Pt. 6.

A/N: The last part is here! Hope you enjoy it. Comments welcome :)

Eddie couldn’t possibly sleep with you there next to him, touching him, warming his body through yours. He tilts his head to look down at what he can see of your face and you’ve peacefully drifted off despite the swelling on your cheek seemingly growing by the minute, then his eyes gaze lovingly at your hand weaved between his, still resting upon his bare chest. It was making him dizzy as he took in the scene that lay before him, although it could be the painkillers Wayne had given him earlier, and he smiles to himself as his fingers tighten around yours. He’d take a beating like this every day of his life if it meant he ended up in this same exact position with you; this was all he wanted from the beginning and now he had it.

Night had fallen outside so the bedroom was now shrouded in darkness, but Eddie was not prepared to risk waking you just to turn a light on, so he stays exactly where he is and carefully reaches out for his glass of water on the side. He feels your hand move on his chest, and suddenly you wake with a start, your brain unable to process these unfamiliar surroundings for a few seconds.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Eddie whispers, “we’re at my place… my Uncle’s place.”

Your brow furrows as you wait for your head to catch up, then you nod as it all becomes clear, “of course. Wayne. Yeah.”

“First name terms already, huh? Should I be jealous?” he jokes.

“Shut up,” you chuckle, wincing as the pain in your cheek hits you, “fuck, ouch.”

You remove your hand from his skin, much to his disappointment, and place it on your face where you can feel the change in shape, then you head into the bathroom and switch the light on to see half of your face now red and swollen, the delicate area underneath your eye so big, it was pushing it shut almost. Eddie appears in the reflection of the mirror behind you and you turn to see his skin now mottled with deep purple and green bruising.

“Oh my goodness,” you gasp, your finger tips reaching out towards his injured body, “oh Eddie, do you need any painkillers? Do we need to get you to a doctor?”

He grins back at you, the creases around his mouth aching to be touched by your hand, “I’m fine!” he chuckles.

“Eddie, you just got beaten up… how are you laughing?” you ask, completely baffled by his reaction.

“Because…” he sighs as he takes hold of your hands, “I’ve just been laying in my bed with you by my side holding on to me while you sleep. I would take a beating every fucking day of my life to have just five minutes of that, I don’t care as long as you’re with me.”

“Eddie Munson, you are crazy,” you smile.

“For you, yeah,” he nods, “I’m head over heels for you… and I wanna ask you something, but not when we’re standing next to a toilet.”

He walks backwards out of the bathroom and takes you back into his room where you both perch on the end of the bed with his hands still cradling yours gently.

“I… er…” he stutters, “do you want me to put something on? Is it a bit weird that I’m sitting here half naked?” he asks nervously.

You can feel his palms getting damp, and you shake your head with a laugh as you give him a reassuring squeeze, “I quite like that you’re sitting there half naked actually,” you admit.

“I really want to kiss you,” he exhales quietly.

“Is that the question?”

“No… sorry… you’re distracting me… okay,” he babbles, letting go of your hands and standing up suddenly to pace around in a small circle, “I wanted to ask you this the day you broke up with Billy, but it would have been too soon, obviously… waiting this long has been torture, like even worse than being in class without you,” he continues to pace while gesticulating wildly with his hands, and you watch him in awe, “anyway… I just wanted to ask if you’d be my girlfriend?” his voice gets higher on the last few words as he brings a lock of hair around to his lips nervously, but luckily you catch what he’s asking despite his anxious squeak.

He stops still as he awaits your answer, his arms crossed over his torso protectively as if shielding himself from a negative reply, “are you sure you want to take this on?” you ask, pointing to yourself, “I mean, I haven’t exactly made your life easy have I? And I do have half a hamster face right now with my swollen cheek, so think very carefully before-”

“There is nothing else I have thought of since I first laid eyes on you, (Y/N),” he admits.

“Okay, good, because I’ve been waiting for you to ask me this since that day too, so yes… a million times yes Eddie,” you grin, standing and walking in to his now open arms.

The two of you embrace tightly, just as you had done many times before, but now there was nothing to stop you from staying like this forever, there was no knot in your stomach as you thought about when you had to leave, and Eddie had no fear of you having to let go any sooner than you wanted to.

“Can I ask you a question now?” you enquire, enjoying the feel of your fingertips running along his back softly.

“Of course my love.”

“Can I kiss you?”

Eddie leans back with a start and laughs, “you don’t need permission,” he whispers, lightly biting down on his bottom lip as your eyes dart from his warm brown eyes to his inviting lips. You both move towards each other at the same time and your lips meet in an initially hesitant kiss until Eddie turns hungry for your taste, the taste that he’d only ever dreamt about before; he imagined your lips to be sweet like strawberries, but it was more like chocolate and a hint of coffee instead and he couldn’t get enough.

A moan drifts from your mouth into his as your tongues twist around one another and you get the familiar taste of cigarettes along with the slightly unfamiliar taste of sugary cereal alongside it, and it’s a heady mix that makes the room spin for a brief moment. Eddie’s hands grasp fistfuls of your t-shirt after the utterly heavenly sound of your faint moan, and it takes all of his will power not to rip the thing off of you just to feel your skin against his. You run your fingers down his spine which causes him to press his hips into yours and divert his kisses down along your jaw and straight to the sensitive skin of your neck here he nips and sucks with passionate groans.

This was it, the result of not being able to touch one another in such a manner for so many months had built up to this exact moment, and there was going to be a point very soon that there would be no returning from if you weren’t careful. Eddie was already half way to being completely undressed, and you shamelessly buck your hips against him to try and get some much needed friction as his kisses begin to take effect on your inner walls.

“Eddie,” you practically whimper with lust, “oh Eddie.”

“Say my name again,” he pants against your wet skin, “please.”

“Eddie,” you breathe heavily, “Eddie.”

The front door opening causes you both to jump apart with shared gasps, then you run into the bathroom in a panic as Eddie spins around in a circle on the spot, trying to adjust his jeans to make it look as though he didn’t have a growing erection inside them. Wayne’s face looks down the hall at him with a confused smile, wondering why Eddie was standing in his doorway looking flustered, then he slowly walks towards his Uncle.

“What are you doing home so early?” Eddie enquires.

You flush the toilet and Wayne’s gaze goes to the bathroom door as you open it, “boss said I could use my break to come back and check on you… seems like it was a wasted journey though,” he smirks as his eyes return to his nephew.

“Can (Y/N) stay over?” Eddie asks quietly.

“As long as she’s taking good care of you, I shouldn’t see why not.”

“She is.”

“I bet,” Wayne chuckles, “right, well I’ll get back then… just… be careful yeah? Don’t do any more damage to your stomach. Those bruises are coming out nicely now.”

Eddie looks down at the purple and green blotches that had spread across his skin, “yeah, I know,” he sighs.

“Maybe get some more ice on (Y/N)’s cheek, looks painful.”

“Will do,” Eddie nods as his Uncle disappears back out of the door again.

You stand in the doorway to the bedroom as Eddie turns to face you, and he laughs before biting his thumb lightly, “we almost got caught.”

“…in a very compromising position.”

“Yeah,” he says looking guilty, “that would have been awkward.”

“Very,” you agree, “but worth it…”

“Oh, totally worth it.”

“I hope Wayne didn’t see the scratch marks I’ve left down your back.”

A wide grin tugs at his lips, “I quite like the thought of you marking me as yours,” he steps towards you slowly, “do you want to pick up where we left off?” his arms wrap around your waist and you place your hands on his biceps.

“There’s nothing I want more, but… my face is killing me, I’m so sorry, can I have a couple of your painkillers?”

“Oh my god, of course,” he gasps, letting you go and rushing to his bedside cabinet, “here.”

“Do you think you’ll be okay for school tomorrow?” you ask once you’ve thrown back the pills with some of his water.

“Just you try stopping me,” he winks.

The two of you get into his bed, cuddling up gently beneath the covers with contented sighs, and sleep takes over easily thanks to the comfort of finally being so intimate with one another. It’s a few blissful hours until his alarm goes off and even then you wake with a smile as you feel Eddie’s arms cradling your body so delicately as the sun peeks through the thin curtains and illuminates his heavenly face. His eyes flutter open as you lean across him to turn off the alarm and you look down to see him smiling up at you sleepily with his eyes half shut.

“Well I’m really glad that wasn’t a dream,” he mutters groggily, “and I wasn’t just cuddling my pillow all night.”

“It was definitely real,” you smile, “how are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling… pretty sore,” he grins as his hand moves to your bum underneath the covers and comes to a rest on your cheek, “how are you?”

“My face hurts when I talk, but apart from that I feel pretty good.”

“Yeah?” he smirks, pressing your lower half into his, “want me to kiss it better?”

You nod as you lean down to kiss him, then he moves around to your bruised cheek and places gentle caring pecks across it while you roll your hips against his body. A second alarm goes off, startling you into leaning away from him, then you roll onto your back with a laugh as he slams his hand down on the clock with a groan.

“Come on,” you sigh, “we’ve gotta get up.”

Eddie huffs and sticks his bottom lip out as you get out from underneath the covers, then you’re as quiet as you can be as you eat breakfast so as not to disturb Wayne, and for once the journey to school isn’t so daunting any more. There’s no anxiety over being seen with Eddie, no worry that Billy will see through your feeble attempts at insisting there was nothing between you both, and most importantly the two of you were completely free to hold hands proudly as you walk through the corridors.

“You ready?” Eddie asks as you both stand in front of the school.

“So ready,” you nod, taking his hand and linking your fingers.

“Feels like a new beginning,” he beams as you walk through the doors together hand in hand.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #joseph quinn

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anime-corner · 4 years ago

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I'm Here | Oikawa T.

A/N: Hey guys! I'm back (hopefully for longer since classes are about to end). Anyways, this one's a bit shorter than usual. I hope you like it!

"Yahoo! Knock, knock~ Sorry, practice finished later than usual!" Oikawa called out but was only greeted by darkness, "(n/n)-chan?"

The house was still, not a single noise was heard. Oikawa doubted that you would leave without texting him, it was practically tradition to crash at your place every after school. He looked around, stealing a loaf of bread before heading upstairs. Dim lights could be seen from under the closed door as Oikawa turned the knob, inviting himself in as usual.

"Hey, Iwa-chan told me that-- what are you doing typing, er writing, whatever it is you're doing in the dark?!" He bellowed, flicking the light switch on. A hiss escaped your lips as you momentarily closed your eyes to adjust to the lighting.

"Shut up, Tooru. I'm kind of busy at the moment so if you don't mind, I'd like to finish all of this tonight." His eyes glanced over at the stack of papers on your left as your right hand hovered on top of another, gripping on a pencil tightly. Your left hand was typing away as fast as it could.

"What's all these? Haven't you finished the assignment yesterday?"

"Well, yes but, this one's for the student council. I need to file a report and it needs to be passed at midnight." You then gestured towards the paper, a bit crumpled with the many times you wrote the wrong formula, "And this is for Monday's class presentation."

"And these?" He pointed towards the stack of papers.

"That's…" You blinked a couple of times before responding, "I think it's the ones from the council three days ago that I haven't checked yet. Anyways, I'll handle that after I'm done with this."

"How many hours of sleep did you even get?" He asked.

"What? I don't think my sleep schedule has anything to do with this, Tooru." You answered, not taking your eyes off of your work.

"Just tell me." Oikawa insisted, sitting on your bed as he stared at you.

"Fine. Around two or so? I'll give it a three since I've been running on coffee since I woke up." His brows furrowed, worry etched on his face if only you took the time to look at him.

"That's not good, (n/n)-chan. Come on, I'll finish that." You shook your head, still not lifting your gaze away.

"No way, you had practice just minutes ago! I'm perfectly capable of finishing these within the day if you just so let me. Now shush-- hey!"

"I mean it, (y/n)." You huffed as you glared at him, "You need your sleep. I'll wake you up before dinner."

"What? No! I can't, Tooru!" You protested, standing up from your seat as you felt a slight pain from your head. You shook it off as nothing, "Tachibana-sensei's breathing down my neck saying she'd be the reason why I wouldn't be graduating this year."

"You still have a day to go before classes start again on Monday. You don't need to rush everything today--"

"Haven't you been listening? The report is due tonight. These," You gestured towards the stack of papers, "Might as well be due at the same time. And after this one, I've also got to revise my notes. I'm falling behind, Tooru and I don't want to hear anything from my mother once I move back."

"You won't (y/n), trust me. You're the smartest girl I know in school and probably the busiest one. I'm sure she'd be proud of you--"

"You see, that's not enough. I need to get my grades up, a bit higher than now." You countered. You retorted, huffing in annoyance at how the setter wouldn’t leave you all alone.

"You don't need to. What you need is to calm down a bit. You know that--"

"Will you stop it, Tooru!? You just don't get it, do you?! My parents thought that I would get into Shiratorizawa and what did I do? Fail the exam!" You bellowed, standing up from your seat as the male stepped back a bit. You stood up, voice raised as Oikawa stepped back, "My mom wanted me to at least be at the top during my first and second year, to at least in her words, redeem myself. But I failed on that too. Now, you're telling me to calm down? To take a break? Well, I can't. I've got my family's voices screaming at me saying I should do better! Do you know how--"

"You're crying, (y/n)..." Oikawa whispered as he placed a hand on your cheek, his thumb wiping away the tears. You lightly pushed him back, rubbing your way with your sleeves. He pointed out. A hand lay on your cheek as his thumb wiped away a tear, you pushed him away after, wiping it away with your hands.

"S-shut up. I'm not crying. Just… leave me alone for today, Tooru. I'm really busy and I can't afford to let all of my hard work turn to dust."

"I'll help you."

"For the last time, I--" He cut you off.

"Just let me help!" He was already frustrated seeing the girl he adored so much struggling with her life.

He knew of her problem with her parents and most importantly, he knew the conflict she had with herself. He knew that feeling more than ever. And he didn't want her to feel the same way he did during that time.

And he was afraid that, while it might not cost her a knee, she might lose so much more if she continues. Perhaps, her eyesight or her health. Worst case, her life. And he wasn't going to let her get to that point.

"If Iwa-chan was here, he'd know what to do… but he isn't. And I don't want to disturb him too. I'm just trying my best to help you, because I understand, I understand you the most out of everyone," He walked closer, enveloping you in a hug as the two of you sat on the floor, "You just want to prove something but, you're all fed up about everything. You're trying your best but I guess, to others, that's not good enough."

Tears slowly dripped down from your face once again as you buried your head on his chest, gripping on his jacket, "Why can't you leave me alone, Tooru? I don't care if you get me… I just want to be left alone."

"I'm staying, (y/n) and that's final. I'm not going to let you carry that burden all by yourself anymore. I'm here, remember? I'll help you," Oikawa whispered in your ear as he caressed your back, "You're, besides Iwaizumi, the one I treasure the most. I care about you and I don't want you to suffer like this when I know that I could have tried and saved you from it."

"Why?" That one question made him silent for a while as you looked up at him.

"I… it's because…" He sighed, making you somewhat dread and anticipate the answer at the same time, "I love you, you know that? And while this might possibly be-- ah, who am I kidding? It's the worst time possible to tell you this, I don't think that I'll be able to get another chance like this."

"T-Tooru… I…" You started but went silent as he brought his hand up.

"Please hear me out?" He inhaled before opening his mouth again to speak, "I… I want to support you (y/n), the same way you and Iwaizumi did all these years, especially during the time when I overworked my knee. The two of you were always there. So, let me be there for you too."

"It's just not easy when you've been doing everything yourself for most of your life…" You gulped, avoiding his gaze as you clenched your fists tightly.

"I know. But, I really do love you. And I promise that you'll never regret choosing me unlike how I regret eyeing up girls when I knew that you were right in front of me the whole time and they'll never be you. They'll never be as hardworking, caring and overly kind as you. You're perfect and so much more. Because everything means nothing to me if I can have you to call as mine." Oikawa said, moving a strand of your hair away from your face.

"Even the nationals?" You asked, teasing him a bit.

"I… okay, maybe not the nationals. I still want to beat Ushiwaka and all. But that's besides the point," He shook his head, placing his chin on top of your head, "You're amazing and beautiful, even when you think you're not. And I'm really sorry for confessing at the worst time possible. But, believe me when I say that I love you."

"Why are you… confessing now?" Somehow, this question made him think. It's not like he hadn't practiced his answer in the mirror for a million times, making sure it was perfect to his ears. Not at all. But, given the situation, he'd have to abandon that script and start a new one.

"Well, it just pains me to see you doing the same things I did before, even though your academics and my career as a player are two different things, and I thought that if I manage to successfully tell you how I feel, I could somehow help you carry all of this. Because by that time, I would hopefully be your boyfriend." Oikawa spoke genuinely, moving one of his hands from her back to her head, stroking her hair.

"You don't need to be my boyfriend to help me, you know."

"I know that but you just make it so difficult, argh! Everytime I see you frustrated, I just wanna hug you and kiss you and then take over your work while you rest. But I can't do that as a friend! So… so..." Not that he thought about it, what he said sounded stupid, "Yeah, I know. It's a dumb excuse."

"You're an idiot." The third year laughed out loud.

"I know, Iwa tells me that all the time." You lightly hit his shoulder, hiding the smile that was threatening to show, "At least I made you smile right?"

"I guess you did, Tooru. I guess you did." He hummed in satisfaction before something else you couldn't quite figure out what was etched on his face.

"I'm not going to force you to answer my feelings right away, (y/n)-chan. I can wait." He stammered.

"Why wait when I feel the same way? I love you too, Tooru." He perked up suddenly, making you hide the massive blush on your face.

"Wait, really? You're not joking right? (y/n)?" The setter found you fast asleep, whether or not you were faking it, he wouldn't know. He only chuckled, kissing your head, "Alright… I'll let you get some rest. You deserve it."

He carried you over to your bed, tucking you in. His hand lingered on your cheek, a smile on his face as he whispered.

"Dream of me will you, (y/n)-chan?" Oikawa stood up straight, eyes darting towards your mess of a desk, "Now… which one did she say she needed by midnight?"

Let me hold your hand and carry the same burden you hold. I'll always be here, even if you push me away.

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thegreenmetblue · 4 years ago

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Idiots in love

aka another the fear of losing Tony makes Peter confess OS than no one asked

read on ao3

Tony thinks he doesn’t deserve something as pure as Peter in his life. And because idiots always have to come as a pair, Peter thinks he doesn’t deserve Tony either. Tony and Peter are both idiots in love thinking they dont deserve each other. They’re together-but-not together. It’s that kind of sex where Tony is constantly saying « This can never happen again. » afterward, but they keep letting it happen again and again. Peter is sure Tony could never love him, that he’s just using him for sex. It’s destroying the boy’s heart hard but at least it’s something. It’s better to have sex with Tony than nothing, right ? So he keeps coming back, he keeps letting the man fuck him and he keeps refraining himself from saying I love you every time Tony fucks him. And if he cries, Peter always says it’s because it’s overwhelming and not because his heart is crushing inside him. On the other way, Tony thinks the kid just has that weird daddy kink phase. That he’s misinterpreting worship with love. Tony is just trying to get away from Peter, all the time. Because he can’t do this. He knows he’s falling for Peter. He knows what this warm feelings in his chest every time he sees Peter, every time he fucks Peter, is. But they have to stop. Because Tony’s addict to Peter and soon Peter is gonna realize he doesn’t want Tony anymore. But no matter how they try, this, their attraction to each other, that is always stronger than any restriction they desperately try to make.

One day, Peter’s sitting on the couch in the compound. He’s supposed to be alone there. But then he hears some noises so he turns the tv off and tilts his head towards the sounds. Peter hopes it’s Tony. The boy hasn’t seen him today and this may be pathetic but fuck he already misses the man so much. And Peter knows he shouldn’t. He knows that whatever is happening between him and Tony isn’t that. It’s not kissing, holding each others hand and waiting for each others at home. It’s sex. Just sex. And Peter hates it. At first it was awesome. Heaven even. Tony Stark was fucking him. His childhood hero and now-crush was fucking him. He never thought he would have this damn chance in his life. Ever. Peter used to tell himself that this would be enough. That he could live with that, cause that meant he was allowed to touch Tony, to hold him, to have sex with him. And fuck, not that Peter is experimented or anything but damn, Tony is able to make him cum crying in like 3 fucking minutes, the sex is just magic. But as the time passed, Peter realized it wasn’t enough. At all. He never been this much in pain. But he can’t stop. He’s in love with Tony. He loves him with all his damn soul, so he can’t stop. But keeping this, this is slowly destroying him. At first, they didn’t fuck so much. Tony was always trying to stop it, to say they couldn’t do that. But now… Now it’s almost every night. Every fucking night Tony is taking him in his bed, pinching his nipples, kissing his neck not his lips, Tony never kisses him, touching him, pushing his cock deep in his ass. And every time, Peter ends up crying. Tony thinks it’s because it’s good. It is so good though. And Peter is a cryer, he always has tears in his eyes when Tony makes him cum. But this, this is not tears in his eyes, this is tears rolling down his cheeks, this is him sobbing because his heart is breaking, slowly but surely. Every time they fuck, his heart is tearing appart more and more. The boy wants more, he needs more. He wanna be able to love Tony, he wants Tony to love him just as much. He wants them to cuddle all night, to kiss, to date. He wants to spend the rest of his life with Tony. And he can’t have that. But he can’t stop the sex either. Because that’s all he has. And even if it’s hell, he loves it. He’s gone so far that if they don’t fuck, Peter can’t sleep.

Anyway, back to the noises. Thanks to Peter’s superhearing, he recognizes Natasha and Steve’s voices. Peter ignores his stomach becoming heavier when he realizes it’s not Tony. But then, what he hears makes him frown.

« Should we tell Peter? », the woman’s voice says.

« Im not sure if this is a good idea. They… They looked pretty close lately. We should wait for Rhodey’s text before doing anything. », Steve answers.

What are they talking about ? Is that about Tony ? A dark feelings settles down Peter’s guts. So he gets up and goes to them. When they both see Peter, they freeze. Okay, this isn’t reassuring at all.

« What… What were you talking about ? What does Rhodey has to text you ? », he asks, his voice already trembling a little with fears. Did something happen to Tony ?

« Where’s Tony ? », he asks again, not even waiting for them to answer his first question. When both of their head get down, Peter’s officially worried.

« Listen, Peter, maybe you should-», the blond man begins, but he gets cut.

« Where is Tony ? Did something happened to him ?» His voice already getting louder and higher. There’s a silence.

« Answer me! », he snaps. That seems to work because Natasha puts his hand on his arm and finally talks.

« We got a text from Rhodey, he told us Tony got shot. », she says, simply. There’s another silence. A loud one. Nat’s words hit Peter like a fucking train. His stomach drops. His heart seems suddenly so heavy in his chest.

« Wh… Wha- No. What do you mean he- he got sh-shot? », Peter panics, moving back. He feels like he can’t breath.

« We didn’t want you to be worried, it may not be anything bad. Rhodey isn’t answering so Nat and me planned to go check on the hospital. », Steve explains. Peter’s breath is still stuck on his throat.

« Not- Not be anything bad ?! You- He… Got shot. Shot. He can’t- He can’t. Where is he ? » Peter’s voice is frantic, trembling, cutting with shorts breath.

« Hey Peter calm down, okay ? He’s probably okay, alright ? Me and Steve are gonna check on him, and we’re keeping you updated as soon as we see him, promise. »

« No… No, Im- I need-»

« Peter. », Nat calls his name, tightening his hand on Peter’s arm to ground him.

« Let go of me! », he screams suddenly, stepping back even further from them. Then, without even thinking about what he’s doing, Peter actives the nano-wristband and then one second later, the Spiderman suit is on him.

« No, Peter, you should-»

« Shut up! Shut up, shut the fuck up! », he screams again, making them stepping back in shock. But then, Steve grabs Peter’s other arm hard.

« You can’t go Peter. Not like this. Just breath, I promise you we’re gonna keep you updated.», he tries. Peter doesn’t even say anything, he whines.

« N…No…I…I need-», but he doesn’t finish cause tears are starting to fall down his cheeks. This isn’t happening. Tony can’t have been shot, he can’t. But then the anger hits. Why is Steve holding his arm ?! He jerks away, Steve’s strong, but Peter’s body acting on his own right now, he’s not controlling his strength. And as soon as he’s free from Steve’s grip, he jumps from the nearest window. He weakly hears Steve and Natasha calling for his name, but he doesn’t give a damn fuck about them right now.

Peter’s head is just screaming Tony’s name over and over again. And while he swings from buildings to buildings, his mind is racing with pictures of Tony laying unconscious on a hospital bed. Or worst, laying dead. Tears are wetting his cheeks and his breath is cut by sobs he can’t contain. He narrowly misses getting crushed by several buildings on his way but again, he doesn’t care.

When Peter finally enters the hospital, the fear is eating him up, the cold feelings is swallowing him whole. He’s a second away from throwing up in the middle of the hospital. The boy’s body is walking on his own, desperately searching for Rhodey. Peter wants to die. If something happened to Tony, he feels like he’s gonna kill himself. He can’t-

Seconds pass like hours and when he finally see the man, he practically jumps him.

« Peter ? What are you doing here? », Rhodey questions, surprised to see the young boy here.

« Rh-Rhodey, wh- fuck. To-Tony. Is-Is he okay ? Please, please, t-tell me he didn’t-», he tries to speak but can’t manage to form a proper sentence.

« Wow wow wow, Peter, breath, okay. Tony’s here. He’s okay. He’s not- The bullet touched his ribs but nothing else okay. Do you hear what Im saying to you ? Tony’s fine. » Rhodey’s words take forever to settle in Peter’s brain but when they finally do, Peter’s legs just stop supporting him and he falls on the ground. He can’t say anything. He can’t answer Rhodey. Something so warm is bursting everywhere in his body. Tony’s okay. Tony’s not dying. He’s okay. His brain his repeating over and over

« Jeez, Peter. », Rhodey swears, trying to get him up again. When Peter’s up, they stare for a bit, without saying anything and Peter burst into tears.

« Th-Thank you… Fuck thank you. », he cries, the heavy worry leaving his body. Rhodey hugs the boy, whispering him it’s okay.

« Can… Can I see him please ? », he asks finally. Rhodey signs.

« Not yet, he’s in the operating room. But they said he’s gonna wake up soon. Do you want to wait for him ? »

« Yes. », he answer firmly. Of course he is gonna wait.

« Okay, follow me. »

Peter doesn’t answer. His mind is blank. Fuck, he got so scared. Rhodey leads him to an empty hospital bedroom. They stay silent while waiting. Peter is lost in his thoughts. He thinks… He thinks what would have he done if something did really happen to Tony ? He stops, feeling the urge to throw up again. He can’t think about that. Tony’s okay. Suddenly Rhodey’s phone rings. It’s Natasha. The man answers and goes out of the bedroom. Peter just hears him saying that Tony is fine and Peter is with him. When Rhodey comes back, he stares at Peter.

« You kinda scared them. Steve and Natasha. » Peter doesn’t even answer. He shrugs. How could they think he was gonna stay calm ? It’s Tony they were talking about.

Something like an hour passes before the door of the room is opening again. Peter’s stomach drops again. A doctor is pulling a rolling bed and Tony’s in the bed. Tony is in the bed, with the eyes open. And again, he can’t help it. He starts crying.

Suddenly, Tony eyes are all on him. His jaw clenches a bit. Rhodey whispers he’s glad to see him and then he heads back, with the doctor, to talk about Tony’s state. and to leave them alone.

« Pete�� », Tony starts but he doesn’t add anything. Peter wants to hug him. He wants it so hard. But Tony just had a surgery because of a bullet in his ribs, he can’t.

« Hey, Peter, stop crying. Im okay, kid. Im okay », he finally adds, his heart hurting from seeing the boy in such state. Peter’s own heart is beating hard in his chest and in his ears. All he can see is Tony. Tony, Tony and Tony. Alive.

« Wha- What happened ? », the boy asks after little time, his voice weak. Tony smiles a bit.

« That was stupid, really. That bullet wasn’t meant for me, I just had to do the hero. You know me, kid. I swear Im fine. That hurt like a bitch, but Im okay. Nothing better than a little bullet in the ribs to boost you, right ?», he jokes. Peter keeps starring at him, his heart beating. He doesn’t answer anything. Realizing how much the man is important to him. No, realizing how everything the man is to him.

« C’mon kid. Say something. And stop crying. I don’t like it. » he only likes it when they have sex, but seeing Peter looking so broken right now, it’s unbearable really But Peter still stays silent. He tries to wipe away his tears at least. But then, he open his mouth, attempting to say he’s so glad Tony’s safe and he got so scared to lose him but nothing comes out. The words are getting stuck in his throat.

« Hey, kid. Peter, c’mon. Im the one supposed to be down right now, you’re scaring me, say something. »

And suddenly, he bursts : « I love you. »

There’s a big silence after that. The words seems to echo against the room’s walls. Peter’s heart is beating hard, his jaw still clenched. Tony’s breath stopped working. What ?

« Wh.. What? », he lets out. Peter isn’t scared. Not anymore. He thought he lost Tony, he thought he was about to see his dead body. He thought he was never gonna be able to tell the man the way he feels. That was scary.

« I love you. I love you so fucking much. Im in love with you, Tony. »

He says, staring at Tony, his voice shaky but certain. The man’s mind goes blank. Peter what? He-

« You- Excuse me what ? », Tony bugs. He can’t be earring that right.

« I thought you were going to die. Nat said- she… they said you got shot. Shot. I thought… I thought I… that you were gonna leave me. I… I never wanna feel like that again. Ever. Im- fuck. I told myself you’d die without knowing how I feel about you, not knowing how deep in love I am with you. So now imma say it. Because- Because you’re alive and I love you, Tony. I love you, I love you, I never felt like this before. And… And im sorry. Im sorry because now you have to deal with that, because we were having sex and I… It wasn’t just having sex, for me. You weren’t just fucking me. I mean… maybe it was that, it was probably that yeah. But I was convincing myself it was more… that it... it was us making love. It was you loving me. And it crushed me. It was slowly killing me. But it was nothing compared to how I felt when I arrived to the hospital right now. I was fucking empty, I… was so scared. So now imma tell you, because you’re there, you’re not dead, you’re alive and I love you. Every cells of my body loves you, it’s a sickness really. But please Tony… even if I know you don’t feel the same way, please just don’t reject me. I… I can’t even explain what Im feeling, and Im making myself ridiculous right now don’t I ? You’re not saying anything, why don’t you say something ? Please tell me it’s okay, please. Im sorry I never wanted to feel that way but I always had the biggest crush on you and when we started… you know. I couldn’t help it, I couldn’t help that feeling to anchor deep inside me. Im sorry. », he spills, the words just coming out of his mouth without filters. The tears are back on his cheeks, his whole body is trembling. But it’s not fear. It’s love.

Tony’s crying too. His brain just stopped working hearing the boy’s words. Fuck, we’re so stupid. he thinks. They’re so damn stupid. He had tons of declarations in his life. But that, that he never had. This is indescribable. The feeling inside his body right now is not something he can put words on.

So he just take a big inspiration and whispers Peter to come closer to him. Peter walks toward him and when he’s close enough to Tony, the man just grabs him by the head and kiss him hard. His ribs are hurting like well because he’s moving but he doesn’t fucking care. The kiss is heaven. For both of them. It’s like they never breathed. And now they are. Peter’s surprised but the surprise doesn’t last long because of that feeling vibrating inside him. Tony’s kissing him. Tony never kissed him before. He can’t help the little moans coming out and Tony smiles against his lips at that. Fuck, this is so good. Both of their tears are mixing up, making the kiss wet. When the kiss ends, they both stare at each other in the eyes, in the deepest of their soul.

« Wha.. What was that for ? », Peter asks, whispering, his voice trembling, scared he’ll ruin the moment. But he needs to know .

« That, was my way of telling you I wasn’t planning on leaving you, Peter. Im sorry you thought I was gonna die. I can’t do promises I can’t keep, but I swear Imma do my best. For the said two Avengers’s genius, we both were damn idiots. Because... I love you too, Peter. Of course I love you. How could I not ? Just look at you, baby. And look at me. Im as deep in love with you as you are. Maybe more. You know how I am, always screwing things up. Im sorry I didn’t see it sonner, Pete. I thought it was just a worshiping thing, I thought you were gonna find someone your age and stop what we had. I.. I restrained myself to hold you, Im so sorry, baby. But from now on- from now on, Im not gonna restrain anymore. I love you, kid. But let’s make things right, alright ? I know I’ve been the worst mentor slash maybe boyfriend ever but let me make it up to you, huh ? Let me take you to the best restaurants I know and- I mean as soon as Im free from this hell of a place- and just let me take care of you, first. », Tony admits, his voice soft and his chest just bursting with love for that sweet perfect thing in front of him. But then he frowns when he sees the boy starting to cry again. His heart sinks.

« Shit, what- what did I do ? What are you crying again, Peter ? », he asks, but Peter just laugh, crying at the same time. Tony let the breath he was holding, seeing Peter is laughing.

« N-No, it’s just.. Im… Im so happy right now, Tony. I think I’ve never been this happy.» Warm love’s swallowing Tony entirely.

« I love you, kid. »

#starker #peter parker x tony stark #ironspider #tony stark x peter parker #tony stark/peter parker #peter parker/tony stark #leah writes sometimes

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iron-mum · 4 years ago

Text

My Spider Sense is Shinglin’

By @iron-mum and @geekinthecorner for the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Rating: General

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark (Brief appearances from Stephen Strange, Helen Cho and Bruce Banner)

Summary:

“You feeling okay, bud?” He said, racing over and helping the teen disentangle his legs from the blanket. “A little,” Peter lied badly, unsure why he’d even bothered trying. Even his greatest attempts at white lies couldn’t get past his mentor. He’d grown to know the kid and his antics exceptionally well. “You wanna try that again with less understatements?” “Headache.” Peter started, pausing for just a moment. Tony had lingered just to see if anymore was going to come before standing up, with the intention of heading to the kitchen. He’d barely lifted his leg to take the first step when... “Spidey Sense still tingling… Not hungry… Hot.”

or: Peter mistakes shingles for a pulled muscles and suffers miserably.

Tony had a knack for knowing when something was wrong. An ingrained intuition from the copious amounts of people he had met in his lifetime had led to some pretty nifty bullshit detecting skills. The genius paid attention far more than he was given credit for, particularly when it came to the few people he held closest and dearest. Peter was adamant that if he were a Sim he would have the perceptive and observant trait, albeit his chance of learning something new from a socialisation being higher than the thirty-five percent the game offered. The duo had settled for a solid seventy percent.

So, when the very intern who praised his observational skills barely uttered more than a greeting upon sheepishly entering the lab, Tony knew something was up. Peter who was usually all beaming, charismatic grins and energetic pacing on the floor—or ceiling— had been sat in the same spot for almost an hour or so, features so tense it looked unnatural. Initially, the older man had made subtle changes to the environment they were in, lowering the music a notch and dimming the lights ever so slightly in an effort to decipher the discomfort the kid was apparently unwilling to discuss. All had proven unsuccessful.

“You okay, buddy?” Tony questioned softly, when he noticed the teen wince and wriggle from his seated position. The deciphering had been going on all morning so all that had been left was tackling the issue head on. Rather than answering, Peter put the pen down that he’d been aimlessly playing with and cupped his face in his hands, breathing harsher than usual.

“My Spider Sense has just been really acting up all day,” he hesitantly replied as he heard his mentor’s steps draw closer. “It’s been getting more uncomfortable as the day progressed.”

A cool hand tentatively cupped his neck before manoeuvring to the left shoulder and offering a comforting squeeze. Peter instantly wished the soothing touch to his skin lasted longer than the few seconds it had, an involuntary whine escaping his lips as he fought to not cry there and then at how glorious it had been.

Alarm bells were ringing in his mentor’s head instantaneously. An admission of discomfort was rare and not something to be taken lightly when coming from someone who could easily make jokes about being stabbed or hit by a truck. That in addition to a sound that resembled a small baby animal in distress had Tony’s mind in overdrive.

“You’re feeling a little peaky. Why don’t we call it a day for lab time and go up to the penthouse?” Tony offered, mentally chastising the potential for Parker luck to strike at this very moment. The kid’s aunt was away for a week with training and Pepper was abroad for international meetings. Not that he didn’t want to look after Peter, the mechanic just immediately felt awkward and three thousand percent out of his league at the prospect. There was a small sigh of relief when Peter finally meandered off his chair, the duo slowly making their way towards the elevator. The older man’s hand remained on the kid’s shoulder, thumb occasionally rubbing the teen’s neck as he seemed to be enjoying the movement.

“You take a seat on the couch, I’ll fix us up some snacks,” Tony directed as he watched Peter totter across the room before sluggishly flopping onto the sofa, one arm immediately resting over his eyes whilst the other lay across his chest and holding his left side. There had barely been a hum of acknowledgement.

Peter felt absolutely, fudging dreadful. His stomach growled in hunger as a reminder that he’d waited far too long to eat but his appetite was completely shot. Almost like his mind had dissociated from the basic needs it required. All he could concentrate on was not succumbing to the pain in his flank which at this rate had gone from dull ache to a thousand knives piercing him over and over.

Not wanting to eat and feeling like the worst human possible for not telling his mentor to stop the food preparation, Peter opted for feigning to be asleep. A difficult task in itself considering the spikes of pins and needles he’d been feeling. Amidst the all-over-body irritation was a very prominent, localised pain to his left side. The teen had put it down to a pulled muscle as he had been patrolling a lot more vigorously than usual with the school break now in full swing. Nice one, Parker.

The self diagnosis Peter provided himself meant that he’d been reluctant to mention anything to Tony prior, not wanting to be a burden over something that should have been trivial. His mentor did always seem to be dealing with more than enough on his plate anyway. With a small shiver at the feeling of bugs crawling across his skin, Peter began to second guess not providing Mr. Stark with all the details of his symptoms. After what seemed like a moment’s hesitation, a soft material was being draped over him.

Tony had clearly fallen for the fake sleeping act. Or was just too polite to call him out on it . Allowing Peter the whole sofa, he slid an armchair across so he was within close proximity to the kid and pulled out a Stark Tablet ensuring the brightness was low. The genius had used the settings on the tablet to dim the room and ensure no one disturbed them.

The teen could hear the tablets gentle thrum, the sound of Tony’s fingers delicately touching the pad and his steady, calming heartbeat. His breathing was soft and gentle, a steady tempo that Peter found himself trying to follow. He eventually yielded to drowsiness and found himself slowly falling into darkness, hoping he’d feel better after a nap.

Peter’s wake up had been particularly violent. The teen shot up after feeling an excruciating sting in his side, skin feeling like he was literally on fire. He’d swiftly fallen backwards into the cushions, mind still catching up with the body, leaving him with a sense of disorientation and overwhelmingly lightheaded. Tony was at his side within seconds, clearly just returning from the bathroom, a flare of panic in his eyes.

“You feeling okay, bud?” He said, racing over and helping the teen disentangle his legs from the blanket.

“A little,” Peter lied badly, unsure why he’d even bothered trying. Even his greatest attempts at white lies couldn’t get past his mentor. He’d grown to know the kid and his antics exceptionally well.

“You wanna try that again with less understatements?”

“Headache,” Peter started, pausing for just a moment. Tony had lingered just to see if anymore was going to come before standing up, with the intention of heading to the kitchen. He’d barely lifted his leg to take the first step when...

“Spidey Sense still tingling… Not hungry… Hot.”

“The day you’re not hungry is the day the whole country falls apart,” Tony frowned as he headed to the kitchen and ran the tap. A full glass of water and wrung out flannel later he was back at Peter’s side and very carefully helping him to sit up, the sway and unease in the teen’s movements evident.

The thought of water had Peter feeling nauseous but he knew this wasn’t something his mentor was going to back down on. He held the glass in his hands, leaving it on his lap for a moment and enjoying the cold temperature on his fingertips. The older man carefully placed the flannel on his neck and boy, was it heavenly. A final moment of discomfort dissipated and the relief was overwhelming.

“Peter?” Tony asked, tone full of a parental tone that Peter had only thought he’d ever hear from his Aunt. The flannel was off of his neck and wiping away the sweat from his face, a thumb underneath the cloth carefully gliding under his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” burst out of his lips before he could stop it when he registered the way his face had crumpled, just about holding in the tears. “I don’t want to be sick.”

"Come here, kid," his mentor offered soothingly and quietly, knowing that when Peter was this burnt out, a sensory overload could creep in and take over at any minute. And that was the last thing he needed added to the mix of symptoms. Tony placed the flannel down and took the glass from tremoring hands before opening his arms.

Peter complied, leaning into Tony, his face buried into the older man’s shoulder as one of his hands clutched tightly onto the rock band themed t-shirt. His body let out a long, shuddering breath no longer able to keep it in through fear his lungs would burst. It was a bittersweet mixture of relief and excruciating stabbing in his side again.

"I’ve got you, buddy. Nice slow, breaths for me. I’ve got you." Tony’s arms were wrapped around him tightly now, a strong grip that left him feeling protected and grounded. One hand found its way in the teen’s hair and started to massage the scalp, occasionally lifting the curls and allowing them to ping back.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” the teen mumbled, face not wanting to leave from its smushed position in the older man’s t-shirt.

Acting on an instinct he had been aggressively repressing, Tony simply tilted his head down and pressed a kiss into Peter’s hair in response. All those years of being so abundantly sure he’d never had kids were well and truly buried in the past. It wasn’t necessarily that he’d disliked children or wanted to be tied down to a miniature version of himself, fragile and requiring a dependant who could at least look after themselves which wasn’t one of his strongest traits. But he also had a terrible fear of failing. Of being like Howard.

Whilst he knew he didn’t have it in himself to be so ruthless and cruel, it troubled him to no end. And even when Peter Parker had come along and wormed his way into his life in all the best kinds of ways. It had taken time to acknowledge the level of care he’d had. This young, endearing, little shit had Tony wanting to give him his all. Hell, the more weekends they’d spent together the more sure he was that Peter would in fact be his legacy. A part of his small circle of friends who he trusted like family and would fiercely protect at all costs. And despite the pair not seeming to be aware of how close their bond was, a majority of their nearest and dearest could spot it from a mile away whilst being blindfolded.

“You wanna tell me when you started feeling this funk? Do I need to speak with Helen?” Tony questioned when Peter pulled away.

“I pulled a muscle on my left side a few days ago and kinda felt off since then. The tingling has been the same, but like initially it was on and off. Sometimes it was on par with that time Vulture dropped a warehouse on me and the next, like that time I entered the building on fire to save Tiddles the tortoise. Or that time I got road rash after being dragged by a van down fifth street. Or that time Tiddles took a chunk out of my finger.”

“Alright. I’m going to be honest. That's a lot to unpack, kid,” Tony remarked when he’d managed to metaphorically pick his jaw off the ground.

“Few days of stuff. Sometimes aches, sometimes sharp shooty pains,” Peter clarified as he rubbed his nose.

“When you’re feeling better we’ll be having a chat. Particularly about this apparent arch nemesis, Tiddles .”

“Tiddles is totally my villain origin story.”

“On the subject of villains , wanna carry on watching The Big Hero 6 series? Globby has me on the edge of my seat on what he’s going to get up to next.”

“Sounds like a plan, Iron Man.”

On cue, F.R.I.D.A.Y. dimmed the lights as the TV turned on and the surround sound immediately kicked in. As the opening theme popped up on the screen, Tony was on his feet and skipping towards the kitchen to retrieve the snacks he’d prepared beforehand. He shoved a bowl into Peter’s hands, a smirk tugging at his lips when the teen immediately took a handful of popcorn and shovelled it into his mouth. The older man took a seat next to Peter, digging into a bowl of chips with a side of dip.

As the afternoon slowly turned into evening, Peter had slowly scooted towards his mentor until Tony got the hint and had shifted his arm to the back of the sofa so the teen’s head could rest on his chest. Eventually the hand that had previously been gripping the back of the couch would find its way wrapped around the boy’s shoulders and then eventually providing tender ministrations across the scalp.

The aches and protests Peter’s body had been firing off seemed to be that much easier to ignore as they cuddled. Not only was the calm heartbeat and steady breathing back to lull the teen to sleep, but he could also feel the gently hearty chuckles of Tony as well as his warmth. Like a heated blanket set to the perfect temperature. Peter succumbed to darkness with the faintest of smile across his face that the man who hated being emotionally vulnerable and often recoiled from physical contact had made an exception for him. And how freaking lucky and privileged was that?

Although Peter was feeling completely shattered, sleep did not arrive once he’d gone to bed. He’d managed to nap again on the sofa which had prompted his mentor to call it a night. The teen’s bleary eyes checked the time from his bedside clock—04:03—he let out a defeated groan. He’d certainly been drowsy, but felt like he’d been on the edge of drifting to sleep and then immediately stirring.

The usual comfort and feeling of safety of Tony’s MIT hoodie was instantly tarnished as his skin prickled with fire at the fabric being placed over it. Peter audibly gulped before creeping out of the room and heading to the lab, wanting to be in his mentor’s presence or at least find some sort of distraction.

As the doors made a gentle swooshing noise upon opening, he felt his mentor's gaze fall upon him. Peter spotted the squint of Tony's eyes as he started to study him. He definitely could tell the teen looked as shit as he felt no doubt. Bags under his glassy eyes at the level of exhaustion he was feeling and cheeks still flushed even though the ambient temperature.

“Stop analysing me please, Mr. Stark,” Peter grumbled, wishing the world would just swallow him up already.

"I can't tell if you're up early or late." Tony stated as he dropped the tools he was working on and hastily made his way towards Peter's side. The boy’s body language was screaming undeniable discomfort as he clearly started to struggle to even move.

"I tried to sleep, I really did." Peter answered more exasperated that he had meant to. He'd seen right through his mentor's statement, knowing he'd wanted to ask if he’d actually got any sleep. “I was so... uncomfortable,” the last word almost came out as a choke, breath hitching. “Everything… hurts.”

“Come here, buddy,” Tony gently coaxed as he went to embrace the young hero. One of his arms had barely made its way around Peter’s back when he’d recoiled back involuntarily at the burning sting the touch had caused. Tony took a horrified step back, arms awkwardly falling back to place at his sides. “I’m sorry, kiddo. I didn’t mean to-”

“Oh God. Oh G- I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark,” he gasped as his face crumpled and a frown replaced the forced neutral ‘ I’ve got this’ look.

“Peter…” Tony started, but stopped as the words barrelled out of his mentee, emotions all over the place.

“Something’s wrong with me. I don’t know why… Everything hurts… And now. Now…”

“Take a breath, kiddo. Nice and easy,” Tony instructed as he took a single step towards the teen. “Let’s get you somewhere comfy and then we’ll get you checked over, okay?”

Peter managed a weak nod, rubbing his nose on the sleeve of the hoodie and followed, trudging slowly as a bone-deep exhaustion dictated his every step. The teen didn’t recall the trip in the elevator nor getting to the sofa. Almost as if it had been a blip in time, not even a blurred feeling or sensation, just missing.

“You’re making me a little nervous, Underoos.” Tony’s voice cut through the mental fog. The tone hadn’t been condescending in any manner. Just an honest admission, hoping to catch the boy’s attention.

“It’s got worse. So much worse.”

“Fri, temperature?”

“38.7. This is up from 37.8 yesterday,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. notified, the duo both cringing at the change.

“Alright, I’m pulling rank, we need to get you checked over,” Tony decided, not wanting to take any chances with worsening symptoms. Particularly when fever was now added into the mix and his Spiderling had next to know thermoregulation.

“Wait… Wait. Could we try super soldier strength Tylenol?” Peter pleaded, giving his best puppy dog look. At this rate he was happy to put on the Peter-Pity-Party-Parker charm if it meant avoiding the dreaded medbay.

“I catch even a whiff of you getting any worse and we’ll be in the medbay quicker than you can say super soldier strength, again. Oh, and you’re having some food,” Tony conceded reluctantly as he left the kid’s side to grab the medication.

“Take these,” he requested handing over the pills once they’d been procured. “I’m going to make some toast.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” Peter mumbled. He briefly allowed his eyes to close as he listened to his mentor potter around the kitchen, cupboards being opened and utensils being sought. The noises reminded him of the domesticity of home life with May as she’d scramble to prepare last minute lunchbox snacks for the pair of them.

His mentor returned a few minutes later with two toasted peanut butter and jam sandwiches in hand, Peter’s eyes slowly opening as he took the plate. After the first bite he let out a hum of satisfaction. Everything about it was perfect; the way the toasted bread crunched when he took a bite, the warm peanut butter coating his mouth, the tangy sweet from the strawberry jam.

By mid-morning, Peter had drifted off to sleep and Tony once again found himself watching over him. The teen’s vitals were up in the top right of his tablet, scrutinizing eyes narrowing when it had slowly started to creep back up. The agitation to touch had shortly followed as Peter would suddenly jerk and grunt.

Tentatively, Tony lightly brushed the damp curls sticking to his mentee's forehead away so he could lay a damp cloth across it. The teen let out a whimper the moment it touched, body shivering violently at its exaggerated interpretation of the coolness. The lengths Tony would do to take away the pain and discomfort for his kid couldn’t even be put into words.

They were back up to 38.7 by lunchtime. Not that Tony had seen. The tablet in his hand was precariously dangling from one hand the other still buried in Peter’s hair. Exhaustion had well and truly settled in and he’d drifted off despite all the coffee he had consumed.

An ear piercing screech and wild arm being thrown into his face woke Tony from his nap. He practically fell off the sofa as his mind tried to process what the fuck was happening. Animalistic cries, screams for help and an arm hitting him again from his position on the ground was enough to spring the words emergency into his mind.

“Fri! Call every doctor right now!” Tony said harshly, the words tumbling out of his mouth. It couldn’t have been more than ten seconds from the request when orange flecks appeared in the room and then a portal was opened by Stephen Strange.

“List of symptoms?” was all he said, saving the greeting for later when he saw the deathly pallor of Peter’s skin and the twitchiness of Tony meaning a panic attack was likely right around the corner.

“Skin has been tingling yesterday and today but isn’t his Spider Senses. Fever, loss of appetite, sensitive to the lightest touches and a pain to his left side. Mixture of aches that range from being bitten by a tortoise to being hit by a truck,” Tony was rubbing his eyes profusely, desperately wanting the sleep to remove itself from his weary features. The doctor had perked a brow at the last sentence but quickly decided what he wanted to do next.

“Peter, I’m going to lift your shirt,” he informed, not meaning to ignore Tony but just needing to get straight to work with the triage. “Actually, could you lift it Tony? I don’t want… my hands to make this any worse than it’s going to be if he’s touch sensitive.”

Tony was quick to comply, hating the few seconds it had taken as Peter’s face scrunched into an anguished grimace at the feeling and his whimpering turned into ragged sobs. The raised, blotchy red rash across his side was clear as day. It looked like a nerve branching across his chest, angry looking blisters scattered throughout it’s hostile takeover of his pale, clammy skin. Dashing footsteps from the hall alerted the trio that more medical personnel had arrived in the form of Bruce Banner and Helen Cho.

“I think it’s shingles. We’re going to need a gurney,” Stephen called out briskly, not wanting to waste any time. A rash meant it was potentially already a few days into the virus taking hold so precious time had been wasted for optimum effectiveness of the antivirals. The doctors skidded to a halt, well aware a gurney would be just seconds behind them courtesy of F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s assistance. “Fever, malaise, hyperesthesia, vesicular rash spreading from left flank.”

If Tony thought it had been unbearable watching Peter be transported onto the gurney and swiftly taken to the medbay. Then it had been an absolute living nightmare to see him be poked and prodded, IV needing to be in place to provide the fluids his body needed and the administration of pain medication that would help dull down his senses and hopefully allow him to rest. Bruce had tried to keep him at arms length to give the medical personnel the space they needed but that had lasted mere seconds.

Peter's body was stiff and twitching involuntarily, his back arched awkwardly as he writhed in brutal agony. The teen's face was contorted in pain, eyes slammed shut and mouth slightly open as he took gasping breaths laced with cries and incoherent mutterings of pleads for help. Hot, uncontrollable tears streamed down the side of his face and God did Tony want to wipe them away but he knew even the faintest of touches had felt like chemical burns to the kid.

The morphine was due to take effect at any moment, but until then Tony felt like a useless entity within the room. Peter's hands gripped onto the sheets and tore them instantly. There was a risk that the IV was going to be yanked out if the flailing didn’t stop.

"Dad… Dad…" Peter bawled, no longer capable of riding out the searing pain in solitude. Tony short circuited. The room froze. "Dad!" the teen again screamed when there had been no response despite the multiple blurred forms within the room seeming to hear him.

Fuck this. Tony had pushed past Bruce, not enough to harm him in any way, just enough to give him the space to get to his kid’s side. One hand was placed on the mattress of the bed and the other eagerly wanting to stroke the boy’s head but sitting next to the pillow instead.

“I’m here, kiddo. I’m here,” he assured as best as he could, voice on the edge of breaking.

In a move apparently out of his control, Peter’s hand lashed out and grabbed his mentor’s wrist. Quickly, the pads of his fingers dup deep into the flesh, unable to control his enhanced abilities whilst so delirious. The first crunch of bone had Tony biting down on his lip, desperately attempting to remain stoic for Peter’s sake. But then the bones grinded and he let out a pained gasp.

“Peter,” He managed as he deeply inhaled in an effort to sound as self-controlled as possible. The tight clasp started to loosen, as the teen’s movements slowed and his eyes looked almost vacant before they closed. Tony had taken a staggering step back once it had been clear, unsure if it was motivated by the searing pain of his now broken wrist or because there was the pressure of someone’s hand on his shoulder leading him away. He’d barely made it to the hallway still unsure who he was following when his knees buckled and the world around him became a bleak blur.

In his catatonic state, Tony wouldn’t remember the scans and treatment of the newly broken bone. His exhausted body would simply shut down and he’d fall asleep, itching to fend off the feelings of panic stricken shock and complete, unrivalled fear. When he did rouse, Bruce and Stephen had been there to let him know how his mentee was before informing him of the damage that had been inflicted. A broken wrist was nothing when he found out Peter was now on enough medication to allow a pain-free rest.

The first conscious memory Peter had in the fog of his slow awakening was the dry taste in his mouth and beginnings of nausea creeping up on him. Despite his body protesting he attempted a small movement, wincing as he did so. His head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton as he slowly lifted his arm to rub his eyes before attempting to open them. When his sense of smell returned and the stench of harsh disinfectant and latex burned his nostrils hit, his eyes opened far too quickly and far too widely.

The teen’s attention was quickly drawn to the presence to his left. Tony was slumped in a chair at such an incredibly awkward angle it was sure to cause neck ache when he woke up. A cast-clad wrist was loosely folded across his chest as the other arm seemed to loosely cradle it. Gentle snoring would usually be comforting for Peter, but his eyes kept drawing back to the cast with a dreaded sensation in the pit of his stomach that he had been the one to cause of it.

Peter moved again, hissing at how incredibly touch sensitive he seemed to be. It was as if he could feel every individual fibre of the bedding around him. Despite the noise being barely audible, Tony started to awaken. The older man had gone to move too sharply, clearly moving his sore arm too quickly and boy could Peter not take his eyes off of that cast.

“There’s my favourite young adult,” Tony greeted gently as he awkwardly shifted to pour a small jug of water into a cup, the casted hand barely keeping it in place. He did his utmost best to remain passive faced despite how tedious the task now felt to him and he could feel Peter’s hard pressed stare on him and the arm. Plopping a straw into the cup he brought it to the teen’s mouth. Peter had wanted to gulp it down the moment he felt the plastic touch his lips, swigging greedily as the water soothed his parched throat and mouth.

“How are you feeling, Pete?” Tony asked once he’d finished, placing the cup to the side. Lordy, did his kid look so small in the hospital bed.

“A little high,” Peter confessed after assessing himself and spotting the cannula in his hand. “A little sore… Mr. Stark…?”

“If you need any more painkillers than just let me know and I can get Cho. They’ve got you on the good stuff,” Tony was completely aware that sore was likely overriding the high feeling. Because he’d seen Peter high on pain medication before. It tended to involve a big goofy smile and eyes bug-eyed wide. There’d even been the occasional moments where he thought he could fly and would flap his wings whilst making whooshing sound effects.

“What happened?” Peter asked so innocently and child like, a reminder of the young hero’s age. Tony had to steel himself for the inevitable conversation that was about to go down. Because he knew what the kid was like. Knows that the kid can’t stop taking his eyes off the cast.

“You got a one way rare ticket to getting shingles. Not common for your age bracket and Spideyness but. We know what you’re like when it comes to contracting the weird and wonderfu-”

“I meant... what happened to your arm?” Tony looked down at it before meeting the teen’s eyes.

"Alright, so don't freak out on me. You did nothing wrong…" The older man began, quickly being interrupted by an even paler looking Peter.

"Oh God…"

"Ah-ah. Listen to me, Peter." Tony requested firmly, as he placed a hand over Peter’s and carefully gripped. He needed to show there was still respect and most importantly trust. Needed the boy to be grounded and to focus if this wasn’t about to turn into an emotional shit show. "Please."

There were tears welling in Peter’s eyes that he had no chance of fighting. Lacking the confidence in his own voice to not crack he simply nodded.

"You were off your face, quite literally, with a fever whilst a virus attacked your nerves. You were not in control. And it was an accident." His mentor’s voice was tender, sympathetic with just a touch of authority. His eyes were full of love and conviction that stunned Peter momentarily whilst he absorbed the information.

"I'm so sorry, Tony,” the teen rasped, barely holding himself together. The kindness he was being shown felt unwarranted and undeserving.

“I need you to listen to me very carefully, buddy. I know exactly how you’re feeling. I know you’re playing the blame game right now because I’ve been there. I-I-Pepper was almost attacked by a suit because of my actions whilst I was asleep. It’s undeniable logic that I wasn’t even conscious so how was it my fault? But I let it eat away at me and she had to snap me out of that deep guilt-trip-well big time. I know you, Peter. I know you’d never hurt me. And nothing could hurt more than seeing you in pain and being utterly helpless to make it better.”

The stiffness in Peter’s hand finally released and his hand gently took hold of Tony’s thumb. The teen shifted into a seated position, his mentor standing as he did so before leaning over the bed and offering a hug. Peter accepted the embrace, the determination in the movement and lack of flinching from the older man serving only to affirm that he didn’t fear the boy.

“Alright, move over, Young Buck. Your old man can’t stay bent like this for too long.”

With his mentee shifted out of the way, Tony scooted onto the bed and raised an arm immediately. Peter showed just a hint of hesitance before snuggling in, an arm placed across Tony’s lap and his head on his chest.

“I don’t know what to say,” Peter admitted, the latter of the sentence slightly slurring as he started to drift off in the safety of his mentor’s arms.

“Get some rest, Peter. I’m sure you’ll make up for the lack of talking once we get back in the lab,” Tony mumbled before a thought crossed his mind. “In fact, you get to fill me in all about Tiddles once you’re up and ready. That tortoise is on thin fucking ice.”

The teen half smirked at the comment, though no words formulated as sleep took a hold. Deep breaths soon turned into soft snoring. The older man’s fingers slowed their movements before coming to a halt as he planted a tender kiss into the teen’s hair. As he started to feel himself succumb to exhaustion he requested that they only be disturbed if it was a mandatory check up or emergency.

“Love you, dad,” Peter whispered so softly it was barely audible. Even in his exhausted state, Tony’s chest filled with overwhelming joy and happiness.

“Love you too, buddy,” Tony replied with a content, sleepy smile on his face.

#friendly neighborhood exchange #tony stark #peter parker #irondad #spiderson #fic exchange #sickfic

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milstrim · 4 years ago

Text

Comfort in My Shadow

Chapter 4: Uninvited

By @iwritedumbshit for @iron-mum

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Ned Leeds, James “Rhodey” Rhodes

Summary: Soulmates are definite in the universe. Nobody knows exactly why they exist, or what dictates who is bonded to who, the only thing known is that they are never wrong. But Peter’s not so sure about that.

Living at the group home had taught Peter a lot about laying low and how to stay alive when nobody cares. But he’d always clung to the hope of the shadow at his feet reflecting his soulmate that had watched over him for years.

Typical that his soulmate is actually a superhero that Peter is convinced shouldn’t want anything to do with him. Maybe, just this once, the Universe was wrong.

But Tony Stark is desperate to prove that it is right.

Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8

---

Peter didn't really wake up the next morning, because he hadn't really fallen asleep last night. He'd been incredibly tired, but his hair hadn't been able to lay flat and he hadn't been able to block out the overwhelmingly disgusting smell of Mr. Fowler's closet. He'd been it the entirety of the day and even throughout the night when Mr. Fowler stomped into the room and passed out on the bed. The lilting stumbles in his steps made Peter think he'd been drunk and had likely forgotten about the kid trapped in his closet.

So he hadn't really slept, but his eyes had been closed--the darkness of his eyes was better than that of the closet--until the door had finally swung open, allowing Peter his first full breath in almost a whole day. The dankness of Mr. Fowler's room was a thousand times better than the closet. An arm had grabbed his own, pulling him roughly to his feet and out of the closet. His legs had ached with the disuse, but he'd stumbled to his feet nonetheless.

"Are you going to talk back to me again, son?" Mr. Fowler had asked, a horrible pleasantness to his voice. Peter had shaken his head. Something had been shoved into his hands, and he'd fumbled only to realize it was his wallet. "There. The card doesn't work anymore, so you can have that piece of shit back. Now get out of here."

"O-okay. Thank you," he'd said, stumbling out of the room and into the bathroom that he'd been deprived of for almost twenty-four hours. Once he'd finished and washed his hands, he'd searched through his wallet.

His few crumpled bills had been taken, but the pictures stuffed inside had been left alone, and the black card had sat crammed in a pocket. He'd grabbed it with fumbling fingers, brows furrowing. It didn't work anymore? Had the man maxed it out? Peter had swallowed, a pit forming in his stomach as he thought about what the hell he'd bought to do that. Probably a lot of alcohol had been his guess.

He really, really hoped that Mr. Stark couldn't see his purchases.

After a quick shower, in which he'd had to sit down his vision had swam so much, he'd rushed out the door with his beaten up backpack swinging off of his shoulder. He knew he probably should have stayed to check on the other kids who'd had to listen to the fight last night and might need help with homework, but the teenager couldn't stand to be in that house for any longer. Everything smelled like Mr. Fowler's awful closet and he just needed to be out in the bright Sunday sun. He wanted to find just a little comfort in his shadow that he'd been deprived of the night before.

So he'd changed into his suit and swung around for most of the day, flipping for some overly excited middle schoolers and directing an old man from Ukraine visiting his son who lived in Harlem and ignoring the pain in his stomach. When there was a lull in the late afternoon, he strung a web between two buildings and just did as many daring flips and handstands as he could. It was a feeble attempt to distract himself from the events of the past few days.

Hits and threats from Mr. Fowler were nothing new, in fact, they were a staple in the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys, but last night had been different. He'd never been trapped like that in the group home. He'd always had a lot of free reign as long as he operated within the curfew and got his chores done, but yesterday was like someone had flipped a switch on that, and he was still reeling from the terror.

Or that could be the hunger eating through his stomach. Peter stopped flipping on the web for a moment, instead laying down and balancing himself on the thin string as his stomach growled so hard he flinched. He wouldn't even be getting anything today. When did his grounding end again? He was pretty sure it was Thursday, but he wouldn't be surprised if Mr. Fowler extended it after last night. Maybe he could stop by Ned's and get a granola bar or something.

The teenager looked down at the ground to stare at Mr. Stark's shadow, blinking as he realized it was no longer clothed in normal attire, or a sharp business suit, but rather the larger outline of what he could now identify as the Iron Man armor. He narrowed his eyes, wondering what the man must be doing. Probably something really important.

Peter sighed, moving to sit up, when a sound made him pause. He cocked his head before finally turning in the direction of the mechanical whine to make out the Iron Man suit flying towards him.

Huh.

He tried to feign disinterest, laying back down on the web and placing his hands underneath his head as the suit landed on the nearest building rooftop and Mr. Stark stepped out, but Peter couldn't lie to himself about how excited he really was to see the man.

"Hey, Mr. Stark," he greeted from the web.

"Hey, kid."

"Um, thanks for the letter." Please don't ask about the card. Please don't ask about the card. "Are you sure about the phone, though? I mean, that thing looks like it could cost as much as a house."

"Keep it, kid, I gave it to you for a reason," Mr. Stark said, waving him off. Peter watched him warily as he sat down on the edge of the building, shuffling nervously. Peter smiled to see the man very clearly out of his element, as if he would let him fall anyway. "So, how's your day been?"

Peter shrugged. "Fine."

"No hangovers or anything?" Peter froze. "Can you even get drunk? Cap can't."

The teenager hesitated before answering. It was either 'I bought a bunch of adult stuff with your credit card' or 'My foster father bought a bunch of adult stuff with your credit card.' He wasn't sure which one was better, but there didn't seem to be much to win from lying, not that there was much to gain from telling the truth either.

"I don't know," Peter responded honestly as he sat up on the web to stare at the shadow on the ground. The imitation felt more comforting than the real thing at that moment.

"You don't know? You bought three hundred dollars of pure liquor."

"Three hundred--Oh, jeez. I'm really sorry, Mr. Stark."

Mr. Stark blinked at him for a second before his gaze softened.

"You didn't buy any of that stuff, did you?" Peter shook his head. "Who? Andrew Fowler?" A moment. A nod. "Okay, I'll just deactivate that card and give you a new one."

"No, it's fine, Mr. Stark," Peter said, pulling his wallet out of his hoodie pocket and showing him the black card. "He gave it back. I think he was annoyed that it was, like, maxed out or something."

"Well, it is most definitely not maxed out--there's a lot more than three hundred on that, kid--but I'm glad you got it back."

"Thanks."

There was a minute of awkward silence before Mr. Stark rolled his shoulders and sat up straighter.

"So, no tower yesterday?"

Peter suddenly remembered the little note at the end of his letter. He shrugged bashfully, mumbling, "Yeah, sorry, uh Mr--Mr. Fowler kept us pretty busy yesterday. Chore day, so."

"Wanna stop by now?"

Peter looked up at him in surprise. It was a wonder this man didn't hate him yet. The foster parents Peter had before Mr. Fowler had gotten sick of him pretty quickly, or just hadn't been very attached in the first place, while the majority of his teachers regarded him with either pity or disdain at his situation and record. As far as Mr. Stark knew, he had an accident-prone, snotty teenager as a soulmate whose favorite pass time was to be a juvenile delinquent.

And yet, the mechanic regarded him with a soft smile. A little strained, but welcoming nonetheless. It unfurled something in his chest.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Yeah!--I mean, sure sure, that'd be fun." Mr. Stark gave him an amused smile as the teenager stepped off of his web and onto the roof of the building. With a quick glance and a rare smile, Peter leaped off the roof, enjoying the way Mr. Stark yelped in surprise. Peter called, "Beat you there!!"

He did not, in fact, beat Mr. Stark to the tower. To be fair, the man was in a suit that flew faster than a jet and Peter was only propelled by physics and muscles.

The teenager watched from a short distance as the Iron Man suit paused in front of a higher point in the tower, faced him for a moment, and then dove through the window. He raised an eyebrow, but doubled down in catching up to the man, only barely managing to swing himself high enough so that he wouldn't have to crawl his way up more than a couple of stories.

Finally, just a few minutes later than Mr. Stark, he rolled through the window and landed hard on the floor just a little unsteadily, not that he cared in the slightest. There were much more interesting things to care about in that moment.

"Whoa..."

"You like it?" Mr. Stark called from across the lab. Peter nodded dumbly, staring, widemouthed, at the state of the art equipment decorating just about every inch of the room. There were cases of Iron Man armor lining the walls, robots rolling around--he managed a laugh at one with a dunce cap sweeping the ground with a broom inefficiently--and tables filled with projects Peter couldn't even begin to dream of. "You can take your mask off here, kid. No one's going to see you."

Mr. Stark's voice pulled him back to reality, drawing him further into the room hesitantly. He glanced at the man, but realized dimly that his spider sense had finally calmed down. This wasn't the danger he'd felt after being fished out of the lake, or the feeling that had been following him since, it was a normal calm mixed with just a hint of nerves.

He tugged his mask off.

Mr. Stark stared at him, a soft look on his face, before finally tearing his gaze away when Peter shuffled uncomfortably.

"Sorry, kid," he apologized. "Didn't mean to freak you out. Just..."

"Just what?"

"It's just nice to see you, Peter."

He didn't know what to say to that, so he just offered the billionaire a strained smile and stepped over to the desk the man was standing at. He felt more than a little out of place, but his curiosity overwhelmed his discomfort as he glanced over a shiny metal case held lightly in the billionaire's hands in interest. Mr. Stark tapped it when he caught the boy looking.

"This, kid," he said, sliding it over, "is for you."

Peter caught it effortlessly, his fingers light and hesitant as he glanced from it to Mr. Stark, his head down.

"I can't accept this, Mr. Stark. You already--"

Mr. Stark interrupted by reaching over and pressing something on the case. It sprang open, spooking Peter enough for him to take a step back but holding his attention as he caught sight of the bright red fabric. The eyes were what really caught his attention, looking unreasonably cool and intimidating. Peter mumbled, "This is the coolest thing I've ever seen."

Mr. Stark chuckled. "Good thing it's yours."

"It's--" He gaped at the man. "Mr. Stark, I really can't accept--"

"Too bad," he interrupted. "It's a gift and it's rude to turn down a gift. So, there's a bathroom right over there if you want to try it on. Give it a whirl?"

After a moment of hesitation, he closed the case, thanked Mr. Stark, and headed to the bathroom to change.

---

When Peter stepped out of the bathroom in the new suit, Tony couldn't help but frown. He covered it up as quickly as possible, but the sentiment still remained as his eyes roamed over the kid. He was muscular, sure, but he was so thin that it practically hurt. The teenager's ribs were practically there just for him to count and worry about. He filed it away for later as Peter turned to look at him, the mask's eyes narrowing.

"Looking good, hotshot," Tony said. "How's it feel?"

"It's awesome, Mr. Stark," Peter responded, his hands held out in front of him as he tapped the webshooters. "It smells like a new car!"

Tony couldn't help his laugh. "If you think that's cool, just wait. Friday, Babysitter Protocol."

"Babysitter--" Peter cut off with a confused yelp as his suit lit up blue, the AI in his suit supposedly greeting him. The kid cocked his head. "Oh, hi. Nice to meet you too."

Tony turned away, letting the kid and the AI get acquainted as he pulled out his phone and ordered a few pizzas. Five might be enough. Steve had always eaten a lot, and even if he didn't manage to burn through the best pizza in the city, the kid could definitely use leftovers. He entered the order and shifted back to observe the kid again.

"--uh, Liz? No, no, that's weird. How about Karen?" A moment as he waited for a response. "Fun. Nice. Cool, this is so cool."

Tony smiled, unable to tear his eyes away from the kid. His soulmate. His little shadow.

Peter turned to look at him after a few minutes, muttering a quick goodbye to the AI--Karen, he guessed--before tugging the mask off again. There was a hesitant smile tugging at his thin face. Much too thin. How many pizzas would it take to get the kid back to even a semi-healthy weight? Probably way too many.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Stark," Peter said. "I really can't thank you enough."

"Please, you can thank me by not thanking me. Pepper says my ego's already a little off of the charts." Peter laughed and Tony couldn't help his grin. "Wanna stay over for dinner? I ordered pizza."

Peter hesitated, but after a moment he answered, "Alright," which was so much better than the kid regarding him defensively or looking like he was constantly on the edge of running away again. And, as it turned out, Peter fit more easily into his life than he could have thought.

In barely thirty minutes, the kid was sat beside him at a desk filled with vials of web fluid and pieces of Iron Man armor, an old, frayed hoodie of Tony's slipped over the suit, and a stack of freshly baked pizza laid out in front of them. Peter sat in the chair next to him as the mechanic ran through the schematics of his suit, hanging on every single word.

"...most of the framing is between the protective layers of your suit, completely waterproof by the way, if you ever get yourself into another lake. You also have a parachute if you pass the three thousand feet threshold."

Peter glanced over his shoulder in surprise. "There's a parachute in this thing? How?"

Tony tapped his back where he knew the spider logo was. "A magician never reveals their secrets."

"Did you compress all the air out of it? Or build it into the wiring on the patch on my back somehow?"

"Both are true." He took a bite of pizza. "You're pretty smart, huh?"

Peter ducked his head with a shrug. "Sorta. I can figure out chemistry, but that's about it."

"I don't believe that for a second, but we'll stick with the modesty for now." Peter huffed out a laugh, spinning the hologram of his suit and staring at it in complete adoration. It dragged a smile onto Tony's face.

Peter had a sort of ruggedness to him, a desperate scrappiness, but it was embarrassingly easy to see that that wasn't all there was to the teenager. His rambles were fast and excited, his scarce smiles adorably bright and always lighting up his doe eyes. There was a kind of spark to Peter that Tony couldn't explain, and, though he was sorry that the kid was saddled with him, he couldn't have wished for a better soulmate.

Apparently, five pizzas ended up being a great number, because Peter ate everything Tony offered him. He was practically a human garbage disposal, though much more polite. Tony was glad that the kid was filling up, but it made him seriously question how much he was getting at that group home. After letting the kid get comfortable for about an hour, he voiced it.

"Do they feed you where you live, kid? I swear, you just put down over ten thousand calories."

Peter paused on the slice he was eating, swallowing before putting it back on the plate nervously, and Tony immediately regretted ever opening his big, fat mouth.

"Yeah. They--Mr. Fowler feeds us fine. Just, enhanced metabolism, so." He shrugged. It was said so nervously that it felt like an outright lie, but Tony left it alone.

"Okay. Good to know. Just make sure to use that card whenever you get hungry, kid. I'm not having my soulmate starve."

At his mention of being soulmates, Peter glanced over his shoulder to stare at their shadows. Right now they almost looked like their own shadows, mirror images of each other, but if you looked hard enough you could see the slight difference in hair texture and the distinctive widths of their shoulders.

"It must've been weird," Peter said. Tony glanced at him in confusion. "Not having a shadow. You didn't get one until I was born, right?"

"Oh. Yeah," Tony agreed. He swallowed as he admitted, "Thought I was broken for the longest time. It was the best day of my life when your tiny little baby shadow appeared at my feet... What about you? Always had a grown man following you around, huh?"

"That sounded creepy, Mr. Stark." Tony just grinned cheekily. "It was nice, actually, always having you there. Like--like a guardian or something."

"And now you've got the real thing." Peter rolled his eyes and Tony pointed at him. "Ah, there's that good ol' sass I was looking for. I was afraid I'd lost it."

"Uhuh. You're kinda weird, Mr. Stark."

"Right back at you, little shadow." Peter smiled at the nickname before glancing out the window where the sky was a deep russet red. "Time for you to head out?"

"Yeah. I've still got some homework to do."

The two stood up and walked over to the window. Peter moved to take the hoodie he'd been wearing off, but Tony stopped him. "Keep it. I've got plenty."

"Oh, thanks, Mr. Stark."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm so generous. Have fun with the suit, kid, I'll see you soon."

"When?"

Tony paused, looking over at the kid who had only just begun to pull the mask over his head, hopeful eyes staring at him. He desperately wanted to tell the kid he'd pick him up from school tomorrow so that they could hang out in the lab again, but he knew he genuinely didn't have any time. He'd been putting off packing for a few too many days.

"After we move. I'll pick you up from school on Friday. We can go explore the compound together. Sound good?"

Peter nodded. "Yep. Real good, Mr. Stark."

"You can call me Tony, Mr. Parker," he joked.

Peter pulled the mask down and jumped out the window with a call of. "See you Friday, Mr. Stark!"

Tony's shoulders shook with laughter.

---

Friday. Peter couldn't wait for Friday. With a burst of excitement and energy he hadn't had in a while, Peter flipped in the air and let out a WHOOO! only catching himself at the last second before flipping back up.

"Wow, this suit is so intuitive!" he exclaimed, shooting another web.

"I am glad you think so, Peter," Karen responded, shocking him so bad he nearly let go of his web. Oh, yeah, he'd forgotten he had an AI now. Man, Mr. Stark was so cool. "I am currently taking feedback for the suit's systems in case anything needs to be changed on Friday. Would you like to rate the suit's webshooters?"

"Oh, full eleven out of ten, Karen. It's great."

"Thank you for the feedback, Peter, I have sent a note to Mr. Stark."

"Oh." Peter blushed. "You didn't have to tell him that, Karen."

"Why not? He has asked for feedback."

"No, it's not--" He cut himself off, sighing as he flipped himself into a large arc. "I just don't want to bother him. He's already been so nice to me."

"Mr. Stark has asked for feedback, Peter."

"It's not the--it's not the feedback, Karen," he tried to explain.

"I do not understand."

He spluttered and then sighed, waving it off. "Whatever. It's fine, Karen, just forget it."

"Of course, Peter. Would you like me to show you the quickest route home?"

Peter hesitated. He did have a lot of homework to do, and Eric probably needed help with his reading, but he had to swallow down fear at the thought of being in the same room as Mr. Fowler again. It was irrational--it was so stupid--and Peter knew it, but he couldn't stop the way his hands seemed to shake and his entire body quail.

"Actually, let's take the scenic route. Really test out the suit, y'know?"

"Of course, Peter. Planning now."

A blue line appeared on screen, leading Peter back to the group home. He muttered, "So cool."

Spider-Man was only halfway back to the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys, finally across the bridge and back into his home territory, when his spider sense went off again. He immediately glanced down at his shadow, which had lengthened as the sun set, for some kind of comfort or guidance. But of course, there wasn't one. It was just a shadow.

A little put off by the shiver that had run down his spine, he attached himself to the side of the building, staring out over the street. Nothing too out of the normal. People hurrying on the sidewalk, cars honking down the street, and shadows following along aimlessly.

"Karen. What's going on?"

"What do you mean, Peter?" the AI asked.

"It's just--there's something wrong. Maybe--" At a second shiver up his spine, Peter turned to look at where his senses were directing him at the ringing of a bell.

It was a small bodega, its door swung open as two men stepped inside in unreasonably thick coats for the warm weather. He narrowed his eyes, and the suit zoomed in with him, scanning the men before they disappeared through the door.

"What's the time, Karen?"

"7:30."

"Alright, we're good then. Plenty of time." He swung over to the bodega, attaching himself to the wall above the door, out of sight of the occupants inside. His senses had yet to calm down, so he assumed that he was right about this being a robbery. "Ready to test out the suit, Karry Berry?"

"I am always ready, Peter."

"Y'know, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship."

"Does that mean I should assign you a nickname too?"

"Definitely! Think about it for a moment and get back to me after we do this," Peter exclaimed in an excited mumble, straining his ears to hear whatever was going on inside. There was the tense calm of nothing for a moment, and then a shuffle and a squeak followed by a spike in his senses. He muttered to himself. "Finally."

He kept his ears strained on the actions going on inside, dropping down in front of the door quietly to watch what was happening. There was a teenager at the register, her hands fumbling with the register while the two men from earlier in their dark coats pointed shotguns at her. He could see tears streaming down the girl's face, clearly terrified.

Peter crept forward, picking up on the muttered conversation inside.

"--just open the register, keep it quiet," the closest man said in a raspy voice. "Hand everything over nice and quick."

"It's--it doesn't open," the girl cried. "It doesn't open unless a purchase is made and--"

The man flinched forward. "Do I look like I care? Just open it!"

Finally having heard enough, Peter placed his fingers against the door and pulled it open as quietly as possible.

Ding!

Peter froze. Heads turned. Curses flew.

The superhero darted forward as the gun pointed at him, firing a shot that missed him completely as he dove behind a grocery aisle of gummies and pregnancy tests. Bodegas really were something. Peter crouched down, muttering under his breath, "Fuck that stupid bell."

"Would you like me to alert Mr. Stark to your predicament?" Karen asked.

"What? No! I can deal with this, Karen, just watch."

"I like the new look," came the voice of the man that had shot at him. "New government sugar daddy or something?"

Peter blanched. "I really wish that that would stop being people's first assumption. People can be platonic y'know!"

There was a scoff and the sound of something warping. Peter's eyes narrowed, peeking around the grocery shelf and then immediately ducking back. The man, the one who hadn't shot at him, had pulled out a large and glowing weapon that looked incredibly similar to the one that had been at the ATM robbery. Man, he was getting really sick of those things.

The teenage girl had looked okay, shivering behind the desk and thankfully not making any moves to alert the police, as far as he could tell anyway. The last thing he needed was cops showing up in such a tense situation. And his first time using the new suit! That would be just plain embarrassing.

"Platonic or not, I don't give a shit," Normal Gun Man said. "A new look isn't going to change your situation. So either come out, or we shoot you."

"I don't know if you can shoot me while I'm back here soooo."

There was a click and a squeak. "Yeah? What about her?"

Okay. So that was a little different.

Without hesitation, Peter stepped out from behind the aisle shelf, his arms raised half-heartedly in the air. The two men had ski masks over their face--not quite as fun as the Avengers masks, but it'd do--but he could still see the honestly nervous smile of the man holding the gun. Clearly he hadn't expected the arrival of Queens favorite vigilante.

"Good to know that you can comply," Normal Gun Guy said. Alien Gun Guy had the weird blue gun pointed at Peter, but the shotgun was still directed at the worker. He chose his target.

"Not really."

With a flick, he webbed the shotgun and slammed it into the wall. There was a startled scream at the same moment his hairs stood on end. Peter only managed to jump forward before he was encased in a blue light that gave him quite possibly the worst headache of his entire life. He hated the feeling of that stupid thing. He didn't quite know what it was, but it felt like something out of The Incredibles. Like Syndrome and shit.

"Ugh! This thing is so weird!" Peter complained in a warped yell. Alien Gun Guy gave him a brutish look and then swung him through the window.

Peter grunted as he crashed through the window, wincing at the clinking shatter of glass that broke under him, but, surprisingly, none of the glass managed to grab at him and slice through his skin, even as he was shot across the street from the force of the alien weapon, only stopping when he thudded against the wall. He groaned as the air was forced out of him.

At least the suit had kept him from getting cut.

"Ugh... The hell." The teenager shook his head, forcing himself back to his feet, clinging to the wall for just a moment as he blinked out dizziness. Remembering himself, he turned back to the bodega across the street, panicking when his head pounded. That wasn't from being hit, that was his spider sense.

The men ran out of the door, hulking along a cash register and a handful of cigarette packs, but the teenage girl had yet to leave and his head only pounded harder. Spider-Man dashed across the road, leaping through the already broken window, his breath catching as he caught sight of the purple thing sitting on the ground in the middle of the bodega. It whined, louder and louder.

Bomb. Bomb!

Peter's head shot around so fast he physically winced, but he caught sight of the teenager behind the counter. Working on instinct, he jumped over the counter as the whine reached its apex, wrapping his arms around the girl and pushing himself between her and the bomb. He squeezed his eyes shut as tightly as possible, gritting his teeth.

The world shook and she let out a surprised cry into his shoulder but didn't let go. Peter barely managed to hold down a whimper of fear. Be brave, be a hero. Be brave, be a hero. He could do it. He was fine.

He was fine.

Peter blinked his eyes open, moving carefully to peer over the counter.

"Dammit," he muttered. The rest of the windows had shattered, and just about every product in the store had been knocked back and now littered the ground. A tile fell from the ceiling, making him tense his shoulders. They'd gotten away. Some hero he was.

"I have a nickname for you, Peter," Karen said in his ear. He frowned in annoyance. Well, he had told her to tell him once the situation was over.

"Great," he snapped, stepping over the counter, his boot crunching on the glass. "What is it?"

"Peter-butter!"

"...Okay that's actually pretty good."

---

After double checking that the cashier was alright, Peter had fled the scene, cursing himself for how bad it had gone. Nobody had died, but that wasn't really the standard he was looking for. If anything, he'd really just made everything worse. Stupid, Parker, stupid!

The teenager sighed, dipping into the dark alleyway where his backpack had been left earlier. He grabbed it from under the crate of boxes where he'd hidden it, pressing the spider emblem on his chest, allowing the suit to cascade off of him. Frustrated, Peter ripped the mask off and untangled himself from the fabric at his feet, stuffing the items in his faded blue bag and jumping back into his own clothes, and, after a moment of hesitation, slipped into the hoodie that Mr. Stark had given him.

He pulled the bag over his shoulder and buried his hands into his pockets as he stepped out of the alleyway and back onto the streets in the direction of the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys. His brows were furrowed and his face squished into a deep frown. He couldn't believe he'd been given a superhero suit by literally Iron Man and he'd screwed it up immediately. He chittered nervously at the thought of Mr. Stark seeing what had happened at the bodega and realizing just how shit of a superhero his soulmate was.

As he was debating the likely-hood of Mr. Stark taking the suit back and never talking to him again for his screw up, his phone buzzed. Hesitantly, Peter pulled it out to find two texts waiting for him. One from Ned and one from Mr. Stark.

He clicked on the one from Ned first. The text app opened up to show Peter a grainy picture of him in his new suit followed by Ned's message of 'Excuse me??? tf is this?? tell me everything rn or im going to die'

Peter smiled faintly, making a mental note to call his friend in a few minutes. With a deep breath, he clicked on Mr. Stark's message.

Mr. Stark: I saw the news. You okay?

Peter blinked. He wasn't mad? He chewed on his lip as he sent a response, 'All good. Sorry I freaked you out.'

Mr. Stark texted back almost immediately, 'No problem. Just glad you're good. Text ya later, kiddo.'

And that was that, Peter supposed. No...no nothing, really. He'd expected a lot more resistance or opposition from the billionaire, but he wasn't mad that he hadn't gotten any. He was about to call Ned when his phone buzzed again.

Mr. Stark: 'P.S. You can talk to and text Karen through your phone. Knock yourself out, Peter-butter.'

Well, that was embarrassing. But still kinda cool.

With a shake of his head, he finally dialed Ned's number. His friend only picked up after two rings with a breathless greeting.

"Yo, what the hell is up with that suit? Did Mr. Stark make it for you? Are you super hero buddies now!!? Officially his sidekick!!?"

Peter smiled, shaking his head in amusement as he stopped at a streetlight. "Yeah, Mr. Stark made it for me. It's cool right? It even has an AI!"

"It has an AI!!? Please, please, tell me you'll let me look at it."

"Duh. Yeah, you can look at it. We can go to your house after school." Peter thought for a moment, thinking of the alien weapons. He'd messed up today, probably disappointed Mr. Stark, but if he could take the whole operation down... "Besides, I need your help with something."

Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8

#friendly neighborhood exchange #peter parker #tony stark #Iron Man #spiderman #irondad #spiderson #irondad and spiderson #ironman fanfiction #spiderman fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #soulmate au #platonic soulmates #not st*rker

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caffeinated-cryptid · 4 years ago

Text

you got an ego so big (it'll eat you alive).

roman-centric hurt/comfort (w/ remus, patton and virgil).

11.7k words | AO3 link | warnings: self-hatred, semi-intentional self-destruction, various injuries, arguing, remus-typical jokes and topics.

“At the best of times, Roman’s job was a tightrope act between maintaining a healthy amount of self-confidence and the ability to adapt and take criticism. Throughout his life he walks this line many times, always with the expectation that if he were to fall one way or the other, no one would be there to catch him.

But sometimes when you’re up miles high, it can become difficult to see the safety net on the ground below you.

(aka an expansion on the premise that a bruised ego causes literal injuries and the issues this could cause when you're an insecure prince with a need to please and the weight of the world on your shoulders).”

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

To be overly aware of your own self is often associated with negative traits, such as narcissism, self-consciousness or a sensitivity to mistakes. Although to some with a proclivity towards the spotlight, it can become an inadvertent consequence of over-analyzing yourself in order to achieve those flawless performances. Naturally, gaining any sort of notoriety and attempting to retain that positive image means becoming intimately aware of your faults and staying open to change, taking criticism to heart all the while keeping relatably humble. On the other hand, it may also mean letting that same criticism become your one sole focus, tearing you down instead of becoming a rung in the ladder that's supposed to take you to higher places.

Roman often found that navigating these gray areas was a momentous task. To be proud of his work, but not be too unbearably egotistical to the point that it blinded him. To accept criticism but not allow the pursuit of perfection to destroy him.

His role was truly a balance; a thin tightrope he constantly had to traverse.

And on occasion, he would end up slipping.

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

I - bonds that tie us.

Roman first learned of his job as the ego when Thomas was young. With Remus at the helm of most of the subconscious and instinctual stuff as his id, perhaps he should've assumed that he would have a similar mirrored purpose beyond simply confidence, however it hadn't ever really come into play until one afternoon when the two of them were busy playing in The Imagination.

They had just concluded a close duel against each other and were putting their weapons away (cardboard ones, since Feelings didn't want them running around with real weapons once he found out they were using them to fight, and because Fear and Lies often fretted about them doing something stupid and getting hurt). Usually neither of them held the lead for long during their matches since they were so well-matched, but today Remus had won easily, which Roman chalked up to him feeling off ("Yeah right. Don't be such a sore loser." "It's true!"). Either way, Remus would be bragging about the victory until the next time they got the opportunity to duel, and that meant he was already rubbing it in as they prepared to leave.

On their way to the exit, Remus had taken the lead at some point and was throwing out ideas about they should do later when Roman unexpectedly paused and doubled over, clutching his head. Remus didn't notice that he'd stopped until he heard a groan and turned around.

"What's wrong? Didn't hit you too hard, did I?" He asked with a grin as if he assumed that Roman was still playing- perhaps trying to make up an excuse for his terrible loss.

"I- Dunno. My head hurts…" Roman cringed, eyes screwed shut.

Remus' smile faltered when he realized it might not be a joke and he walked back, peeling Romans hands away from his forehead. Underneath was a large red patch of irritated skin which looked set to bruise. His frown deepened because he definitely didn't cause that, nor did he witness any incidents during the day which would be the cause. "How'd that happen?

"Dunno!" He repeated, eyes going blank for a moment while he caught up with what was happening outside. The two of them were usually much too distracted when they were in The Imagination to pay attention to everything that transpired in the real world, especially on weekdays like this when Thomas would be in school and Creativity wasn't exactly needed during most classes. "...Thomas was told off for slacking in front of the entire class and he got some bad grades on his report card… He's feeling embarrassed, I think.

Remus was confused by how this was relevant until he pieced together that the two events were linked to what was happening to his brother. His eyes widened in realization before they settled into determination. "Then I'll fight him until he stops feeling bad."

That startled a laugh out of Roman, until his head started pounding and he cut himself off with a grimace. "...’Can't do that."

He laughed too, in hopes that it would lift Roman's spirits again. "Can too! I'll figure it out, then he'll be too busy worrying about his broken bones to care about what some dumb teacher said. Maybe then he'll get to skip school for a while and do something funner like-"

"Remus." Roman hissed over him, overcome with a sudden dizzy spell. His hand found Remus’ shoulder for purchase, which stopped his twin in his rant.

Remus stared at him in alarm. This seemed serious, and he didn't do too well with handling serious things. "Do... Do you want me to get Feelings? Or Learning? Or Lies?"

"No. None of them. I just wanna go home." He whined, leaning more and more against Remus for support.

' Home' in their case was what they called their shared room. It was where they always returned to at the end of a long day, and no matter what had happened, they could always feel their troubles wash away as they sat in their own little world once more. Roman longed for that feeling, to escape the too-bright sun of The Imagination which now felt like it was blinding him and just lay down for a while.

Remus nodded hesitantly, the plans he had spun of pulling a prank on Fear and Lies forgotten. Normally the two Creativities preferred to find the door of The Imagination manually (they claimed it made the experience more immersive when they were out on an adventure), but instead he reached towards the exit and the world twisted around them, ejecting them out together. They came out the other side back in their room, next to their bunk bed. Instead of climbing up to his bed on the top, Roman just about threw himself onto Remus' sheets. Somehow he managed to ignore the weird smell of the fabric that he always complained about, which spoke greatly about his current well-being.

Remus hovered behind him, unsure of what to do, when Roman let out another pained noise and curled up tighter. "What now?!"

"Thomas...parents.

Since that didn't really explain anything, Remus decided to check up on what was happening outside himself. Thomas' parents had asked to see his report card and they were giving him the 'not mad but disappointed talk', while Thomas was shrunk into himself in shame. Yikes, Learning mustn't be feeling too hot about this either. But right now his focus was on his brother, who the sight of in such a sorry state filled him with rage.

"Now I want to fight them too." Remus muttered darkly. "Take the knife from the kitchen that dad uses to cut up turkeys and make them stop talking forever. Then we won't have to deal with this again and you won't-"

Oh right, Roman was still injured. Focus, Remus. Concern. Right, he was concerned for his brother, who was hurting like he had never seen, even after their fights. What could he do about this? He was always so much better at destroying things than fixing them, so having to deal with a situation like this without any sort of guidance made him nervous.

"You can't hurt them." Roman protested weakly.

"Maybe if I want to enough I could!"

Remus walked around the bunk bed and settled down on the side Roman was facing towards. From this angle he could see new bruises spattered along his brother's arms. In a grotesque way, the different shades came together like a watercolour painting. Except instead of a canvas, they were on a body- Remus shook his head. Focus! He could draw sickly yellow and purple-inspired pictures later, when Roman would be in the mood to be more good-humored about it.

"You shouldn't, then. It's bad."

"...Alright then. What should I do Ro-bro?"

Roman cracked open one eye and looked at him. "Stay? Until Thomas feels better?"

Considering he was just grounded for the weekend, Remus wasn't sure how long it would take for this hit to Thomas' self esteem to blow over, but despite knowing this he nodded anyway.

"Okay."

He laid down next to Roman, not commenting when he hid his face against the covers and started sniffling, or when he eventually fell asleep, curled against his side like how they would sleep when they were newly-split. When Learning knocked in their door to tell them that dinner was ready, he made a weak excuse that they were busy and would eat later.

Without even asking he knew Roman would want this to be kept between them, despite how the others would undoubtedly fuss and nurse him back to health. And perhaps that was the reason why. His brother always wanted to appear infallible to the others and did so replicating the heroes from the stories they read, which often meant refusing to admit when he needed help and trying to do everything himself. If you asked Remus, he was trying way too hard to be like the Creativity that came before them, which was silly because they were different now and as they were, they needed each other.

Remus closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep too. This seemed like a big deal, so Roman's pride would have to pass eventually for him to seek help. Right?

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

II - even without dying you're dead to me.

In retrospect, Remus had underestimated Roman’s ability to keep a secret (maybe because he was so quick these days to run over to Feelings, now Morality, whenever Remus did something to upset him. Tattle-tale).

Now that they were older and their roles were more defined, their once shared-room had separated into two to adjust to this change. Even though it had been long enough that he should be used to the feeling of being alone, there were still times where Remus had to try to not let it bother him when he looked up at night, expecting to see the familiar underside of a top bunk and instead only finding the ceiling he had painted an underwater-themed mural on.

On nights like this, far too sentimental to enter a peaceful rest, they would go sleep in each other's rooms, saying nothing as they tried to pretend they were as close as they once were. Remus groaned into his pillow, fighting that annoying urge to seek comfort. He was a teenager now, he didn't want to be so attached at the hip to a side who had started looking at him with disgust and fear instead of the fondness they used to share. Sometimes he couldn't help it though, clinging to the days when everything felt simple and the biggest thing they had to worry about was finding time to create the things they enjoyed. At the very least he was glad that Roman didn't mock him for his occasional bouts of uncharacteristic sentiment; that would solidify for him that there were no remnants of the relationship they once had left.

With that depressing thought, he rolled out of bed. He couldn't sleep tonight so he was going to make that Roman's problem; that always cheered him up. Perhaps if he hadn't made such a disturbed face when Remus had talked about the brazen bull he had made earlier that day, he would feel a bit more sympathy for waking his brother up in the middle of the night. Buuut he didn't and he was feeling petty, so without a second thought he sunk out and into Romans room.

"WAKEY WAKEY~!" Remus clashed two cymbals together like one of those nightmare-inducing wind-up monkeys, only to belatedly realize the bed he was facing was empty.

He blinked, both in confusion and to adjust his eyes to the unexpected light of the room. Both of them may be night owls, but Roman would usually be asleep by 2am at least, and it was way past that hour. Looking around the room, his eyes latched onto the vanity where his brother was sitting, looking incredibly startled from the deafening crash of metal against metal.

"Get out!" He yelled once his shock faded into indignation, glaring at Remus.

Remus didn’t respond, staring at the medical supplies spread across the surface. Roman was in the middle of wrapping a compression bandage around his thigh, which he abandoned as soon as Remus had entered.

"Did you get something stuck in your ear again? I'm not in the mood to deal with you tonight, Remus. Leave ."

"What happened?" He blurted out before he could even think about the question.

"Doesn't matter. In case you've forgotten, the door's right there. Feel free to use it at any point."

Instead of complying (because when had Remus ever done that for anyone? No no, it was always more exciting to do the opposite of what people ask and see what happens), he crossed the room, ignoring how Roman increasingly looked like he wanted to punch him the longer he lingered.

"Bitch, it obviously does matter, otherwise you wouldn't be looking like you got trampled by a cracked-out horse."

"Lovely imagery." Roman gritted out.

"Lovely avoidance." Remus retorted sarcastically. "Aren't you best friends with Morality and Logic now? Why aren't they here sucking your d-"

"If you don't go back to your own room I'll run you through with my sword." Roman warned with an air of finality.

Remus snorted.

It was hard to be intimidated by the same side who had once cried when he had accidentally smashed an imaginary caterpillar cocoon with his morning star. In his defense he had forgotten to make the handle weighted when he first made it, so he was still getting used to the uneven distribution of the weapon...not like that stopped Roman from getting upset with him. Supposedly he had spent the last week trying to raise butterflies and wanted to show them off to Logic after they had learned about chrysalis in class, but Remus found that somewhat laughable considering he could just create a fully-formed butterfly if he wanted to. So he did laugh, calling him dumb for getting upset over nothing, and through tears Roman pushed him to the ground and told him he hated him for the first time. (After that, he may have spent the next week killing any butterflies that crossed his path, but that was neither here nor there. The point of this tangent provided a lá Remus Sander's brain was was that Roman could be a big baby and therefore he couldn't take anything he said too seriously.)

"Sounds like a good time! Save that idea for later though, because if you don't tell me I'll summon them over here to ask them myself."

"Don't. They don't know about this, alright? For once in your life can you just let it go?"

Huh. Remus tilted his head. It had been years since they first found out about the fun little quirk Roman had, and he just...never told? He figured at the very least it would be a good way to milk even more attention from the others; something Creativity had been seeking more often after Fear turned into Anxiety during middle school and gained a much larger role in Thomas' life. "Why?"

Roman huffed in frustration. "They don't need to. I can handle it myself."

"...Wow! Careful not to summon Lies, because you're full of shit and you know it." Remus fired back. He didn't even know why he was getting so mad. Minutes ago he was cursing his brother's guts for how their relationship had soured, and now all of a sudden it was if all of that dislike had faded into the background for something else. Concern? He hadn't felt concern for anything in years. Roman always made it seem like he could take care of himself, so that's what Remus had believed at first too, though perhaps stumbling across this situation was evidence of the opposite. Reasonable self-care didn't exactly look like 'patching yourself up at 4 in the morning'. At least, that sounded like something Lies would say which probably meant it was accurate.

"Ugh- Shut up. I've been doing just fine so far, without you or them, so you can take your fake pity and shove it up your you-know-where."

Remus didn't rise to the opportunity to poke fun at that statement, his mind going blank (and what a strange and unusual feeling that was). The idea that anything could have been hidden from him seemed unthinkable given how they used to tell each other everything. He hadn't even considered that that habit had become one-sided, given how it had never stopped being true for him. "...Roman, what does that mean? Has this been happening a lot?"

"..."

"Why did you never tell me?! This isn't something you can just keep a secret! If you won't say anything I will-

Remus' mouth snapped shut as Roman ejected him from his room. He landed back on his own bed and when he scrambled onto his feet to tried to rise up again, he found that his efforts were blocked. Roman had kicked him out and locked the door behind him. He never did that, no matter how much they fought or annoyed each other. It was the one thing they did that showed they still cared.

Remus trembled with adrenaline and shock. Taking his pillow, he summoned a knife and stabbed it and stabbed it and stabbed it until all of his pent up feelings were gone and there all that was left was the fluff covering his floor.

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

III - interlude.

As it turns out, he'd never get the opportunity to tell, because shortly after that, the newly appointed 'dark sides' were pushed away into their own corner of the mindscape after an explosive argument between the sides (during which Remus tried to ignore how closely Roman stood at Morality's side, sword brandished towards him. He didn't want to think his twin had a hand in their separation, even though it made so much sense).

When he argued about going back with Lies, now Deceit after being appointed the new leader of the unwanted and unloved, he was told through clenched teeth and pained eyes that he shouldn't. Not until Thomas was ready for him. For all of them.

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

IV - to the death of me, i'm just fulfillin' my destiny.

After that, Roman adjusted, and did so alone. Teenage years came with many challenges, ones he didn’t always escape unscathed. Despite the occasional rejection here, an unfortunate setback there, he felt as if he had grown a thicker skin for the trials they faced. Into adulthood he wore his ego like a suit of armor; Thomas was outgoing and likable, so of course it became easier to brush aside random negative experiences as minor blips, things that didn’t represent their worth.

This was challenged somewhat as he began pursuing creative outlets more seriously. This meant more work for Roman in general (Woo! Suck it Logan), but it also came with more opportunities to feel ashamed of a messed-up performance, embarrassed by a note sung wrong, hurt by an ill-intentioned piece of feedback.

So he tried to compensate at times. Sue him. Between the nights he spent nursing his wounds and wondering how to do better next time, perhaps he deserved to be a little self-congratulatory about the shining achievements he won for them. There was a certain safety in placing himself up on that pedestal, so high above that it felt like nobody could ever reach him; that he was above it all. But the reality was that this pedestal, gold-plated as it may be, was founded on an interior of paper mache, one wrong move from away from collapsing and sending him tumbling back down to earth.

It was a good thing that pretending came naturally to Roman. So natural that the fear of falling sometimes didn’t register with him at all.

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

V - the calamitous corollary of being considered.

Except, it may have been too much to expect nobody to ever realize there was something up with him. The fact that the sides had to work closely together alone meant that the excuse of being busy after every troubling experience could only work for so long.

The first one to find out was Patton, because of course it was. Sometimes Roman felt as if Patton wasn’t given enough credit for his intelligence. Even though he could be a tad slow on the uptake on other things, his ability to detect the slightest change in mood and discern how people were feeling could be uncanny at times. Emotions just happened to be Patton's strong suit, and while that was very much appreciated when it came to sharing excitement or talking through a heated problem, it was not so grand when you were trying to get away with hiding something.

The first time he let something slip was a few days after Thomas had been flat-out rejected when asking someone out on a date. It wasn't that big of a blow, considering they had barely known the guy for more than a month, but Roman had been insistent that they throw caution into the wind and give it a shot, sure that he had been receiving signals that proved that this guy felt a similar interest. Turns out, he didn't, and was very-much straight. At least the rejection had been somewhat carried out gently and he didn't seem too put-off about staying friends afterwards. Nonetheless the wound was still fresh, and Thomas kept internally cringing whenever he thought about it, which didn't help matters. Whatever. Roman dealt with the bruises that arose from the incident and dabbed a little foundation on the ones he couldn't hide with clothing. They'd get over it in a matter of weeks.

It was after the awkward feelings had finally begun to settle when it happened. Roman and Patton had been in the kitchen preparing dinner when Thomas received a message on his phone, and when he went to check it, he face-planted on the couch in mortification.

'Hey man, I just remembered that my cousin is coming to town this weekend. He's gay too so I thought you two could go on a blind date if you're still looking. :) Lmk your thoughts.'

Patton frowned upon sensing the sudden wave of embarrassment, pausing to check what had happened. "Well...That's thoughtful of him!" He chuckled, tone trying and failing to be positive. Roman couldn't share the same sentiment.

"Thoughtless is more like it! He wants to set us up with the first gay person he knows? Who's not even in the city? Does he think Thomas has no standards at all?! How dare-" Roman's indignant protests cut off as he felt the skin around his collar grow tender and swell slightly. He let out a slight whimper when he pressed his fingers into the bruise to double check its location. Why now and in such a visible place?! He's going to get Thomas to drop that guy if it's the last thing he does-

"Ro! Are you okay?"

Right. Patton was still here. Don't panic.

"Y-yeah! I just remembered an injury I sustained earlier. But not to worry, 'tis but a flesh wound!" He joked.

"A flesh wound?!" Patton cried, reference flying over his head. "Let me see."

Gently, Patton moved his head upwards to get a better look at the bruise. It mustn't look good, because Patton, squeamish as he was, grimaced on sight.

"How on earth did that happen? I don't remember that being there just now."

"Uh." Come on Creative skills, work your magic. "A stray whomping willow in The Imagination? You know how they can be. I suppose it merely took a while to develop, bruises can be funny like that."

Luckily it seemed to work, because Patton sighed. "I thought you got rid of them all after that time one almost threw Logan into a lake. Did Remus make more?"

Heh. Good times. That was a slight lie on his behalf when he had told the others he had gotten rid of the trees; he had kept a few of them around because they were once a gift from Remus to quote 'spice up his boring forests'. Not for any sentimental reasons, of course, but because he thought it was funny and it kept him on his toes. "I guess."

Patton made a small 'tsk' noise, mouth still drawn in a frown but he didn't comment further. "Come on, I'll help you treat that. Does it hurt?"

"Of course not." He smiled. "Do you really think I could be bested by a mere tree?"

"Never! I do wish you were more careful when you go on your little adventures, though. It makes me awfully sad to think about you in 'pine'."

Roman knew it had been a flimsy excuse and even though Patton seemed to accept it, there was a hesitation in his eye which spoke of hidden disbelief. After some first aid and many more tree-related puns later, they went back to cooking, finishing up 30 minutes later. When Logan came down to dinner, immediately questioning the bandages around Roman's neck, he repeated the fake story, distracting him with a request not to go into The Imagination with the whomping willow around and packaging the thinly-veiled jab at the way Logan had once freaked out when he was swung around by the semi-sentient tree as a warning. Logan's concern quickly faded and he shot back a sharp retaliation that Roman didn't care to remember. He just laughed, feeling as light as a kite with the crisis averted.

The next time didn't go over as gracefully.

Thomas had found a different partner eventually, one that wasn't some friend's cousin. They dated for months, and just when he had been thinking about inviting his boyfriend to move in so he could be closer to his workplace, he'd been broken up with. On Valentines Day of all days. There was no better way of putting it; they had planned to go out to dinner, managing to book a table at a fairly classy restaurant, exchanged gifts, and near the end of the night his boyfriend had leaned across the table with a sad smile, thanking him for the evening before admitting he didn't see them working out anymore. He said it quietly, as to not cause a scene among the other diners, but that didn't stop Thomas from immediately bursting into tears. The scene had caused his (now ex) boyfriend to leave early after paying his half of the bill. At least the waitress had taken pity on him and brought over more complimentary bread rolls (which he took because he was not a complete fool, heartbroken as he may be), though even that didn't stop the confusion and embarrassment of it all.

As expected, the whole incident caused nothing but chaos; the right-brain sides were devastated, Anxiety was in a state of panic, and Logic had been metaphorically thrown out the window. As Thomas made his way home, they were at a complete loss for what to do. They had started the day, hoping to take a step forward in their relationship, and ended up with nothing at all. What worse is that they didn't even have a clear idea why (admittedly, that could have been due to, as mentioned before, the inconsolable crying).

It seemed like the most sensible thing to do at the moment was to throw the Valentines gifts away and gorge on the ice-cream that had been sitting in the back of the freezer for who-knows how long while watching a comfort show and trying to forget the whole evening. So that's what they did. As Logan tried to sort through what happened and rationalize what to do next, Patton wallowed in his misery as he dealt with the giant mix of feelings Thomas was going through.

After a few hours working through the brunt of it, enough to where his mind began wandering elsewhere, Patton realized with a start that he hadn't seen Roman since the start of the evening. He must have been so devastated too! Patton recalled how excited he was about the day ahead of them, how he spun fantasies of Thomas' boyfriend accepting the proposal to move in and then the future proposals that could come after that-

Patton mournfully sobbed. He needed to stop thinking about this, or else Thomas could start spiraling again. The best thing to do right now was distract himself, and to do that he should go check on Roman. Perhaps they could talk and have a mutual catharsis over the whole thing. Or better yet, he could put his energy towards someone else and he won't have to fall back into the thoughts that had been clouding his mind ever since they had left that stupid restaurant.

Splashing some water on his face to clear up some of the blotchy-ness, he left his room and crossed the hallway towards Roman's. He couldn't hear any noise coming from inside, so he tentatively knocked. "Kiddo?"

For a few moments there was silence, and Patton almost turned away, assuming that Roman might be blowing off some steam in The Imagination, until a voice cleared inside the room and answered. "Pat? What do you want?"

Patton was taken aback for a second, not expecting such a straight-forward answer. It almost sounded like Roman wasn't upset at all, but Patton sincerely doubted that to be true. His tone was almost too normal, and for anybody else he wouldn't have questioned it, but the lack of dramatics or flowery language was always a clear red flag for the Creative side. "I wanted to check on you since um- You-Know-Who took 'dine and dash' a tad too seriously." He chuckled humorlessly. "...Can I come in?"

There was some shuffling and muffled curses. "Why? I'm fine. Worry about yourself."

"'Why?'" He repeated, eyeing the door warily. "I'm concerned! I haven't seen you in hours and I- I know you must be upset about this too. Can we please talk?"

"I'm not exactly my most princely presentable self right now. Anyway, it's late. Surely this can wait until tomorrow?"

Patton looked down at himself. Instead of his usual garb, he had thrown on some more comfortable clothes hours ago, and they were currently crumpled from laying in bed, sobbing his eyes out. "I'm hardly my best-self either right now, Kiddo-" Before he could go on a spiel about how it was best to not bottle up emotions when they're fresh (and ignoring the hypocrisy of that sentiment), he heard a thump on the other side of the door followed by a quiet hiss of pain. Patton began to panic, and his hand flew to the handle. "I'm coming in!"

Before the other side could even consider protesting, Patton flung the fortunately unlocked door open and stepped into the room, gasping at the sight he was met with. Roman was on the floor, wincing as he clutched his leg. Although he was still dressed in his usual outfit, there were enough injuries on his visible skin that Patton could only wonder how far they went. He covered his mouth and stared in horror as Roman turned to look at him nervously.

"What- How did this happen?!"

Roman licked his dry lips, eyes darting away as he searched for an excuse. "I- The Imagination- This is from earlier-"

"You told me this morning you were going to spend the day helping Thomas write a love letter." Patton said, voice strained with panic and disbelief. "Tell me the truth, please."

Shoot, he had announced his plans earlier that day, hadn't he? He internally cursed his inability to keep his mouth shut, before lowering his head in defeat. "Can you keep a secret, Pat?"

Said side shifted uncomfortably, but his tone was resolute when he nodded. "If it means you'll let me help with whatever this is."

"Okay..." Roman inhaled. "Okay."

And then he explained. Or rather, gave a shortened version of the truth which was less likely to give Patton a complete heart-attack: that bruised egos were something he experienced, but it was never this bad (true) or all that common (also true), and that they weren't something to worry about because he could usually take care of them himself (technically true). By the time he had finished, Patton still looked concerned, but had become less frantic with the information.

"You'll let me help in the future if you need it, right?" He asked, so close to shedding tears that Roman had trouble keeping eye-contact without becoming choked up with guilt.

"If I need it." He agreed.

Finally, Patton smiled, and went to fetch the first-aid kit hastily. As he helped patch him up for the second time that year, the look in Patton's eyes was so pained that Roman vowed to let him see this side of him as little as possible.

For a while, he kept true to this promise to himself, and on the occasions when Patton would drop by to check if everything was alright, if Roman had encountered any bruised egos since, he relished in the relief on his face whenever he would lie and said he hadn't. Distantly he wondered sometimes if this was how heroes were supposed to feel; protecting people by letting them live in blissful ignorance and bearing the burden of the ugly truth alone.

(It was thoughts like that that kept him going.)

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

VI - high highs and low lows.

And then came the videos. Youtube had been an excellent ego-boost for Roman. Similar to how life-changing Vine was, the instant gratification of likes and feedback and people liking what they made was enough to send him over the moon, and oftentimes it was able to ward away the downsides that came with it too; the stress of staying relevant, the occasional hate comment, the portion of dislikes that didn't explain what about the video was dislike-worthy-

Overall it seemed like a great idea, especially when the sides became involved. It gave them all the chance to gain their own spotlights, which most of them appreciated. Sometimes this wasn't always so good though. With the videos came more introspection than usual, which meant deeply examining each problem to try to find some kind of moral. And right now, Roman didn't want to do any sort of thinking exercise about how badly he messed up. At this point in their career, a simple audition should have been a cake walk, instead it was an ache walk...Okay, admittedly he wasn't on his best game right now. The point was, he had potentially thrown the whole audition by forgetting something so simple as the lyrics, and now the casting director would definitely only remember Thomas by the way he froze under pressure, which wasn't exactly an appealing trait in somebody looking to go up on stage where the pressure was set to 100.

After everything was said and done, Roman had no choice but to approach Patton for help. In his current state, he was much too dizzy on his feet to even contemplate showing up and trying to play it off cool, which would've been an laughable endeavor anyhow considering how outwardly embarrassed Thomas was. Betrayal from his own-- well. It was a bit too harsh to blame his current predicament on Thomas, after all the fact of the matter was that it was Roman’s fault for not being better prepared.

Anyway, that's how he ended up in his current position, being swaddled in a too-warm bed, injuries patched up and having soup spoon-fed into his mouth. The whole thing felt...strange. Usually during times like this he would be grinning and bearing it, the inner satisfaction he got from fooling everyone with his performance pushing him through the day, but he supposed this was unavoidable. It was better that only one side had to see part of the problem rather than exposing it to everyone, and out of all of them, at least it was Patton. It still didn't sit well that his secret was now out in the open, a throwaway joke to be used before moving along, but hopefully that would play to his favor and they'd view it as his usual dramatics. Not like he preferred to be seen as too incompetent to care for himself, even if it fit with his persona. He supposed it just went without saying that princes are supposed to have someone at their every beck and call, they're supposed to be indulgent and spoiled and ridiculous. But princes were also supposed to be leaders, someone who was caring and brave and ready to face any challenge.

Roman sighed, a wave of self-loathing washing over him. He didn't feel very princely at all right now.

“Kiddo, are you doing okay? Does something hurt? Is the soup too hot?” Patton asked, eyebrows drawing together in concern. He was such an open book when it came to the other sides, which meant that Roman knew exactly when he had worried or panicked the fatherly figure. Honestly, it only made him feel worse. Being doted over seemed like a good idea until it meant being the subject of pity and other people’s hurt.

“No no, I’m fine Padre. It’s fine. I was just taking a trip into thought city for a second there.” He cracked a smile, trying to ignore how the bruise at the corner of his mouth pulled at the motion. If only he could think of a more original nickname, perhaps that would be more convincing. He was simply drawing blanks today it seemed. “What do you think the others are up to right now? I’d bet 5 bucks Logan is losing his mind having to deal with Anxiety alone.”

Patton didn’t look entirely convinced, but the sudden change of subject encouraged him to stop any further questioning.

In the end they talked until the others had finished filming. Whatever happened during the discussion must have helped Thomas grow past his feelings, because one-by-one the injuries on Roman's body grew smaller until they had faded entirely. Seeing this, Patton noticeably livened up again, and he cheerily declared that he would take the empty bowl back to the kitchen and check in with the others.

As soon as he was gone, Roman’s face dropped, tired from all the smiling he had been doing, and he slid down further into the sheets. Perhaps he should consider himself fortunate that the others had helped out, but all he could think about was how they now knew about his biggest weakness and how embarrassing that was. Logan and Anxiety were the last two sides he wanted finding out about this, if not for their often-tumultuous relationships, but because they'd never fully understand. Neither of them were as dependent on validation as much as he was. Despite what others thought about them, they would just keep on going, meanwhile Roman couldn't truly thrive without some kind of feedback; he was too shackled to expectations and the need to please for that sort of self-indulgence, it was practically written in his existence. It simply wasn't enough for him to be great, he needed to be great and be appreciated. Without that, he felt as if he would burn out, like a candle who's supply of oxygen had been cut off, leaving only smoke and the charred wick behind as a reminder of the fire that was once there. And sometimes that made him feel pathetic, that so much of his esteem depended on what people thought of him. Other times it just made him envy the others who had no one to please but Thomas himself and what he deemed important.

...He was tired, but he needed to keep going. The least he could do was keep up the image of egotism so that those horrid thoughts of being lesser weren't picked up by the others. If they started thinking of him the way he thought about himself (if they didn't already), he wouldn't know what he'd do. He wouldn't stand to be pitied or mocked or anything that validated what he already knew about himself. He just wouldn't.

Rolling out of bed, he practiced his smile in the mirror, fixed his clothes, and sunk out to make his grand appearance.

He couldn’t let this happen again at all costs.

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

VII - an agreeable sort of self-destruction.

More and more often, Roman was glad that he and Remus didn't share a room anymore. From the nights he hunched over scraps of ideas and worked without distraction until the sun was on the horizon, to the days he woke up with tears clinging to his lashes and breath coming out in labored pants, until he realizes the dream about him messing up so badly that he's split apart a second time was merely a cruel trick of his mind.

Currently, there was no greater time to be grateful for their separation than the moment he hastily returned back to safety after Remus' debut to Thomas. If only his brother could see the way he paced back and forth and tugged at his hair, he was sure his other half would merely gloat and poke away at his wounds instead of doing anything to help. Or worse, use it as ammunition in front of the other sides as some sort of proof of his imperfection.

Speaking of, the video was disastrous. He had been out-cold the entire time so he had no idea what was said and had no way of directing the conversation at all, which was possibly the most aggravating part of the whole situation. Beyond that, there was so much that Remus could have told the others without his knowledge. Once upon a time, the two of them were two peas in a pod, and that meant they knew an unnameable amount of secrets about each other. (Like how Remus always used to sleep with this crudely-knitted octopus Roman had made for him when he discovered crochet. Remus claimed to have set fire to it when they were teenagers, but Roman had seen it tucked away on a shelf the last time he had been in his room, before the Great Divide). The room swam a little when Roman thought about it too much. Perhaps he was being paranoid, but it wasn't as if he'd done much to earn Remus' loyalty. Why would he take the higher road and keep all of that to himself now, when he had the prime opportunity right in front of him to make himself seem like the better twin?

Hold on... He was thinking about this all wrong. Remus didn't care about good and bad the same way he did. Sure he was adamant that his version of being creative was more interesting, but he never tried to convince any of the other sides that he was inherently better or more worthy of attention than Roman, at least not to the same extent he did. The realization hit Roman like a train on it's way to a damsel tied to railway tracks (for lack of a less Remus-y simile): had he been wrong to push his brother away when he was just trying to help? All this time he had expected nothing but the worst from him, all because he was loud and unapologetic and had gone about his concern in a way that frightened him. Though just because Roman had been scared, surely that didn't warrant the dark sides being pushed aside in such a manner, and clearly the repression wasn't any benefit to Thomas...And was that partially his fault? He had been the one who encouraged Patton to divide the sides up. He had come up with the name for them: light and dark.

When he really thought about it, there wasn't much 'light' about him, not when he had been the source of so many problems.

Making Virgil feel unwelcome and continuing to trample on his boundaries.

His insults toward Logan and attempts to diminish his importance.

Leading Thomas and Patton astray in his pursuits for romance.

Being too quick to side with Janus when he should’ve known that the deceitful side only stood for selfishness and not the fair-played ambition Thomas valued.

And now: his treatment of Remus for most of their lives. Pushing him away, pretending he didn't exist, trying to erase their memories together.

How could he have the gall to claim that he saw Remus as an awful reflection of everything he didn’t want to be, when the whole point of looking into a mirror means facing you and you alone?

Even his metaphors were hypocritical.

It was a shock that nobody saw through that statement or called him out on how he had wronged just about everybody. How truly unfortunate it was that he had been declared the hero when he had done very little to live up to that title. Heroes weren't mean. They didn't make people feel bad about themselves for merely existing. They're supposed to defeat the bad guys, yes, but every time he had thought he was accomplishing that, it turned out that he was always off the mark. At least this time he had it right with Deceit, but still, that didn't erase the history he had with misjudging what was acceptable. He couldn't help but wonder what sort of reflection that must have on Thomas' content. If his creativity, which was supposed to be a force of pure good, had made a countless number of errors, what did that say about the things they were proud of? How many things had they put into the world that were imperfect? That had a misleading message? That was problematic and hurt people?

The realization had his throat tightening in panic. How could he ever have confidence in his work when he had such a flawed system of right and wrong? How-

...Wait.

Roman's spiraling thoughts were fortunately put on pause as he passed by his vanity, being pulled back to reality in an instant and finally noticing the splash of colours that had made themselves welcome on his skin once more. He gaped at his own reflection. It wasn’t as if he was unused to the sight per say, but he hadn’t realized anything had happened today that would affect Thomas’ ego. Remus’ appearance perhaps? He had the feeling that if there was any discussion to be had in light of that it would be on the goodness of his character, which could be a worthy-enough explanation. But if anything wouldn’t that what the large gash on the back of his head (fittingly) represented? So where had the others come from? Unless…

Was it him?

His own self-criticism had never left a dent on his pride before. Usually his injuries tended to be the result of outside sources; the kind of things that come out of nowhere and hit at you harder than you could ever expect. Did this mean that his own words were on par with Thomas’ harshest critics?

Roman shakily sat down. This... was a good thing, right? Perhaps he was finally gaining some self-awareness. He had been trying to make amends for where he had fallen short in the past, so this could be the sign he was making progress.

Yes. This was good. And if it wasn't, then perhaps this was just apart of his repentance. At this point he was sure everyone would agree.

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

VIII - the art of learning to let go.

The thing about tightropes is quite interesting. Like most other skills, it is something that needs to be honed. At first you try on a smaller scale and fall off more times you can count, but it's alright because that's why you practice in a safe environment. And then you progress to something more risky, and this time you have other tools to help keep you steady. Before you know it, you're up doing the actual thing; a rope suspended tens of feet in the air and thousands of eyes watching your every move, each one wondering if you really will make it across, or if they're about to watch a great tragedy take place before them. When you misjudge your own abilities and are thrust upon that rope when you're unprepared, however, all of the practice you gained can feel as if it has slipped away. As soon as you take your first step, the rope wobbles and you know somewhere deep down that your fall will be inevitable. But with so many expectant eyes baring into you, what else are you to do but continue forward? Continue until you're halfway across and your balance is so shaky that all you can do is watch as the rope swings backwards and forwards beneath your feet until you give up on trying to steady yourself entirely and-

Roman let go of the rope he had been clinging onto.

There was no grace in the way that he fell. It wasn't even a matter of choosing a side; ego or change. At first he fell so gradually that he didn't feel it at all, placing all of his thoughts and opinions into a neat little box and shoving them aside. Trying so hard to adapt, trying to be feel comfortable clinging to reasoning that contradicted his role, his meaning, his existence- and before he knew it, he was plummeting towards the ground because even then, that little piece of purpose he was forcing himself to mold his worth around did nothing but feed into the self-righteousness that must've always been there, hiding away under the surface.

Roman could only describe the feeling as air-sickness when he sunk out, his very being thrown into weightless uncertainty. Once he appeared back at his safe place, the place he wanted to be most, he felt his body connect with the ground once more as he collapsed onto the floor, body shaking with sobs and wounds he already knew were appearing.

He had been so stupid. Every step he took was littered with mistakes. Just when he thought he had learned, to try to be more accepting, to know when to give up, to listen to others instead of forging his own path, another thing came along and knocked him back to where he started and he was thrown back into the cycle of trying to atone for his actions. A cycle that never seemed to end.

His arm fractured and started to swell.

For once he thought he finally had it figured out. If he just followed the person who should've known what was best for Thomas, even if it meant going back on his own desires, surely then he would be on the right side for once. But all of a sudden that was wrong and now it was all his fault that so many bad outcomes had come about as a consequence of his lack of assertion. He may not have loaded the gun, but he had pulled the trigger, and that made him more culpable than anyone else.

His nose ached as if hit by an unseen force and began dripping blood.

Even his attempts at keeping his ego in check were all for nothing because the moment he felt threatened he lashed out towards Janus, the side who now all of a sudden deserved a seat at the table because he had gained Patton's favor (nevermind that he had agreed with him first. Oh no, that was just Roman being naive and easy to sway if only you stroke his ego a little. What importance could his opinions possibly have?). But that was the thing, wasn’t it? In the end he just couldn’t win, no matter what he did. When he tried to silence his voice it was too obvious and attention-seeking, and when he chose to project his thoughts it was too loud and abrasive. When he spoke out he was punching down, but when others did the same they were punching up up up. It left him wondering how much more he had to fall before it was no longer deemed okay to kick him while he was down. Was it his fault for choosing to sit atop his golden pedestal, making himself seem forever untouchable and unable to be hurt? And would things be different if he was sensitive like Patton? Complicated like Virgil? Respectable like Logan? Had he been making a mistake all along by pretending to be stronger than he was? But how was he ever supposed to let go of the walls he had built, knowing that the second they crumbled, all the things he had been trying to protect himself from would pass through and destroy everything he had worked so hard for? Maybe it was time to accept that this was all he could be; that there was no way for him to change, no way to soften his edges or stick firm to his beliefs that wouldn’t end with him in a losing position.

His ribs ached, bending unnaturally until he felt a snap in his chest.

Perhaps Janus was right by calling him evil. He had proven it time and time again that he was no good for Thomas. In fact, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to say that he was worse than Remus. At least he couldn't help the way he was, didn't have control over the problems he caused unlike Roman. He was supposed to be the half with all the bad parts removed. The 2.0 version, new and improved. He had no excuse for being as flawed as he was, not really. All this time spent thinking he was the good twin, and it was nothing more than an act of self-delusion. The grandeur of a side with nothing to show for it beyond his words.

His eyelid puffed up and mottled with colour.

...He was bad. Unneeded. Evil.

The capillaries across his knuckles burst and stained them a violent red.

Everything would be so much better if he just-

"Broman?" Oh shit.

Romans eyes flew open. And he realized belatedly that he wasn't looking at his floor; his floor had intricate Persian rugs and a soft fluffy carpet. This one had various stains and burns and felt scratchy against his fingers.

"What the fuck. Princey? You good?"

1) He wasn't in his room. 2) Wherever he was, Remus and Virgil were here too.

"M-my mistake! I must have accidentally sunk out to the wrong place. If you'll excuse me-" He tried, but his voice was hoarse and clearly not okay. Of all times for his acting skills to have failed him.

"Oh no you don't."

Before he could sink out through the floor, two arms latched under his armpits and hoisted him upright. He choked back a gasp at the sudden movement, senses flashing white as his injuries were jostled. He barely heard the shocked exclamation in front of him before the two voices discussed something hastily and he was deposited onto a soft surface. The ringing in his ears faded, just in time to hear Virgil speak.

"What happened? " He asked, voice layered with anxiety and sounding on the verge of a panic attack. Roman would have tried to reassure him if he didn't feel like his entire body was on fire.

"It just happens sometimes, when Thomas’ ego gets bruised." Remus answered bitterly when it became clear his brother wasn't in a position to explain. He then muttered under his breath: "Though this time is different, huh?"

"What? I thought- I didn’t know it got this bad.” Virgil whispers, horrified.

"Sorry you have to see this, Finding Emo." Roman croaked once he began slowly coming back to his senses. He would regret not being more composed later, but right now he couldn't really bring himself to care about anything. “I’ll be as good as Gucci soon.”

"No. Shut the fuck up, you don't get to say that." Remus said angrily. Why did he sound so mad? Roman tried to crack open his eyes to check, but the world was still spinning too much for him to really recognize what was he was seeing. On top of that it seemed one of his eyes was swollen shut. Joy. That'll make it more difficult to patch himself up later.

"'Told you before, I can handle myself." He finally managed.

"Yeah? Was that you 'handling yourself' when you dropped in and started bleeding all over my floor? Or when you stopped talking to me and kicked us 'dark sides' to the curb because your sense of superiority was more important? Or when you started acting like a royal prick to everyone just so they wouldn't know you spend your nights licking your wounds?"

"Stop." Roman pleaded, shamefully curling into himself as much as his body allowed in its current state. Remus paused in his tirade before continuing, more quietly.

"If you're uncomfortable just from that, you should try watching your brother slowly self-destruct for years and not being able to do anything about it. That's fucking uncomfortable." Roman heard a sniffle, and his body went cold. He hadn't heard Remus get upset since they were kids. Sometimes he forgot that there was more to his brother than his disgusting unpredictable persona, and the thought that he could've been hurting Remus all this time was something that had never even crossed his mind.

"I'm..." Sorry? Was he sorry? Apologizing was practically second nature at this point, but he couldn't even tell if the words would be genuine if he said them. Was he sorry for his actions or for hurting Remus, or was it the fact that he had been caught at all? If he had it his way, none of this would be happening, so perhaps he wasn't as apologetic as he thought. He really was the worst, wasn't he?

Remus seemed to pick up on what he was thinking about saying, because he laughed; not in his usual cartoon-ish way, but resigned and hurt. The sound pulled at Roman's heart. "Save it. Here's what's going to happen you Walmart Prince Eric knockoff. You’re going to accept our help whether you like it or not, and if you try to pull any self-sacrificing BS at any point, I’m going to eat your entire makeup collection.”

“...You wouldn’t. You don’t like the way glitter sticks to your teeth.” Roman argued weakly, just for the sake of being contrary.

“Try me.”

Roman sighed. He really didn’t doubt that Remus would be petty enough to go through with his threats, especially since he knew it how much it would bother Roman to summon a new set. In any case, he wasn’t in a position to do much of anything at the moment, and now that it was too late to pretend like this never happened, he figured he might as well roll with it. Future him could deal with the consequences later.

“Okay.” He said after a moments pause, looking to the Virgil-shaped figure, as much as the crick in his neck would allow. “...Just don’t tell Patton about this. Not yet.”

The figure shuffled, out of what was probably awkwardness after having watching the twins argue. “No worries dude. We’re not exactly on- uh. Y’know what, nevermind, I’ll just go get the medical kit.”

During the moments that Virgil had shuffled off, there was an empty silence. Roman spent it trying to blink his uninjured eye back into focus, until he was finally able to spot Remus standing across from him, an uncharacteristically glum look on his face. "You look like you're going to a funeral."

"Don't even joke about that. I don't need more thoughts about-"

"Death? I thought that was pretty par for the course."

Remus smiled wryly at him, sarcastic and mocking. "You dying, dummy. D'you think I never imagined it? Something happening and you disappearing because you never let anyone help you- and me not even knowing it happened? Finding out much too late? Being alone?"

Roman didn't know what to say to that. "Sorry." He blurted out, and this time he felt like he meant it. "If it means anything in retrospect, I wouldn't have ever let it go that far. I think."

"'You think.'" Remus repeated. "God, you need some self-care. It's a shame you and Jan-jan weren't friends before. It's supposed to be his job to make sure this kind of thing doesn't happen, you know."

Roman felt himself flinch at the mention of Janus' name before he could control it. If Remus noticed, he didn't get the chance to comment on it, because at that moment Virgil came bustling back with a first aid kit.

"I didn't know what else you needed, so I got some water, balms, bandages, frozen peas, and creams. Just in case." He spoke, noticeably out of breath.

"Water?" Roman asked as a glass was held towards him. He pushed himself upright with some effort and accepted it.

"For painkillers." Virgil replied, handing him some pills once he had set the other items down. "Also your throat sounded kinda rough, and when you cry a lot you can get dehydrated, so..."

Surreptitiously, Roman wiped at his face and tried to not feel too embarrassed that the two of them had heard him wail like a toddler who'd had their favourite toy taken away. Before he knew it, he had taken the pills and downed half of the glass while the other two sides unpacked the medical supplies. Virgil really had thought of everything he might have needed.

Roman blinked as he watched them, stunned that he would go to so much effort. "This is very thoughtful of you, Medic Parade."

Virgil paused as he pieced together the nickname, and then scowled. "Mayday doesn't even sound anything like medic- and it's not. I just didn't want to- y'know- get the wrong things and make it worse."

Remus elbowed Virgil in the side, perhaps in an attempt to cheer him up. "Hey, you can't do any worse than what we did the first time Ro got a booboo."

"...And what was that?" Virgil's hesitant tone indicated he wasn't sure if he want to know.

"Nothing!" Remus grinned.

"I'm pretty sure that was just a concussion." Roman stated before Virgil got the wrong idea and thought they were totally stupid, looking upward as he tried to recall the incident Remus was talking about. It felt like forever ago now. "Not like anything could be done, to be fair."

"'Just'-" Virgil made a strange choked sound. "Is this what my life's gonna be now? Having a worry-induced heart attack every 5 minutes?"

"Welcome to the club!" Remus cheered, offering a fist bump which Virgil ignored in favour of burying his head in his hands.

"Goddammit. Alright- let's get this show on the road I guess. Roman, take your shirt off." When Remus' eyebrows started waggling, clearly about to make an inappropriate comment, Virgil waved his hands wildly to stop him. "So we can look at the damage! Shut your mouth Remus!"

"I didn't say anything." He intoned, looking overly smug before turning to Roman expectantly.

Said man frowned, placing the glass of water on the bedside table next to him. Before he made any move, he glanced at Virgil who was looking red either out of Remus-induced embarrassment or frustration. Mood. "You don't have to stick around for this part if you don't want to. It can be a bit much, so I wouldn't blame you."

"I'm not a baby, Roman." Virgil retorted, crossing his arms. "Making sure you don't die or something is way more important than my comfort. I can't promise you'll be safe from me calling you an idiot until you're better, though."

Roman looked away again. Was that condescending of him to ask? He opened his mouth to apologize, before closing it in resignation. No need to make this into an issue; he'll ask Virgil whether he felt belittled later. "...Okay. That's fair."

Instead of going through the pain of trying to remove a shirt with a possibly broken rib, he snapped and it disappeared. He heard a sharp inhale, but in response to what, he didn't know. Roman looked downwards to check. Among the remnants of previous attempts at self-healing (some messier than others), the area around his right rib was inflamed and a large portion of his stomach was splotched with purple. Noticeably, his left arm was also burning red, but luckily it seemed like the fracture there was non-displaced, which hopefully meant it would heal quicker. Other than that, there weren't any major injuries besides his black eye and bloody nose that needed attention. Could be worse, considering how god-awful he felt!

Remus whistled. "You look like someone took a dalmatian and made it the colours of the bi-flag."

"Yeah. That's- weirdly accurate." Virgil winced. "What hurts most?"

"Uh- My arm and my ribs I suppose. They're a little... on the broken side."

"That's what I thought." Virgil muttered under his breath, grabbing the items to make a split. "I'll deal with those first, Remus you help with his nose and the bruising. And if you want to make yourself useful, hold these peas to your eye, dumbass."

"Your bedside manners are impeccable." Roman said sarcastically, taking the bag of peas and exhaling as he adjusted to the cold feeling pressed against his face. "...Here I thought there would be a grace period before you started calling me names."

"Just calling it like I see it." Virgil hummed. With deft fingers, he held the splint under Roman's forearm and began winding the bandages around it. "You should probably make an actual brace later when you're up to it, but hopefully this should keep it in place and remind you to not use it for now."

"But that sides my dominant arm-" Roman whined, about to complain about how he was supposed to get work done until Remus pinched the bridge of his nose none too gently, and he yelped. "Ow! Remus."

"Think of that as payback for the last 15 years." Remus replied lightly. "Tilt your head back."

Begrudgingly, Roman complied, resting his head against the headboard. He stared at the ceiling as his brother and best friend silently worked their way around his injuries, applying topical ointment to his bruises and applying band-aids to small cuts. He didn't even realize they had finished until Remus bonked him on the head.

"All done! Shame it's not Halloween. You could go as a mummy again."

"Ha ha. What a comedian you are." Roman replied in a deadpan, but fought to keep a smile away anyway. The irony of how much he resembled that costume right now definitely wasn't lost on him.

"...I'm sorry for ruining that, by the way." Virgil spoke up suddenly from where he had been packing everything away, breaking the thoughtful silence he'd been in for the past few minutes. "Your costume during the Christmas video, I mean. And saying all of that harsh stuff to make a point."

Roman only stared, taken aback. "All of that happened half a year ago. I'm not upset about that."

"I know, I know. It's just... I've been thinking about it recently, all the times I haven't acted very...good." He bit his lip, averting his eyes. "Especially now, knowing that kind of thing literally hurts you."

"Virgil." Roman sighed softly, taking his hand. Virgil startled but didn't pull away. "You don't need to be 'good' all the time. Wasn't that the point you were trying to get across back then? All of us have made mistakes in our pasts, some more than others, but if you can forgive us for that, then you deserve the same acceptance for your less-than-stellar moments."

"Oh." He said, eyes glassy. His hand tightened around Roman's. "I'm still sorry, if I've ever made things worse for you or if I haven't been supportive enough."

"I- You have-" Roman spluttered worriedly, sitting up.

"It's alright, I already know that we kinda work against each other at times. Part of the job." Roman's mouth closed with a grimace. "Still, it's unfair on you. You shouldn't be expected to perfect, especially not with an asshole like me there to tear into your work. So just...know that it's okay to tell us when you're struggling, okay?"

"Right..." Roman bit his cheek. Virgil seemed well-meaning, but showing that sort of weakness was a concept he still found difficult to accept, even if he had given in this time and allowed himself to be completely seen. Virgil noticed his lackluster agreement and patted him with his free hand.

"Hey. In almost any case we'd embrace you."

"...No one hates you." Roman finished a beat later with a small smile. Virgil's face lit up and moved closer to his side. Upon seeing this, Remus unceremoniously squished himself between the two of them, careful not to bump against Roman too much (although Virgil definitely got the brunt of Remus crawling over him, to his dismay).

"Look at you two, my favourite dorks, bonding over feeling insecure!" He declared, throwing an arm around both of them. "Couldn't be me, but I still love you."

Roman poked Remus' side. "So that wasn't you admitting to being worried earlier?"

"Nope! New phone who dis?"

"You're insufferable." Virgil rolled his eyes fondly. "...I love you guys."

And Roman sighed contently, feeling safe and cared for. Things weren't perfect right now; he still needed time to heal and Remus and Virgil would undoubtedly want him to open up about what happened sooner or later, but for now he was was able to hear that he was loved and believe it to be true, and that was enough.

"I love you both too. Thank you."

#sanders sides #roman sanders #roman angst #creativitwins #platonic prinxiety #platonic royality #my writing #that's a tag now ig #....i've stared at this for so long idk if it's good anymore #bruised but not broken

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wish-that-i-was-buckys-girl · 4 years ago

Text

Teacher’s Pet

Hello again everyone! This is the first fan fiction of the pop song prompt series. This song is based off of Melanie Martinez’s song “Teacher’s Pet.” This story follows the story similar to that discussed in the song. I liked the idea of doing this one, cause it seemed like something Lance would do. Also, Lance is softer here, less of an asshole to the reader outright, but you’ll see why he actually is one in the end.

Summary: You were Lance’s favorite student, but after one night you became much more. What could go wrong?

Warnings: Smut, Dirty Talk, Cheating, Jealousy, losing virginity, Dom/Sub undertones.

A/N: As usual, if I missed any warnings just let me know and I will happily add them! Also, as I have no one to proofread, if there are mistakes, just message me and let me know. I hope you enjoy!

(Not my gif)

You were Lance’s star pupil. You had been working with him for six years, 3 years as a student, 3 years as a student/assistant. You were 17 when you joined, hoping to get a spot on the Olympic team with Lance’s training. You did, of course, but that wasn’t the only special treatment you received from Lance’s gym.

First it started with side glances when you were about 19. You would catch him staring at you when he was working with other girls, letting his hand linger a little bit longer than normal when he was trying to fix your posture. At first you just figured it was all coincidence. Lance wouldn’t be interested in you. There were a million other girls he works with that he would probably sleep with faster than he would sleep with you. It’s not like you would object to sleeping with Lance, you knew of his reputation, but you just knew you weren’t his “type.”

Side glances turned into him watching all of your routines while he was working with other girls, lacking any kind of subtlety in the process. Lingering hands turned into full on grabbing of flesh and accidental brushes against your breasts and ass. You didn’t understand what was going on, so you confided in your friends.

“He totally has a thing for you” Tara said. “There’s no way he doesn’t. Do you have a gut feeling? You know when women get that gut feeling we are right every time. You can practically feel the sexual tension.”

“I understand what you’re saying Tara, but why me? You see the girls I compete with.”

“Men are men, Y/N. When they like a woman, they’ll go after her even if they don’t fit their “type.” Just take it as a compliment. I don’t think anything will come of it anyways. Just enjoy the extra attention.”

And Tara was right. Nothing did come of it. Well, nothing did at first. It was months later that something started to bloom before you even had a chance to watch it sprout.

You were in the locker room after practice one day, getting dressed after your shower. You thought you were alone since you had a private practice that day. Again, you thought you were until you heard footsteps coming from the gym. Lance appeared behind you.

“Good work today Y/L/N. You’re getting better on the silk ropes. You didn’t have much core strength when you got here, I can see you improving a lot” he said leaning against a locker with a smirk.

“Thanks, Lance. I can see you’re improving too” you said jokingly.

You and Lance had also been friends for a while now. You never really hung out outside of the gym, but when you were together the chemistry was undeniable. That didn’t stop you from denying it.

Lance laughed in return. “You have so much fire in you. I don’t understand why you don’t apply it to the rounds. You could rank higher if you just let a little bit of that out.”

“Lance you know I have the energy of a an 87 year old woman. I’m lazy.” You said throwing a peace sign up to make the conversation more comedic.

“You can’t be lazy if you wanna be a gold medalist like me.”

“I’m more a silver girl myself.”

Lance bit his lip. “Really Y/N. I want to see you reach your fullest potential.”

“I’d say you’re helping me enough Lance. Private lessons, regular lessons, then weight training.”

“Well, maybe I can help you loosen up a bit” he said leaning into you.

“And how would you do that?” You said in a nervous whisper.

“Come to my office and I’ll show you.”

He took your hand and his and led you back out to the gym area where his office was. It was unlocked since he hadn’t left for the night. He walked in and turned on a lamp, not wanting to turn on the big light in case any custodians had come for their shift early, drawing attention to you and him.

“Lance, what the hell are we doing in here? Do you need to show me a new routine or something?” You tried playing dumb. Your mind couldn’t comprehend what was actually going on.

“Come on Y/N, you know what happening here.”

“I really don’t, Lance.”

“Do I have to show you?”

“Yes!”

He strutted over to you and shoved you up against the door to his office. He held his hand on the back of your head so you wouldn’t hurt yourself by his shove.

He stood over you, lips lingering close.

“I’ve wanted you for so long, I’ve been waiting and waiting for the right moment. Waiting for you to stare right back at me. Waiting for you to try and touch me. You’re stubborn, I’ll give you that. I think it’s time I show you how to unwind.”

You couldn’t do anything but breathe in response. You finally got the courage to speak.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Lay down on my desk.”

You walked over to the desk and sat down on it, afraid to lay all the way down as he instructed. He caressed your hair and put a strand of it behind your ear. He took his hand and placed it on the small of your back. He put the other on your waist, and laid you down gently. He slowly took your clean leggings off, looking up at you with a lust filled stare. Your mind was racing, not knowing what to think or do. You never thought you’d get to this point.

You laid your head back and stared at the ceiling, nervous about the things are about to ensue.

“Baby... have you been touched yet?”

You swallowed and shook your head. You thought Lance would make fun of your inexperience.

“Oh, sweetie, you’re with an advanced man. I’ll be sure to take care of you real good. Can I touch you?”

You nodded.

“This is all about you, I need you to be comfortable and communicate with me for everything, got that?”

“Yes, Lance.”

“You can call me sir, baby.”

“Yes, sir.”

He slowly brought his hand to your wetness, finding your clit immediately, making you moan softly. It was involuntary, that’s for sure.

“Oh you’re such a sweet little thing aren’t you? You like when I touch you like this?” He asks rubbing your clit slowly.

“Yes I do sir” you say in a breathy moan.

“Good girl, you gonna be a good girl for me the whole time?”

You nodded.

“Use your words baby.”

“I’ll be a good girl, sir. I promise.”

“Look at you, looking all pretty for me.” He inserted two fingers inside of you, smiling as your face contorted in absolute pleasure. He continued playing with your clit with his other hand.

“Oh god that feel so good, please keep going...” your back arching slightly as you moan.

He smiles, leaning down to put his mouth around your clit as he continues to finger you.

He lightly sucks on your nub, picking up the pace of his fingers. You could feel your eyes roll in the back of your head as he sucked.

You grabbed his gelled hair, surprisingly he didn’t yell at you, he continued to finger and suck as you reached your first climax. You could feel it coming, slowly building. You sat up and grabbed his hair as hard as you could, moaning his name as loud as you could. You both hoped the custodians weren’t there yet.

“Yes Lance! Oh god oh fuck! I’m coming!”

He lapped up all your juices, happy to lick up every last drop.

He came up after you came down from your high, going in for a deep kiss.

You sucked on each other’s lips, nibbling every so often. You continued until you felt like your lips had gone numb. As you pulled away from one another, you smiled.

“You were such a good girl for me. Do you think you can continue to do that?”

You smile and nod “I’ll be a good girl.”

“That’s good baby, I know you’ll be my good girl.”

He takes his cock out of his tight sweatpants. You nervously look at it. His size is definitely intimidating, especially for someone like you who has no experience.

He strokes it, making it grow even larger.

“You ready sweetheart?”

“Mhm, yes I am sir.”

He slowly climbs on top of you, his tip brushing your lower lips slightly as you both get situated.

He slid in gently, pushing enough to make you gasp in both pain and pleasure.

“That’s it baby, you think you can take it all?”

You nod with gritted teeth and closed eyes. You wanted to do it for him.

He pushed in all the way, bottoming out in you pussy. A tear rolled down your cheek from the pain. Lance wiped it away with his thumb, slowly starting to go in and out of you.

You grunted every time he filled you up entirely. Lance wanted to go faster, but he wanted to wait for your permission first. Fuck if it wasn’t hard for him to contain himself though.

You continued to moan. He just felt so good inside of you. You never knew this is what sex could feel like. You felt warm and whole. It felt right.

“Go faster, Lance.”

“You sure angel?”

“Yes! Yes I’m sure!”

“Don’t gotta tell me again.” He rapidly picked up his pace, slamming into you. With every slam you would let out a guttural moan you couldn’t contain.

“Fuck fuck fuck! Oh god keep going!”

“You feel so good and tight around my cock baby.”

“God Lance fuck me harder!”

He goes full speed, absolutely wrecking your body. You never knew your body could handle anything like this.

“Yeah baby you like that? You like when I fill you up?”

“Yes, yes, oh god Lance please keep fucking me!”

Your body began to get the same feeling it did just moments ago when Lance’s head was between your legs.

“Lance I’m gonna come again! Oh god oh fuck!”

Lance hadn’t noticed that you stopped calling him sir. You hadn’t either, both absolutely engulfed in making love to each other. Lance might call it fucking, you call it love making, because it felt like love making. Even though it wasn’t an extravagant night, and you were fucking on his desk in his office, this was an out of world experience.

“Come around my cock baby, I wanna feel you come all over me.”

He didn’t have to say it twice. Before you knew it, you were coming all over him.

“Oh god!”

“I got you baby, don’t worry, I got you” Lance said slowing his pace down. In no time, Lance was pulling out to come all over your stomach.

You both sat in silence, hearing nothing but heavy breathing.

You sat up a little to see Lance smiling.

“What is it?”

“Oh nothin’. Just wanted this for a long time. It was even better than I expected, especially with you being a virgin.”

“You like that I’m a virgin? Well, was.”

“Of course, angel, I broke your innocence. Now I’ll always know that I was your first. God that’s gonna make me so hard at practice when I think about it.”

You sat up all the way after Lance cleaned your stomach off with a towel. You put your clothes on and grabbed your bag to head home.

“Thanks, uh, thanks for this coach.”

“Same time tomorrow, angel?”

“... what?”

“Oh c’mon. You didn’t think this would be a one-time deal did you?”

“I... I really didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know you’d want me more than once.”

Lance rolled his eyes playfully “I know I can be an asshole baby, but I won’t treat you like that. You’re my girl. My good girl.”

______________________________________

From that day forward, you had been given the title “assistant” as well as student. You had worked closely with Lance, both during and after practice. You had fucked like rabbits for months, only meeting at your place and fucking in his office really. You had no idea why he wouldn’t take you to his place.

Was it dirty? Was he embarrassed where he lived?

You brushed it off, figuring it was nothing.

That was until one day at the gym your whole perspective had changed.

You walked in in your outfit like any other day, ready to get the girls started on their routine. Lance hadn’t arrived at the gym yet, but that was normal on Tuesdays.

Just as you had gotten all of the girls started on their routines you saw Lance walk in. Your face immediately lit up. That was until you saw a woman and a baby come in behind him.

“Lance! I need the keys to the van! I have to get Gabby to the daycare!”

“Maggie just calm down! They’re in my office! Fucking relax!”

Maybe it was his sister. Maybe it was his cousin? A roommate who was struggling to get by on her own? Your mind was full of thoughts, not realizing the actual truth of the situation.

Maggie followed him into his office and grabbed the keys from his hand. After, she gave him a deep kiss on the mouth.

“God, I hate you, but you’re just so damn cute I can’t stand to stay angry. Love you honey. See you after work!”

You felt like crying. No, you felt like throwing up. You felt like you could do both at the same damn time. How could he do this to you? How could he have a wife and child and still have the nerve to sleep with you and call you his “girl.” You froze in the middle of the gym, immediately turning around to avert Lance’s gaze. You knew he was going to look and see if you noticed what had happened just moments ago.

Some hot tears streamed down your face, but you chose to quickly wipe them away and turn around to face him.

He strutted up to you, almost nervous, like you were going to cause a scene in front of all of the girls. Instead, you turned and smiled at him.

“Hey, how come you were late?” Playing dumb.

Lance seemed dumbfounded. How could you not have noticed what happened? Nonetheless, he played dumb as well. “Uhhh.... I uhm. My car wouldn’t start.”

“Well, that’s just silly, you know if your car won’t start you can call me, right?”

“I uhm, I know. I just didn’t, I didn’t want to bother you.”

“You could never bother me.”

Before Lance approached you, you decided to roll with the punches. Of course, it hurt that he had a wife and kid. Of course, it hurt that you weren’t his wife, or girlfriend at that, but this is the closest thing you’ve ever experienced that emulated love. You weren’t going to give that up, not even for decent morals.

As the years went on you and Lance continued your nightly escapes and sneaking around behind his wife’s back. You felt good, though. He chose to spend time with you over his family. At the end of the days, however, your jealousy never subsided. You always knew you wouldn’t be the one he would sleep next to at night. You would never truly be “his girl.”

#Lance Tucker #lance tucker x reader #lance tucker x you #sebastian stan #sebastian stan characters

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drabbles-of-writing · 4 years ago

Text

We’re Soarin’, Flying

This is part of my Wing AU

AO3

Masterpost

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Amity! Hey, Amity! Amity!”

Luz swooped from the top of one of the lockers, flaring her wings to slow herself down as she skidded to a stop by the girl, nearly knocking into her.

Amity jumped, her wings twitching ever so slightly before she relaxed into a smile, side-stepping to avoid Luz’s flailing wings.

“Hey, Luz.”

“Sorry about the drop in,” Luz said sheepishly, her wings scrunching up over her shoulders as she rubbed the back of her neck. “I’ve been trying to find you all day, but, ah, all my classes were practically on the other side of school.”

Amity’s ears perked slightly in curiosity. She let Luz continue rambling as she placed the last of her books in her lockers, far more relaxed than how she had been earlier.

“So, I actually have an idea for us! You said you weren’t busy today, right?” Luz asked, clearly straining to not stand so close to Amity as to avoid hitting her with her wings that refused to sit still.

“No…” Amity said slowly, shutting her locker and glanced at Luz with sudden interest. “What were you thinking of?” She said, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

“You’re gonna love it!” Luz smiled, grabbing her wrist with both hands and beginning to tug her along. “It’s just a little off from where we fought Grometheus, remember?”

“It was only a few days ago, Luz.” Amity said, a faint blush on her cheeks as she was pulled along. “What’s this about?”

“So, I was talking with Willow and Gus,” Luz said, flapping her wings on occasion to speed up their movement. “And I felt bad that you can’t fl--”

Amity stiffened and suddenly seized forward, slapping her hand over Luz’s mouth. Only then did the human stop.

Amity looked around fearfully, though since it was the end of the day, nobody was really paying attention. The only students still in the building were too busy making their ways to the exit.

“Luz!” Amity hissed, slowly taking her hand away.

“Right, sorry, private subject, I forgot.” Luz said sheepishly, her wings drooping slightly. “But that’s the point of this outing! It’s to help you with that little dilemma.”

Amity blinked at her in confusion. Luz’s wings were already twitching again as she was hurrying towards the exit, once again, pulling the kestrel along.

Then Luz saw her expression of realization.

“No, no, no no no,” Amity said, digging her heels in, but it was useless against the tile and the unstoppable force known as Luz. “No, bad idea, we’re not doing this.”

“Yes, yes, yes we are!” Luz said, giving Amity a wide grin and beating her wings as they came out of the school. “You said you couldn’t, you know, do the thing, during our fight with Grometheus, and I have made it my mission to help you.”

“You really don’t have to,” Amity shook her head, still half-heartedly struggling as Luz dragged her to the bottom of the steps, where Willow and Gus were waiting.

“Too bad, I’m doing it anyway.” Luz said, finally stopping by her friends, her wings practically vibrating.

“Please tell me you’re here to try and be the voice of reason,” Amity begged, turning to Willow leaning against the stone by the steps.

“I am,” Willow nodded, and Amity visibly relaxed. “And my voice of reason says that you need to learn how to use those wings.” She said firmly, crossing her arms.

Amity groaned and hung her head, defeated. Luz was too giddy with excitement to bother with a sympathetic pat on the back.

“And it would be interesting to document,” Gus added. “I mean, not a lot of people write down or talk about what happens to wings when they aren’t used in flight for years on end. It could be enlightening!”

“You better keep that completely anonymous.” Amity warned, pointing a threatening finger at the boy. “No names, no locations, no mentions of species, anything.”

“All my research is one hundred percent confidential.” Gus said, raising a hand. “It’ll remain personal for a long time, anyway.”

“Keep it that way,”

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” Luz said, flapping her wings widely and jumping around her friends. “We only have so much light left!” “We have at least a few hours,” Amity pointed out.

“And those precious hours are being wasted,” Luz whined, her wings hanging loosely at her sides. “Come on, come on!” She said, grabbing Amity’s hand with both of hers and already tugging her along.

“Looks like the natural disaster has truly begun,” Gus sighed, hurrying after the two as Luz pulled them along.

“Oh, just you wait.” Willow mumbled.

“Okay, so!” Luz stood in front of Amity, the cliff behind her. “What do you know about flying?”

“Uh,” Amity blinked, glancing back at Willow and Gus, who were sitting on the sidelines of the clearing. “I know you need to...flap your wings a lot?”

“Alright, not a bad start.” Luz said, her wings half-open as she scrunched her face in thought. “Do you know how to take off?”

“I just need to jump and flap my wings, right?” Amity said. “Then, I dunno, catch a draft of air?”

Luz pressed her mouth into a thin line, mildly concerned.

“How about we just take a look at those wings first?” She said, doing her best to give a reassuring smile.

Luz spread her own wings to their full length, then gestured for Amity to do the same. The witch swallowed and slowly unfurled her wings from her shoulders.

They sagged a bit, the tips of her feathers brushing the grass. The first thing Amity noticed was that, in comparison to her own, Luz’s wings were tiny. Amity’s wings were narrow and meant for speed. Whereas Luz’s were wider, the feathers and patagium thinner, and practically shrank when put in front of the kestrels.

Which was an odd realization, Amity thought. Her wings were nowhere near big, and barely even normal-sized. She supposed it put into perspective just how...fragile Luz was in this world.

“Not bad, not bad,” Luz hummed, her wings arching as she walked in a circle around Amity, peering at her wings.

Luz reached forward and touched Amity’s left wing. Amity startled and jerked her wing back.

“Sorry, sorry!” Luz raised her hands quickly and stepped away. “Wing sensitivity, my bad.” She said shyly.

“N-no, it’s fine,” Amity mumbled, slowly stretching out her wing again and ignoring Willow and Gus’s snickers behind her. “Just surprised me, that’s all.”

Luz flicked her tail and reached forward again, glancing at Amity. At her nod, she drew her hands underneath Amity’s wing and lifted it higher.

Amity resisted the urge to shutter at the touch and instead did her best to hold her wing at the height Luz lifted it to.

Once Luz was satisfied, she hurried to Amity’s other wing and did the same, until they were raised just above her shoulders and back in a take-off position.

“Try moving them,” Luz said, backing up to stand in front of Amity again. “Like this,”

She began beating her wings, slowly at first, but soon became rapid. It created a small gust of wind that ruffled Amity’s hair and feathers, and even rose Luz off the ground a few inches before she stopped and dropped back down.

Amity shuffled her feet and stretched her wings back further, feeling small pops in her muscles at being stretched. She beat them forward, and mid-movement, the bones on her wings let out a sickening crack.

Really, it was only the type of crack that your bones give in the morning when you wake up and haven’t moved for a while. But nevertheless, it was loud, and it was disturbing, to say the least.

Luz instantly cringed back, wincing at the sound. Willow did the same as Gus self-consciously drew his wings closer.

Amity paused, her wings halfway hanging in front of her as she gave a nervous smile.

“It’s, uh, been a while.” She mumbled.

“I can tell,” Luz nodded. “Just, erm, stretch them out.”

Amity nodded and slowly beat her wings back and forth, wincing at every strain and crack her wings gave, not used to being moved. Luz was disturbed by every noise she heard, and Amity didn’t blame her.

Eventually, her wings stopped making sickening noises, and she began to speed up her flapping. Luz perked up and her own wings started to beat in excitement.

“Don’t forget the tail!” Luz added above the wind being created by Amity’s flapping.

Amity spread her tail and increased the power, despite already starting to feel fatigued.

She felt her feet begin to lift slightly and she held the speed her wings were at. Luz bounced on her heels in excitement and stepped back.

Amity rose a few inches in the air, causing Willow and Gus’s interest to grow.

A spike of pain shot through Amity’s right wing and she dropped with a yelp, her wings laying on the grass as she landed on her side.

“Are you okay?” Luz worried, hurrying over and dropping to her knees.

“M’fine,” Amity mumbled, raising her head and giving a smile as Willow rushed over. “Just a cramp, I think.”

“Probably from not using your wings for a while,” Willow said, both her and Luz helping Amity to her feet.

“Maybe we should just work on wing exercises today,” Luz hummed, glancing back at Amity’s wings, which were loosely dragging on the ground. “It’s probably not easy on your wings to start flying after going unused for years.”

“No, no, I can do it.” Amity shook her head, raising her wings to her sides.

“Someone had a change of heart,” Willow murmured, stepping away and fluttering her wings.

“Zip it,” Amity grumbled, her ears pressing back.

“Are you sure?” Luz worried, her tail flicking. “I thought this would only take a few days, but if it hurts, it might take longer…” She said, running a hand through her hair.

“I’m fine, really.” Amity insisted. “I wanna try again.”

Luz seemed unsure, but nodded. She stepped back and let Amity stretch out her wings again. Willow wandered back to Gus but stayed standing, her wings buzzing every now and again.

Amity beat her wings once more, testing them out. Luz circled her in half-flutters as she did so, her tail twitching nonstop.

Amity soon rose off the ground again, feeling a heavy strain in her wings and creeping pain. She ignored it and held her position a few inches in the air. Luz started grinning and chirped, flying a little ways above her in encouragement.

“Come on, let’s see if we can get you airborne!” Luz said, giving Willow and Gus thumbs up.

Amity felt a swell in her chest and beat her wings faster, trying to angle properly and push herself in the air.

The second she tried to fly up instead of hovering, however, was when her wings suddenly felt like thorn-covered chains had suddenly wrapped around them.

A strained cry escaped Amity and her wings cramped up. She hit the ground harder than she thought and was winded momentarily, letting out a wheezing breath of air.

She was subconsciously aware of Luz landing and her friends surrounding her, asking questions that blurred together. Her vision was fuzzy and she tried to blink it away, shutting her eyes like that would combat the pain her wings were in.

It truly felt like a sharp string was contracting around them at different levels, and she was reminded of those awful binding straps her parents made her try out that wouldn’t let her wings move an inch.

She tried to mumble that she was fine and attempted to push herself upright. Her wings started to automatically move to fold regally over her back as they had been for all these years, and the muscles in not only her wings but shoulders and back cried in protest, causing her to whimper and collapse again.

She was aware of the flash of speckled brown wings covering her before she let her head thump on the ground and her eyes shut.

“Day three of flight training,” Gus mumbled, walking along the large branch as he tapped his pencil on his notebook. “Luz has decided to try moving through the trees to build up Amity’s wing muscle-mass. It's…” He paused, frowning.

“Not going too well,”

“I can hear you!”

Amity hopped to the next closest branch, stumbling before clinging to the trunk of the tree, her wings curled tightly at her sides. Willow landed on the same branch, giving her a pitying look.

“This is ridiculous,” Amity grumbled under her breath, looking off the branch to the ground spiraling below. “The kid with baby fluff is better than me.”

“I’m writing that down!” Gus called from his branch, angrily scribbling in his notebook.

“Don’t mind him, he’s just had more...exercise with his wings.” Willow said, hovering a few feet away as Amity peeled herself off the trunk and sheepishly stepped to the next branch.

“If it makes you feel any better, Luz still has a bit of fluff.” She offered.

“She does?” Amity instantly perked up, missing her branch and slipping off.

Thankfully, she managed to scramble and grab onto the branch, her lower half hanging off as she clinged to the thicker branch for dear life, her wings still tightly around her sides as she tried to pull herself up.

“Hey, Amity!”

Luz zoomed right on by, pausing for a moment to perch on a thinner branch above the witch, making her pause and look up.

“The point is to, uh, use your wings.” She said, ruffling her own. “Just try gliding! Or moving them when going from branch-to-branch.”

“I’d rather not fall out of the tree, thank you.” Amity grumbled, struggling to pull herself up as Willow watched with mild concern.

“Psh, you won’t fall. We’re high enough that you’d hit a branch that’d stop your fall...eventually.” Luz shrugged.

“You’re terrible at reassurance,” Willow deadpanned.

“Tell you what,” Amity said, laying her chin on the branch. “I’ll give it a shot. But I’m starting slow.”

“I can work with that!” Luz said cheerfully, her wings raising. “Hey, Gus! Race ya!” She called, hopping off the branch.

“Wha--wait! I wasn’t ready!” The nuthatch cried, fluttering after her.

Amity watched Luz fly off, stopping on branches occasionally to laugh and tease Gus. Her wings were constantly moving this way and that, and not for the first time, Amity wondered if Luz’s wings were really as fragile as they looked.

Willow cleared her throat and Amity jerked her head up, catching the hummingbirds smile with a raised brow.

“What?” Amity growled, finally managing to pull herself up onto her branch and trying to steady herself.

“I didn’t say anything,” Willow said simply, landing on a branch next to Amity’s. “Just that...you’re awfully more open recently, that’s all.”

“Luz has that impact on people,” Amity said stiffly, half-opening her wings and debating if the five foot jump to the next branch was worth it.

“Of course,” Willow said calmly.

Amity jumped to the next branch, her wings spread to balance her. She floundered for a moment before shooting out both of her wings, keeping herself from falling off.

Amity let out a breath of relief and lowered her wings slightly, but kept them open. She looked down the line of trees again, spotting Luz darting around the bigger trunks and startling Gus, laughing with her wings hanging at her sides, yet seeming so lively.

She smiled, just a bit.

“You know I wouldn’t mind, right?”

Amity squawked and whirled around, realizing Willow had landed next to her without her noticing, a smug look on her face.

“Mind? Course, course not.” Amity said quickly, ears flicking back as a flush came to her face. “I mean, it’s a small thing anyway, why would you even worry about it?” She said, forgoing judging the gap and flapping her wings as she landed on the next branch, having to grab one above her to stop herself from slipping off.

“But, uh, you wouldn’t? Really?” Amity swallowed, glancing at Willow as she calmly landed next to her.

“So you do know what I’m implying,” Willow said smugly, her wings arched.

“I--” Amity started before slowly shutting her mouth again and resorting to a glare. “I don’t like you.”

“Yes, you do.”

Amity muttered and released the branch above her, debating the consequences of knocking Willow off the branch with her wings. So far, the cons were outweighing the pros.

“Out of curiosity, could you bend the trees so I don’t break every bone in my body when I inevitably fall?” Amity asked, hoping to change the conversation.

“It would be more like growing the leaves, not bending the tree, but yes.” Willow said, deciding to be merciful. “You’re going to be fine, Amity. Luz went out of her way to make sure nothing went wrong today.”

“Which means she shoved a bunch of problems into a closet and is going to deal with them when she forgets they exist and suddenly burst free?” Amity guessed, giving Willow a side-eye.

“Yeah, pretty much.” Willow nodded with a tired sigh. “But let's focus on getting those wings moving before whatever troubles Luz has hidden away come looking for blood.”

“It is sounding more appealing now,” Amity agreed, holding her wings out and taking a breath before jumping off her branch.

She glided in a wonky fashion for only a few moments before smacking into a thin branch and clinging clumsily to it, her cheek resting against the wood. She heard whoops and rattles and looked up, seeing Luz and Gus had brought their game closer to her and Willow.

“That was a good glide,” Luz complimented, landing on a branch underneath Amity’s so her face could lean closer to hers. “We could probably try glides across the clearing, soon!” She said gleefully.

Amity short-circuited for a moment, her words coming out in a jumbled mess before she realized she was slipping off and re-tightened her old on the branch.

“Y-yeah! Totally,” Amity nodded, swallowing thickly as she attempted to sit up.

“How are your wings feeling?” Luz asked, flying up and offering a hand to Amity, which the witch gratefully took.

“A little stiff, but not too bad.” Amity said, steadying herself on her feet. “I haven’t been moving them much, so that probably helps.”

“Aw, come on, Amity! You’re supposed to use them,” Luz complained, landing on the thin branch beside her and making it wobble.

If she noticed, she didn’t react to it.

“We gotta build up those muscles! Make them big and powerful, like mine.” She said, proudly flaring her wings, despite them being significantly smaller than Amity’s.

Amity raised a brow in amusement and looked over Luz. Her gaze paused for a moment on her wings. Specifically, the base of them.

Sure enough, Willow was right. Where Luz’s wings met her body, and even underneath her marginal and secondary covert feathers, was small gray and white downy fluff. It wasn’t exactly hidden, but due to how close it was to her body and her wings' natural white speckles, most people wouldn’t even notice them.

“Amity?”

The witch jerked her head up, startled. She blushed redder when she noticed Luz was looking at her oddly and drawing her wings half-closed.

“Are you sure you're okay? You kinda spaced out for a moment, there.” She said, a slight twitch to her tail.

“Yes! Yeah, I, erm, I’m okay.” Amity said, hating how loud her voice was at first and rubbing the back of her neck. “Just, uh, thinking about how I’m gonna actually manage to fly.”

“Aw, you’ll get it, I’m sure.” Luz said kindly. “We’re not giving up that easily!”

“What are ya talkin’ bout?”

The branch shook more as Gus landed on Amity’s other side. Amity held out her hands to keep her balance, uneasy.

“Just flying,” Luz said, oblivious as Gus rose his wings to hold himself still. “Hey, where’s Wil--”

Willow, sure enough, came to land on the branch where it connected to the trunk of the tree. Her wings were still slowing down to stop her flight when a cracking noise reached their ears.

Before anyone could shout a warning, the branch snapped off from underneath the kids, sending them tumbling down.

Amity flailed and flung out her wings, trying to stop her fall. Her wings caught the air and she got momentary whiplash as her fall stopped abruptly.

She glided for a good few moments, looking around frantically before crashing face-first into a branch and landing with a thud on the one beneath it, groaning.

She lifted her head to check what happened to the others, worried. Gazing below her, she saw that Gus had landed on a large leaf that Willow made to catch him. Luz hadn’t been so lucky and clearly tried to fly away but instead hit a branch and landed on the intersection between two larger ones. Bruised, but no worse for wear.

Willow, since she had been the last to land, and was a hummingbird, had avoided falling altogether.

“You guys okay?” Willow asked, landing in the middle of where her friends were scattered.

Groans of pain greeted her.

“I think we’re done for today.” Amity decided, folding her wings over her back as she sat up.

“Fair,” Luz mumbled, rolling off the intersection before flaring out her wings and flying up. “Amity, you need help getting down?”

“I...I think I can try and glide down.” Amity said, peering over the branch. “Willow, prepare to catch me, please.”

“Can do,” Willow sighed, letting Gus’s leaf shrink to normal size and dumping the nuthatch on the ground below, much to his complaints.

“Hey, I think today was pretty successful.” Luz shrugged, flying around Amity. “Considering how it could’ve gone, breaking a branch is actually pretty decent!” Amity and Willow made eye contact from across the trees.

“You have a monster chasing you today, don’t you?” Willow deadpanned.

“Two, actually.”

“This is the worst idea you’ve ever had during these sessions. And you wanted us to try and ride a Roc.”

“I think you’re being a little over-dramatic, Amity.”

“It’s not so bad,” Luz said, standing at the edge of the cliff. “I mean, you’ve made a lot of progress. And it’s only been just over a week! If anything bad happens, you can just glide to safety. Or Willow can catch you.” She added.

“There is one branch on this entire cliff.” Amity said, pointing below. “And I don’t want to land in the ocean, Luz.”

“This is why we don’t take advice from Eda,” Gus mumbled under his breath.

“I won’t let you fall, I promise.” Luz said, her tail quivering slightly. “I can catch you, and so can Willow.” She insisted.

Amity frowned and peered over the edge, clearly not convinced.

Okay, Luz thought, so maybe her previous ideas hadn’t all been bangers. Especially not the Roc or the throwing plan. But this wasn’t that bad, not really. Sure, Amity could get her wings wet, but so long she didn’t crash at the bottom of the cliff, she’d be fine, this is fine.

“We gotta get those wings in the air somehow, and you’re already able to glide longer! This’ll be great, I’m sure.” She said, waving a hand.

“Yeah,” Gus drawled out slowly, glancing at Luz’s tail, which had not stopped twitching. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this if you're not completely sure of it?”

“Course I’m sure, why wouldn’t I be sure?” Luz said quickly, glancing around. “I’m fine, it’ll all be fine. Look, here,”

With that, she calmly took a step backwards off the cliff.

Amity jerked forward for a moment before drawing back. Luz had fallen for barely a second before she had spread her wings and flown up, now hovering a little over two thousand feet in the air.

“Now I can make sure nothing bad happens.” She said. “Just, uh, you know...don’t look down?” She tried with a sheepish smile.

“We’re all going to regret this,” Willow muttered.

Despite her words, she also stepped off the cliff and flew halfway down where the broken branch was, hovering by it at the ready.

“You three have fun, I’m staying here.” Gus said, fluttering his wings as he focused on his notebook. “I’d rather not risk crashing into the sea.”

This did little to reassure Amity.

“Just open your wings and glide,” Luz said, flying around the edge of the cliff. “Maybe flap your wings a little. What’s the worst that could--”

“Don’t finish that,” Amity growled, snapping her head up to glare at the sparrow. “I don’t need us being jinxed right now.”

“Right, yeah, sorry,” Luz nodded, flying back. “Uh, you can do it?”

“Thanks,” Amity deadpanned.

Luz flew a little below the cliff, clinging onto the rock as she looked up at Amity psyching herself up. She kept her wings half open behind her, should she fall off.

“I’m right here, I promise.” Luz said, offering a smile.

Amity looked down at her for a few moments before giving a smile back and vanishing from her line of view.

Luz tilted her head, confused, and a little intrigued, as she heard the shuffling and ruffling of feathers above her.

Then, without warning, Amity suddenly leapt off the cliff.

Her wings were spread wide, and she soared right over both Luz’s and Willow’s heads. Luz gaped for a few moments before launching off the rockface.

Amity was managing to glide, albeit shakily, over the ocean. Luz grinned and flew up beside her, whooping and cheering.

Amity had her arms held out at her sides and her eyes were glued to the horizon.

“You alright?” Luz giggled.

“If I just keep staring ahead I’ll be fine,” Amity said, never moving her head. “I’m not falling, right?”

“Hmm,” Luz glanced back and at Amity’s steady gliding. “Nope! Well, I guess you are, but it’s with style.”

Amity snorted, her stiff stance wavering for a moment. Luz grinned in victory and looked back, noticing they were getting further from the cliff. Willow had moved away from the branch and was waving to them.

“We should probably turn back before you glide out to sea,” Luz called over to her. “You remember how to tilt your wings?”

“I think so?” Amity mumbled.

She dipped her left wing and leaned, turning in the air. Luz smiled, flying up and over Amity in a spinning circle before continuing to fly normally just underneath the witch.

Willow was cheering as well, hovering above the cliff. Luz could see Gus furiously scribbling notes and constantly looking back up at them, grinning.

Amity laughed, finally relaxing as she tilted her wings slightly, swaying in the air.

“And you thought this was a terrible idea,” Luz smirked.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Amity grumbled, rolling her eyes before glancing down at Luz.

Luz saw her eyes wander to the crashing ocean beneath them and her face fell.

“Uh, Luz?” Amity said, going a little pale.

“I told you not to look down!” Luz squawked, flying higher up so that her wings were nearly brushing Amity’s.

“It-it’s not the height,” Amity shook her head, tearing her gaze away from the ocean and looking back up at the human. “I think there’s something down there.”

Luz blinked and looked down, squinting. For a few brief moments, she saw nothing. Then, in a brief flash, she saw something dark flick out of the water before vanishing.

Luz glanced back at Amity, who was banking to the right in a circle, nervous.

“Uh, out of curiosity,” Luz said slowly, pausing in the air to hover as Amity glided by. “What’s the ocean wildlife like in the Boiling Isles?”

A massive tremor suddenly shook the area, catching the attention of Willow and Gus, who were both standing when it hti. Luz whirled around to call a warning to Amity before the sea suddenly split apart, revealing massive, gaping jaws.

Luz let out a cry and flailed, barely missing jaws closing around her tail as she tucked in and darted away.

She spun, taking in the massive monster that had come from the sea.

It’s lower half was a golden carp, even with the head. But the mouth was wide open, and coming from said mouth was a striped cat-like demon. All that was coming out of the mouth was from the shoulder up, including paws nearly the size of the Owl House and a maw filled with teeth as big as a person.

The monster fell back to the sea at it’s failed attempt, though it’s eyes still shone with hunger.

“What was that?” Luz shouted, looking around wildly. “Amity? Amity!”

The kestrel, during the chaos, had smacked into the cliffside and was about two hundred feet down, clinging to the rock for dear life. Willow and Gus were picking themselves up from the sudden attack, panic evident.

“Luz, get back here!” Willow waved her hands around. “It’s after you!”

Luz didn’t need to be told twice.

She dove towards the cliff, hitting the safe grass before springing up a moment later and leaning over, her tail trembling.

“Amity!” She called down, and the witch jerked her head up.

“Hang on,” Willow said, stretching out a hand and making the branch a couple hundred feet below Amity twitch and move.

The branch had grown to a reasonable size before it started growing up towards Amity.

That was when the sea monster leapt out again.

It had spotted Amity, as her bright green feathers made her stand out against the dark gray stone. It snapped its jaws, taking out the branch cleanly as a claw dug into the cliff, dangerously close to the witch.

Luz didn’t know when she jumped off, but in a flash, she was suddenly diving right towards the leviathan.

She flared her wings, barely slowing her descent before she landed right between its eyes. She could hear her friends screaming, either at her or for their own lives, but she couldn’t make out any of the words.

“Get lost, you overgrown catfish!” She barked, flapping over to its left eye before slamming her feet down on it.

The monster howled and reared back, nearly taking Luz with it before she darted back into the air. She turned and flew to Amity, who was curled into a ball where she was clinging to the rocks, her wings shaking.

Luz landed right on the rock beside her and grabbed her shoulder. Amity’s eyes opened and she stared at Luz, unable to speak. All Luz could hear were distressed, rapid chirps from her throat.

“Willow! Help me grab Amity!” Luz called up the cliff, taking Amity’s arm.

It took a few moments, considering all the howling and tremors the sea beast was causing, but Willow appeared on Amity’s other side just a moment later. She grabbed her right arm and the two were quick to launch off the cliff and rise to the air.

Until a paw slammed into the cliff, just above them and barely a few meters away from missing Gus, who had been peering over the edge.

The girls all whirled around, meeting two massive eyes, one of them slightly red from getting kicked.

The three froze for a moment, the girls and the monster having a momentary staring contest.

Then its jaw opened and it launched towards them.

The three split apart in a flash. Luz and Willow flew to the left and right, and Amity...dove.

Luz could see her wings tucked into her sides as she dove downwards, panic violently seizing her.

“Amity! Pull up!” Luz cried.

The monster’s face hit the cliff and it hissed, jerking back and swiping it's free paw towards the closest bird, which happened to be Willow.

Willow managed to dodge and fly upwards, making a beeline for Gus, who had stepped back.

Luz tightened her wings to her sides and dropped like a stone, attempting to peer around the hulking beast, trying to figure out where Amity was among the thrashing golden body and massive waves.

She saw something coming at her from the corner of her eye and spun to the side, spreading her wings right as a gust of wind went by, accompanying a paw with claws the length of a bus.

The tiger roared, furious that it’s prey was proving so hard to catch.

Luz finally saw Amity, right as she was twisting around to miss the beasts thrashing tail.

Luz cried out, curving around to try and reach her friend.

Amity suddenly shot out her wings and tilted upwards, sending her soaring nearly straight-up.

Luz didn’t have the chance to gape, because the beasts paw had hit the water right by her, sending waves four times as big as she was.

She darted up and around its forearm, missing its jaws by the brush of her feathers as she finally popped up above its head.

Willow was swiftly growing the grass on the cliff face, beginning to move them around the monster's neck and face, causing it to yowl and hiss.

Luz couldn’t even pay attention to that, she was too busy flying around and looking for a familiar flash of green.

And, right by the leviathans back, she saw it.

Amity soared up and her hand suddenly lit ablaze. She paused right by its head and flared out her wings. In that brief moment of pause, she flung the handful of fire at the cat's nose, hissing a slew of curses at it.

The fire grew when it came in contact with its nose and the beast shrieked, pulling back and breaking free of the grass wrapped around it. Amity flew, flew, out of the way as it hissed and removed its claws from the cliff face.

Luz slowly landed, deciding she’d rather not get involved. Amity’s rage-filled snarls were enough to keep her at bay.

The cat spat back at her but lowered its head, rubbing at its nose with its paw.

With a growl, the beast turned and dove back into the sea, deciding the fight wasn’t worth the prey.

In mere moments, it was like it was never there.

The others were breathing heavily, trying to process what had just happened. Luz, on the other hand, was left staring in the air at Amity, who was hovering right where she was, still watching where it vanished.

“She’s flying,” Luz murmured, before suddenly jumping up. “She’s flying! Amity! Amity! You’re flying!”

The witch turned back around, confused for a brief moment before glancing at her wings.

Luz leapt into the air and spun around the kestrel, talking a mile a minute as she resisted the urge to tackle Amity out of the sky in a hug.

Amity exhaled, shaking with the effort and her wings faltered. Luz paused then and gave her a worried look.

“Yeah, great,” Amity wheezed, her eyelids drooping. “I’m...I’m kinda tired…”

“Oh, right, right!” Luz nodded, taking her hands and flying the witch down. “Yeah, I think we’ve done more than enough for the day.”

“Are you okay?” Willow worried, coming up to Amity once they landed and holding her up.

“Everything hurts,” Amity whined, “Especially these,” She weakly twitched her wings.

“But not as much as before, right?” Gus inquired.

“...nah, not yet.” Amity shook her head.

“That’s a win in my book!” Luz said cheerfully. “C’mon, let’s get back to the Owl House before Eda shows up wondering what the fuss was all about.”

Amity didn’t respond. She just closed her eyes and nodded tiredly, leaning on Willow as she began the walk back to the Owl House.

Gus and Luz kept on talking, about the fight, the flying, what Gus had written down, anything. Luz somehow still had an abundance of energy, asking Amity questions she didn’t expect answers to and thinking up more ideas now that Amity had flown. After all, just because she flew once didn’t mean she was a master now.

Amity could barely keep her eyes open, and her walking was more like stumbling.

And yet, despite that, she couldn’t stop smiling, either.

184 notes · View notes

snarkythewoecrow · 4 years ago

Note

Prompt time! I know you've taken prompts for more serious subjects and mental health related stuff and I've absolutely loved them. If you are comfortable to write it and it won't be triggering, would you write like a sequel to your rubber band/coping mechanism fic where Peter goes to Tony when he has an urge to hurt himself or afterwards for helping cleaning up? Either that or a fic unrelated to that one where Tony sees Peter's old self harm scars or finds out that Peter still does sh? Just something irondad that's related to that subject but only if you are okay with writing it! I completely understand if it's something you don't wanna write more off, I just thought I'd ask anyway if that's okay

Sorry it took me so long to write, but here it is!

Read on AO3

*Trigger Warning for Self-harm and Blood*

In the kitchen at the lake house, Peter sat at the center island, watching Tony thread macaroni onto yarn as Morgan painted the necklace she’d already made. Noodles were scattered everywhere, and when you walked, there was a good chance you’d hear pasta crunching underfoot.

Morgan had paint from her hands to her hair, and Tony wasn’t fairing much better. Morgan had already made them all necklaces and was working on her fifth. The one she’d made Peter was draped around his neck. She'd said the one she made him was extra special because it had wagon wheels laced between the macaroni.

Peter was on the end of the island on a stool, his textbook carefully placed to avoid the smears of paint and glue. Thankfully, after the glitter balloon incident, Pepper banned glitter from the house, so Peter didn’t need to worry about that.

All in all, he should have been happy, but he wasn’t, and he wasn’t sure why that was, either.

Things had been better in the months since Tony had found Peter on the back porch that night, since they’d talked about his self-harming, but that didn’t mean that sometimes, for a reason Peter didn’t understand, he still had bad days—like today.

Everyone in his life was healthy and happy, things were going well at school, but he still couldn’t get the itch to cut out of his mind. Some days were definitely worse than others, and he’d been building toward this bad day all week. The rubber band on his wrist was getting plenty of use.

Tony had told him that he could come to him whenever he needed but seeing Tony smiling as he played with Morgan, he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t bring the mood down. He didn’t want to be the reason the worry lines in Tony’s face deepened.

It was already hard enough to use the rubber band with Tony nearby. He always got this look—somewhere between sadness and concern. Peter hated causing that look, so he’d done the only thing he could to avoid it. He stopped snapping the band when he was with Tony.

It was easier this way. What Tony didn’t know, couldn’t hurt him, or at least, that’s what Peter told himself.

The cloud over Peter’s head wasn’t lightening up, and he felt overwhelmed like his lungs were filling with water, and he was going under. He fingered the band on his wrist, wanting to snap it, just to feel something, but then Tony laughed, and Morgan giggled, the box of macaroni spilled, and Peter—Peter just couldn’t do it.

He closed his textbook and excused himself from the table, mumbling that he had a headache and needed to lay down. Before he made it out of the kitchen, Tony called after him, telling him dinner was in a few hours and he’d check on him then.

Peter forced a smile, ducking his head and scurrying up the stairs, leaving the sounds of Morgan’s laughter behind him.

When he got to his room, he shut the door, falling against it, still clutching his textbook. He didn’t have a headache like he’d told Tony, but he didn’t know what else to say at the time, though with the tension in his body, a headache was a real possibility soon.

He kicked off the door and walked over to his bed, pausing by the desk to drop his textbook with a thump. He collapsed on the bed, so his legs were still hanging off the side.

With Tony no longer able to witness it, Peter snapped the band on his wrist, but it brought no relief from the deep need to cut. The feeling was so consuming Peter thought he could taste it. The flavor reminded him of ash. He hated that he felt this way, but he didn’t know how to control it.

Tony had paid for therapy, and May made sure he went, but the coping skills only helped so much.

When it was like this, nothing else seemed like it could scratch the itch—not as well as a knife.

His therapist had suggested holding ice cubes when the urge got bad, but that would mean going to the kitchen, and Tony would notice. He would ask. Then worry lines would etch the man’s face, and Peter would feel even worse because he put them there.

Drawing on his arms was a nearly laughable suggestion. His therapist had suggested a red pen for effect. Peter didn’t have a red pen, and it never worked in the past. The only thing he knew that could make him feel better came with a healthy dose of guilt. He knew hurting himself would temporarily make it all melt away.

But the worst part—the part that made Peter feel like a failure—was he didn’t even know what had triggered it. Everything had been going well. Maybe he really did come back from the snap wrong.

Frustrated, angry, Peter sat up and scrubbed his hands over his face. The urge to just make a little cut or dig his nails just deep enough to break skin was all-consuming. The band on his wrist felt more like a reminder of his failures than a lifeline—a way to pull himself back.

He wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all.

Then it reached a point where it started to hurt in his chest, and he just needed something to focus it all back, to let him breathe, and without conscious thought, he started clawing at his arm. The little stabs of pain felt grounding, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t the fix he needed.

The crescent-shaped cuts and scratches oozed blood as Peter got up and went looking for a knife, for something to cut with. He’d given his utility knife to Tony, but he thought they both knew that wouldn’t stop him, not when he felt like this.

A small part of him thought he should call out to Tony, but then he remembered how happy they’d looked, and he didn’t want to spoil that. He’d deal with this on his own.

He slipped out of his room, listening to make sure no one was close, then darted to the bathroom. His chances of finding something to cut with seemed higher in a bathroom.

When he got to the bathroom, he started rifling through the cabinet but not finding much. He came across spare toothbrushes and travel-size shampoos and soaps, but nothing sharp. He looked under the sink, knowing there should be a first aid kit, and where there was a first aid kit, there might be scissors.

He found his prize with a shaky sigh. Setting the scissors on the counter, Peter stuffed the kit back under the sink, pocketed the scissors, and headed back to his room.

When he got to the hall, he heard Tony talking, telling Morgan something about a spaghetti monster. It made guilt twist in his gut, settling there and starting to fester.

He ran back to his room as quickly as he dared, then shut his door, locking it for good measure.

The feeling that washed over him as he took the scissors from his pocket was one part relief, one part anticipation, and the rest self-loathing. He knew he wasn’t just letting himself down. He was letting those who cared about him down, too.

That didn’t stop him from sitting in the desk chair, putting the blade to his arm, and cutting, though.

It happened so easily, and when he did it, he put all those bad feelings into it, turning the negative emotions and guilt into something manageable, something he could do something about. Physical pain made sense. It had a cause, a source, a purpose. And the blood that welled up from the cut made sense, too. It all made sense in a way his emotions didn’t, and he needed it.

The one cut wasn’t enough, though. It had been hesitant and not that deep. The bleeding was already stopping.

Peter felt like the world was muted and focused down to the blade and his arm. He pressed the metal harder against his skin and dragged it until he reached the underside of his arm. It bled much more freely, and Peter felt almost high from it.

Wanting to see more, needing the cause and effect of it, he cut again just below the second, pressing even harder. The skin split neatly under the blade.

He was just about to make another when the door handle jiggled, followed by a knock.

“Pete?” Tony’s voice drifted through the door. “Why’s the door locked?”

Peter’s high came crashing down, and reality wasn’t gentle. It hit suddenly how stupid he’d been. It was like realization hit him all at once. One thing had so easily turned into another. And Peter had taken each step without truly acknowledging the direction he was heading. And the place it brought him wasn’t great. He was locked in his room with a bleeding arm, having used Tony’s scissors, and ignored every chance he’d had to reach out for help. Tony had only been a shout away.

His body felt like it had locked up as the emotions swirled within him. He dropped the scissors on the floor, clattering against the wood, and he looked down at his arm, really seeing the damage for the first time outside of the warped lens of need.

It was bad. It was really bad. He might not need stitches, but it would be close, and the blood was everywhere. There were droplets on his jeans and on the floor, rivulets running down his arm.

He didn’t know what to do or what to say. His voice had been stolen by the grief he was feeling. He wasn’t just mourning himself. He was mourning the loss of trust he knew he’d just caused. He wasn’t ready to face the music.

The door handle jiggled again, and there was another round of knocking, even louder. “Peter, open the door.”

His heart kept hitting his ribs so hard he thought it would bruise.

He didn’t want to lie, but he didn’t know how to tell the truth. He hated himself for not just telling Tony how he’d been feeling. With more clarity than before, he realized now that Tony would probably have been proud.

He wouldn’t be proud now.

He would be sad or angry or worse—disappointed.

If Peter were honest, he was pretty disappointed in himself, enough for the both of them, enough for the world. He felt like a failure.

He didn’t want to be a liar, though, but he didn’t know what to do, so he called out to Tony, “Just a minute.”

He grabbed some tissues from his desk and tried to dab some of the blood up, but it just smeared it around, making his arm look like part of a crime scene. He’d really done it this time. Once Tony saw, there would be no going back. He’d see how broken Peter was and not want him anymore. No one wanted to deal with this, no matter how much they said they cared.

Tears started to well in his eyes, frowning so hard his face hurt. He kept a tissue pressed to the deepest cut and stood. He looked to the window, considering escaping the only way he could. He knew it wasn’t an option, though, and would only make things worse.

Accepting his fate, his body and mind feeling weighted, Peter shuffled to the door and unlocked it. He stepped back so it could swing open, closing his eyes and waiting for Tony to realize.

There were footsteps and Tony saying, “You know you’re not supposed to lock the door.”

Then Peter heard it. The air sucking into Tony’s lungs.

Peter’s shoulders fell, and the tears in his eyes broke free, rolling down his cheeks.

“Jesus Christ.” Then a hand grabbed his arm, and Peter opened his eyes, his eyelashes clumped together by tears. The devastation was clear on Tony’s face.

“I’m sorry,” Peter said. The apology wasn’t nearly enough, though. Nothing really would be. There weren’t words for times like these.

Tony’s expression was pinched. He shook his head, letting out a breath, then saying, “I’m not mad.”

And Peter wondered who he was trying to convince.

Peter nodded, his face twisting into some ugly and raw. “I don’t know what happened. I know I shouldn’t have—I didn’t mean it. You gotta believe me.”

Tony’s expression softened, and when he swallowed, it looked painful. “We can talk about it later. Let’s get you cleaned up first.”

Then he was guiding Peter to his bed, sitting him down. He grabbed some extra tissues and pressed them to the wounds.

“Hold those there. Keep pressure. I’ll go get the first aid kit.” Then Tony’s foot hit the scissors, and he looked down, his head shaking a little. He bent down and picked the scissors up. Licking his lips, he said, “Will you be okay for a second?”

Peter wasn’t sure he’d ever be okay again, but he nodded anyway, not trusting his voice.

With a nod, Tony turned and dipped out of the room. Thankfully, or maybe not, he was back before Peter could think too much about what he’d done.

Tony pulled the chair closer and sat, the first aid kit on the desk. He dug out the supplies he needed and lined them up, opening the packets of gauze. Then he lifted Peter’s hand and the tissues from the cuts, assessing the damage. The bleeding had stopped.

No one said anything, and Peter wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.

With methodical movements, Tony cleaned the cuts, and a few times, Peter thought Tony had been close to saying something, but each time, he’d just shaken his head and gone back to tending his wounds.

As Tony taped the gauze in place, he finally asked, “Was there something I could have done? Something I didn’t do? I just—” He cut himself off with a sigh, then straightened. “You know you can come to me, right?”

Peter couldn’t meet Tony’s gaze, so he stared at his shoulder. “You seemed so happy today. I didn’t want to spoil it. You and Morgan—” He shook his head. “I didn’t want to ruin the mood. Sometimes it feels like that’s all I do, you know?”

Tony sighed, scrubbing a hand over his mouth. “I know you think—let’s just say I’d rather you told me than finding you like this. I know I’m not an expert, but I could’ve helped distract you if I’d known. It might not have been easy, but I want the chance to help you—no matter what mood you think you’re ruining.”

Peter nodded, the tears back in his eyes. He felt all-encompassing guilt for what he’d done. “I don’t know what to do—how to fix this.”

“We take it one step at a time. Relapses happen, and when they do happen, it doesn’t make you a failure.” He squeezed Peter’s knee. “Recovery isn’t linear. It might feel like it’s all over, and you can’t fix it, but it’s really just a little bump in the road, a little hitch in the graph. The line is still moving forward and up.”

He wanted to believe Tony, but it was hard. He didn’t feel like he deserved the kind of understanding Tony gave him. He felt sick for what he’d done, and it would be so much easier if Tony were angry. He could deal with that.

His arms wound themselves around his middle without his consent as he tried to hold himself together. The cuts on his arms barely stung any more, which he was thankful for. The pain wasn’t a good feeling now. It didn’t settle him like it had. Instead, it reminded him how badly he’d screwed up.

“Oh, kiddo,” Tony said as he got up and moved to sit beside Peter. Then his arm wrapped around Peter’s shoulders and tugged him closer.

Peter sank into his side, his breath hitching as he fought a sob.

Tony pressed his lips to Peter’s hair, his breath warm against his scalp. “We’re gonna get through this. Just you watch.”

Then Peter broke, and it was an ugly sound. He choked on the sobs as they erupted from him, tears dripping from his chin, snot clogging his nose. His shoulders shook as he fell apart, or maybe not really, as Tony was doing a pretty good job of holding him together.

And wasn’t that the meat of it.

Because Peter realized amidst the tears that no matter what, Tony and the others in his life, they weren’t giving up on him—no matter how badly he screwed things up.

Tony held him until he could breathe again, then he cleaned himself up and changed out of the bloody jeans, and he and Tony went to finish making dinner. Morgan was at the table with Pepper, both wearing macaroni necklaces and big smiles.

If either of them noticed the bandages, they didn’t say a word, and when Tony patted his shoulder and told him to grab a chair, it felt something like forgiveness or understanding.

Things weren’t always great, and the line of the graph might hitch, but Peter could see that it was still moving up, still moving forward, and he thought that just might mean he’d be okay.

#tw: self harm #irondad #peter parker #tony stark #depression #snark writes #LittleMissAgrafina

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massivedrickhead · 4 years ago

Note

Hiiii can you pretty please do a follow up to the one shot of chloe hitting Beca which her car?!

Read part 1

Read on AO3

Beca limped her way towards the front door of her apartment, fumbling with the keys as she tried to get them out of her pocket.

“Let me,” Chloe said, taking them from her.

“Thanks,” Beca said, leaning heavily against her crutch. The pain in her ribs and pelvis were really starting to make themselves known now.

Chloe unlocked the door and held it open for Beca.

Chloe wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but Beca’s apartment was nice, if not a little bare.

Knowing what Beca’s mental state had been like before the accident, Chloe had been picturing a bit more of a mess, but the apartment was clean and tidy. The only thing that looked out of place was the note on her coffee table.

Chloe looked away, and tried not to imagine what was written on it.

“Thanks for the ride,” Beca said. “Do you wanna stay for a coffee?”

“Sure,” Chloe said, smiling, putting Beca’s bag on the floor.

“Can you, uh, help me make it?” Beca asked, embarrassed.

“Yes,” Chloe said, grinning even more, glad that Beca was actually asking for help. “Of course.”

Chloe followed Beca into the kitchen, and switched the kettle on.

“The mugs are in the cupboard above the microwave,” Beca said. “I can’t stretch up to reach them.”

“I got it,” Chloe said, taking down two mugs. “Sugar?”

“Yeah like, half a tea-spoon,” Beca said. “Do you want milk?”

“Please,” Chloe said, finding the cutlery drawer and adding instant coffee to both cups and sugar to Beca’s. Beca grabbed the milk out of the fridge and placed it on the counter. “Great teamwork.”

Beca laughed. “Teamwork makes the dream work.”

“Well that was adorable,” Chloe said, laughing as she added a splash of milk to her mug. “Milk?”

“No thanks,” Beca said, putting it back in the fridge.

Chloe picked up the two mugs and followed Beca back into the living room. Beca eased herself onto the sofa, and then picked up the note she’d left. She held it in her hands for a few seconds without unfolding it, before she crumpled it into a ball and tossed it towards a small waste paper bin near her desk.

It missed by several feet.

“Good shot,” Chloe said, laughing softly.

“Give me a break,” Beca said, laughing too. “Several parts of me are broken.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Chloe said, moving towards the crumbled ball of paper. She felt Beca’s hand close around her wrist.

“Please… Please don’t read that,” Beca said, the smile gone from her face, her voice quiet.

“I won’t,” Chloe said, softly. “I just don’t want you to have to bend over to pick it up later.”

Beca nodded and let Chloe’s arm go.

Chloe tossed the note into the trash, and returned to the sofa.

They drank their coffee and Chloe told her all about the animals she treated that day.

She could see Beca sinking further and further into the sofa, her grip on the mug beginning to slacken. The caffeine clearly couldn’t compete with the strong pain medication she’d taken once they’d sat down.

“Let me take that,” Chloe said softly, taking the mug out of her hands and setting it on the coffee table. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Beca said, laughing and rubbing at her eyes. “Sorry.”

Chloe cocked her head. “Why are you sorry?”

“I’m falling asleep in the middle of your story about… hamsters?”

“Gerbils,” Chloe said, grinning. “It wasn’t my most exciting story, I’ll admit.”

“No, it was great,” Beca said. “I’m just…”

“On a lot of pain meds?”

“Yeah.”

“And if this was any other day you’d be riveted by my story about gerbils?” Chloe asked.

“Of course,” Beca said, laughing. “I honestly think Universal will be on the phone trying to buy the movie rights.”

“Good to see the drugs aren’t affecting your sarcasm,” Chloe said grinning.

“My personality is like 80% sarcasm so that’s a good thing,” Beca said, feeling her eyes wanting to close again.

“You want some help getting to your room?”

Beca nodded, and Chloe helped her to her feet.

“You’re a really good person, Chloe,” Beca said, as Chloe helped her to her room and onto her bed.

Chloe smiled but shook her head. “I’m not that great. I have this thing where I run people over with my car. Do you wanna change into some pyjamas or something?”

“Oh, am I not your first victim?” Beca asked, grinning.

“No, you’re my first,” Chloe said. “But I think I’ve got a taste for it now, you know?” Beca laughed and winced. “Pyjamas?”

“Bottom drawer,” Beca said, her eyes momentarily screwed up as she waited for the pain to pass. When she opened them, Chloe was holding out some pyjamas for her, a look of concern on her face.

“I’m fine,” Beca said. “And anyway, it’s a good job you did hit me, remember?”

“I remember,” Chloe said, softly. She turned around so Beca could change. “Do you… Do you wanna talk about any of that?”

“Not right now,” Beca said, struggling to change without hurting herself more.

Chloe was itching to turn around and help, but she knew she had to let Beca ask for it. She had to draw a line somewhere.

“Can… Can you help?” Beca asked after a few minutes of struggling.

Chloe turned and helped Beca change.

“You should have been a doctor or something instead of a vet,” Beca mumbled as she lay down and Chloe pulled the blanket up so it covered her.

“I thought about it for a while,” Chloe said, sitting on the edge of the bed, her hand moving to brush a strand of hair out of Beca’s face.

“How come you didn’t?” Beca asked, closing her eyes at the contact.

“I get too attached to people,” Chloe said, softly. “Too involved. Harder to do that with animals.”

Beca didn’t reply because she’d already fallen asleep.

Chloe left a note on her bedside asking her to text her when she woke up, and to call if she needed anything.

She went into the kitchen and took some mugs, bowls, and plates that were all in the higher cupboards and placed them on the counter so Beca wouldn’t have to stretch up to reach them.

She then headed back to the living room to put on her coat and shoes, and her eyes fell on the small bin which contained Beca’s note.

Chloe wondered who it had been addressed to, if anyone.

She thought about what it might say, even though she wasn’t sure that she wanted to know.

She took a step towards it before remembering the look on Beca’s face when she asked her not to read it.

She left the apartment and pushed it from her mind. If Beca wanted her to know, she would tell her.

Beca: Hey, just woke up. Thanks again for helping me last night. Once I’m fully healed I’ll have to think of a way to repay you xx

Chloe: You could take me out for dinner? Or let me take you out for dinner? xx

Chloe: Either way, I want to eat dinner and I want you to be there xx

Beca: It’s a date xx

Beca: Did you move all my shit out of the cupboard so I didn’t have to reach to get it? xx

Chloe: Yeah, that’s okay right? xx

Beca: It’s like the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me. Thank you xx

Chloe: You’re welcome :) xx

Chloe: Morning sunshine, how are you feeling? xx

Chloe: It’s been a few hours, can you give me a text back so I know you’re okay? xx

Chloe: Bec, I’m freaking out, please answer my calls?

Chloe: I’m coming over.

Chloe was feeling sick with worry as she drove to Beca’s apartment. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Beca had seemed fine when Chloe left the night before, but it wasn’t like her to not text back or answer Chloe’s calls.

She’d been out of the hospital for a week now, and seemed to be doing a little better, physically, but she still hadn’t talked to Chloe about any of the other stuff going on with her.

The elevator ride seemed to last a lifetime, stopping on every floor to let people in and out.

When she finally made it to Beca’s door, her hands were shaking as she knocked.

“Beca?” She called, pressing her ear to the door to see if she could hear any sound of movement. “Beca, please open the door. I don’t know if you’re mad at me or what, but I just wanna make sure you’re okay.” If Beca could hear her, she didn’t answer. Beca had given her a spare key for emergencies, and although Chloe didn’t know if this constituted and emergency yet, she didn’t want to take the chance.

She unlocked the door and entered the apartment.

“Beca?”

Chloe could hear the sound of running water and followed it to where Beca’s bathroom was. She knocked on the bathroom door. “Beca?”

“C-Chloe? Chloe is that you?!”

“Can I come in?” Chloe asked, relieved to hear her voice, but terrified of the way it was shaking.

“P-please,” Beca said. “I n-need help.”

Chloe opened the bathroom door and found Beca in the bathtub, the shower on, spraying water everywhere, the shower curtain on top of her.

“I s-slipped,” Beca said, her teeth chattering.

“Oh my god,” Chloe said, rushing in and switching off the shower which was now freezing cold. “Jesus, Beca, how long have you been in here?”

“S-since this m-morning,” Beca said, shivering violently. “I c-couldn’t g-get up.”

“Okay,” Chloe said, letting out a shaky breath. “Okay, we’re gonna get you up and get you warm.”

“S-sorry,” Beca said.

“Shh, don’t be sorry,” Chloe replied. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

“I s-should have b-been more c-careful,” Beca said, watching as Chloe grabbed a towel. “It’s t-too f-fucking hard trying to shower w-with this th-thing on my a-arm.”

“It’s okay,” Chloe said. “I’m gonna move the shower curtain okay? And then I’m gonna cover you with the towel. I’ll try not to look.”

“‘K-kay.”

Chloe pulled the fallen shower curtain off Beca and wrapped her in a towel, trying to keep her eyes averted as best she could. Water had soaked the bathroom, so the clothes Beca had brought in with her were drenched.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Chloe said, crouching down to lift Beca out of the tub. “Put your arms around my neck. I’m gonna try and do this without hurting your ribs, but I apologise in advance if I do.”

“I-it’s ok-kay,” Beca said, putting her arms around Chloe’s neck. “T-too numb t-to f-feel anything a-anyway.”

Chloe placed an arm under Beca’s legs and one behind her back and lifted her up. Beca bit down on her lip hard as the pain in her ribs spiked. She was lighter than Chloe expected and Chloe could feel her trembling against her. She took her into the bedroom and gently lowered her to the bed.

“Th-thank you,” Beca said.

“Are you hurt?” Chloe asked, grabbing pyjamas out of the drawer.

“H-hard to t-tell,” Beca said. “Th-there’s a l-lot of pain but I d-don’t know if a-any of it is n-new.”

“Did you hit your head or anything when you slipped?”

“I d-don’t th-think so,” Beca said. “I s-sort of f-fell on my s-side. M-my arm t-took the b-brunt of it. E-everything else k-kinda l-locked up. I c-couldn’t m-move.”

“Okay,” Chloe said, tears burning her eyes. “It’s okay, you’re out now. Do you think you can put these on? I’m gonna make you a hot water bottle. You should eat something too. And take your meds.”

“N-not h-hungry,” Beca said. “I j-just w-wanna get w-warm and sleep.”

“You’ve been in there for hours, Becs,” Chloe said. “You have to eat something. I’ll be right back, okay?”

She grabbed Beca’s hot water bottle and headed for the kitchen. She made a grilled cheese while she waited for the kettle to boil, and tried to control her tears. She thought about what would have happened if she hadn’t come over to check on her. If she hadn’t been given a spare key. If she hadn’t offered to help Beca in the first place.

How long would she have been in there? Would her strength have come back to her eventually, or would she have stayed in there until someone found her? And who would have found her? The same person she left that note for?

Her thoughts were spiralling as she watched steam start to rise from the kettle, and the sound of it clicking off made her jump.

She filled the bottle and made Beca a mug of chamomile tea. She grabbed her meds, tucked the bottle under her arm, and carried the tea and grilled cheese through to Beca’s room.

“Here you go,” Chloe said, putting the tea and sandwich on her nightstand.

Beca had managed to change and had climbed into bed, her hands still shaking. She gratefully took the hot water bottle and wrapped her arms around it.

“How bad’s the pain?”

“B-bad,” Beca said. “A s-solid e-eight out of t-ten.”

“Do you need to go to the hospital?”

“N-no,” Beca said. “P-please. I j-just want to s-sleep.”

“Okay,” Chloe said with a sigh. “But you can’t take any painkillers unless you eat something first or you’ll get sick.”

Beca let out a small huff of resignation and picked up the plate with still shaking hands.

While she ate, Chloe went into the bathroom, re-attached the shower curtain, and cleaned up the mess.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Beca said, setting down the empty plate. She swallowed some painkillers with a mouthful of tea and settled further into the bed, warmth spreading through her chest.

“I know,” Chloe replied. She sat on the edge of Beca’s bed and pressed a hand to her face. It was still cold, but not as bad as it was before. The shivering had died down too.

“Thank you for coming to check on me,” Beca said, putting the half-empty cup on her nightstand. The meds were doing their work, and Beca could feel the pain easing off. “I don’t know how long I’d have been there if you hadn’t.”

“I’m just glad you gave me a key,” Chloe said, her hand now stroking through Beca’s slightly damp hair.

“That feels nice,” Beca mumbled, closing her eyes.

“I’m really glad you’re okay, Beca,” Chloe said. “I was really scared when you didn’t reply to any of my texts. I… I really like you.”

Beca didn’t answer immediately, and Chloe assumed she’d fallen asleep. When she stood up to leave, she saw Beca’s hand reaching for her. Chloe took it and held it.

“Stay,” she mumbled, her eyes blinking open slowly. “Please. Please stay with me.”

“Of course,” Chloe said. She kicked off her shoes and lay down on the bed beside her, hoping this was what Beca meant.

Beca rolled over and cuddled into her as best as she could. “Is this okay?” She asked.

“Yeah,” Chloe said, smiling as she put her arm around her. “More than okay.”

“I really like you too,” Beca said, before she relaxed into Chloe’s side and fell asleep.

Chloe: I’ve had a really bad day, can I come over? xx

Beca: Yeah of course. Just let yourself in when you get here xx

It was a few days after the shower incident and Beca had just about recovered from it. She’d started texting Chloe before she went in the shower, and as soon as she got out. They had a deal that if Chloe didn’t hear from Beca 45 minutes after going in the shower, Chloe would come check on her. Luckily that hadn’t happened yet. Just in case it did though, Beca had started timing her showers for when she knew Chloe was out of work. She really didn’t want to be in a situation again where she was either trapped in the bathtub or causing Chloe to get in trouble at work.

Around 20 minutes later, Beca heard the key in the lock and she looked up from her laptop screen to see Chloe letting herself in.

“Hey,” Beca said, shutting her laptop and putting it on the coffee table. “Are you okay?”

Chloe shook her head, her eyes red and tear filled, a smudge of mascara on the top of her cheek.

“Come sit down,” Beca said, a look of concern flooding her face. “Do you want tea or anything?”

“No,” Chloe said, sniffing and wiping her eyes as she dropped onto the sofa beside Beca. “Sorry. I’ve just had the worse day.”

“What happened?” Beca asked, wanting to comfort Chloe but not knowing how to.

“It was just… Just really sad. This old guy came in with his dog, this… this beautiful 12-year-old Labrador. He was just the sweetest boy,” Chloe said, her eyes filling with tears again. “He had a limp and this man just assumed he’d hurt his leg when he’d been running around the garden. I did an x-ray and it was a tumour. He had… He was full of them.”

“Oh no,” Beca said, softly.

“He… He thought everything would be fine. That his dog would get some meds or maybe a shot and then they’d take him home. He said he’d got the dog after his wife passed. He didn’t have any kids or relatives that were still alive. This dog was all he had and he… He had to say goodbye to him today.”

“That’s really sad, Chlo’,” Beca said, placing a hand on Chloe’s arm, rubbing up at down softly. “But I bet the dog had the best life with that guy. And even though it might not feel like it, you helped that dog. He isn’t in pain anymore because of you. He didn’t suffer.”

Chloe wiped her eyes again but new tears replaced the old ones almost immediately. “I know,” she said, trying to control her crying. “And I know I shouldn’t get so involved. But it just broke me. The thought of him losing his only companion. Of him going back to his home with just a leash instead of his best friend. Having to get rid of all the dog stuff. It’s killing me.”

“Come here,” Beca said, pulling Chloe into a hug. She didn’t know how Chloe did it. How she managed to feel for other people so deeply. How other people’s pain became her pain. How she carried it with her as if she was the one suffering. She didn’t know how she could stay as strong as she did.

She’d been friends with Chloe for a few weeks now, but this was the first time she’d seen her truly break down. It kinda scared her.

“I gave him my number,” Chloe said, once she’d managed to stop crying. “In case he needed someone to talk to or grab a coffee with.”

“Of course you did,” Beca said, laughing softly.

She wondered if that’s how Chloe saw her too. As just another unfortunate person who needed help. Not a friend, just someone she felt sorry for.

She tried to push that feeling away, but with her mental state being what it was, it lingered.

She tried to focus on the fact that Chloe had come to her for help this time. That their friendship wasn’t one-sided.

“Do you ever get tired?” Beca asked once their hug ended.

“Of what?”

“Of taking on everyone else’s emotions? Of feeling them so strongly?”

“Of course I do,” Chloe said, letting out a teary laugh. “Look at me, Beca. It’s part of my job to put animals down when they’re sick and dying, I do it every week, more than once a week usually, and I’ve been crying about this for hours. If there’s a way to… to dull these emotions, I don’t know how to do it. And I wouldn’t want to.”

“You wouldn’t?” Beca asked, tilting her head.

“No,” Chloe said. “These feelings… These connections, they… They make me want to help people. They make me want to be a better person. They helped me meet you.”

“I think your car helped you meet me,” Beca said, laughing lightly, ignoring the vicious voice in her head which whispered you’re just another one of her projects.

She doesn’t feel the same way about you as you do about her.

“Fair,” Chloe said laughing. “But if I didn’t have this… obsessive thing, I don’t know if I’d have fought so hard to meet you properly.”

“If you hadn’t felt sorry for me, you mean,” Beca said, the negative voice in her head getting louder.

Chloe frowned. “I didn’t say that. I didn’t want to meet you because I felt sorry for you. I wanted to meet you because I’d hit you with my car and I needed to apologise and see that you were okay. Becs, we’ve been through this.” Chloe took Beca’s hands and felt relieved when she didn’t pull away. “I’m not here because I feel sorry for you. You’re… You’re not like the other people I’ve wanted to help before. I like you, Beca. I really fucking like you.”

Beca sniffed slightly and tried not to look at Chloe. “I really like you too,” she said. “Sorry for… for being this way. You came here upset and I shouldn’t be questioning your motives all of the time. I just… I get paranoid. I can’t believe anyone as good as you would want to spend time with me because they enjoy my company.”

“You don’t need to apologise,” Chloe said. “I just want you to believe me, Beca. I want you to trust me.”

“I’m trying,” Beca said with a strained laugh, tears brimming in her eyes. “I’m really trying, Chlo’. But every other person in my life left as soon as I let down my guard. I don’t want that to happen with you. I don’t… I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” Chloe said, her hands moving to cup Beca’s face, thumbs sweeping across her cheeks to brush away the tears that fell. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“But-”

“Beca,” Chloe said, cutting her off. “Look at me.” Beca did. Her eyes were full of fear and pain, preparing for rejection. She swallowed hard when she locked eyes with Chloe. Chloe’s eyes were full of a fierce determination. Chloe leaned forward so their foreheads pressed together, her hands were still cupping her face. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Beca closed her eyes, letting more tears fall. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and her breathing felt laboured. “I’m not good at this.”

“It’s okay,” Chloe said. “Open your eyes.” Again, Beca did, her chest still heaving. “Relax. Everything’s okay.”

Beca nodded and tried to control her breathing.

“Beca, are you having a panic attack?”

“No,” Beca said. “No, I’m fine. I just feel like I’m about to do something stupid.”

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Chloe asked, moving her head back slightly so she could look at Beca properly.

“Uh huh,” Beca said, her eyes dropping to Chloe’s lips. “I’m just nervous. I don’t want to screw this up."

Chloe smiled. “You won’t.”

Beca closed the gap between them, her eyes falling shut as her lips met Chloe’s.

86 notes · View notes

weakzen · 4 years ago

Note

Left on the detective’s desk, a single red rose and a note written in precise handwriting:

Alex,

What happened to you - you didn’t deserve it. You can be loved, if you let yourself.

Happy Valentine’s Day

(yolo experimental style; alex/mason, early established relationship, angst and fluff; no direct mention of abuse, just oblique circling and fatalistic thoughts; rated m for mason; also on AO3~)

Even though I didn't finish reading it, even though I hid it from sight, imprisoned it in darkness, cast it to the depths of the bottom drawer until the end of shift, when it would be possible to smuggle the thing into the break room recycle bin without risking Tina's eyes or interrogation, that stupid fucking note has somehow still managed to reach up through all those heavy files and twist my stomach into knots.

For hours.

Plucking my nerves hard enough to make my hands fucking shake too. Typos in every report, backspace key pulling overtime without pay. Not helped by eyes that won't stop stinging. Armpits that haven't fully dried either, along with a weird chill, shivers that persist despite the sweater and the cranked-up thermostat.

At least the rose is gone. Snuck it into the arrangement on Tina's desk, the one I get her every year.

It looks better surrounded by friends.

It was nice to see it on the desk this morning

(Can still smell it perfuming the air.)

And if I could get rid of my thoughts as easily, I would. Because after half a day of chasing them in circles, I still can't figure out who the fuck sent that goddamn note, who the fuck would write something like that—say shit like that, to me—who could possibly fucking think or know or say anything about that, or that I-I, that I—

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckingfuck.

That sickly feeling wrenches again, hard enough to jerk me forward over the desk, face buried in my hands while my breathing shudders into something unsteady and vaguely gasping.

Fuck.

It can't be Tina.

It can't.

It should be, but it can't.

The writing's not loopy enough to be hers, and it's not slanted enough to be Verda's, and the damn thing isn't covered in nearly enough heart stickers to be from Felix. We all should know. Nate's been sighing nonstop for the past week, scraping them off every available surface in the Warehouse—except for the lacy pink one Felix managed to sneak right between Adam's shoulders.

And the glittery red one I pressed covertly to Mason's ass.

(Maybe not so covertly. Found a few hearts stuck to my underwear later when I slipped outta my jeans, and the secrets of how the fuck he pulled that off are still locked behind his smirk.)

A smile tries to pull at my lips, but the tightness in my gut warps it crooked.

Another shuddery breath.

It can't be from Adam either. If he had something to say to me, he'd just say it, preferably after he finished laying me out on the mats, all sweaty and sucking down air from another session of his gentle ass-kicking. Nate, however, would write a note to me. Has written a note to me. Has written many notes to me and still not made a dent in that stack of expensive stationary, and although the card stock was silk cream, the pigment obsidian night, and the calligraphy swooping in almost a dead ringer, I know it can't be from Nate because he would never leave a rose with his words, not the ones meant for me.

But there isn't anyone else.

There's Mason

And it can't be from him.

It's not his handwriting, to start. I think. I'm pretty sure. I've never actually seen his writing, but I can't imagine it would be anything resembling neat or careful. It's gotta be complete chicken scratch. All cramped and illegible. He's left handed too, barely patient enough to sit through a stoplight, much less give ink the time to dry, so there'd be definitely be smears, and there weren't any smears. At all. Can't be him.

Not to mention he'd never do anything like this.

Don't know why he keeps coming to mind anyway. Just because we're…

Together

—for now.

Doesn't mean he'd ever say anything like that—

He already has

(He did. He said I deserved better and I believe him, but I don't, I can't.)

—only because he'd say differently if he knew.

If he really knew.

He'd say different and I'm not gonna fucking tell him and it doesn't fucking matter anyway, it doesn't. Shine's gonna wear off soon enough. Novelty, satisfied. Boredom, returning. And at least the conversation won't be awkward, just… blunt. To the point. A first for us both, in topic, if not style.

I've never been dumped before, at least not in a romantic sense.

Another breath. Another shuddery breath.

Wonder how it's gonna feel.

(It's gonna suck.)

No fucking shit.

If it can't last, why agree to it at all?

I rub hard at my eyes, grinding palms into sockets.

If it can't last, why not tell him anyway?

Because I already fucking know! Don't need to hear it from him, don't wanna hear it from—

If it can't last, why does it matter what he thinks?

“…Stupid fucking note.”

It was nice to see it on the desk this morning

(Someone took the time, wrote it, left it in here. Someone cares.)

Someone's playing a sick fucking joke, more like.

What if it's genuine?

I scoff ragged, squeezing fingers around the back of my neck.

(Tina cares. So does Verda. The whole team, so many others, I know, and I believe them all but I don't. I can't.)

What if you didn't deserve it?

I did. I stayed and I did. My fault. Fucking stupid, like he always said.

(All Mason ever speaks is care. In a thousand different ways of touch, in silence, in lingering looks, he cares.)

What if you can be loved?

What if you can?

A brittle laugh wheezes past my lips and shoots toward something hysterical, boosted by acid burn and cloying petals and that churning, churning tightness. My shoulders hunch high around my ears while the sound pitches even higher, lungs immolated and screaming along, nails digging, cutting crescents as I shake and curl tighter, smaller, compacting into stiffness hard enough to rival diamonds, every muscle verging on a cramp and my throat is stinging and my eyes are on fire, hot, wet, and the door is closed, the blinds shut, and maybe I could just— this time— if I stayed quiet, I could—

I could—

But I don't.

I swallow once, twice, suck down, blink it away, then snap upright and get back to work. There's too much shit, not enough time.

Never enough time, not for that.

For you

(Remember to eat lunch.)

I don't.

I don't really remember talking to anyone either. Or finishing paperwork. Answering email. Clearing the inbox backlog, digital and otherwise, but the stack depletes, the numbers go down, Tina gives me shit from the doorway, and soon the peripheral lights tick off overhead in the foyer, a mop bucket rattles its rounds, darkness crept into my office at some point for a visit and now it's here to stay, just its quiet company along with the monitor blasting eye strain, clacking keys, tight shoulders, a headache, and then—

A familiar ass plops down on my desk and scares the shit out of me.

I jerk back in the chair, wheels rolling, hand over heart to keep it from pounding free and Mason looms above it all, bathed in harsh blues, deep shadows, a deeper frown, and eyes that refuse to obey the rules of any ambient illumination.

Right now? They're crinkled soft, even as they scrutinize.

He looks… worried.

When did he even open my door?

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“…Yeah,” I mutter. A lie, an obvious one, but I fight the urge to glance away and dare him to call me out anyway. “You need something, sunshine?”

A muscle in his jaw twitches. “You're late.”

“For what?”

We didn't make plans.

“Getting home.”

Fuck.

I sigh, slumping in the seat, and now I'm looking away, now I'm backing down, running a hand through my hair, mussing and tangling, just like he always does when he's uncertain.

And when the hell did I start doing that?

“Yeah, I'm still behind on shit from my vacation. I was gonna stay late tonight, try and catch up…” I explain, because Tina and I also didn't make plans this year.

(Because she's been marinating in smugness ever since I sighed and told her about the relationship. Because she dropped that shit-eating smirk earlier—that I remember, at least—dripping suggestion all over my office as she waggled her brows and winked and made obnoxious kissy faces until I shoved her out the door, but not before she told me to 'have lots of fun tonight, Alexandra.')

Sure.

“Sorry I didn't text. I… forgot.”

That tightness in my stomach does another loop, and I huff a quiet breath.

Stupid fucking note.

Mason folds his arms. “…The fuck is going on with you?”

Concern blunts the teeth of his words, not that there's any real bite. There never is, not with him, but I tense up anyway, expecting it, expecting to be ripped open.

Blood and pain.

I'd tense up no matter how he asked.

It's okay

(He's not Bobby.)

“Nothing,” I reply, folding my arms, eyes down, “just…”

It's okay

(He's not looking to hurt.)

Probably will anyway, but fuck it. I already know his answer.

Let's just get it over with.

“You didn't leave me a valentine earlier, did you?” My gaze snaps to his. “On my desk?”

Mason scoffs. “Why the hell would I do that?”

This time, it stabs instead of twists, higher up, somewhere in my chest. Something sharp instead of dull.

Disappointment? …Relief? I'm not sure.

Just that it stings.

And it's nighttime, so maybe he feels it too, and maybe that's why he unfolds his arms and shifts toward me, boot heel dangling by the bottom drawer while his voice drops to a softness that matches his accent. “What it say?”

“Nothing,” I repeat, even quieter than him. “Just someone fucking with me. It doesn't matter.”

It does

(Shouldn't lie, not to him. Don't need to. Don't want to, don't like it.)

Mason doesn't like it either, but he doesn't push it. Neither do I.

We look away from each other.

The office swelters around us, too stuffy, too small. Too silent and uncomfortable now to stay. I roll forward to save my work, then turn the computer off and Mason's already waiting for me by the door, a dark silhouette framed by distant fluorescent, my coat and bag hanging off his arms. He pulls me in while I put it all on, yanking me by lapels before abandoning them for the sweater on my lower back, the loose hair at my nape. His lips brush against mine in slow movements, soft nibbling, and he's whispering something to me with it all, with the strokes of his fingers and the circle of our chins, but I can't quite hear.

So ask

(He'll answer—and he won't lie.)

I swallow, then I do.

“…What kind of kiss was that?”

“Dunno.” He shrugs beneath my hands, breath tickling my face. “I want you to feel better.”

“Oh.”

A shadow flits behind his eyes.

“…And if he's still bothering you, I'm gonna break his fucking jaw again.”

I chuckle softly. “Pretty sure it wasn't him this time.”

“Good.” Mason nibbles another kiss, then smirks. “Might still do it anyway.”

That gets a laugh from both of us, one that sprawls into a pause, grey eyes locked to mine while our grins fade out and our breath catches on everything unspoken and nameless rushing in to take the space.

Honesty. It's what I try to speak. Trailing up from the emotional ooze, raw and sticky.

I hope he can fucking see it, hear it cry, but I wipe it off and whisper the words into shape anyway, cheeks flaming, just to be sure—

“I'm sorry, I just… I don't wanna talk about it now.”

—and he answers me with a brush of his mouth, with his tongue parting my lips, with the way he teases into me before licking deeper, the way he jerks our hips together then shoves, a knee between my thighs, my back into a wall, a door frame, a sharp corner, a low groan rumbling up his chest directly into mine and I hear it all this time, in his breathy panting at the edge of our kiss, the firmness in his fingers angling my face to his, the solid heat of his cock pressed hard against me, grinding slow while I cling tight and moan, I hear it all, but he sucks my lip in with a sharp inhale, rolls me around his mouth before releasing with a drag of teeth, and he murmurs it aloud anyway, just to be sure—

“I know, sweetheart. It's fine.”

—then he nips down hard, and it's hard not to smile, hard not to laugh, harder still not to nip that asshole right back, so I don't.

Hold back, that is.

Our lips are swollen and sore by the time the station door swings shut behind us.

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc #twc m #twc mason #mason x detective #mason #the detective #zfic #alex/mason #alexandra black

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divinityoswin · 4 years ago

Text

chocolate bar

Commission for: @ask-wbp-b @mushroomgrenade ❤

➵ my commissions are open!

summary: Snapshots of B’s relationship with Roger, told through chocolate.

wordcount: 2024

characters: Roger & B (OC)

Warnings: mild mentions of character death

It’s a day like any other, and yet somehow the captain of the Roger pirates is as exhilarated as ever. True, B hadn’t exactly had the time to know Gol D. Roger (not Gold Roger, he had made very clear when introducing himself to her for the first time - it didn’t help that when she tried to say she knew already, her fingers glitched) but her knowledge of the future provides insight into the future King’s personality.

He is like a child, almost, in that joyful way he views the world. Yet there’s something much older and wiser within him, something that calls for allies. For every battle won, Roger celebrates their victory - and also their lives. And they’d only won two battles since B had joined them.

A week has come and gone since Whitebeard gave her his blessing to go sail with Roger, and in that time she’s made friends with most of the crew. Shanks and Rayleigh were the most welcoming at the time, the latter going as far as to give her a tour of the crew and introduce her to all her new shipmates personally. Roger, of course, was warm too, but it was hard to talk to him, much less reach him, what with all the commotion happening all. The damn. Time.

B sits underneath the mast, relishing in the rare moment of serenity in the Oro Jackson with a cup of tea by her side and notepads on the other. There is absolutely nothing that could ruin this moment.

“Hey, B!”

Nothing at all.

“B-eeeeeee!”

She refuses to look at the intruder - one because they had just interrupted a very relaxing moment, and two because they’d been getting a resounding headache overtime from the excessive partying.

The intruder huffs, and from the corner of her eye she sees a pink sleeve with a hand resting on a hip. Her gaze follows up, frowning, and wondering why that voice is so familiar - and then it hits her.

“Roger!” she exclaims. He’s never singled her out like this before. Not even when she begged Pops to let her go with him. “Oh, I thought you were an insect.”

Roger frowns. “What does that mean?”

“Annoying,” she says, poking her tongue out playfully.

It’s almost surreal to her, that she can banter with Roger like this. She expects him to shout out a quick “hey!” of defiance, but is caught off-guard when he throws his head back and laughs. That hearty, deep rumble that somehow sounds like the ocean’s tides echoes throughout the deck, and although she’s used to it by now, the power it wielded was still unfathomable. Roger’s laughter slowly turns into chuckles, until finally it stops, and he wipes at the corner of his eyes.

“You guys always say that, but you’re the ones following me!” Roger says. “Maybe I ain’t so annoying after all, hm?” He smirks and nudges B with his elbow.

The fact that he includes her in his crew already doesn’t slip past her. She tilts her head, staring at her new captain with interest. “Did you need something?”

“Nope,” he replies, grinning. “Just checking up on you. We haven’t had much of a chance to talk yet.”

“You’re always surrounded by adoring fans,” B says.

He feigns a sigh. “It’s tough being so famous. Marines are always after my autograph.”

The pair glance at each other and hold back laughter - try to, that is. It doesn’t take long for the two to erupt into giggles, before they begin guffawking and holding in their stomachs. Roger is the first to recover. B takes a little while longer, mostly because she couldn’t believe the absurdity of the situation. When she finally stops, she looks up to him.

Roger is smiling, brighter than even the sun, and she feels as though they could conquer the world together.

Suddenly she understands why so many people were attracted to him. His personality was like a magnet, drawing people in and sticking them to him. He isn’t nearly the demon others made him out to be, yet at the same time that power is so terrifying that she understands why.

Mihawk was right.

“So,” Roger begins, “you feeling good about this ship?”

She looks around. “I mean. It’s nice? I’m not much of a shipwright, but I like the wood.”

“Tom’ll be glad to hear that!” Roger laughs. “But that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh?”

Roger sits down next to her, his legs crossed and his hands resting on his thighs. He looks to be deep in thought. “I meant - the crew. You feeling alright? It’s a whole new crew for you,” he says.

Ah. Now that makes sense. Her now-captain is worried for her wellbeing, making sure she’s getting along well with everyone. Ensuring that his newest member didn’t feel left out. A soft giggle passes over B’s lips at the prospect that anyone of Roger’s crew would be unwelcoming. Even the teenage Buggy had been nothing but warm to her since her arrival on the ship (though, with Buggy he tried to be tough and scary - keyword being tried).

“It’s a wonderful crew,” she says, “with a wonderful captain.”

Roger’s grin grows even wider, as if that were physically possible. He shines brighter than the sun. “A wonderful captain, eh? Now that’s a compliment from a gorgeous lady!”

B doesn’t bother hiding her blush. Roger would somehow sense it, anyway - he always does have a sixth sense for that kind of thing. So, instead, she leans against him playfully, feeling the salty ocean breeze across her face as she looks up. Roger smells of berries and the sea itself, she muses.

“I brought you a gift,” he says. “Just a small welcoming present. Don’t feel the need to pay me back.”

In her hands sits a box, placed there by the future Pirate King himself. It’s a light box, simple, plain - a tangled mess she assumes is supposed to be a bowtie is tied on the front.

“Rayleigh did that,” Roger lies.

Curious, she removes the bow and opens the box.

Chocolates. Dozens of them littered inside - it’s not exactly a pre-brought box, and she notices a couple of them are half-eaten, but the sentiment is enough for her. Smiling, she picks up a piece (not one of the half-eaten ones, she doesn’t want to know whose fault that was) and plops it into her mouth.

The chocolate instantly melts inside, the sweet sensation - with a hint of salt from the ocean breeze - bringing pure bliss to her mouth. B savoured the taste, having not tasted some since - when was the last time she had some? Whitebeard didn’t usually have it on his ship, so there was a very real possibility it was before then. She is at least grateful it’s milk chocolate too - not too sweet, and not too bitter. She swallows, and grins.

“You know the best way to a girl’s heart is by chocolates, huh?” B says, munching down on another one.

Roger shrugs. “If anyone tells you I only got you them so I could snitch them off you, they’re lying,” he says, but in a playful manner, so B assumes he’s joking around.

“Oh? And just who ate half of these already?”

“I told you, Rayleigh.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm,” Roger whistles, averting his eyes from B. B sets the box of chocolates down and leans over to his field of vision. He looks the other way, and B leans the other way. Finally, he looks up, seemingly intently focused on the clouds, and B kicks him in the shin because he’s only looking where B cannot go, and he knows B is not tall enough for that, and - oh, dear God, B just kicked the future King of the Pirates. The captain of the Roger Pirates. Roger himself.

He’s hissing in pain, hopping on one leg and holding his other knee close to his chest as he rubs it. For a moment, B’s confused - honestly, she didn’t hit him that hard, did she?

But he’s glancing over at her expectantly every-so-often, pausing in-between moans of pain, as if he’s expecting her to do something. Like nurse him.

B rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, good luck with that,” she says, and begins her walk towards the kitchen to get an ice pack. Not for Roger, of course.

* * *

They’d found themselves soaring high up into the sky, much higher than anything they’d ever seen before - not even Reverse Mountain, according to those who were there back when they traversed up it - could compare to the sheer height of Skypiea. The Oro Jackson had survived the knock-up stream (with, thankfully, no one hurt) and the citizens greeted them with curiosity and wonder.

Now, they’re scattered over Angel Beach, sipping on pumpkin smoothies and enjoying the brief period of relaxation that has been bestowed upon them. The Roger Pirates almost feel right at home here. Almost.

B sips on her smoothie - it’s okay, she thinks, she doesn’t dislike it. But she doesn’t particularly love it either. Pumpkin isn’t exactly a tropical drink. It doesn’t fit the mood right. Sighing, she leans back on the lounge chair until she was laying on her back, staring at the cloudless sky.

If memory serves her correctly - which, honestly, had been somewhat of a struggle as time passed - this is the time that Roger carves his name into the Poneglyph. Which means that their journey had reached somewhat of a halfway point. That, eventually, Roger would… well. The thought sours her mood completely, leaving her brooding away from the rest of the crew and glitching ever-so-slightly. If the others notice, they don’t say a word - save for Shanks, who wants to know if B would like to watch him drop a crab down Buggy’s shorts. She denies, and he runs off, looking mildly concerned for her.

A sigh passes through her lips.

“Beli for your thoughts?” The voice of her captain surprises her, almost causing her to drop her smoothie. “Wait - don’t tell me. I don’t wanna hear spoilers.”

“I almost dropped my smoothie,” B says, turning to give Roger an unamused glance.

“Ah, but you didn’t!” Roger replies, sipping on his own drink - a conasshu, one of the locals had called it. He looks a bit ridiculous, with a hibiscus planted in his hair, his open shirt stitched together with a tropical flora pattern, and swimming shorts to top the look all off. Even his sandals scream tourist. “Shanks told me you were looking a bit down - everyone did, really.”

“Oh.”

There’s an awkward silence that passes between them. B finishes off the last of her drink, the slurping sound seeming like thunder in her head. Then, white noise. Even when Roger yells something to Buggy, distracting the poor boy for a brief moment.

Buggy yelps in pain.

Almost instantly, the silence is broken, broken by Roger’s laughter and his absolute joy in the scene in front of him, and B forgets about everything, and laughs too.

“By the way, present for you,” Roger says, handing over a piece of chocolate. “We found some on Jaya. Thought you’d appreciate it.”

B takes it and frowns.

“Someone’s taken a bite out of it,” she says.

“Yeah, I told Rayleigh not to, but you know how he is.” Roger grins, placing his hands on his hips and shining brighter than even the sun - a difficult thing to do this high up in the atmosphere. “Always stealing food, that damn first mate.”

“Rayleigh, huh,” B repeats. She takes a bit out of the chocolate - it’s a bit too bitter for her tastes, but it’s fine.

Roger gasps. “Indirect kiss!”

“Oh, shut up.”

* * *

The bell rings. Once, twice, thrice - then, there’s the muffled jeers, the cries of joy that are distant and oh-so-cruel.

B sits by herself, alone at a bar, and downs another glass of whiskey. She doesn’t know where the rest of the crew are now. Maybe they’ve scattered all over the place. Maybe some of them have settled down.

A half-melted, half-eaten chocolate, still wrapped in foil, sits in her pocket.

#one piece fanfiction #one piece scenario #gol d. roger #gold roger #b one piece #mushroomgrenade #one piece commission #commission #writing commission

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teeztheflag · 5 years ago

Text

─────────────────────

S c h m e r z (Pain)

⋆ pairing: demon!ateez x reader (poly!ateez)

⋆ genre: demon au, suggestive, crack

⋆ warnings: strong language, use of medicine, suggestive topics, pet names, cheating, alcohol, partying, suggestive topics, angst, lots of arguments, mentions of killing, manipulation

⋆ words: 10,100

a/n: @unatempesta-dipensieri this is for you honey

⋆ „What’s a little bird like you doing here alone?“

─────────────────────

„Good morning!“ Woo Young enters the dining area with a huge grin on his face and Seong Hwa chuckles at the little strands of hair that are standing up from his head.

Soon the others join the clan on the table and start to dig into the delicious breakfast. „Wait, is (y/n) not up yet?“ Seong Hwa eyes the round and his gaze stops at Yun Ho and Min Gi who are trying everything to avoid their hyung‘s look.

Hong Joong quirks an eyebrow and sips on his tea. „Guys, did you do something to her?“ That’s what makes Yeo Sang‘s eyes turn into a crimson color eyeing the two demons, too.

„Woah, I mean, calm down... She’s upstairs still sleeping. Yun Ho and me wanted to wake her up but she was still so sleepy.“

The others only nod silently at his answer. Usually you’re always the first when it comes to eating but there could be many reasons why you are not joining them.

San munches on his toast while listing them off in his head one by one.

First, you could be really sleepy because you and the others watched movies until three am this morning and now it’s 8.46 am.

Second, you were embarrassed because you fell asleep on the couch although you swore you wouldn’t sleep at theirs for the beginning.

Which also leads to the third reason, you realized that you woke up in Yun Ho‘s bed sandwiched between him and Min Gi and now are even more embarrassed.

And Fourth, you just pretend to sleep and wait for him and Woo Young to come upstairs and give you the best fuc -

„San? Are you even listening?“

„Yeeeees, sorry.“

„Ah, really? Then repeat what I said.“ Hong Joong watches him while the brown haired boy smirks mischievously. The leader sighs and puts down his napkin.

„I said for the next time we have to watch out for (y/n) but without her noticing. We all know she would freak out if she knew but it’s for her best. I guess she’s still not understanding that many demons are after a marked female...“

„What? Are you talking about me?“ All their heads turn around to see you standing in the doorway wearing a shirt from Yun Ho which comes off as definitely oversized and they all think you look too cute like this.

„Are you awake now, cupcake?“

You frown at Woo Young.

„What did I say about the nicknames? I am still tired but I guess my appetite awakened me.“

After eating breakfast with the demons you got a shower and quickly went back home but not without going through a lot of protests from the boys. Honestly, you were very embarrassed about falling asleep at their house although you made it clear you wanted to take things slow but - you were just so tired. Even now sitting at your desk in your dorm room you couldn’t concentrate at all.

In a few hours you had go to your part time job and you felt like falling asleep in any second. You groaned out and let you head fall onto the surface of the table closing your eyes. Great. Now a headache was coming around, too.

This night you fell into your bed very exhausted. You didn’t make any progress in studying this afternoon and also your boss had been very shitty to you at your shift today. All you wanted was to sleep...

Much to your dismay you only felt worse this morning but got up nevertheless to go to your courses. A pain killer could maybe help a little bit and so you swallowed the pill and grabbed your bag. You already were late so you passed the campus with quick steps and nearly collapsed into the chair for your first lecture.

It only worsened throughout the day. You were on your way back to the dorm and felt really hot. Your limbs hurt and the headache came back. Black dots formed in front of your vision and you quickly found a bench to rest.

Suddenly you saw Jong Ho emerging you with a stern expression on his face. „(y/n)?“

He placed his hand on your forehead and frowned.

„What are you doing here?“ You felt the urge to close your eyes out of exhaustion. You were convinced that something was not right with you by now but you never felt like this before.

Your eyes flattered open and you noticed the change of your surroundings. You were placed neatly into Hong Joong‘s bed. The curtains were closed creating a comfortable brightness in the room. The air conditioning system was turned on and you felt a wet cloth on your forehead.

You felt a lot better and noticing no one was around you turned your head a little bit to the cushion you layed on and smelled the wonderful scent of the demon.

How can someone smell this good?

You giggled at your own awkwardness and quickly arranged yourself when the door carefully opened.

Inside Yeo Sang, Hong Joong and Seong Hwa came. You made eye-contact with everyone of them and stopped at the youngest of the three.

Shit, hopefully he doesn’t read my thoughts about Hong Joong‘s wonderful scent. Heck, (y/n)! Stop thinking... He doesn’t look away! Start singing... Bulleo bulleo mhhmhmhm

You continued humming to the song in your head totally unaware of how the three sat down on the bed and Yeo Sang looking out of the window with a knowing smirk on his face.

„Can you not stop that?“

„I am sorry (y/n). I didn’t chose this ability.“

„What even is going on here?“ Hong Joong and Seong Hwa look between you and Yeo Sang but when no one answers them Seong Hwa clears his throat to gain everyone‘s attention.

„At least you are not ranting about being again in one of our beds - “

„Now that you’re mentioning it how - ah, wait... Jong Ho brought me here, right?“

„Yes. You had a high fever and blacked out so we thought it would be the best to bring you to our place and give you some medicine. How are you feeling now?“

„Better... I just don’t know how I became ill it’s definitely not the season for it.“

„(y/n) maybe you had contact to someone - “

When Yeo Sang tried to touch your forearm you suddenly felt a harsh pain at your wrist just like the last time that crazy guy appeared.

„Ahhh ... fuck! h- hurts..“

„(y/n)!“ Hong Joong and the other two demons try to look from where the pain comes and the leader‘s eyes change into a crimson when he realizes it’s your mark.

Soon the others are in the room trying to figure out what’s wrong because they feel the distress of their clan brothers.

Your forehead is sweaty and Yeo Sang also has to take a step back from the bed clutching at his head out of pain.

„What the hell is happening here?!“ Woo Young shouts and Yun Ho comes to lay a hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

Luckily the pain soon vanishes leaving you blacked out again and the fever higher than before.

Downstairs the boys except of Yeo Sang who still sits by your side settled together and debate on what was happening with you.

„I first thought it could be a normal flu or something but now that her wrist burnt where our mark is I think it’s has to do with us and the bond.“ Seong Hwa says.

„Mh, also me and Yeo Sang felt it, too.“

„Here, I got the book.“ Yun Ho enters the living room area with quick steps and places it on the table.

„Okay, I think I found something...“ This caught the interest of the other demons who where scattered around the place by now and building a circle around the book and Seong Hwa very fast.

„Seems like her body and soul starts fighting our mark...“

„What the fuck?! How and why?!“

„Jong Ho, calm down.“ San embraces his brother form behind to calm him down while Hong Joong might start to realize what is really happening here.

„Listen! It also says that it can be due to the human itself or if another demon tries to claim him or her.“

„I think the first option is bullshit because we talked about this so who’s the motherfucker trying to take away my kitten from me?!“

„San, first - it’s not only your kitten and secondly - the nickname‘s stupid. Let’s agree on babygirl.“

Seong Hwa proudly smirks at his idea and San coughs at that.

„*cough* pervert *cough*“

„Guys, can we please focus on (y/n) and not such unnecessarily things?“

„Jong Ho is right. It’s cupcake anyways.“ Woo Young high-fives with Min Gi and grins.

Hong Joong only facepalms and groans.

„Stop. We have to figure out who’s behind this until then we continue watching her and talk about every little change we notice. Alright, guys?“ Everyone nods at him and looks up when Yeo Sang comes down the stairs shock evident on his face.

„How is she?“

„Sleeping. It’s angel you idiots!“

The next days your condition got better and the demons were relieved to see you quite energized and healthy again. You were thankful they took such good care of you but it was time to get back to your lectures and work everything up.

yunhoe: wanna grab a coffee after your last lecture? (´｡• ω •｡`)

you: yeh I pay

yunhoe: why? let your bestfriend treat you

you: you want sth in return

yunhoe: would never ( `ε´ )

you: you’re turning into a woo young version 2.0 these last weeks

yunhoe: :‘( the betrayal

You smile at your display and link your arms with your female bestfriend Hyo Lyn when she emerges you with a big grin while walking to the other campus.

„Oh, who’s the poor guy.“

„You’re mean (y/l/n) (y/n). He’s a very lucky boy and his name is Seok Woo.“

You stop in your tracks and eye her suspiciously. „If I hear a page being turned in the next seconds I am outta here.“

„Gosh, stop watching those dramas.“

„That only proves you watched it, too!“

„Of course. Now I can have my own Ha Ru.“ You laughed out loud gaining a few questionable looks from other students at how Hyo Lyn emphasizes the name.

Inside the lecture hall you sit down next to each other still gossiping a little bit and cringe when she tells you that last weekend at a fraternity party Choi San and Jung Woo Young were seen having a threesome with one of the prettiest girls of the campus.

Such dickheads. While you’re ill they go out having their fun and then still lie about having feelings for you!

„You’re alright?“

„Of course I am why wouldn’t I!“ Hyo Lyn shrieks back at your outburst which again draws the interest of many people in the hall to you.

„Haha, I mean, they’re both really hot and you’re at theirs so often! Do you think Yun Ho would have something against it? Or are you still playing hide and seek with Kang and Kim?“

You could’ve banged your head onto the table but stopped yourself before.

„Can we just forget I ever told you about this?“

„Ehm, no. Look, gaining the interest of the Kim Hong Joong and Kang Yeo Sang is a dream coming to life! Maybe you could ask them for a threesome?“

„Fuck, Hyo Lyn! Stop this nonsense.“ Your cheeks were painted so red you had to cool them down with your palms leaving your bestfriend a laughing mess next to you.

After the lecture ended you checked the bus line and saw that there was a technical issue which let to a high delay for the next one. To be punctual for Yun Ho you had to run across the campus and catch the next one which would take a lot more time than usually.

While running you accidentally have your eyes only a second on your phone checking the time and of course bang into someone who luckily caught you pretty effortlessly.

„Shit, I apologize a lot! I am in a hurry and - “

„Well, hello my love.“ You really couldn’t believe your eyes. In front of you the perverted demon stands eyeing you with an amused look.

„You!“

He laughs still holding you in his arms.

„Me!“

„Stop!“ You try to wiggle out of his grip and much to your suspicion he lets you out of his arms carefully.

You look around if someone’s watching you and when sure there are not much students left you turn again to him and whisper-yell. „What are you doing here?! Don‘t say you want to kidnap me again...“ You fold your arms in front of you but slightly panick when he leans down too much in your comfort zone.

„I am studying here now and my lecture just ended.“ You scoff and push him back by his chest.

„What bullshit! Aren’t you too old to study?“

„Wait, how old do you think I am?“

„As a pervert you’re probably fourty or something...“

„H - how dare you! I am 26 years old!“ You give him a bored stare and mention for him to hold it.

„However. I am going and keep out of my way or - “

„Ah, this is will be hard. Because we have the same subject.“ A shiteating grin takes its place onto Joo Hyuk‘s face and you just couldn’t believe this guy.

You try to push your way around him when he stops you by your wrist again and takes you into an embrace from behind. His hold on your wrist leaves a undefinable pain and you hiss out when he finally leaves it. Trying to break free he only holds you closer and you can feel him leaning into your neck. You shudder when you feel him taking in your scent.

„Are you afraid my love? You don’t have to be... I would never hurt you.“ Much to your dismay your body betrays you and you feel your legs giving out at his words which pleases him.

You would lie when you told yourself that this wasn’t exciting but you didn’t understand your feeling at all.

Suddenly he lets you go and chuckles lightly. „Guess we will see eachother more from now on, (y/n)“ And with that you turn around but he’s nowhere to be seen anymore...

Stupid demons.

„Shit, the bus!“

Yun Ho texted you he would drive to the campus with his car because it was getting way too late and today it was his task to watch over you. At least he would bring you home safely and maybe drink a tea at your dorm.

The dorm was only a fifteen minute walk from your position but heh.

You smile when you see him pulling in at the parking spot. How he hops out of the expensive vehicle makes your heart jump but you try to cover it quickly knowing he would sense it.

As he nears your form a frown comes across his face and the next thing you know is him holding your shoulders in a very tight grip. You shudder at seeing your bestfriend like this the first time in your life and gulp when his orbs transform into a deep red color.

Yun Ho drags you to the car and drives to the demon‘s mansion faster than you liked. He pushes you inside the livingroom where Yeo Sang and Min Gi were currently playing Fortnite and some of the others around cheering.

„Hey, what’s our beautiful cupc - “

„Hold him back!“ No one noticed Seong Hwa coming from the kitchen with a gaze full of hate and disgust at your form. Before he could lunge at you Hong Joong and Jong Ho use all of their strength to hold him back. They drag him outside into the garden but the next demon also seems to lose his mind by letting out a deep growl like sound and Woo Young covers San‘s eyes and pushes him out of the room, too.

„What’s with them?“ You find yourself in Yeo Sang‘s arm in a second who seems to try to protect you from the other demons. Tears prick at your eyes and Yeo Sang tries to shush you by caressing your back in comforting circles.

You sit down on the couch after Hong Joong calls Min Gi to get out, too. Leaving only you, Yun Ho and Yeo Sang.

Yun Ho didn’t stop walking in circles since you arrived and you just wonder what was going on. You don’t even recognize Yeo Sang rubbing himself on you by smashing your cheeks together and kissing your hair repeatedly...

After a while you still sniffle when the others come back in and you take a look at the two demons that had the outburst. Whereas San seems only pissed Seong Hwa avoids your look at all costs which hurts you a little bit.

„Is this disgusting scent finally off of her?“ Seong Hwa speaks up while looking out of the window.

Now this was what it was all about... but it wasn’t you fault, right?

Without realizing you roll with your eyes earning another growl but this time from Yun Ho. „Do you think this is a joke?“

You scoff at him. „Of course not but you’re not telling me shit!“

„(y/n), we’re just concerned... Yun Ho brought you here because...“

„It’s okay, angel. You can tell them.“ Of course Yeo Sang already knew what happened because the moment started to flash into your mind occasionally since you’ve arrived here.

You told them about your encounter with Joo Hyuk leaving some of them clearly pissed. After a long pause you and Yeo Sang are again alone in the living room and the others come back after discussing and deciding for you to get out of the demon‘s way as good as possible for now.

Of course you agreed with them but if he was really attending the same courses like you things would get problematic. The tense atmosphere also doesn’t sit right with you. Everyone was giving off the vibe that you have been running into him on purpose.

When in reality they just don’t know about Joo Hyuk‘s intentions and that’s what worries Hong Joong the most. He definitely is the reason for your illness but the question is if he would be so dumb to try again to steal you away. His clan is definitely stronger and larger in number so why you? Why again anger the Ateez Clan?

One thing was sure - they had to keep a good eye on that bastard and need you to work with them although you don’t know about him being the reason for your illness and potential threat to claim you as his.

You on the other side were deeply confused and annoyed. Gladly Jong Ho drove you back to your dorm after your discussion but he also didn’t talk to you at all during the ride seemingly deep in thoughts.

Their reactions confused you... first you’ve never seen Yun Ho like this before. Of course this wasn’t the first time he got angry but definitely the first one his anger felt directed to you, too.

You knew San was an emotional person but you couldn’t shake off the feeling he didn’t had himself under control at all yesterday.

And Seong Hwa... the usually calm and soft demon is who hurt you the most. His gaze told you how disgusted he was by you... you felt like it wasn’t only about your scent but you in general at this moment. Like you’ve done something that betrayed him and his brothers.

The night wasn’t pleasant as sleep seemed to come to you hardly and the next evening at your shift you also couldn’t stop thinking about the events. You felt restless because images of the moment with Joo Hyuk coming back to you again and again. You mentally groaned everytime that happened because instead of fear and anger you felt slight excitement. You knew it was wrong to think and feel like that but you couldn’t stop yourself...

„(y/l/n)! The three gentlemen in the left corner are waiting!“

„Oh, sorry, boss!“

You arrive at the table and get on your knees with a bow arranging the menus.

„(y/n), what a pleasure to meet you again.“ You quickly look up and your mouth opens like you want to say something but nothing comes out.

So much for keeping out of his way... Was he following you now?

„You know eachother?“ One of the guys sitting next to the demon eyes you with a flirting gaze to which you give him a ‚fuck off‘ - gaze.

„Yes, this is the special girl I‘ve told you about.“

Eh?

„Special girl?“ It definitely comes out louder than you wanted it to and you check if your boss noticed but are relieved when it doesn’t seem like it.

„Of course. Your indeed very precious (y/l/n) (y/n).“

What shocks you even more is to not find the usual annoying smirk on his face when he says this. Special? Precious? What is he talking about?

You wanted to say something but being unsure of what you just handed them the menus, bowed again and quickly went back to the bar.

„She smells fascinating...“

„Yah, Ji Soo! Don’t even think about it.“

„Why? You’re also hanging out with that human chick. What was her name again?“

„That’s not what I mean. He already has his eyes on her so you don’t have the right to touch her.“

„Stop talking she’s coming back.“

Your brows furrow at their whispering but you brush it off nevertheless. First you cannot stop thinking about him and then he appears again.

What if he really just wanted to study at your university? The last time he could’ve easily kidnapped you again but he didn’t.

Maybe he was just a little bit attracted to you? You cannot shake off the feeling that the others might have overreacted...

Also, what if you had his scent on you? He just hugged you and you didn’t even stand a chance to get out of the grip of a demon. Moreover it wasn’t in your interest at all whereas Woo Young and San couldn’t keep their dicks inside their trousers - which still left a light stinging sensation in your heart.

Of course you knew how they were and that they liked to play around. The question is, why wouldn’t you just be one of the many other girls, too?

You still cannot believe that out of eight demons everyone would have the same amount of feelings for you. To be honest, the only person you thought of really liking you was Kang Yeo Sang. Thinking about Hong Joong - no one really knew what he did or thought in a day.

Maybe you slowly realize that you might fall for them too easily? Since they kidnapped you that day no one really tried to make the next step. Even Yeo Sang and Hong Joong wouldn’t go further than touching you in appropriate places. Well, at least the younger one did. And it all was still friendship like.

These thoughts are giving you a headache. Well, you were the one telling them you only wanted to be friends first then why are you so emotionally confused?

Do you crave for more? Or is it just attention?

Before the three men left the place Joo Hyuk gave you a huge tip which you didn’t stand a chance to reject. Luckily nothing more happened with him to which you were more than thankful. You couldn’t stand so much trouble in short terms.

Arriving at your dorm exhausted you jump on your bed after receiving a text from Hyo Lyn that she was coming over and getting ready for a party. Why would you say no? There were no messages from the guys and you definitely wouldn’t waste this night and free sunday tomorrow.

Yes, this was definitely the best you could do to forget all this mess for now. Only you, your bestfriend and a bottle of wine.

Oh, and loud music, sweating bodies and students making out in every corner. For this night you decided to wear something fancy but sexy, too. The mistake you made? You already drank quite the amount of appetizers with Hyo Lyn while dressing up and you could already feel the coral lipstick smeared from the amount of times you lick them.

You were wasted. Definitely; but in a good way. Hyo Lyn only giggled and dragged you to the dancefoor - the living room of the mansion - and started swaying your hips to the music. By now it was actually unimportant how you looked like you just had fun with the girl next to you and giggled a lot at her stupid dance moves imitating them from time to time.

When you made you way back to the kitchen looking for another drink you couldn’t shake off the feeling being watched. You shuddered at the thought and looked around a few times but couldn’t make out anything suspicious.

Only when you heard the yelling you immediately felt your insides curling. „Quick! Woo Young is winning!“

If Woo Young was here then San would be, too. Meaning there was a high chance some of the others or all of them attended this party, too. Where we’re back to the point - they’re not texting you and acting like wanting to protect you but here we are?

Suddenly Hyo Lyn brings you out of your thoughts by finding you in the kitchen and dragging you outside with a grip on your wrist.

„Come one, we have to watch this!“

Out of a good perspective standing outside a huge group of people in front you can see Woo Young drinking up all the beer and San next to him cheering him on like the others.

You roll with your eyes a smirk building up but it quickly vanishs when you see the cute dark haired beauty pulling him into a kiss and Woo Young first shocked but putting his arms around her waist in return when he wins.

First you really didn’t want to believe Hyo Lyn - but it was obvious that this scene probably replayed every weekend and party they attended.

What about the others? What about the Song Min Gi? What about the prestigious bachelor Kim Hong Jong? What about... what did all of them do?

You went back into the house ignoring the urge to turn into a crying mess feeling like it would be useless. You sat down in front of the mansion outside at the sidewalk alone with your thoughts again. Did you really didn’t know them at all?

No, you knew them. You knew about their hobbies... what they liked to eat and what their dreams were. It was just the fact that you didn’t feel like trusting them and not in the friend like relationship.

The image of them as boyfriends, potential lovers or what you would call it. You’re far away from that and you weren’t a person that tried to seek for the problem in others. It was about you. Maybe your first rejection lead to them losing interest in you. The whole marked thing slowly felt like they just still tried to fulfill something because they gave it to you and maybe they wanted to wait before asking you to take it back...

You definitely were a person to overthink things.

„What’s a little bird like you doing here alone?“

You slowly look up to see who has the nerve to interrupt you at your conspiracy moment.

„Oh, I am sorry... Didn’t want to sound awkward I guess you just looked really cute like t - this...“ You couldn’t stop gaping at the handsome boy. He had black hair with beautiful dark eyes that seemed to shine in the light of the moon and he was just plainly beautiful - exactly pretty like Hong Joong but different.

Hong Joong...

Tears started to prick again at your eyes making the boy worry if he is the cause for your sadness.

„Shit, I am sorry! I didn’t want to upset you!“ He leans down and starts to wipe away your tears with his soft thumbs and you feel oddly comforted by it - probably mainly caused by your drunken state.

„It - it’s not you...“

„Mh.“ He nods in an understanding matter and shoots you one of the most beautiful smiles you’ve ever seen. He sits down next to you still having his arm around your shoulders letting you calm down.

After a while you decide to check your phone to see if someone texted you but you can only see Hyo Lyn informing you about having met Seok Woo and his two very attractive friends and that they were playing beer pong.

„Do you want to get back inside?“

You shrug really unsure and definitely not in the mood to accidentally run into one of the boys. Okay, maybe just get over you high ego and text them!

You searched for San in your contacts and texted him that you also attended the party and if he wanted to hang out in the garden or something.

choi san: I am busyyyy

Wow, what a great answer. You groaned out gaining back the attention of the stranger next to you. „To be honest, I just want to go home and eat as much fast food as I can.“

You flinch a little bit when he suddenly starts laughing at you heartly. „To be honest, I didn’t want to come here in the first place.“ He takes a look back and his nose wrinkles is the most adorable way you could imagine.

„Then why did you come?“

„Three friends of mine wanted me to and I am the driver but now one of them found their girl he’s hanging out with at the moment an the other one‘s still searching for the girl he wanted to meet here.“ You laughed at this because it was cliche.

„What’s with the third one?“

„He just likes to party.“ You both laugh again mostly because you are still tipsy and him finding your laugh contagious.

„Do you want to head out of here? I know we don’t know eachother but I am hungry, too, so we could stop by a diner and after that I am bringing you home?“

„Mh, don’t know. I really don’t know you and my friend is still here... but I could tell Hyo Lyn quickly so she can send the cops after me if you try something funny.“ He grins at you mischievously but without any bad intention.

„Wait, did you say Hyo Lyn?“

„Ey, we looked for you!“ Suddenly you see four figures approaching you causing you and the boy next to you standing up.

Really? That there wasn’t already a massacre at this party fascinates you when you see Joo Hyuk emerging your forms with confident steps his eyes flickering between you and the boy. What shocks you even more is seeing your bestfriend holding hands with a guy next to her that seems to be on of Joo Hyuk‘s fiends and also the trio are the exact same men from your shift.

Leaving you confused who was the boy next to you but seeing his eyes turn into crescents while smiling at his fiends you suddenly feel at ease.

Only Mr. Pervert ruins the mood by winking at you.

„Come one that’s really funny!“ Hyo Lyn giggles at the situation and you cannot hide your smile, too.

„What are you doing here outside? (y/n) I’ve looked for you everywhere!“ Joo Hyuk happily explains and you stiffen a little bit by his statement. Their friend next to you seems to notice and lightly lays his hand on your shoulder to provide you with a feeling of safety.

Poor boy... don’t know he’s messing with a demon and wouldn’t stand a chance against the pervert.

„(y/n) and me wanted to drive to the diner and eat something. Do you want to come along?“

You could swear something flickered in the boys‘ eyes‘ at this moment but you couldn’t lay a finger on what. „No, no. It’s okay. (y/n) seems to be tired and we still want to start this pool party. Am I not right?“ Joo Hyuk laughs at the others and they also happily agree.

Your gaze goes back to him and he smiles and nods at them. „Have fun guys and call me if I should pick you up.“

He guides you to his car which was an expensive Audi R8 and immediately the thoughts comes to your mind if he drives too fast.

Like sensing your doubts the boy comes around the car again and opens the door for you. „You don’t have to worry... I will drive slowly I know you still have alcohol in your system.“

Is he cute or isn’t he?

The night turns around very good in the end. He holds his words and you don’t have to vomit or something. After eating something delicious at the diner with him you feel a lot better now and didn’t even felt the urge to look at your display since the party. Talking comes easily with him and he’s also a very charming guy with a good amount of humor.

After he stops in front of your dorms he gets out again and opens the door for you. He holds out his hand for you to take it and when you take it confidently you feel a slight shock.

„Ouch!“ He looks shocked but also apologizes quickly.

„Oh, haha. I am sorry... Maybe that was a sign?“ He smirks with crescent eyes again and you could cry out at how cute he is.

„Who knows?“ You look him deeply in the eyes and you can feel his smile vanish slowly. You gulp and quickly realize what you’re doing.

Stop flirting (y/n)! Cheater!

You mentally roll with your eyes - which you do... quit a lot?

I am the cheater? What’s with them? They give a shit about me at the moment! I can play this game, too!

Without noticing it you slowly nod with your head gaze turned to the ground and a devilish grin on your face.

„Ehm, I just asked if I could have your number...“

Oh, yeah. He was still there.

„Of course!“

(y/n) no!

You gave him your number and let yourself fall onto your bed a huge grin not leaving your face. You don’t have to feel bad, right? You texted San if he wanted to hang out but you could only imagine what he did in that moment. Woo Young was obviously also busy and you didn’t know who of the others attended the party.

You could’ve texted into the group chat you idiot.

Yes, you could’ve but you didn’t want to.

Suddenly you felt the guilt coming back... now that the boy left your mind it seems like you have to think about them. You take a look at your wrist and recall the electrical shock with the boy.

You don’t know his name... That’s what you only realize now. Well, if he decided to text you could ask him.

Eying you wrist again you try to see something that could resemble a mark; the one they gave you. Tonight you don’t really understand why they did it in the first place. You feel anger bubbling inside of you but decide it is worthless to worry about things you cannot change right now.

To get a decent sleep you think back to the crescent eyes and shining orbs that lulled you in. You find sleep better this night and all thanks to the stranger...

You wake up with a blurry sight. Your limbs are burning and a headache forms. You also feel very hot - shit, again?

Maybe you didn’t rest well enough the last time... you roommate asks you if she can help you with something before she head out for the day and you decline thankfully.

It would be the best to make some tea and sleep the day off maybe tomorrow it would be better and you could go back to university. Throughout the day you occasionally checked your messages and pouted when you received nothing. You don’t know if you hoped for him to text you or the others. Let’s say it didn’t shock you anymore that you received no text from the demons.

You also didn’t want to tell them about being sick again you hate the feeling of being a burden to someone... so you spent the day sleeping, groaning, drinking tea and watching shows.

Great sunday...

Luckily you had a good sleep this night but in the morning you didn’t feel any better... To this point you couldn’t shake off the feeling that the centrum of the stress might could be your wrist; exactly where your mark was located.

Maybe it is because of not being near to the demons lately? This doesn’t really makes sense either. There already have been more moments where you didn’t have much time for them and didn’t got sick...

You clearly are not able to go to your courses today and ask Hyo Lyn to excuse you if someone in your shared courses asks.

Of course the girl wants to come over but you decline not wanting to spread your bacteria. You also ask your roommate to not worry but comply when she tells you she wants buy some medicine for you.

Ah, you were feeling really exhausted and bad again...

You wish someone of the boys would come over and take you into their arms and take care of you but you quickly shake the thought off.

Your wrist hurts again at the thought of them. What the actual hell?

Inside the mansion only Hong Joong and Seong Hwa pace around doing the housework. Well, Seong Hwa tells Hong Joong what to do because the leader is a mess when it comes to cleaning.

Hong Joong feels not good today and he didn’t do yesterday, too. It’s only a light tugging but he cannot say what it could be.

„Everything‘s alright?“

„Yes, just a bad feeling I guess. I wonder how (y/n) is doing. Did she eat? Is she happy? Is some professor getting on her nerves?“

Seong Hwa chuckles. Yes, their chosen mate definitely was someone who got triggered easily by hunger and soppy teachers.

„San told me she attended the party on saturday.“

„Why didn’t he tell us sooner?“

Seong Hwa shrugs while ordering Min Gi‘s laundry. „He just texted me she was there and he took a quick look at her and everything was fine. Hyo Lyn was by her side.“

„Mh, sometimes I feel like she’s taking a lot of her time.“

„Are you jelous, Kim?“ Seong Hwa‘s orbs shine in amusement and Hong Joong frowns at him in return.

„Nooo‘ I just would like to spend more time with her but I guess we should really take it slow...“

„Yes, that’s what we agreed on. Although I would like to apologize for the last time...“

Hong Joong emerged Seong Hwa‘s taller form and leans his head against his arms. „She knows we love her, don’t worry.“

Do you?

The end of the day comes and you decide to not be a pussy and text Yun Ho what he was doing only to be left on read. That didn’t hurt at all, asshole. Was he still salty because of the Joo Hyuk scene?

At least Yeo Sang should understand but he was one of those guys who disappeared for quite a time without telling you and you have the feeling now was the time for it again.

Or should you write something in the group chat? The sun was about to set down while you layed weakly in your bed scrolling through your phone. You found a quite funny video and decided it would be a good way to start a conversation and postet it into the chat.

Woo Young texted back a laugh smiley and the others also wrote something funny but Yun Ho, Yeo Sang and Hong Joong didn’t respond at all...

You couldn’t deny that you missed them even if it wasn’t meant in a romantic way. You missed your friends.

Much to your dismay you had to spend your time in bed the whole week... Luckily you were slowly feeling better and quickly worked out the stuff you missed in the courses. You decided not to write again in the chat and it was funny it became easier to not reply to them either or later because you just forgot.

There was a reason for it because your attention was set on something else or better someone else... He texted you.

First he apologized for not messaging you sooner and today he admit to you that he was a little bit shy and unsure about how to start a conversation with you. Cute...

You texted without a break and you laughed out loud when you asked him for his name and he told you could call anything you like so you decided for ‚charming‘.

You couldn’t come up with anything cooler.

You didn’t tell him about you being ill not wanting to ruin the mood and at the end of the week you asked him if he wanted to hang out.

And you did. It was good and felt at ease with him. He cooked for at his apartment and after that watched a movie together.

„Oh god, who thought it would be a good idea to use such bad synchronisation?“ He laughed out loud and chimed in.

Your head slowly became heavier und you didn’t even recognize that you started to lean on him.

„You have such a nice apartment... I wish I could afford something like this.“

„It’s nothing. I just recently rent it.“ He smiles down on you.

„Wow. What do you even do for a living.“ I doesn’t go unnoticed that he becomes a little bit stiff at your question but you ignore it.

„Let‘s just say I have to do with management.“ You nod at him.

„How old are you?“

„I am 23 years old.“

„Oh, I hope I am done with my education at this age, too.“

„Of course. You’re a smart one, (y/n). I will help you anytime you just have to ask.“ He tilts his head a little bit and places a small kiss on your temple.

You hiss out and shriek back when you wrist starts to burn.

„Woah, is everything alright?“

„Yes, yes...“

His orbs turn a lot darker as he watches the tip of your fingers graze over your wrist. He licks his lips at the sight but immediately arranges himself when you look back at him.

Suddenly your phone rings up and you take it to look who calls you. „Hong Joong?“

„Who’s it?“

„Just a - a friend. Excuse me for a second.“ He nods at you and you go to the kitchen.

„Hello?“

„(y/n)? Where are you?“

„I am out.. Why though?“

„You’re not at your dorm and your roommate wasn’t there, too. I wanted to pick you up for a late movie night...“

„Oh, I am sorry. It’s so late already?“

„Where are you so I can pick you up? We’re missing you, (y/n)... also me and Yeo Sang felt something a few seconds ago.“

„Yeo Sang is back?“

„Yes, but, are you alright? I said we felt something like a sting.“

„Oh, no. Everything’s alright I don’t think I am in for it, tonight. Sorry...“

„Mh, okay. You would tell me when there’s something, right?“

You pause at his question. Lately you weren’t honest at all and now you feel like shit because they suddenly decide to connect you again. You sigh. Right now you’re with the charming boy and it would be rude to just leave.

„Of course I would.“ Lie

„Ok, then take care. I hope I am not annoying you.“

„You’re not! No, you’re not. I am happy you called me...“ You really were.

„Bye, (y/n).“

„Are you ok?“

„Ah, yes. My friend just worried for me.“

„Must be a good friend then.“ He lightly smiled at you and reached out his hand for you to take.

Just like Hong Joong never called you all thoughts to them vanish again when you take his hand and let him guide you back into the living room.

You make yourself comfortable in his embrace and you continue the movie. You are very aware on how his breath tickles the hair on your neck and you feel yourself heat up at the close approximation.

You try to hide your nervousness by ignoring him and playing like you don’t recognize his slow movements with his palm on your thigh.

„(y/n).“

You gulp and feel like your heart stops. His index finger lands under your chin and in the softest way he tilts your head so you’re facing him.

„Can I - I really want to kiss you... but I need your consent...“

You weakly nod at him already too engulfed in the moment. He flashes you a dazzling smile and you could swear you saw something flashing in his dark orbs at your answer.

Before you can think about it anymore his lips are pressed on your own trembling ones in a delicate way. You shudder at how aroused you feel and the sensation his touches leave on your form are overwhelming.

The hold on your thigh becomes tighter and with the other one his fingers start to caress your neck. He uses your moaning to explore your mouth with his tongue and it feels like you entered heaven.

When he starts to kiss down your chin and neck you quite overhear something he mumbles with a breathless voice.

„Mine...“

Too engulfed in the pleasure you’re receiving you don’t notice him taking your wrist carefully and kissing along your arm until he lands on the place where your mark is supposed to be.

You open your eyes when feel a tingling sensation there and suddenly hear voices in your head becoming louder and louder the more he sucks on there.

„What is happening?!“

„We have to find her!“

„Yeo Sang! Shit, help him up!“

„Stop!“

You lean back and he looks at you confused and concerned but it’s quickly replaced with a shy smile.

„What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?“ You frantically look around searching for something you don’t even know. Those voices...

„I - I have to go... I am sorry.“

„I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable but it’s okay, we achieved a lot for today.“

What is he talking about?

Only now you see your display blinking up repeatedly and the missed calls and texts from the demons.

You sense him watching you out of your eyesight and quickly put your cellphone back.

„I will bring you back home.“

You nod when he stands up leaving you clutching at your wrist with a bad feeling.

The car ride is silent and you decide to use his concentration on the road to text into the group chat that you’re heading back to the dorms.

When you open the door all the boys are already scattered around leaving your roommate sitting uncomfortable on her bed and a sign of relief crosses her features when you enter the room.

Immediately Min Gi grabs your hand and drags you out again followed by the others.

„What are you - ?!“

Min Gi puts you with him in the back seat petting you everywhere and kissing your hair with a frown on his face. Jong Ho starts the engine and drives home so fast you don’t even want to know the limit you’re reaching.

„(y/n)...“ He whimpers out and you turn your head to see his face that is illuminated by the lamps of the road.

A tear is rolling down his features and you swear you’ve never seen Min Gi crying before and he also didn’t touch you like this ever.

He hides his face in your neck and starts to cry. „Please don’t leave us...“

You felt awful. Never ever have you felt so ashamed and disgusted by yourself. You let another man touch you and especially the holy place of your mark and now you would have to face the consequences.

Your heart hurt at the sight of him clutching at you like his life depended on it. He held you in his big embrace like you would vanish any second.

„I would never leave you.“ Now a single tear also rolled down your cheek.

All of you sat silently. Until Yun Ho decided to speak up...

„What did you to with Joo Hyuk?“

Everyone tensed up at his name but you only frowned at his question.

„What do you mean?“

„You know what I mean. If you wouldn’t be my bestfriend I would consider thinking of you as a bitch, (y/l/n) (y/n)!“

Totally confused you stood up and let out your anger by landing a full smack on his cheek.

„I am not a bitch, Jeong Yun Ho! I won’t lie that I didn’t do anything but at least I am not fucking around every weekend like you guys!“

Now it was your time to let out everything that boiled up in you.

„You’re not giving me attention! You’re not answering my texts! You don’t care at all! You’re saying you have feelings for me but you’re not!“

„Don’t say this, dear - “ Jong Ho eyes you with a soft look and tries to reach out for you but you hold your hand up to stop him.

„No! You’ve been hurting me and guess what? I can play the game, too!“

Behind you Woo Young and San tense up.

„You know they mean nothing for us...“

„It doesn’t matter, Jung Woo Young. It hurts me so much... How can I ever trust you when all you do is - do is - nothing?“

Again everyone remains silent and also Yun Ho takes a step back to sit down next to Seong Hwa who rubs his eyes tiredly.

„We can get through this. I know we can... I feel like those are all misunderstandings...“

Yeo Sang always was a person that liked the harmony and it showed again.

You weren’t so sure of his words and bit your lips so harshly that you draw blood letting the tears out again.

„Please, (y/n), we love you. We love you so much. Please don’t give up on us...“

„San is right... we all have to better ourselves. We have to talk and be honest with eachother. Respect us more. Love isn’t easy but I can proudly say that I would do anything for you and us to work.“

You look into Seong Hwa‘s eyes and feel your bond coming to life at his words.

„Like we already said... a demon love is so rare and beautiful like you are (y/n); but - we would never force you to something you don’t want. We will always love you and we want you to be happy... even if it’s without us.“ Hong Joong says eyeing all his brothers who flinch at his words but not say something against it either.

„Angel, I beg you, please... don’t be afraid to show your feelings.“ Yeo Sang seems like to stare into your soul and you know that he knows what you want to do right now.

So you do it. You fall into his arms and sob into his chest. You let it all out and you can fell someone embracing your from behind, too.

You heart feels at ease and you couldn’t say that for a long time. Especially at Yeo Sang‘s and Hong Joong‘s touches you feel the bond coming to life igniting a wonderful sensation inside your systems.

This night you decide to sleep at theirs but of course not without all of you making a sleepover in one room. Fortunately you are the girl and were able to sleep on Yeo Sang‘s bed between him and the leader.

Totally forgetting about Charming and the events of the previous night.

Well, all of you were to exhausted to talk this out so it had to be done in the morning.

Oh, and the questioning turned out more interesting than everyone would’ve thought.

You decide to text him. It was a shitty move especially after last night but it had to be done. Much to your disbelief he only sent you back a smiley leaving you utterly confused.

After the breakfast you gathered around in the garden to finally tell you the truth and discuss on how to deal with Joo Hyuk.

San and Woo Young have been especially clingy to you also feeling very bad about having you hurt so much. Honestly, San craved a lot of your attention and body but he didn’t want to scare you so he decided to distract himself. He really didn’t know it would bother you so much and now he was devastated realizing the shit he done...

„I cannot breath, Woo Young...“

„Oh sorry.“ He smirks at your playfully and you peck him on his lips catching him off guard.

They were all so beautiful but not only in features but character, too... Why did you only realize it now?

Yeah, dumb bitch.

After telling you everything about Joo Hyuk that he wants to claim you and that being the reason for the pain at your mark and also you sickness you gulped.

„Now we have to find a way to deliver the message that he should leave you alone.“

„Or we just kill him.“

You sink further into San‘s side and he gives Jong Ho a silent glare knowing exactly how you would react to something like that.

„Guys, ehm, yesterday...“

Oh, it’s really time you’re telling them about it.

„Yesterday I wasn’t with Joo Hyuk. To be honest, I didn’t see him since a week or more...“

„What? (y/n), you had a scent on yourself from a demon yesterday. Whoever you spent time with was a demon!“

Panick takes its place over everyone’s features at your words and Hong Joong‘s eyes turn into an angry red color.

„I knew she smelled different! Now I know what that smell is...“

„Who is it? Hyung? (y/n)?“

„I - I don’t know his name...“

„You went home with a stranger, made out and don’t even know his name?!“ Seong Hwa‘s definitely in his mother role right now and you look to the ground ashamed.

„I don’t know... He felt so safe and my mind told me not to question it - “

„Typical for a demon like him. He manipulated you quite well.“ Hong Joong spits out with fire and starts to walk in circles.

„I guess you have his number?“

You nod at Yeo Sang.

„Text him to meet at the sightseeing platform at the mountain in the west.“

„What are you planning?“

„Seems like he was able to ignite a strong spark in her but not when she’s with us.“

„What are you talking about?“

Woo Young smiles in mischief at his brothers while petting your head. „Eight mates are stronger than one.“

„Don’t worry, cupcake. You will understand soon.“

You waited for Charming at the point and couldn’t believe yourself when you stupidly smiled at him. From the distance he already waved at you and if it wasn’t for the demons behind the trees you feel like you would’ve fall for him easily again.

„You look cute today. I am happy you texted me so quickly... to be honest I was a little bit afraid after yesterday that it was too early for you.“

You wonder how someone can lie so effortlessly and shudder when he wraps his fingers around your wrist where your mark is located.

He leans down when you’re not answering and gulp nervously when he tries to kiss you...

„The nerve...“

San comes out next to you joined by the others and you can see Charming starting to smile with his crescent eyes.

„I shouldn’t have let you go yesterday, little bird.“ He nearly whispered it out and you tremble when he places a soft skin on our forehead.

„Touch her again and we will kill you, Cha.“

He turns around and San and Woo Young are quick to take you into their arms and lead you further away from the scene. The demon follows your form and you are suddenly scared by his intimidating eyes.

„Ah, Hong Joong... I feel like I’ve lost myself in the whole thing a little bit too much.“

„You just didn’t succeed, Eun Woo.“

„Yes, this time you won. Your little human is not as dumb as I thought.“

Ouch that hurt although you just figured out what an ass he is. Woo Young‘s arms tighten around your form and the others tense up. Jong Ho cracks his knuckles to warn the demon to insult you any more.

„Why did you do that?“

„Clearly not for claiming her. I wanted to take the one love like you did with me...“

„Mi Na murdered humans and it was our task to bring her down. We would’ve not killed her if there would’ve been another way.“ Seong Hwa speaks up.

„She had problems! Okay?! You didn’t understand her! No one did!“

Tears are floating down when reality crushes in... Eun Woo wanted to kill you... and if it wasn’t for the boys you would not be alive right now. Joo Hyuk only was a marionette in this game and you only realized it now...

„We don’t want to hurt you, Eun Woo... Take your claim off her and leave us alone.“

„I said we don’t want to hurt you but we will.“

You sensed the distress of your mates and watched how everyone got into a fighting position leaving Woo Young and San next to you ready to get out of the scene if needed.

Eun Woo looks around him and starts to understand that he’s overpowered. He lets out a disgusting cry full of pain and anger.

„I will take it back...“

Hong Joong gives the demons next to you a sign and they near the other demon with slowl steps. He reaches out his hand and San takes your wrist carefully and guides it into his direction.

Eun Woo looks at you with tears in his eyes and sadly although you hate him right now you can feel his pain. He positions his lips over your wrist and breathes in leaving you lightheaded and suddenly blacking out... you feel free and suddenly the clouds in your mind and the headache you didn’t even noticed anymore are gone.

You open your eyes rubbing them with your palms feeling like you just awakened from a deep slumber.

„Good morning, sunshine.“

„Yun Ho...“

„Yes, the one and only.“ He shoots you a radiant smile and suddenly the door bursts open the other demons literally running inside.

„Cupcake! You’re awake!“

„How long did I sleep?“

„29 hours.“

„What happened?“

„Everyhing is okay right now. He’s gone... back to the demon world to be exact and he took his minions with him.“ Yun Ho tells you while caressing your hand.

You sit up and look into your lap. „Thank you, for everything and I am very sorry.“

„Stop, (y/n). We’re together now and you’re safe. That’s all what matters.“

You smile at them tears of joy running down your cheeks.

„Are you ok to go downstairs and eat something? Woo Young tried to cook - “

Said boy rolls with his eyes. „I didn’t try! I trained a lot!“ You giggle at his words and Yun Ho motions for you to sit up and take his hand so he can help you.

Halfway out of the room you stop...

„Guys...“ Everyone turns around watching you with curiosity.

„I think I might start falling in love with you.“ You quickly close your eyes out of embarrassment and San comes to take your palms that shield your face away with his own hands.

„It isn’t that hard, right?“

You become red like a potato and stomp with your food. „But it is!“ Everyone laughs at your cuteness but it would definitely be a hard way to express your feeling like this more...

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author: Well, what a nice ending to this part!

wooyoung: Where’s my smut.

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#ateez demon #ateez demon au #ateez x reader #ateez au #ateez writing #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction

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