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elizabeethan · 4 years ago

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Spaces Between Us- 1/12

The hardships of real life separated them six years ago, and Emma has been struggling to put that fact behind her ever since. But then, only after she’s convinced herself that she’s moved on and that her new life is enough, Killian Jones comes back.

A Captain Swan Modern AU

A/N: first, the chapter count is a big fat probably, definitely not definite! I’m really really excited to share this story! i’ve got four chapter pre-written so far, so i’m planning on posting on a consistent weekly basis.

More tags will apply to later chapters and i’ll put warnings where they're necessary, but if you have any concerns or questions feel free to message me!

Thank you, as usual, to my beta and friend @the-darkdragonfly, and to @donteattheappleshook and @xhookswenchx for listening to my ramblings and helping me figure out the plot to this <3

(also bonus points if you can guess what the title is based on :) it’s a hint)

This story will be rated M

This chapter: ~3200 words

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~~~~

She wakes before the sun as she does most mornings, with a start and a jump as she springs her head from her pillow and clutches her hand to her pounding chest. Glancing to her right, she sees her still sleeping husband and breathes a sigh of relief, letting her shoulders sag and her eyes flutter shut slightly. He’s fast asleep, just like he is each time she has one of her horrifying nightmares, never noticing her fearful thrashing. Rolling her eyes, she removes the blankets and lets her bare feet hit the hardwood floor and stands to make her way to the bathroom. After her shower, Emma dresses silently, applies minimal makeup, and sneaks out of their bedroom, still successful in not disturbing her husband.

Her son is already on the couch downstairs waiting for her, of course. If there’s one thing the two of them are equally bad at, it’s sleeping. She smiles when she sees him curled up with his picture book, his orange tabby, Abby, purring away beside him. “Morning, bub,” she greets once she’s downstairs, and he grins up at her happily.

“Hi, mommy.”

Crossing the room to the couch, she leans down and presses a kiss to his cheek and asks, “do you want some breakfast? We’ve got to get you ready for the library soon.”

“Is dad coming?”

She shakes her head. “No, bub. Dad has to work today, so it’s just you and mommy. I’m sorry.”

“Okay!” he says happily, jumping from the couch and disturbing Abby. “Me and mommy day!”

She giggles softly and grins, following as he bounds for the kitchen and trying to ignore the ache in her chest that accompanies his complete lack of concern over his father being absent for something he enjoys, again.

“What do you want for breakfast, bub? Eggs?”

“Eggies!” he calls, crawling up onto his dining chair. “Scrambied.”

“Scrambled,” she corrects gently. “With cheese?”

“Yes! Cheese please!”

“Very good manners, Henry,” she praises happily as she takes out a bowl, a whisk, and a pan before heading towards the fridge. “Aren’t you going to help me crack the eggs?”

His eyes widen and he drops his jaw dramatically, jumping off the chair with enthusiasm and running towards her. “I can crack the eggies?!”

She smiles down at him, taken by his excitement and his refusal to say real words, and says, “yes, my love.”

Choking on her words, she wants to kick herself. Six year and she still finds herself using his stupid phrasing. It sends a jolt of discomfort and a twinge of longing pain through her entire being, the ability to remember small details at the most inopportune times having always haunted her. It tells her how she feels. It tells her she’ll never forget. It tells her how she’ll never feel again.

Her husband grumbles as he enters the kitchen, grabbing a banana from the fruit bowl and grabbing Emma’s ass in full view of her son, which makes her stiffen and glare ahead out the window, grinding her teeth. “Morning,” he says.

“Do you have to do that, Walsh?” she asks quietly through clenched teeth.

She doesn’t need to be facing him to know that he rolls his eyes.

Taking a deep, grounding breath in, she bends towards Henry and scoops him up easily, placing him on the counter and handing him an egg. “Remember how I showed you?”

“What are you doing, teaching him to cook?” Walsh asks in an incredulous tone.

“I don’t know, giving him life skills? Just tap gently against the counter, bub,” she instructs, and he does just that. Well, almost that.

He smashes the egg against the counter and she quickly helps him to drag it over the bowl, splitting it open messily and letting the yoke fall in. “I did it!”

“No shells; excellent job!”

“Dad, look!”

Walsh makes no effort to turn from his damn phone, instead nodding once and grunting in false acknowledgment.

He cracks another egg, this time getting a bit of shell in the bowl but able to fish it out with help, and Emma begins beating them with just a bit too much force. “What exactly are we doing today?” she asks.

“Swearing in ceremony. The new sheriff starts.”

She nods. The new sheriff was appointed by the state, so no one but Walsh knows who they are or what their deal is. Why they’re in Storybrooke to begin with. What kind of town they think they’re going to be protecting and serving. It shouldn’t be as exciting as it is, greeting a new citizen, but Storybrooke is a sleepy little town with very little excitement.

She has no idea how she got here.

“That’s why you can’t come to the library, dad?” Henry asks sadly, and his father nods without making eye contact.

“Yeah,” he confirms. “I have important work to do.”

Emma rolls her eyes, then smiles softly at Henry and says, “it’s alright. It’s just Henry and mommy day, remember?”

His face lights up again and he nods, grabbing for the cheese and stealing a slice for himself. She glares at him playfully and he giggles, squirming to the edge of the counter before she assists him down and he runs for the living room. “Food in the kitchen!” Emma calls after him. Walsh looks up from his phone for a moment, then straight back down.

Henry returns quickly, holding a small piece of cheese down towards the floor and taunting poor Abby with it as she chases after him. “She wants some!”

“Henry, we don’t give Abby human food, remember? Why don’t you eat your cheese and give her some of her food?”

He nods, gobbling his snack and then tossing a small piece onto the floor for the cat when he thinks she’s stopped paying attention. God dammit.

“Hey, dress nice today,” Walsh commands from behind his emails. “After the library, come to the town hall. There’ll be photo ops for the paper.”

“Okay,” she mumbles.

“Make sure he doesn’t make a mess of himself.”

She can’t respond with words without shouting, so she stays quiet. God forbid a child have a little fun and get a little dirty. “Henry, come get your breakfast. Did you feed Abby?”

“Okay!”

“Did you?”

“Coming!”

She signs and rolls her eyes, plating his eggies and tossing the pan into the sink too loudly before feeding the cat and heading upstairs, hoping her child’s father can watch him for the five minutes it will take for her to pick out a newspaper-worthy outfit for the two of them.

~~~~

“There it is!” Henry calls as he runs into the children’s section of the library, dodging other kids and parents and beelining towards his favorite. “Mommy! Come on!”

She apologizes to the people he bumped into and finds him with his book already open to his favorite page. “Henry,” she says seriously. “Bub, you’ve got to slow down. You ran into some people and you have to be careful.”

“Sorry,” he says, not looking up from the dog in the illustration.

She sighs and sits beside him, nudging him over and taking a spot on the oversized bean bag chair. “What is Mudge getting up to today?” she asks him, using the skills Belle taught her to get him to engage with the words and the pictures.

He’s quiet for a while, pointing out details to her and trying his hand at a few words. He’s starting to get good at reading since starting kindergarten, and she couldn’t be prouder when he sounds out family without much help, beaming at him and stroking her fingers through his chestnut hair.

“Mommy?” he asks after taking in an illustration of Henry and Mudge going up a hill. She hums in response to urge him to go on and he asks, “why doesn’t dad like to read with me?”

She can feel her heart plunging to her stomach, dropping like an anvil and sending a cold sweat across her body. Walsh has always been distant. When they first met, he seemed so sweet, and when he proposed as soon as they found out she was pregnant, she thought she had hit the jackpot. But as soon as their son was born, she saw a change in him. He became a different person, never around, never helping much, never showing either of them any affection. She blamed it on his new role as the Mayor of Storybrooke; he couldn’t have had a scandalous extramarital pregnancy on his docket and being a family man helped his chances for election. But knowing that doesn’t make it any easier to know that the man she’s stuck spending the rest of her life with isn’t shy about how little he regards her.

She can deal with a lack of love from her husband. What she can’t deal with is his lack of love for his son.

Through her anger, she responds calmly, telling Henry, “dad’s just so busy, bub. He has an important job and it’s hard for him to focus on other things sometimes, because he’s so tired.”

Henry nods softly and turns the page. “So he doesn’t like me?”

The tears that spring to her eyes are instant and unstoppable, and she’s grateful that they're sitting side by side so that he can’t see her reaction. Clearing her throat, she says, “no, Henry, of course he does. I think sometimes he’s just… stressed.”

“You’re stressed, but you love me,” he points out.

With a gulp, she says, “and I always will, more than anything. But your dad… he… Well, he just isn’t the type of person to say that like mommy is. That’s why I say it so much,” she smiles.

Her son looks up at her and smiles, his enigmatic gray eyes shining despite the sunlight not reaching this secluded back corner of the library. “I love you, mommy,” he tells her, and he gives her a hug that makes her feel more love than she’s ever felt with her husband.

She’s always been able to compartmentalize the fact that her husband doesn’t love her. That he never once told her that he does. That he married her out of obligation after knocking her up. But she can’t ignore the fact that he shows no love for their son, either.

What’s worse, is that he’s noticed.

~~~~

The town hall is nothing special, the cinderblock walls and the tile floors enough to keep the cold, fall air inside and make Emma shiver when she takes her coat off. Her husband, miserable as he is, gives her a quick smile and a curt nod that tells her she’s only welcome here because of the cameras and their need to portray a happy, loving family. It’s true, he’s always provided for them and made sure that they want for nothing, but it’s limited only to basic needs and material things.

“Hi,” he greets quickly, leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek as a camera flashes. She forces herself to smile. “Hi, son.”

Henry grunts up at his father, not making eye contact and not letting go of Emma’s hand. “Hi,” he mumbles.

Emma knows, as much as she hates to admit it, that Henry should give his dad a hug so that Sydney Glass can snap a photo of the wholesome moment. But after their conversation earlier, she isn’t inclined to make him. So, she bends at the knees and gives him a smile, asking, “bub, do you want to give your dad a hug hello?”

He shrugs, looking down at his feet, and reluctantly reaches for Walsh. He laughs happily as he picks Henry up, giving him a squeeze and successfully tricking the few townsfolk here into believing his show. “How was the library, buddy?”

Henry says nothing in return, shrugging and then squirming until Walsh puts him down. He runs back to Emma and takes her hand again, holding on tight, and she paints on a smile and runs her fingers through his hair. “Let’s find a seat, Henry,” she suggests.

“There's seats here for you,” Walsh tells her, gesturing for the first row where there are three folding chairs, each with a placard on them. Mayor Walsh Oswald is first, with Mrs. Walsh Oswald to the right and Mr. Henry Oswald in the center of the two.

Emma takes a seat and has Henry do the same, and after a few more handshakes and photo ops, Walsh sits as well and the ceremony begins. Sydney Glass continues to snap pictures of the crows and of the stage, until the lights dim and the state’s police chief walks on stage.

A speech is made, as if this event is anything more than mundane, and then the mayor is called on stage to complete the induction of the town’s new sheriff. Walsh graces the stage excitedly, earning applause from the small crowd as he waves, and takes the microphone. He says a few words about the town’s safety being the number one priority, and assures everyone that the state police chief surely couldn't have made a better decision when he hired their new sheriff.

And then he calls him onto the stage.

And Emma’s world goes dark.

Killian Jones.

Her eyes must be three times their normal size as he walks onto the stage, and she’s grateful for the dramatic lights because they mean he likely can’t see her. But she can see him.

For the first time in six years, she can see him.

Her breathing quickens and her vision feels blurry, and she realizes that in her haste to get ready this morning, she had barely anything but coffee. She takes a deep breath and clings to the seat of her folding chair with white knuckles, gnawing on her bottom lip until it bleeds as she watches the one that got away place his hand on the bible and repeat a vow of servitude to her husband. She wants to die.

“Mommy?” Henry whispers in the darkness. “Are you okay?”

She swallows against her bone dry throat and nods, giving him a shaky smile, which only serves to worry him some more, likely due to her sudden paleness. “Yes,” she whispers. “Hush, bub. It’s almost done.”

The heart in her chest, the one she gave away to the man on the stage years ago, slams against her ribs almost painfully, until Walsh announces the new sheriff and the crowd begins to cheer. Through panting breaths, she claps, and then grabs Henry’s hand and pulls him as subtly as she can towards the exit and into the chilly November air. “Where are we going?” he asks in confusion.

“Mommy just needs some air,” she explains, gulping in a breath as she throws herself through the double doors.

She squats down and presses her back to the brick wall, burying her face in her hands and trying to steady her breathing before she feels Henry's small hand on her head. He does what she always does to him when he’s upset and begins scratching his fingers against her scalp, and the thoughtful notion brings tears to her eyes. “It’s okay, mommy,” he consoles, and she’s sure he has no idea what’s going on, although he shows her endless compassion either way. She wonders how she got so lucky with such a thoughtful son when he was basically doomed by genetics.

“I’m sorry, bub,” she says softly. “I’m fine, really.”

She hears the doors open to her right and assumes the ceremony must be over, so she turns her head away from the crowd. She hears someone ask Henry if he’s alright and starts wiping at her tears, intent on interrupting the exchange, but when Henry says, “my mommy is sick,” she laughs and shakes her head.

“Shall we get her some help, lad?” he asks, and Emma’s certain that if she had eaten breakfast, she would lose it.

“I don’t need help,” she mumbles, breathing heavily and hiding her face in her hands.

“It’s no problem,” he insists. Then he makes a joke, his tone light and flirty and exactly like she remembers it. “I don't know if you noticed, but I'm here to protect and serve.”

It’s impossible for her to hold in a soft chuckle, cut off by a surprising and breathless sob, and she can’t help but to look up at him. She watches as his jaw drops and his eyes widen; he falters backwards as he takes in the sight of her, denial and shock ever present on his face. He looks like he wants to say something, but words die on his lips and he remains still before he snaps his mouth shut.

“Aren’t you gonna help my mom?” Henry asks in disgust, staring up at Killian in a way that makes Emma want to throw up. She never did think that these two worlds would collide, as much as she may have wanted them to.

He hasn’t broken his gaze from her until he looks at her son and gulps before staring back down at her. “Uh, aye,” he says to Henry. “Do you need some help, miss?”

Without waiting for her answer, he offers her his hand and she takes it. There’s a shock that rushes through her entire body at the feeling of his skin touching hers, and it feels like she’s coming home and losing her sanity all at once. The pains in her chest are overwhelming and she can feel more tears stinging her eyes as he pulls her up from the ground. She nearly topples into his chest once she’s finally standing, because she’s so unsteady that her legs feel like they’re made of the noodles Henry likes in his soup, and he catches her before she can stumble.

He asks, “alright?” with such soft concern that she thinks she would smoothe out his brow and kiss him if not for Henry standing beside them.

She’s about to answer before she hears, “sheriff,” coming from her husband to her right. Her husband. Right.

They spring apart and she looks down at Henry, who is staring up at her with his brows drawn close together and his lips set in a straight, thin line. She gives him a small smile before looking at Walsh and blinking rapidly. “Hi, honey,” she greets. “I just met the sheriff; he was just helping me up. What a great addition to the town.”

Walsh glares at her with a look on his face that tells her she’ll be hearing about this later and then turns to Killian and offers his hand. “I look forward to meeting with you, Mr. Jones,” he says as they shake hands stiffly.

“Pleasure,” he responds. “It was nice to meet you and your family. I’ll see you next week.”

Her husband places a stiff hand on her back, calling for Henry to follow them without bothering to make sure that he actually is, before hissing, “let’s go,” into her ear.

Her heart races for an entirely different reason than it had when she saw Killian Jones.

~~~~

#spaces between us #modern au #cs modern au #cs ff #captain swan fanfic #spaces ff #cs angst #cs fluff #cs smut #eventual smut #adultery fic

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blindedbythedarkness · 4 years ago

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Josh,

Sometimes it's really fucking difficult to not believe that the universe is personally biased against me. And I know that's kind of rich coming from the one of us that didn't get driven to suicide. But I just, I know you of all people would understand. I wish I had you to really talk to right now.

I'm gonna ramble because I just need someone to listen. But where to fucking start? Life right now is just spinning plates. On one day this week I found out a critical hospital referral I was relying on had never been made; I was rejected by yet another landlord for a house next year that I'd really been betting on; my supervisor met with and bullied me for a solid two hours and my one social event of the week got cancelled. So, that's about when it all started to get too much.

The doctor I've been seeing has been incompetent from the start and made so much work for me in the 6 months I've been in her care. Despite diagnosing my Potentially Life Threatening connective tissue disease, she never even named it in our appointments, leaving me to discover the true horrors of my body through playing detective with my blood results. Long story short, to be confident that I can go on a treatment for it without bleeding out, I need to see a geneticist. But despite agreeing that I should see one, she's refusing to refer me to one directly. Instead, she's referring me to a pain rehab clinic at a separate hospital and saying they can internally refer me to genetics. The wait on the pain rehab clinic? At least two years. Plus, of course none of this information was forthcoming and required weeks of emailing back and forth. So now I'm angry, anxious and stressed about my health. I want to make a formal complaint but I don't know when I'll find the time.

That wasn't even the worst thing, though. The worst thing was uni reminding me just one last time that it truly doesn't give a shit about its students and why I hate it to its very core. The final piece of work I have left to hand in is a research project that I've been working on all year. However, my supervisor is an utter cunt, and I don't say that lightly. He's incredibly narcissistic and rude for a start. For a presentation I had to do, he forced me to use his own slides without ever looking at mine. He once ended an online meeting because I misspoke when explaining a figure, telling me to call him back when I knew what I was on about because he "never forgets what he sees and doesn't want his brain soiled with incorrect information." Given he never remembers what we've spoken about from one meeting to the next, I call bullshit. Oh and this week? He asked me to explain a figure to him and when he said he didn't understand I asked him if he was looking at my screen share. He said no. I just despair!

To make matters worse, he's never fucking happy with me. He's made me start my work from scratch 3 times now and had a different problem each time. We're rapidly approaching the deadline now, so to get all the work done for the 3rd time I've been working 9am-5pm 6 days a week. Not that he cares. The results don't fit his hypothesis, so I must simply be incompetent. He even once had the audacity to suggest that I "didn't want to do the work" while looking through a 70 page document of my results, because I couldn't explain the findings of a figure I'd made a month ago off the top of my head.

In this weeks meeting, he again gave me an extortionate list of new tasks to do, while berating me at every turn. With a month left submit my thesis and my write up not started, I tried to explain to him that I wouldn't have time to complete the list. He just shrugged and said, "Well I think you should do it." And yes, this man is aware that I have been struggling physically and mentally recently.

I didn't know what else to do to make him listen, so I contacted the course supervisor (who I'd already briefly made aware of my issues with him). She told me to "quit" and "just get on with writing my thesis"... until four hours later after she had spoken to my supervisor and completely changed her mind. She video called me to tell me to do the work and I just broke down. I don't make a habit of ugly sobbing in front of people I've only ever met twice over Microsoft Teams, but this was a particularly bad day.

"Trying to do this work is going to destroy my physical and mental health."

"I can't do this anymore."

"He never listens to me."

"I've been working 6 days a week and it's killing me."

She didn't care. She told me that since my supervisor is an experienced professional, he must know how much he's asking of me and since he insists it's quick and easy stuff, it must be. This man has never done this analysis himself. He doesn't even know how; half the stuff one of his lab workers taught me and the rest I taught myself.

"Chill out" and "calm down" she told me, "do the work and if you have any problems ask John (the lab worker)"

By the time I pressed the leave button, I could barely breathe, let alone talk. I was just choking and sobbing and had snot pouring down my face. I was just so tired. So stressed. So... ignored. I didn't know where I would find the hours in the day, but I started by cancelling the trip to see my parents this weekend. To them I am not a student, and a student with health problems at that. I am simply a machine to use for free research.

I just wanted the stress to give me a break. I just wanted a break. I was genuinely afraid that my heart was going to stop from the stress alone. I didn't know where else to turn. The counseling service put me on a waiting list. My tutor told me to "just keep trying my best". My mentor told me to talk to my course supervisor. My course supervisor told me to work. A was busy revising for an exam the next day and I didn't want to bother him. So, I turned to my unhealthy coping mechanisms instead.

I didn't mean to do it as badly as I did. I just wanted to scratch my skin enough to feel it burn and give me something else to feel instead of the huge mass in my chest. But the scissors were sharper than I thought and when I looked down there were four long cuts that had gone through the skin and fat. I knew immediately I'd fucked up. There was no way those edges were coming together on their own. Honestly, I was just mad I'd given myself something else to do. So, I covered them with gauze and tape and kept on working. Because I needed to work. I needed to get it done. I would deal with going to the hospital later but I couldn't lose these working hours.

Once the blood was dripping from the gauze I finally, begrudgingly, went to the hospital. Honestly? They were surprisingly nice. They were understanding and they listened. I was so worried that they'd think I was some cringy emo kid looking for attention. I honestly felt like a total knob going there, but I didn't have a choice. I never felt judged or like they thought I was wasting their time or that it was all my fault. Of course, I know that it was my fault and I felt like a fool. But I also don't blame myself for becoming so desperate. At one point a doctor came in with a medical student who was visibly shy and embarrassed when examining me. I told her I had a place at medical school, so not to worry as I'd be in her place soon. And again, I was shocked because they didn't once tell me not to go. I thought they were going to say "if you can't cope right now, starting medical school isn't for you!" But they never said anything like that. Instead they were shocked I'd gotten in to such a good uni and seemed incredibly genuine when they wished me well.

Oh, and the wounds? Thankfully I didn't need stitches so I got them pulled together again with steri-strips. And in case you didn't believe me that I didn't intend them to be so bad, I nearly passed out three times after looking at them. So, I truly am a fucking idiot, Josh. Lesson learnt, I suppose. Though I'm still afraid what will happen next time I run out of options.

It's finally the end of the week now, but the universe still hasn't given me a break. My mum called earlier and told me my rabbit will be crossing the rainbow bridge tomorrow as he seems to have had a stroke. I mean, it's a small mercy that he's an old bunny and he's been unwell for a long time, so it's not a shock. But it's still so sad and I'll miss him so much. What really tops it all off is that I was going to see him this weekend until I had to cancel my trip home due to the workload.

Man, I just. Why does shit stuff seem to come so easily to me? It's difficult not to feel personally victimized when shit news after shit news lines up so well. I wish good things came as thick and fast. I hope to fuck my luck changes soon because honestly I'm terrified that it's taking years off my life.

Thanks for listening, Josh,

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ochard-fics · 4 years ago

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Bad Ideas - A Spider-man Story

Chapter Index: 1, 2, 3

Pronouns used: they/them

Genre: Enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, fluff, young love

Warnings: Mild parental abuse

Word count: 10.4k+

Summary: Though you moved across the country about half a year ago, you are still trying to find your footing in the strange streets of New York. On top of that, you are desperately trying to balance your demanding school life at Midtown School of Science and Technology, where you like everyone but you was much more talented and smarter than you could ever imagine to be. Among those students is the one whom you loathe the most: Peter Benjamin Parker, the boy who’s success both in school and in Stark Industries is constantly shoved in your face. The only person who helps you escape those troubles is Spider-man, the hero of Queens and your crush.

A/N: Hello friends! First I would like to apologize for the delay of the third chapter. Several personal issues kept pilling on during these past few weeks which made it difficult for me to get the motivation to write. Hopefully this won’t happen again, as I was planning on getting a chapter out every 2-3 weeks. With that all said, please enjoy this latest installment! Likes, reblogs and feedback is highly appreciated!

Chapter 3: Pride, Prejudice, and Boba

When MJ and Ned arrived at school the following day, they were completely unprepared for the pettiness their two best friends were about to display towards the other. Both you and Peter refused to acknowledge the other’s existence, and when there were moments in the day that your eyes met they only showed daggers. The tension was suffocating for MJ and Ned, who were trying their hardest to advert their friend’s anger but it was to no avail. The both of you were sure that they didn’t do anything wrong, and that the other is the one to blame for their childish attitude. At one point MJ and Ned just had to give up, and they just had to sit back and watch as you and Peter seethed at each other throughout the day.

On Friday you awoke, groggy and disgruntled. The alarm had interrupted your much needed rest as you were working until 12 a.m. Additionally, you received an email from Ms. Lee, asking that you meet up with Peter again for your tutoring session. The e-mail left a sour taste in your mouth, which you could still feel as you recalled the message whilst getting dressed. Hopefully, the taste could go away with a nice breakfast.

As you headed downstairs, you noticed that your dad was at the dining table by the window, drinking his black cup of coffee while typing away on his laptop. You don’t say anything as you make your way to the fridge, grabbing the tub of cream cheese then snatching a bagel from the bread box on the counter beside it. You began to fix yourself a cream cheese bagel sandwich when your dad spoke up,

“What did you get on your chemistry quiz?” The butter knife you were using to cut the bagel froze in your hand, and you felt the sense of dread weigh over your shoulders again.

“I don’t know,” you lie, resuming your bagel cutting. There is silence, though you could feel his gaze on you, hoping to catch you off guard. In the past, whenever you failed an exam, you would’ve done everything to avoid telling your parents your true grade. It wasn’t an honest tactic, but you feared the wrath of your father if he were to know about your grades. And when he did find out, you had to hide in your room while he yelled insults behind the door. Thankfully, because of your fight regarding your wish to be less dependent on him, it’s been easier to evade his interrogation. Well, almost. You heard him let out a low grumble.

“I was told by your mom that Peter Parker is going to tutor you,” he speaks, “Your councilor called her to let her know.” You continued with your silence and focused on spreading the cream cheese on the bagel in a haste. You knew where he was going with this, and you wanted to get out of the house as soon as possible.

“It’s tragic that he has to be the one tutoring you,” he says with a sarcastic sigh, “If only you weren’t such a lazy brat it could’ve been the other way around. Yet you chose to waste your time fooling around when you should be studying to get to the top. I raised you better than that.” A lump formed in your throat and you tried to swallow it, despite the pain it caused. Instead of saying goodbye to him you instead grabbed the bagel and headed towards the front door, avoiding eye contact with him. When you grabbed your bag and headed out the door, you made sure to shut it with a slam.

The school day came and went with nothing interesting happening, though you and Peter were still giving each other the cold shoulder treatment. The e-mail Ms. Lee sent was still on your mind, though you were hoping that Peter wouldn’t fall through with her demands. This was not the case, though. As you were grabbing your sketchbook from your locker after your last period of the day, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket and take it out only to find a text message from Peter.

Meet me at the library. It read. This made you let out an obnoxiously haughty scoff. There was absolutely no way in hell that you were going to see that stupid boy’s face. You knew if you had to see him again the first thing you’d do was swing a fist as his dumb rectangular face. Then, an idea lit up in your mind, making you smirk mischievously. Why should you have to listen to him? All he did was cause you trouble, and you didn’t need any more of that today. So instead of heading towards the locker, you turn your heals towards the entrance of the school. Making sure to look around for any sign of Peter or Ms. Lee, you blended into the crowd of students pouring out of the school, and made your way towards the nearest subway station.

You trudged your way up the exit of the musty-smelling subway station, where you found yourself stepping into NYC’s colorful Chinatown district. This was one of your favorite places to go in Manhattan. Every time you come here (which was very often), you get mesmerized by the aroma from the restaurants, large, bright signs written in Cantonese or Mandarin, and the soundtrack of shop owners offering their wares to anyone passing by them. Despite your parents wanting to actively avoid the area, you absolutely loved it. Plus, it was the home of the best boba tea in NYC.

Weaving through the bustling market area, where sellers were shouting deals in their native tongues as well as English, you made your way to your favorite boba tea joint in the district. It was tucked into a small, secretive courtyard away from the craziness of the main street, where it was inhabited by humble mom-and-pop shops that were nestled under apartment buildings. Just as you entered the alleyway, your phone vibrated. Pulling it out of your green sweatshirt pocket, you saw another test message from Parker, though this one was much more passive-aggressive than the one he had sent you before. You rolled your eyes and angrily shoved your cracked phone back in the pocket, adamant about ignoring your responsibilities today.

You finally made it to Hi-Tea, the boba shop that you have been frequenting ever since you moved to New York. It was a small hole-in-the-wall establishment that you had found on a whim while you and your mom were exploring Chinatown upon your first week arriving in the state. Your mom found the place tacky, but you thought that it’s pastel color palette was quite charming. The glass doors leading you into the shop would always be painted every week to promote the flavor of the week, which you thought was really smart on their end. You practically came here once a week, sometimes twice if you were having an especially bad day. So, because of your frequent visits, you became friendly towards the staff that worked there, in particular Grace and Frankie.

Both of them were in college, though Grace was older than Frankie by a year. Grace was much more outgoing and bubbly than Frankie, who was more reserved and soft spoken. Though you were also pretty shy around strangers, especially college kids, your recurring presence and Grace’s naturally charming personality allowed you to warm up to the two young adults. To your pleasure, you saw from the store’s front window that both of them were occupying the shop today. You excitingly scamper to the door, where upon opening it, the petite golden bells tied to the top alerting the two employees of your presence. They turn to look up and when they both spot you, Grace breaks out into a smile.

“Hey there (Y/N)!” Grace cheerfully greets you as she’s adjusting her cat themed enamel pins on her pastel green apron, “It’s so good to see you! Are you here for your usual? Brown sugar bubble tea with oat milk?” Yeah, you knew that boba was called bubble tea here on the East coast, but because you were an arrogant Angeleno you still referred to the tasty tapioca balls as boba, much to the annoyance of your fellow MSST classmates. You scrunch up your face in thought comically and stroked your chin, earning a giggle from Grace. Upon briefly scanning the menu that was placed on the counter with your eyes, you say “Could I have a jasmine milk tea today?”

“Of course!” she cheerfully exclaims. As she gets to placing your order, her expression changes as if something occurred to her. She looks up at you and asks,

“Wait, aren’t you supposed to be at work today?”

“I can’t work on Fridays anymore,” you reply in a huff.

“Huh? Why not?” she asks, a curious expression upon her face. You began to tell her all that had happened the past few days; meeting with your counselor, her forcing you to be tutored by the one person you despise, and you getting into a very heated verbal fight with said person. Then you told her that because of the circumstances revolving around the tutoring, you were forced to cut your Friday work hours to accommodate to your councilors demands, much to your chagrin. Frankie, who was listening in on the conversation as he was cleaning up the drink assembly station, looks to you and asks,

“Wait, then aren’t you supposed to be at school right now?” You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, but I decided, fuck it!” you cried and shrugged with raised arms, “I had a shitty past two days! I should treat myself!” Grace and Frankie look over at each other, exchanging expressions of concern and disapproval.

“So,” Grace looks back at you, raising a brow, “you ditched your tutor?”

“Yeah, but I don’t give a shit,” you reply, waving your hand dismissively, “It’s what he gets for being a prick.”

“Still, don’t you think that’s kind of rude?” Frankie questions as he walks to the counter to join in on the conversation, “I mean, I know you guys fought, but can’t you come to some sort of truce?” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at Frankie’s absurd suggestion.

“Please, I’d rather jump off the Empire State than apologize to that shitbag,” you brashly say, rummaging through your backpack as you looked for your wallet, “No way would I say sorry to someone who constantly makes my life a living hell.” Grace and Frankie looked at each other, unsure of what to say.

“But...what if he catches you ditching?” Grace asks as she looks back at you, dismayed.

“There’s no way he can catch me,” you reply with a cheeky smirk, handing over the due amount for the boba to Winnie, “And even if he did, what’s he going to do? Drag me back to school?” To this you let out a short laugh, though Frankie and Grace didn’t seem to find this amusing. Frankie gives you one last judgemental look but says nothing, then goes to work on your order. Winnie opened her mouth to say something but then closed it, deciding it was pointless to get you to see the wrong in your doing. She takes the amount and gives you back the change, though you drop it in the tip jar for them. You moved to wait patiently by the pick-up section of the store, and in just about two minutes Frankie presented you with your drink. You took it excitingly and bid goodbye to the two young adults before heading back outside into the courtyard. A vibration from your phone rumbled in your jacket pocket, so you took it out again to see yet another text from penis Parker.

Where are you? It read, You need to get here now or else. You narrowed your eyes at the text as you read it again, then let out a pretentious scoff. What the hell, was he trying to threaten you now? Little shit was getting a bit too confident! You shoved your phone back into your pocket and focused back on your chilled treat. Just as you were about to stab the plastic cover with the straw, something from above grabbed at the drink and yanked it right out of your hand. Bewildered, you looked at your hand then around your surroundings.

“Shouldn’t you be at school right now?” a voice called out to you. You looked around until your eyes wandered up then widened. Spider-man was casually sitting on the edge of a fire escape, looking down at you with your boba tea in his hand

“You can’t drink that without the straw, you know,” you say loudly, holding up the straw. Suddenly, a web sling shoots at your hand and recoils back to its sender, who thanks you with a nod.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he says, stabbing the top of your drink with the straw, “You’re supposed to be at school right now, right?”

“N-no,” you said, looking away from him.

“Really?” he holds up your beverage and looks at it, “Because Delmar told me you moved your Friday shifts to Thursday since you had a study date with Peter Parker today.” Gosh damn Delmar and his blabbermouth, now you were caught in the act! You shoved your hands in your jacket pocket and continued to look at everything around you but him.

“Care to tell me why you’re near the Lower East Side instead?” he asks, looking down at you. His tone sounded much less playful than usual, making you feel uneasy.

“I-,” you were flustered, unsure of what excuse to come up with on the spot. Then, you looked up at him, brows furrowed and ask,

“W-why are you so concerned?”

“I’m concerned because you ditched someone, which, by the way, is a pretty shit thing to do.” he replies cooly. You then watch as he lifts his mask up to his nose and takes a sip of your drink. At this moment you realized that this was the first time you had ever seen any part of Spider-man unveiled. Though you wished that he wasn’t high up, as the angle made it a bit hard for you to see much of his features. “Mmm, is this jasmine tea? I like the aftertaste. Very floral.”

“Did you steal my boba so you could lecture me?” You loudly ask him and you put your hands on your hips.

“Not necessarily,” he says with a shrug, taking another sip of your drink, “Though the bubble tea is a nice bonus treat.”

“Why does my personal life concern you?” you said, crossing your arms, “This is between me and that dumbfuck. And that dumbfuck deserves to get his ass ditched.”

“That ‘dumbfuck’ is willing to help you out,” he simply says, then takes another sip, “By the way, I think you’re being a little harsh with those insults of yours.”

“Not my fault I tell it like it is,” you snap back, “He’s just wasting my time and his! I don’t need his help, or anyone’s! Plus, he has no idea how to tutor anyone! You should’ve seen how irritable he was!”

“Well, it’s his first time tutoring, right?” he asks you, “Maybe you need to cut him some slack. He means well.” To this you let out a short, cynical laugh.

“So what? He’s supposed to be the smartest kid in our grade!” you cry “It isn’t rocket science; it should be easy for him! Just like everything else is!”

“Have you ever tutored someone before?” he inquires, looking down at you. You didn’t respond. Instead, you ask him,

“What’s your deal with defending him, anyway?”

“Because you’re being unfair to someone who’s trying to help you,” he replies, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his ridiculous claim.

“Help me?!” you shout out passively, “He does nothing but make my life miserable! I don’t want his help!”

“You need it whether you like it or not,” he says sternly, which you found was very out of character for him, “Just like that time I saved you from getting hit by that taxi.” The anger that was boiling inside of you was reaching its peak. All rational thoughts were replaced with the need to defend your ego. And when your ego got involved, it brought out the worst in you

“I didn’t ask for your help!” you spat back out of anger.

“So what should I have done?!” he angrily shouts back, “Let you get killed?!”

“Maybe!” you roar back, your voice echoing within the courtyard. A heavy silence hung in the air, as the two of you glared at each other, a familiar setting to Wednesday. Your fists were clenched so tightly you could feel your shoulders strain. Finally, the masked hero lets out an irritated scoff.

“Fine, if you don’t like my help,” he stands up from the railing of the balcony, “Don’t ever expect it again.” You felt your heart drop into your stomach, regret immediately sweeping into your senses. You just fucked up big time. You wanted to shout back an apology, but before you could he shoots a web sling at a nearby building and begins to swing. You ran after him, calling out to him in anguish, but he was much too fast. Soon you found yourself back in the middle of Chinatown, desperately looking around for Spider-man as he disappeared into the city, leaving you guilt-ridden and ashamed.

Misery plagued your emotions for the rest of your Friday through Sunday. All you could do was wallow in your sorrow over pissing off your crush. You couldn’t feel more humiliated!

You wondered, though if you were being as unreasonable as Spider-man claimed. Of course not! you think countering yourself. That little twerp always acts like he’s the best at everything and constantly rubs it in your face! Well, not literally, but it happens when he gets the highest exam scores, when he wins first prize at the school’s annual science fair, and when he boasts about how he’s working for Stark! Ugh, he just pisses you off!

It annoyed you how enamored your parents were by his success. Why couldn’t they set the bar lower, like comparing you to Flash! You’d at least beat him! But no, it’s always Peter. “If you studied harder, you’d be at the same level as Peter!”, “I bet Peter gets straight A’s in all of his classes!”, “You should pick a more practical major, like Peter!”. The constant praise they give him in contrast to the scolding you received only fueled your hatred for him. And Spider-man knew this! You had expressed your dismay with your classmate several times since you met him so it only made you more upset that he decided to defend Peter!

Yet you still felt guilty about snapping at him so harshly. Not only did you ruin your friendship with him, but all chance of finding out who his true identity was! Now you were never going to see him again! It took all the willpower you had in you to resist slamming your head against a wall. This regret was consuming you alive, so in order to relieve yourself of it, you turned to MJ for advice.

On Sunday you related to her the past two days as well as your emotional roller coaster while watching Pride and Prejudice through facetime together (the 2005 version, though MJ was very vocal about the historical inaccuracies of the costumes, but you didn’t care because Kiera Knightly was so damn good looking in this). She listened to you intently as she watched you explain everything, and as you wrapped up she leaned back onto her bed frame, taking all of this in.

“Well, that’s...something,” she finally says after a long pause, “You managed to piss off Spider-man...that’s pretty incredible.”

“Now isn’t the time to be sarcastic, MJ!” you cry out as you hang your head in shame. MJ was the only person you had confined to about your friendship with the blue and red hero of Queens, as well as your harboring feelings for him. MJ teases you about it every now and then, but she overall has kept her word of secrecy on the matter, which you greatly appreciated.

“You’re going to think I’m crazy,” she continues, “But I think he had a point about Peter. Listen, I love to poke fun at that little white boy, but you take it to a whole other level.” This makes you frown in response.

“He deserves it,” you mumble back, but just loud enough for her to hear. Now it was her turn to frown.

“Does he?” she asks you, “I can’t believe I’m taking his side, but Peter’s hasn’t done anything wrong. I think your jealousy is taking things out of context.”

“I’m not jealous of him!” you claim, “Why should I be!? I don’t want to be a stupid science nerd like him.”

“I’m a science nerd,” MJ points out, “So is Ned. Are we stupid?”

“You’re different,” you retort back if a huff, “You’re cool and weird but in a good way.”

“As I should be,” she replies with a shrug, “But I still think that you have been a bit too hard on him. Which is kind of funny, because I remember that you had a crush on him.”

“T-That was in the beginning of the year!” you hastily quip back, feeling your cheeks flush up out of embarrassment, “That was before he started getting on my nerves!” It’s true, the first time you had met Peter, you were at a game shop with your mom buying a console. It was the first week since you moved from Los Angeles to Queens, and the both of you were still trying to navigate the city. To make you feel better about the move, your mom promised to buy you a console that had just been released which you had your eye on ever since it was announced.

When you were in the game shop, you noticed him with Ned, who was accompanying him. The two of them were gushing over the release of a new Star Wars video game which had just been released recently. His smile was the first thing that attracted you. It really lit up his whole face so nicely that you couldn’t help but blush. Then you remembered the horror you felt when your overly extroverted mother approached them and started sparking up a conversation with them (her excuse was that they seemed to be about your age, which she wasn’t wrong about, but it seemed a bit unnecessary!). Peter then noticed you, awkwardly standing a few feet behind your mom with a bag of cupcakes that she had gotten from the city’s famous cupcake shop. He and Ned introduced themselves to you, and the kind smile he gave to you made your heart jump.

The memory made you frown. Now you just felt embarrassed for having a crush on him. Yet again, you didn’t expect that you would be attending the same school, where you found out just how incredibly talented he was. It impressed you in the beginning, as soon as your parents got wind of the bright young boy with the Stark internship, it all blew up in your face. Watching you reminisce upon this, MJ asks you,

“You sure you still don’t have a crush on him?” You answer with a profound and loud no, which MJ interprets as a good time to drop the subject. So decided to get back on track.

“You’re going to hate me for suggesting this,” MJ says, then takes a bite at a pretzel stick from the bowl she had beside her, “But I think you should apologize to Peter.”

“WHAT?” you shout so loud that the crows in the tree out in the backyard were startled.

“Here me out,” MJ begins, her hands held up in defense, “You feel guilty about yelling at Spider-man, right?” You reply with a nod.

“Well, wasn’t the reason why he was upset with you was because you ditched Peter? Maybe if you apologize to Peter, Spider-man could forgive you.”

“I don’t need to apologize to him!” you retort, crossing your arms in a huff.

“Even if you don’t want to, you should,” she replies, taking another bite of a pretzel stick, “It’s that or you never see your Spider-boyfriend again.” This makes you frown out of dissatisfaction, and you ask her,

“How would Spider-man even know that I apologized to him?!”

“Doesn’t Peter work at Stark? I remember him mentioning that he and Spider-man were buds. You could ask Peter if you could talk to Spider-man.” she answers. Though you doubted the possibility of this happening, MJ might not be wrong. If what she’s saying is true then that means if you apologized to Peter then you could make up with Spider-man!

“How do I make up with Peter?” you ask her with a determined look on your face. MJ smirks in satisfaction, pleased to have gotten to you. She tells you,

“First you admit what a big dingus you’ve been towards him.” This makes your frown, much to the amusement of your friend. She continues,

“Then you should get to know him better, not as who you think he is, but for who he really is.” You frown in thought.

“Look at Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy’s relationship, for example,” she suggests, “At first she judges him based on her assumptions about him. She thinks he’s stuck up, cold, rude, and selfish, which leads her to probably one of the best roasts in literary history. Though it turns out that he’s just very socially awkward and that she was misled by false information about him.”

“What’chya getting at?” you ask her, suspicious of her ramblings

“Well, maybe like Elizabeth, you’re letting your pride misjudge Peter.” she proposes.

“Maybe my pride is correct.” you say firmly.

“God, you are so stubborn!” MJ groans, “Do you want to see Spider-man or not?!” This makes you shut your mouth, and you allow her to continue.

“Okay,” she lets out a huff, “Whether you’re right or wrong, taking the time to get to know Peter will benefit you. You could learn a lot about him. And who knows? Maybe you can find out something about Spider-man, too?” This peaks your interest. Could she be right about that? You had no idea how close Spider-man and Peter were, but the tutoring lessons could be helpful in trying to use Peter to figure out who the masked hero was. It sounded sleazy, but it felt like good motivation to make up with him.

“Tomorrow, as soon as you get to school, talk to him privately and apologize to him,” she tells you, “And sound like you mean it, even if you don’t.” You let out a groan. It was annoying that you had to make up with him, but with MJ’s suggestion (and your grade on the line) you knew you were out of options. It was either suck it up and go with it or fail your classes and lose the potential freedom from your parents. As you and MJ continued to watch the movie, you could yourself ponder over your first feelings towards Peter again.

The next day at school you arrived early in order to locate Peter. The weather had chilled considerably, so today you dawned your red down coat that was perfect for the cool, overcast morning. You hustled yourself quickly to the lockers, hoping to catch Ned and Peter. Instead, you spotted Ms. Lee by your locker, staring down at you from across the hallway. His made you immediately stop you in your tracks, a cold sweat rushing throughout your body. She beckoned you to come towards her, to which you sheepishly complied. By the sour look on her face, you could tell you were in deep shit. She greets you with a cross-sounding “Good morning”, which you meekly wished her one as well.

“Mr. Fill informed me that you didn’t show up to meet with Peter on Friday,” she tells you, “I was also told that you two also made quite the scene on Wednesday. Would you care to tell me what happened?” You gulped. There was no way you could fabricate a response believable enough for her to take right now. She was visibly upset with you, and you could feel it weigh you down. The right thing to do was to tell the truth, but you were horrified by what would come out of that (see: your parent’s reaction). As you struggled to come up with a response, you didn’t notice that someone was approaching the two of you.

“Hey (Y/N)!” a familiar voice called out to you. You turned about to see who it belonged to and were very shocked to see a cheery Peter Parker walking up to you.

“You left this at my place on Friday,” he hands you a blue spiral bound notebook, which you take with utter confusion. Ms. Lee shared your perplexed expression as well, looking at the teen boy with a raised brow.

“Good morning Mr. Parker,” she greets him, regaining her authoritative aura, “I was just asking (Y/N) about your study session on Friday. Mr. Fill told me that while you were at the library on Friday, (Y/N) was nowhere to be seen. Did this have something to do with your bickering on Wednesday?” You looked over at Peter, wide-eyed with terror at what he would say. Knowing him, he was probably going to use this to his advantage and throw you under the bus-

“Oh, right!” he snaps his fingers as if he remembered something, then turns to Ms. Lee, “(Y/N) texted me the day before and said that the library was too distracting for them. So we agreed that we would study at my place from now on. For some reason I forgot about that and was waiting for them until I remembered! It’s my bad, Ms. Lee.”

…Huh?

There was no way you were hearing this right now. Was Peter covering for you? Was this a prank? It had to be, right?! You sneaked a pinch on yourself and surely enough, this was all happening in real time. While you were busy being confused by your current reality, Ms. Lee and Peter continued conversing.

“I see,” she says, though she sounded suspicious, “And I presume you two made up?”

“Of course!” he replies gleefully, giving you a nudge to help him sell the lie. You snap out of your confusion and give her a hasty nod.

“Well, I’m glad you were able to work things out,” she says with a pleased smile, then turns to you, “I do think it’s better for you to work in a more personal setting than a public one. And if it works, then who am I to complain.” She then bids you two a good day, where you and Peter both watch her walk down the hall. Just as she was out of earshot, you decided that this would be the perfect chance to apologize to him.

“Peter,” you quickly turned to him, “I-”

“Meet me at the football bleachers during break,” he cuts you off coolly, still looking towards the hall, “We need to talk.” The first warning bell chimes throughout the school, and the hall begins to bustle with high schoolers desperate to make it to their first period on time. So he leaves you alone, perplexed with all that just occurred and anxious for what’s to come during break.

As soon as biology wrapped up, you sprinted past some students towards MSST’s football field. The chilled air hit you as soon as you opened the doors to the field , tickling your cheeks. You jogged across the football field, where students were spending their break tossing playing catch, jogging around the field, or just sitting on the grass and chatting. Halfway into your jog you spotted Peter, who was sitting in the mid-section of the bleachers. You hurried yourself towards his direction quickly, the anticipation clenching your stomach. He notices you and gives you a surprised look.

Guess he didn’t expect me to show up, you think to yourself as you trudge up the metal bleachers. You finally reached him and sat beside him (leaving space between the two of you, of course) in a huff. There was silence at first, besides the sounds of the schoolyard. You wondered if you should speak up first, but for some reason you couldn’t think of anything to say. The cold air made you shove your hands in your pockets, and you look towards him, where he continued to look out to the field, a very serious expression plastered across his face. This was the first time you had ever seen the awkwardly goofy Peter Parker look so stern, and though you would usually find pleasure in seeing him so pissed, it actually scared you a little. After what felt like an eternity, Peter finally spoke up,

“You have a real shit attitude, you know.” The cool bluntness takes you by surprise. In all of the months you have bullied Peter, this was the first time he has ever cussed at you. You wondered how long he’s been waiting to do that. He exhales a long, controlled breath and continues to talk,

“I would love to know what I did for you to hate me so much. Because last time I checked, I’ve been nothing but nice to you since you moved here. Was it something I said? Something I did?!” He turns to you, his glare piercing through your soul as he waits for a response. You opened your mouth, but words evaded you. For the first time Peter has left you speechless. The cockiness you usually had towards him was nowhere to be found. No snarky comeback, no rolling of the eyes, all you could do was gape at him. Peter, seeing that you weren’t answering, turns back to look at the field and continue speaking,

“I’ll be honest, I don’t think this is going to work out. Us working together. I’m going to talk to Ms. Lee and see if she can set you up with someone else.” Shit, this wasn’t good! You were going to lose your chance at apologizing to Spider-man! You had to do something, quick!

“No!” you reply with a shout, grabbing his arm out of impulse. The shout was a little too loud as it echoes throughout the field, catching the attention of everyone there. He looks at you, startled by both the shout and the grip. Noticing the eyes turned to you and Peter, a blush flushing your cheeks. You immediately retreat your hand as students went back to minding their own business, then take a breath to control yourself.

“I-I mean,” you looked at him, sheepishly. Come on, (Y/N), it’s now or never!

“I’m sorry.” you say.

To say Peter was shocked was an understatement. He gave you the most puzzled you have ever seen anyone give you, and who could blame him? An apology from you wasn’t what he was expecting from you. He thought the most you would do was scoff and walk away, unbothered, so now he was caught off guard.

“I’m sorry for being such a huge asshole on Wednesday” you continue, forcing yourself to look him in the eyes, “And for ditching you on Friday. It was uncalled for. I should’ve talked to you instead of ignoring you.”

“I’m so sorry,” you repeat, “I still want to work with you. Please forgive me.” There was silence yet again, and you could see that Peter was still processing your apology. You look at him, concerned and wondering if he was malfunctioning because he hadn’t said a word. He finally lets out an exhale, and you felt relieved that you hadn’t short circuited him. Finally, he says,

“Okay, I forgive you.” he says. You blink in surprise.

“What?” you say.

“I forgive you,” he repeats, amused by your reaction. Though today was just full of unexpected surprises, you felt a sense of relief from his words. However, a sense of guilt sat in your stomach, remembering that you were doing this for your own personal gain.

As long as he doesn’t find out, you have nothing to worry about, you convince yourself, though the feeling didn’t go away.

“Though if we’re going to continue working together, I suggest we make my lie a reality.” he says.

“What do you mean?” you ask him quizzically.

“I mean that you actually come over and study at my place.” he says. You widen your eyes in surprise. Was he being serious?! It was impressive that he wanted to be so committed to his fabricated tale, but didn’t this seem like a little much?

“A-are you sure?” you ask, perplexed by the idea. He nods.

“I am,” he says, “My aunt wouldn’t mind. She likes the company, anyway.” You take a minute to think this through. Going to Peter’s place would mean you were going to spend much more time with him, considering the travel time from Midtown to Queens. And there would be no doubt that Flash would catch you two together and relentlessly tease you for being with his rival. However, being at his place means that you could get one step closer to finding out more about Spider-man. This was an opportunity you couldn’t refuse. You decided to take up his proposal.

“I’m in.” you finally tell him.

“Okay,” he says, rubbing his hands, “Because if Ms. Lee found out I lied to her we’re dead meat.”

“Let’s shake on it,” you tell him, then hold your hand out towards him. You wait for him to take it, but instead he says,

“I want you to promise that you’re not going to ditch me again,” he says, “I’m doing this to help you pass.” This pinches you in the gut. The guilt you had felt before returned, making you second guess the sincerity of your actions. Why is he taking this so seriously, you wondered, does he really care about whether or not you pass? What benefit is he getting out of this. You didn’t have time to ponder this, so you shook off the thoughts and sincerely say,

“I promise.” Peter watches you, looking for any signs of feigning, but you held yourself up long enough for him to finally take your hand. You give each other a firm shake, settling on your agreement. As you pull your hands away from each other, you remember something.

“Oh, I should give this back to you.” you say to him as you grab your backpack. He watches as you rummage through it, your eyes lighting up when you finally locate it. You pull out the blue spiral-bound notebook he had given you in the morning.

“I think you’ll need this,” you say, holding out the notebook to him.

“Oh, thanks, I need this,” he says, taking it from your hands, “U-um, so do you want to meet up Wednesday after school?”

“Sure.” you say, giving him an awkward smile, to which he returns. Good, now your plan can kick off. All you had to do now was get through studying with Peter. Maybe MJ is right, it might not be all that bad. As the bell rang the two of you headed to your next class together, though the both of you were unaware that a folded slip of paper from Peter’s notebook was not sitting at the bottom of your backpack.

On Wednesday, you were waiting at the school’s front gate, as you promised. The chilled weather made you bury yourself into your coat, and you just hoped Peter would get out soon. He told you via text that he had to grab something from the chemistry room, and though you offered to wait for him by the classroom he insisted you waited for him outside. Watching students pass by, you began to wonder about Peter’s aunt. You had never seen her before, but MJ told you that she was very pretty and was very protective of her nephew. You then realized that Peter has definitely talked to her about you, and now you were beginning to grow anxious. You wouldn’t blame her for wanting to take you down for being a shithead to her nephew, but you obviously didn’t want to deal with her wrath. You could only hope that she wouldn’t be at home so you could be spared.

A tap on your shoulder breaks you from your thoughts and you look to see who touched you, only to be facing Peter.

“Ready to head out?” he asks you, motioning his head towards the closest subway station entrance. You nod, so the two of you begin to make your way towards Queens.

The two of you didn’t talk as you headed down to the subway station, and upon entering the car you grimaced over how it was practically full of people. The next train wouldn’t be until twenty minutes though, so the both of you squeezed your way into the crowd. The both of you were practically shoulder to shoulder, with you gripping the nearest stabilizing pole and Peter keeping himself up with the rail above him. Being so close to him made you feel so uncomfortable from the awkwardness, and you tried your best to avoid eye contact with him as you guys rode. That would only last so long, though. Halfway through the ride you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. Foolishly, you let go of the pole to retrieve it, but you didn’t realize that you were reaching another stop. The cart began to halt, the force of it all making you lose your footing. You tried to re-stabilize yourself but you felt your body fall backward, making you let out a scared yelp. Suddenly, you felt a hand grab your waist, stopping you from falling on top of the surrounding passengers. You turn and see it was Peter who had caught you. He pulls you back up and tugs you near him, making you even closer to him than before.

“Are you okay?” he asks you, sounding genuinely concerned. Still dazed from the catch, you nod back and straighten yourself up. You realized that this is the closest you have ever been to Peter, and he seemed to recognize this revelation two and the two of you were stuck in this position for what felt like eternity. He suddenly realizes that he’s still got his arm around your waist, and he immediately retracts it, and you noticed that his cheeks were a slight tint of pink. You took a small step away from him to grab the pole again, and for the remainder of the ride the two of you avoided eye contact.

Soon the stop to Queens approached, and the two of you hopped out of the train car. You followed Peter closely as he navigated through the bustling Queens and eventually got to his apartment complex. Like all the buildings in the area, it was much smaller in size compared to the giants in Manhattan (though you didn’t mind; tall buildings weren’t your favorite thing). After he buzzed in, he let you inside of the complex, and like a duckling you followed him up two flights of stairs and into the second story hallway. Soon you were watching him as he approached a eggshell-\colored door with the numbers 205 plated in bronze above the peephole. He grabs his keys and puts them into the worn door handle, and with a twist and a click he pushes the door open and enters his apartment, where you slowly but carefully enter in suit.

While taking off your shoes you gazed around the space, which was small but it didn’t feel cramped. Peter leads you to the dining area, which was connected to both the kitchen and the living room. Upon the table were several papers and letters, to which Peter apologizes for and quickly gathers up the mess to make space for both of your study materials. Once it was clear of it’s chaos, you slink yourself into the bench situating your bag to left as he sits himself on the right side of the table.

“My aunt May told me she’ll be working late today, so don’t worry about any distractions,” he tells you, pulling his backpack beside him. This makes you internally exhale in relief. He goes into good host mode, offering you snacks and water but you declined it politely since you felt weirded out by your rival trying to be nice to you. The both of you shift uncomfortably in your seats, waiting for the other to speak up so the tension could be broken. Peter, always trying his best, decides to start,

“O-okay! Let’s get started! Um…” He looks at you as he begins to fiddle with his hands nervously, “We can work on inter-molecular forces! Or maybe we should go back to the basics and review atoms and ions? O-or look over the periodic table?” You could tell by his body language that he was trying to be careful with your words, considering how you reacted last time. Though you were slightly amused by how hard he was trying, it did make you feel a bit bad for your reaction last week. You were starting to reconsider what Spider-man had said. You realized that you should probably respond before he throws out more suggestions, so you say,

“Can we work on the quiz from last week? I mean, we got it back today, so maybe it’ll be good to look over it.” Peter was quite surprised by your input, and immediately you feared that you had said something wrong. Expecting to receive some sort of snarky comment, you were amazed when he smiles and agrees,

“Y-yeah! S-sounds good!”

It was quite embarrassing for you to see him look at the 19% grade that was scribbled in bright red on your quiz, while he gloated a proud 100%. Without thinking you made a stank face, until Peter pointed it out while he was looking over your quiz answers. You immediately dropped it, feeling embarrassed at getting caught, though you could help but stare at his perfect grade. For you, it was rare to see those triple digits on your assignments and tests, and when you were gifted with that lucky gem you felt invincible. Is that what Peter feels whenever he gets his scores back, or is it so common for him that he just shrugs it off? Before you could sink into your thoughts even more, Peter flips the quiz back to the front page and looks up at you.

“You didn’t finish the quiz?” he asks you, a brow raised, “Did something happen?” Immediately you felt ashamed, but you tried to hold your ground, not wanting to expose it to Peter. Instead, you say with attitude,

“Why’s that a problem? I just didn’t finish it. Happens to the best of us.” Peter gives you a look, not being fooled by your act.

“Did you run out of time?” he asks you. You didn’t respond, but instead looked away from him, which gave him confirmation.

“I noticed you got stuck on question three, and I get it, I had a though time with that one, too.” he tells you, looking back at the question.

“Don’t try to humble yourself.” you quip back.

“I’m not!” he cries, “Really!” You look at him as you’re not convinced, making Peter sigh in defeat.

“Look, why don’t we just go over this question and the ones you didn’t answer? Then I can get a better read on what’s troubling you with this subject.” You made a small groan, but reluctantly agreed to the proposal, and for the next two hours the two of you went through the quiz. Unlike last time, where he was just talking you ear off, Peter instructed you to write down notes and even re-do the questions, which actually turned out to be much more helpful to you. A few times Peter had to coax questions out of you, which was probably the hardest thing for you to do since you feared ridicule over what you asked. However, Peter didn’t find them ridiculous at all, and would even provide a simpler, straight to the point answer that was much easier to comprehend than Mr. Cobwell’s complex ones. After what felt like forever, the both of you were beginning to exhibit signs of burnout. Peter caught onto this after he watched you stare at your notebook in a daze.

“Let’s call it a day,” he suggests, stretching his arms out to relieve the tension built in them.

“Yes, please,” you mumble, blinking hard as your eyes were tiring out, “I think my brain is going to fry up if I look at another molecular equation.” While you were packing your stuff up, you looked out the window beside you and noticed that it’s already getting dark outside. You wondered if you’ll be back home in time for dinner. Not that you were anticipating it, anyway. The sound of keys being inserted into the apartment alarm the two of you. You and Peter look at the door, which opens to reveal a very beautiful middle aged woman, and you could help but gape at her aura.

“Hiya Pete!” she happily exclaims as she takes off her jacket and hands it up on the hooks next to the door, “So sorry for being late, the manager had me sweep before I clocked out.” Realization hits you like a brick. She’s Peter's aunt?! Well, MJ wasn’t wrong about her looks, but you were not expecting her to be this attractive. It seems like she could feel your eyes on her, because she immediately takes notice of you.

“Pete, who is this?” she asks, pointing to you. You feel your body freeze, remembering that you were most likely going to meet your maker when she finds out who you are.

“Oh, this is (Y/N),” Peter says, pointing his thumb to you, “The classmate I’m tutoring, remember? They moved from California last summer?” Out of fear you forced yourself to stand up straight and gave her a small, shy wave.

“I-it’s nice to meet you, M-ms. Parker!” you stutter sheepishly. May took a second to remember your name, and when she recognizes her eyes light up in surprise. She looks over at you, then to Peter. May raises her brows at Peter as asks him,

“Are they…?” To which Peter nods in response. You watched anxiously have their silent conversation, trying to decipher what on earth they were talking about. Was it about the bullying? Crud, you were going to be in deep shit! You glanced at the door, thinking that you should just book it, until May’s expression melts and is replaced with a bright, welcoming smile.

“Oh! You’re (Y/N)!” his aunt exclaimed with delight, then immediately makes a b line up to you, “You’re the one that works at Delmar’s, right?! Peter has told me so much about you!”

“R-really?!” you expressed with confusion.

“Oh don’t worry, nothing bad,” she assures you, waving her hand dismissively, “Actually, quite the opposite!” This makes you turn to Peter, where you give him the most perplexed look you could give a person. Did Peter not tell his aunt about how you’ve treated him? If not, why would he withhold this information from her? Peter reads your expression, but instead of saying anything he looks the other way and rubs the back of his neck. Okay, you needed to ask him about this another time.

“I was just about to invite Peter out for some Thai food!” she tells you, “Would you like to come with us?” Though you were flattered by the invitation, you felt like it wouldn’t be a good idea to tag along, so you say

“I think I should head home. I don’t want to overstay my wel-'' Before you could finish, an incredibly loud gargle emitted from your stomach. You blushed, horrified and betrayed by your own stomach, as Peter stifled a laugh. You give him a glare, making him shut up, which May finds very amusing.

It seems like every other day the world kept challenging your expectations.

Who would’ve guessed that you would be spending your Wednesday evening dining with your rival and his aunt at their favorite Thai restaurant located five minutes away from them? MJ was going to have a field day when you tell her this tomorrow. Well, at least this was better than eating at home, you thought to yourself. You and Peter were seated beside each other, while his aunt sat across from her nephew. The three of you were helping yourselves with servings of the sour and spicy tom yum soup, the sweet but flaming yellow curry, and juicy larb lettuce wraps (Peter’s favorite, or so his aunt claims).

“I’m so glad your mother agreed to let me take you out for dinner, dear,” May says with a smile, “I can finally get to know you a little better!”

“U-um, yeah. I’m kind of surprised she let me come.” you admit to her, then take a sip of your serving of soup.

“Why is that?” she asks you. It would be awkward to admit to her that you kind of expected your mom to make you come home to eat, which would have saved you from this very odd situation you got yourself into. On the other hand, it did save you from having to spend dinner with your parents. It was a strange blessing in disguise.

“My mom is usually strict about me going out with people she hasn’t met before.” you tell her, which was true. Your mom has always been adamant about meeting people you hang out with, though you usually tried to avoid such as she is pretty judgemental about other people. Thankfully, you have been able to save MJ from her unfair shrewdness. It also explains why you never mentioned to her about your acquaintance with Spider-man, as you knew she’d have a handful of shit to say about him. To you, the more you had your parents out of your personal life, the more at peace you were.

“I can understand why,” May says after she swallows her bite of yellow curry, “Especially since you guys are still new to the area. New York is full of wacky characters, after all. Wouldn’t want you to get mixed up with the wrong kinds of people.” You take a glance at Peter, who hasn’t said much during the conversation, instead carefully watching the two of you as he munches down some larb.

“So Peter told me you work at Delmar’s,” she says, “Why is someone as young as you working for him? Especially during junior year?”

“Oh, I wanted to earn some extra cash,” you explain to her, “I want to be more financially independent, you know? So I was looking at other service and retail jobs, however the ones that had openings were full time or had a strict part time arrangement, which wouldn’t work out for school. But Delmar was nice enough to be compliant with my school schedule, so he took me in.”

“Wow, lucky you!” she exclaims with a smile, “Then you must like working there, huh?”

“I mean, it’s a bit boring at times, but it has its perks.” you tell, thinking about a certain someone. This makes your heart heavy again, making you look down at your food.

“Has Delmar told you about what happened to that place last year?” she asks you.

“Oh, you mean the explosion caused by those bank robbers?” you say, perking your head up, “Yeah, he mentions it every once in a while. He always talks about how Spider-man saved him and Murph from the wreckage.”

“Really?” May asks, an amused smile creeping upon her face as she looks over at Peter, who you noticed had froze up mid-bite.

“Yeah,” you say, raising your brow at your classmate’s odd behavior. You turn back to her and tell her, “Actually, Spider-man was one of the reasons I got hired by Delmar.”

“Is that so?” she asks with a delighted tone, her eyes watching her nephew as his eyes shift from her to you. This was just like their weird silent conversation at the apartment! Were they always like this? Maybe this is where Peter gets his uncanny behavior from. You had to pretend to not be bothered by it, so you continue,

“Yeah...he actually introduced me to Delmar a few weeks into my move. I was trying to get to know the Queens area a little more so I took the bus to this area. However about two hours into exploring I got completely lost, and on top of that I had left my house in a rush so I didn’t check how much battery life my phone had, so it had died. I tried to ask around for help but no one bothered, and I pretty much thought I was screwed.” You paused for a moment, feeling like you were saying too much, only to notice d that Peter and May were listening to you intently. Realizing you could continue, you say,

“But by sheer luck, Spider-man was in the area, and he found me by chance. I told him my situation and he offered to take me to a bodega that was selling portable chargers, and since he was the only other person I knew at the time I went with him. And that bodega was Delmar’s! He introduced me to him, and told him about my situation. Since Delmar was such a fan of Spider-man, he actually allowed me to charge my phone in the outlet behind the counter, but I didn’t have a charging cable so Spider-man offered to pay for one.

“While I was waiting for my phone to charge Delmar was telling Spider-man that he was looking for a part-time employee, as his son who used to help him out was off to college in New Jersey. I mentioned that I was looking for work, but Delmar was hesitant about taking me in. For some reason Spider-man vouched for me, and because Delmar is a Spider-man fanboy he agreed to consider me. Next week I got a call from Delmar asking if I’d like to take on the job and I said yes.”

As you wrap up your tale, May was still watching you, seemingly fascinated by it. Peter, on the other hand, had resumed eating, but his expression had changed into a serious one.

“Now that I think about it, I never paid him back for the charger,” you say without thinking.

“Well, Pete here knows Spider-man,” May informs you, making Peter choke on the larb he was currently chewing on.

“Y-yes, I am aware of this,” you say with a forced smile, “Everyone in our school knows about that.”

“Well, maybe Peter can help you out with paying him back, if you want,” she suggests. This makes your eyes perk up in hope. Maybe your initial mission will be finished sooner than you thought! You were just about to express your willingness for this, but Peter jumps into the conversation,

“I-I think Spider-man doesn’t care if you paid him back or not,” he says, still recovering from his sudden choking, “He was just happy to help you out. A-also he’s been really busy lately, so it’s been hard for me to get into contact with him.” Damn it! You hiss internally. You try your best to hide your disappointment, but May seemed to have caught onto it.

“Well, maybe next time you run into him!” May reassures you, but you highly doubt this. For a moment you thought you were going to be ten steps ahead, and now you felt like you were all the way back to the start. For the remainder of dinner, May carried on with talking, while both you and Peter continued to silently eat your food.

After the three of you finished up dinner, May offered that she drive you home, but you politely declined and said that you’d just walk to your bus stop. So then she offered that her and Peter escort you to your stop and see you off safely. Once all of you reached it, you turned to her and Peter, pulling your backpack strap higher to your shoulder and said,

“Thank you for taking me out for dinner. And for walking me here. I really appreciate it.”

“Oh, no problem, dear!” May exclaims as she takes your hand and clasps it between hers, “I’m just so happy I finally got to meet you!” You give her a shy smile, still taken aback by her kindness but appreciative of it. You turn to Peter, who met your eyes as he was fiddling with his hands uncomfortably.

“Um…thanks for today,” you say to him, “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“U-uh, yeah,” he nods, “Get home safely.” You nod in response, and luckily just in time your bus pulls into the stop, freeing you from this delicate air.

“Please text Peter when you are home, okay dear?” May asks you as you make your way to the bus.

“I will, ma’am!” you assure her, and then hop onto the vehicle, making yourself comfortable as you head for home. As May and Peter watch your bus drive off, she comments,

“(Y/N) is just how you described them to me. Definitely a shy clam, but they seem like a good kid.”

“Yeah.” Peter responds, his eyes still watching the bus disappear into traffic.

“Are you ever going to tell them?” she asks, looking down at her nephew

“I don’t know,” he admits, frowning, “Honestly, I’m afraid of what will happen when they find out.”

----

Grace is based off of Chinese pop idol FeiFei Zhong

Frankie is based off of American actor Ian Alexander

#peter parker X reader #peter parker reader insert #spider-man x reader #spider-man reader insert #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #spiderverse #spider-man fics #tom holland #peter parker x y/n #spiderman homecoming #spiderman far from home #bad ideas fic

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a-marlene-s · 5 years ago

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Futuristic Miraculous: Part 1

Couple: TerRI, Terry Mcginnis x Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug/Batman Beyond

Genre: Salt, hurt/comfort, friendship, and possibly more.

Summary: With her childhood friends close by, Marinette knew she could take on the world, even when dealing with a certain lair. It all first started with taking a job for being Jagged Stone’s personal designer and that resulted with her being in Neo-Gotham. All the while Terry is facing the fact he is the new Batman and dealing with all the past Robins wondering what Bruce was thinking in taking in a new kid into the cruel world that is of Superheroes.

Terry McGinnis x Marinette Dupain-Cheng: Futuristic

Tag List: @battysorciere

TerRi Sever: https://discord.gg/2qCNdjs

Age List:

Bruce: 60

Dick: 43

Barbara: 42

Jason 39

Tim: 37

Damian: 34

Terry: 16

Marinette: 16

Penny R.: 32

Marinette refused to cry or look away as her classmates waiting to be picked up to go to the local airport. She could see many of them sneering, glaring or just giving her looks of pity. Then there was Lila… just giving a look that reminded Marinette of a cat that caught the canary.

At her right, Nino held back a snarl that threatened to escape his lips at the sight of Liar mocking his friend. At Marinette’s left, Kim is trying his hardest to hold back his own anger at what was happening. It’s completely unfair how things had turned out for Marinette. She had done everything she could for this trip to happen Neo-Gotham and for it to blow up in her face has become the last straw for her.

Marinette tried so hard to take the high road that the only thing she got out of it is broken friendships. Along with just seeing how depressing the world could be. It has been well over a year since Lila came to Paris and destroyed her life to the best of her abilities. Unfortunately for the Liar, Marinette has two best friends that managed to see through the lies and are now stand by her side through it all. Even going as far too foregoing Neo-Gotham for her.

With everyone’s back turn, Lila took the chance to send a menacing smirk to Marinette before boarding the bus with the rest of the class. Marinette’s eyes narrowed as everyone ignored them as the bus drove off, leaving them in its dust. This hurts.

Not as much as seeing the hurt in their faces when Lila’s reign over them comes tumbling down.

“Kim, Marinette, Nino, I have your work packets for the year.” Ms. Mendeleiev approached the three students with three large packets of work. “I stapled my contact information in each packet. I will have the rest of your work on my website by the end of the month. The packets should be more than enough until then.”

“Thank you, Ms. Mendeleiev for your help.” Marinette thanked her instructor as she and her friends took their respective packets.

“If it means undermining, Miss Bustier, they by all means.” Ms. Mendeleiev snorted, she looked at her students, seeing the determination in their eyes. “If I was your homeroom instructor… things would have never gotten this far, I hope the three of you know this.”

“We know, Ms. Mendeleiev.” Marinette smiled sadly before she started to smirk. “I suppose we should be heading to the airport too if we want to catch our flight.”

“Penny said that a limo will be picking us up as soon as we give her a call.” Nino mentioned.

“Yeah, let’s call her! I want to see the looks on their faces when they see us flying first class!!!” Kim laughed.

Ms. Mendeleiev could only shake her head before she turned on her heal to leave. “Keep up with your work and keep me posted on your work.”

“Thank you, Ms. Mendeleiev.”

-.-

Tim drank what feels like his hundredth cup of coffee in the past hour, it might as well be his hundredth cup of coffee at this point. He was supposed to be in Paris for just a simple and much needed vacation. But of course work has to come first before anything. This resulted with him waiting in the airport with a bunch of high school students that are to go back to Neo-Gotham with him as part of an exchange program set up by his associates and his old Alma mater.

Now… this wouldn’t be an issue. The actual issue being the fact that the one that did most of the work to make this program possible isn’t even here. Tim doesn’t buy that whole, ‘disciplinary actions’ and all that other crap the teacher tries to shove down his throat. He ignored the rest of it and had emailed the associate that had put this together to send him the report from the missing student.

What Tim read made him wonder what the hell is going on in Paris. It makes it appear that they made the poor girl do all the dirty work and pushed her out of her own project at the last minute. As much he wants to forgo this trip, he has to keep up appearances as a CEO. Plus, who knows… maybe the kid will finally get a break from them.

Win-Win? No… it’s a lost for the girl that did everything she could to get her class to go on this trip. For nothing on her end.

“I happen to know Dick Grayson’s daughter, Mar’i Grayson! We are the closes of friends you know~”

Tim’s neck nearly snapped when he turned his attention to one of the French students. Once look over, and he could tell right off the bat she’s lying. First off… he knows all of Mar’i’s friends, safety precautions and to weed of anyone that wants to use her for connections. Second… this brat never spends a single day in the Manor and knew his own kids!!!! Tim guesses that the fact no one recognize him and assumed he’s some random employee that was supposed to be their guide or something.

Otherwise, the liar wouldn’t be spinning her tales otherwise.

“Why the hell are you here!!!”

Tim turned around to see three teens talking animated to a pink haired adult that is showing them a pamphlet. Considering they were all in the waiting terminal to catch the next plane, the four were blissfully unaware of their surroundings. That was until Miss Bustier approached the group but the woman that was holding the pamphlet pushed the teens behind her. Whatever was said by both adults, clearly made the teacher go on edge and the pink haired woman to smirk smugly at her.

With a heavy sigh, Tim drowned down his hundredth cup of coffee and headed towards what he suspects to be trouble.

“Marinette, Nino and Kim are under my supervision.” Penny stated, her expression neutral to hide her contempt. “I have their parents’ permission, the school is notified and that is all you need to know.”

Bustier’s mouth went agape at the woman’s words, even more so at the sight of her student’s smirks that were directed her way. Those three were supposed to be back at the school, not here in the airport. Not being here, waiting for the same plane as they are. She shook her head and tried to say something when it was announced that their flight is about ready to board, informing everyone to get to their spots.

“We must get going.” Penny said, pushing past Bustier and the rest of the students that decided to surround them. “We to get in line.”

Kim and Nino took hold of Marinette and pushed through the crowd as it appeared their fellow classmates were not planning on letting them through. The last thing they needed is more fuel to the fire by having Marinette being singled out for something she didn’t do. Again. Marinette for her own part, ignored the glares and everyone’s attempt to get her attention. As of now, they are not worth her time.

Marinette did however stick out her tongue out at Lila when she caught the other teen glaring at her. Might as well have some fun for now.

Tim, who had been watching, watched as the Marinette Dupain-Cheng be pulled away by her friends by her… friends? Classmates? Whatever she considers them, considering how majority of them were not comforting the now crying Liar. The Liar kept crying on and on how Marinette supposedly had stepped on her foot on purpose.

“Miss Bustier, is there a problem?” Tim asked, causing the French teacher to suck in a deep breath. Ah, she forgot about him. Figures. “Well?”

“Just a miscommunication is all.” Bustier tried to say.

“I assume that was Miss Dupain-Cheng?” Tim asked, raising an eyebrow at Bustier. “The one that is supposed to be dealing with disciplinary problems?”

“She chopped off Lila’s hair!” One of the teens seethed out as she tried to sooth the Lair’s tears away. “And she just stepped on her foot.”

Tim looked at Lila to see that her shoes were scruff free, her hair… well, it’s in a bob. He could only shake his head. Oh, how much he wants to cancel this trip. He’s close to doing it too. Taking in a deep breath, he looked back at Bustier. “Far as I am concerned, she is not part of this trip. You have no control over them. You, however, have control over the rest of your students. Now go get in line, we are about to board.”

-.-

Tim sat in his first class seat, asking the stewardess for a large cup of coffee. When he gets back home, he’s going to apologize to Bruce for all the shit he ever pulled on him throughout the years. This doesn’t include his own kids, but that is beside the point of it all. He had to deal with a bunch of whiny teens that are going on and on how the evil Marinette getting first class seats while they all have coach. Evil this, evil that, and here he was talking with said evil person, chatting away on her dream of becoming a fashion designer and how the Jagged Stone has hired her personally to design his clothes while he’s on tour.

It also helps that the woman from earlier, Penny Rolling is Jagged’s agent and confirmed her story. From what Tim could summarize what had happened was that Lila Rossi had cut her own hair to the point it was unsalvageable and blamed it on Marinette, claiming the designer did it. No one took Marinette’s side except for her two friends, Kim and Nino.

Despite the fact that Marinette was with Kim and Nino when this… accident had occurred, no one bothered to listen to reason. This caused Tim really regret not canceling the trip for the other Parisians. That was until Penny made mention that there was no point in going up against the girl… at that instant. If the girl wants a to be the center of attention, oh, she will get it.

Tim couldn’t help but laugh at the agent’s words before he quickly sobered up. Despite the fact Marinette and her friends are still going to Neo-Gotham, but they won’t have the same experience as the others… although, thinking further into it, it wouldn’t be all that great of a trip for them if Rossi keeps trying to sabotage them at every step.

At least they found a way to enjoy their time in the city…

“Excuse me, Mr. Drake…?”

Tim looked up at one of the stewardess to see her holding a note. “Is something the matter?”

“You have a message from one… Dick Grayson” The stewardess replied uncertainty, handing over the note to Tim.

Tim took the note and a raised eye brow. He watched as the stewardess scurry of before looking down at the note. Unfolding it to see what was written on it only caused both eyebrows to shot up.

Check the Neo-Gotham news!

Tim pulled out his cellphone and turned it back on. By the time his phone had booted up, he was bombarded by many missed texts, lost calls, and many news notifications all stemming from his home city. When he went to check on the latest text, he got another notification from a news station he follows.

Tapping on the notification and the headline of the article has him quickly making a group call with all the former batboys.

Tomorrow is Here, The Return of Batman!

“Okay, which one of you did it. Which one of you is the new Batman… What did you expect, Jason! I haven’t been in the same country, let alone continent… I don’t know, Damian! Bruce prefers to be alone and hardly bothers to talk to anyone outside of the family… Thanks Dick… Let’s get this straight, whoever this new Batman is, is none of us… That’s what I thought.” Tim pulled his phone away from his ear as Dick, Jason and Damian started to argue among themselves on whatever is going on in Neo-Gotham. Apparently, there’s a new Batman and they have no clue who took on the old mantle of the Dark Night. Or as the Tomorrow Knight as people are taking to call him as now. Taking in a deep breath, Tim put the phone back by his ear. “I’m on a plan heading back home. I’ll talk to Bruce about this… What do you guys mean you won’t be here until then?… Just get here as soon as possible.”

-.-

Terry double checked that he has all of Bruce’s medications counted before placing them all in a small plant along with a sandwich and a steaming cup of tea. If he’s going to be dubbed Bruce Wayne’s part-time assistant, he might as well play the part. He has nothing against it, the old man is giving him the opportunity in becoming the new Batman. Plus, but the looks of it, there was really no one there to help Bruce as often as needed. Mainly making sure the guy doesn’t have a heart attack by doing the simplest of tasks… like saving him.

Terry shook his head as he picked up the tray and headed towards the room where Bruce is with Ace. Taking in a deep breath, he made his way to his new mentor.

Pushing the door open, Terry caught Bruce putting something away in his coat. He raised an eyebrow but made no comment. For all he knew it was other medication Bruce doesn’t want him to know about. “Remind me to go grocery shopping later. For a rich guy, your pantry is pretty bare.”

“Alfred used to keep the place stock…” Bruce briefly mentioned, reaching over to Ace to scratch his head. “Tim mainly just whatever he thinks is best for me…which isn’t much.”

“Tim?”

“One of my sons. You will be seeing him often as he pops by to make sure I’m properly taking care of myself.” Terry could hear the eye roll Bruce did at the mention of taking care of himself. “If you see a thirty something year old male that looks like he’s on the verge of collapsing… it’s him.”

“Is… is this the same man that took over Wayne Enterprises?” Terry enquired, placing the tray on a small table next to Bruce’s chair.

“He is. Out of my four sons, he took the most interest in taking over the company.”

“Got it.” Terry grumbled, taking a seat opposite of Bruce. He watched as the older male take his sandwich and eat it uninterestingly. A thought popped through his head suddenly, causing him to tense. “All your sons were past Robins and the occasional Batman… right?”

Bruce eyed Terry suspiciously before nodding, taking another bite from his food. “Your point?”

“Did you tell any of them about me?” Terry asked.

“I did not. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of them barges through that door… right about now.”

Slam!

The doors of the room slammed open to reveal a very sleep deprived male, frantically looking around for who knows what. When his eyes landed on Terry, his slowly blinked over to Bruce and back at Terry before leaving the room. An awkward silence filled the air when the sound of the front door being slammed open and shut.

Terry looked over at Bruce just to see the man still munching on his sandwich. “Who was that?”

“That would be Tim.” Bruce said without missing a beat.

Terry looked taken aback at that statement. The same guy that’s supposed to look after Bruce, the same guy that looks like he’s going to keel over? Yeah, no. Tim looks like he hasn’t slept in months and is need of a proper meal. “…And he now the head of Wayne Enterprise?”

“I’m one of the chairmen.” Bruce stated.

The sound of the front door being slammed open reverberated throughout the seemingly quiet manor. Stomping all the way to the room Terry and Bruce are in. Tim came back, staring at Terry with a wide variety of emotions. “Who are you? Did Bruce adopt you? What’s your backstory? What’s your name…?”

Terry looked taken aback, he looked over at Bruce, hoping for some sort of help. Nope. The old man just took his medication and used his tea to drink it down. “…”

“Well?” Tim questioned, storming into the room. He now stood in between Bruce and Terry, waiting for the teen to answer his questions. “Who are you?”

“His father used to work for Wayne Enterprises.” Bruce butted in, emphasizing on a particular word.

This only caused Tim to raise his hands into the air in defeat as he caught drift on Bruce’s meaning of the words, used to. “Great…. He did take in another one… If you’ll excuse me, I need to talk to my brothers.”

With that, Tim one again left the room leaving being a very perplexed Terry and annoyed Bruce.

“What the hell was that?” Terry questioned.

“…He gets like that whenever he’s off his coffee.”

-.-

Marinette, Nino and Kim did their best to ignore how Neo-Gotham gave them the creeps. It was clear the city needed massive cleaning up when it comes to crime. From what they had gathered, things had deteriorated since Batman had hung his cape for good. Shortly being followed by his former sidekicks. Since then, crime has risen to the point it makes them wonder if the city will ever be crime-free.

Maybe they’ll help while they are in the city for the time being.

“Spots On!”

“Shell On!”

“Show Time!”

-.-

Tim sat in front of the computer mainframe inside the Batcave, on a multi-line video chat with Dick, Barbara, Jason and Damian. “You know him, Barbs?”

“Terrence ‘Terry’ McGinnis has multiple run ins with the GCPD. Even serving a three-month stint in juvie for running with a street gang.” Commissioner Barbara Gordon said, her expression stern and not at all liking the fact that Bruce had managed to find someone to take over the mantle of Batman.

Jason whistled at that. “Damn. What this kids’ home life like?”

“His father was murdered the other night… in order to keep him quiet.” Barbara said, her eyes narrowed down onto Tim. For his own part, Tim wanted to earth to swallow him up. “Something about one of your business partners, by the name of Derek Powers, was creating a formula and one Warren McGinnis was a part of the research division of it.”

Once more, Tim slumped further into his chair as he thought over the business deal he had with Derek Powers. It was nothing out of the ordinary really. They both had something the other needed, and Powers just wanted to use the Wayne’s Labs for further research on a formula. Nothing out of the norm really! This has been done multiple times with different companies in the past. But it appears this time around… it was anything but the norm.

“Powers had Warren killed. Terry found out, and wanted payback. What’s new?” Damian rolled his eyes not at all amused by the entire situation. “I just want to know how he managed to get the suit.”

“Bruce is refusing to tell me anything and all of you know how he is.” Tim said, fixing himself back into the seat before he had the chance to fall off it.

“Does he gave a family?” Dick asked quietly, almost being talked over by Jason demanding Tim to demand for more answers.

Once again, Barbara answered. “He’s now living with his mother and had a younger brother.”

“Do they get along?” Jason asked.

“They do. More so after Terry’s return from juvie.”

“You know something…” Jason mused, he wasn’t facing the screen anymore, paying more attention to whatever was on his phone. “If I didn’t know any better…”

“Which you don’t.” Damian butted in.

“Shut it squirt!” Jason shot back.

“I’m not a child anymore, Todd!”

“That’s enough!” Dick said, breaking up a possible fight. “No more fighting. We’re not children anymore.”

Jason tsk’ed but continued with his train of thought. “The kid looks a lot like Damian when he was around that age.”

At this, everyone turned their attention to Damian who’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, nearly choking on a beverage he was drinking. “Let me assure you, I am not like father who sleeps with random women.”

“…You got to admit… Terry has Bruce’s chin…” Dick pointed out.

Silence…

“Who wants to bet Bruce didn’t wear a condom?”

A sharp ring interrupted any possible bets, Tim reached up and started to figure out what set off the alarm. Pulling up a screen that showed something… really, really… really odd. “So… a ladybug, a turtle and a monkey walked into a movie theater that’s being held up in gun point…”

TBC.

If anyone wants to be part of the tag list, don’t hesitate to ask

#TerRi #Terry x Marinettte #terry mcginnis #marinette dupen chang #ml #batman beyond #dc #crossover #batman #ladybug #miiraculous laadybug #maribat #Part 1

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jaskierswolf · 4 years ago

Text

You Set My Heart Ablaze Pt.2/25

Triss Merigold was bloody exhausted. The start of the school term was always the worst. She had barely had a break for the whole of the first two weeks. She flopped onto the sofa in the staffroom with a dramatic sigh. She loved the kids. She hated the parents. Already she’d been caught up on the phone with parents from the younger tutor forms just calling in to check up on their little darlings. No matter how many times she or the other teachers assured them that the school would notify them of any problems. The parents of the older kids were just as bad, blaming the teachers for their bad parenting skills and insisting that all their children should have been top of the class.

“It’s not that bad Triss.” Istredd Gynvael from the Feainnewedd tutor group hummed.

Istredd was the history teacher for the secondary school children and looked after one of the year ten forms. Overall he was well liked by most of the students, he wasn’t a strict teacher but Triss knew the students sometimes found his classes on the dull side. Not that Triss would ever tell him that. No, that little tidbit was between her and Yennefer alone, maybe Tissaia…

She’d never tell the Headmaster, Stregobor, at least.

“You don’t have to talk to the parents until parents’ evening, Is.” Triss moaned. “I have to deal with them all year round. They all think their angels can do no wrong.”

“We become teachers for the children. The parents are an unfortunate side effect.” Istredd sighed.

There was a murmur of agreement from across the staffroom.

“Sabrina’s mum called me a disgrace and failed artist last year.” Tissaia sighed as she turned a page in her book. “Apparently, they weren’t happy that I gave their daughter some constructive criticism on the use of lighting in her portraits. I’m not going to just throw compliments at every student. They’d never learn otherwise.”

Tissaia de Vries was the school’s art teacher. She was also the form teacher of Forget-Me-Nots, one of the year six classes. She’d been the person to encourage Yennefer’s career as an artist ever since she’d been a student at the school. It had been because of Tissaia that Yennefer had started teaching in the first place.

“Oh hang on!” Jaskier perked up from where he was scribbling in his notebook. “I happen to like the parents of my class.”

Triss rolled her eyes. Jaskier had dropped by her desk at reception at the end of the first day to ask for all the parents’ contact details so he could write his weekly emails. He’d been particularly interested in Ciri’s dad. Of course, Ciri was an interest to all the teachers at the school. She’d already been through hell and she was only six years old. The young girl didn’t seem all that bothered on the surface about her sudden change in circumstances. It was all a bit peculiar.

“That’s because you are a bit of a freak, Julian.” Mr Marx drawled from his corner of the staffroom.

Jaskier’s face turned to thunder and slammed his notebook shut.

Jaskier and Valdo Marx had known each other since before Jaskier started at the school. Their rivalry was legendary amongst the staff. No one was entirely sure of the details behind their feud. From what Triss could tell they had been at University together, both studying music at Oxenfurt. They had had some kind of falling out at some point. No one was really sure what about but last Solstice things had flared up when Valdo had had an affair with Jaskier’s partner. It was also Valdo that had told Stregobor and the rest of the staff that Jaskier’s birth name was Julian, something that her friend seemed to despise. Valdo refused to call Jaskier by his chosen name which never ceased to end in an argument between them.

This time was no different as Jaskier coiled up like a spring, ready to pounce on the other teacher.

“Call me that again one more time and I’m putting in a grievance. Wally.” Jaskier sneered. “Some of us actually care about the children we teach, and that means taking an interest in their home life and working out the best way to teach each child individually.”

“Name calling, Julian. How original.” Mr Marx smirked and patted Jaskier on the head as he moved to leave the room.

“Oh fuck you!” Jaskier called after him. “He’s just bitter because all the year twos wish they were Buttercups and not Foxgloves.” He muttered.

“He’s just bitter because he doesn’t get to talk to Mr Rivia at parents evening.” Triss sighed wistfully. “I would climb him like a tree.”

Jaskier’s scowled faded into a blissed out smile. “Oh he is dreamy isn’t he? Those eyes, like molten amber and that voice. Gods, it’s like sex personified.”

Triss giggled. “I knew it!”

Jaskier went wide eyed and slammed his hands over his mouth. “I said that out loud didn’t I?”

“Must you all be so dramatic?” Istredd called over Triss’s squeals of joy. “I’m trying to mark homework.”

“I think we’ve all earned a break, Istredd, if you want to mark in peace go back to your desk.” Tissaia hummed with eye roll.

Istredd sighed. “Just keep it down, maybe try and remain professional.”

“Oh come on, Is. You’ve not seen him. Geralt Rivia is hot!” Triss nudged her friend.

“Geralt? Yen’s ex?” Istredd put down his marking with a sudden scowl.

“No no no!” Jaskier whined. “Please tell me, I’m not competing with Yennefer Vengerberg!”

“Don’t worry Jaskier, that ship has long sailed. Isn’t that right, Is?” Triss winked at the history teacher. Istredd’s fingers gripped tighter around his pen and he muttered something under his breath before burying his nose back into the sheets of paper in front of him.

“Alright!” Jaskier called. “How many people here have had a crush on Yennefer Vengerberg? Hands up!”

“We’re not your kids, Jaskier.” Tissaia rolled her eyes at the younger teacher’s antics.

“True.” He admitted. “But humour me.”

Triss unashamedly put her hand up. Istredd was next. Chireadan was next and a handful of the other staff. Overall, just over half the staff in the room had their hands up.

Jaskier was not one of them.

“Not your type, Jask? I thought everyone was your type?” Triss teased.

Jaskier gasped and put his hand on his heart. “Triss! Just because I’m bisexual does not mean everyone is my type! She’s hot. I can admit that, but she fucking terrifies me.”

“And Geralt doesn’t?” Triss asked with a roll of her eyes, deciding not to point out that she was pansexual and already knew the myths of their sexualities were not true. “He could probably snap you like a twig.”

Jaskier beamed. “Oh I know!”

“Do we need to chaperone parents’ evening, Jaskier?” Tissaia asked cooly but her eyes were twinkling with amusement.

“I’ll have you know I am a professional!” He gasped in mock outrage. “But yes absolutely. I have no idea how I managed to talk to him on the first day. Gods, he looked at me and I wanted to melt. I could write ballads about those eyes.”

“Please don’t” Istredd sighed. “Geralt’s not that great.”

“Oh come on, Is, you just don’t like the fact he used to date Yennefer.”

“Yenna is better than him.” Istredd scowled.

“Oh ho ho!” Jaskier laughed. “Are you going to finally ask her out then?”

“Shut up, Julian.” Istredd hissed.

“Jaskier’s got a point, Is.” Triss gave Istredd a pointed look as Jaskier visibly bristled at the name. “But what about you and Geralt?”

Jaskier grumbled as he moved to retrieve his notebook. “Nothing. There’s nothing about me and Geralt. He’s a parent and I am a professional.”

Istredd sighed loudly and gathered up his belongings and left the room. Tissaia chuckled as she sipped her tea and continued to read her book, but seemed to be content with the gossip that was rife in the staffroom. Other teachers were beginning to file out as the lunch break was ending.

“But you fancy him.” Triss persisted as she checked the time on her phone. She didn’t need to be back at the front desk for another ten minutes and she didn’t have to worry about lesson planning like the other teachers. Her job did have some perks.

“So do you.” Jaskier shot back. “I am simply appreciating that Mr Rivia is a good-looking man but his daughter’s in my class and you know me, I fall in love with everyone I meet.”

“Except Yennefer.” Triss pointed out.

Jaskier paled at the memory. “I have met Yennefer once and I genuinely thought I was going to die a terrible and painful death.”

“Oh it wasn’t that bad.” Triss giggled.

_________

Yennefer didn’t come back to school very often when she was in town but occasionally she would pick Triss up if they were going to the pub after school finished. Sometimes Yennefer would glide through the halls of her old haunt to reminisce over her days as a teacher, popping in to say hello to her old colleagues. The first time she’d visited after Jaskier had started teaching she’d visited her old classroom, the classroom that Jaskier now occupied.

“What the fuck has happened to my door?” Yennefer glared at the bright yellow monstrosity that stood at the entrance to her old classroom. During Yennefer’s time at school the door had been painted lilac with elegant black silhouettes of flowers.

Jaskier had rather a different approach. His door was so bright you almost needed sunglasses to look at it and his class had drawn their own buttercups to cover the door. Their teaching style was completely different too.

Yennefer luckily had been in charge of an older class and mostly taught English Literature and Language to the Secondary school children. Yennefer was firm, and at times strict, she demanded respect from her students and many of them ended up in detention for missing out on homework or mucking about in class. Yennefer’s theory was that by messing about it was both a waste of her time and theirs. Yennefer was not a lover of wasted time. Every action she took was planned down to the letter. She knew what she wanted and how to get there. Her writing was very much the same.

The scripts she wrote for the school plays were intricate and beautiful. Every line, every stage direction, every detail in the costumes had some hidden meaning that would be revealed later on in the play. As a director she was fierce and many of the older students were scared shitless after their time in the theatre but many also went on to attend drama schools. Yennefer could have become an award winning author, actor or director but that wasn’t where her passion lay.

Yennefer Vengerberg loved art.

She always had ever since she’d studied at the school under Ms de Vries. She was a remarkably talented painter but her real skill was in her reviews and critiques of others art. Her analysis was unparalleled and her wit and sarcasm had drawn in a wide audience from all across the Art world.

As soon as she’d been able to earn enough money from her work at a critic she’d flown from the school, much to the delight of her poor students.

Jaskier on the other hand was a ray of sunshine. He was the sun to Yennefer’s moon. The kids adored him and almost everyone on the staff fancied him, not to mention the parents. His charm could have melted the heart of the ice queen herself and had to got him out of many a bad situation in the past, of course it had gotten him into just as many tight spots as well. Where Yennefer was unwaveringly focussed and unrelenting in her teaching, Jaskier was easily distracted and flitted from one topic to another like a whirlwind. He was kindhearted and nurturing to the children, playing his guitar almost every day and encouraging the kids to be the best they could be. He was entertaining and fun, and every child wanted to be in Buttercups.

The layout of the building had changed a lot since Yennefer’s time and this section of the school now housed the primary school classes which was why Jaskier’s class was now in the old English room.

Yennefer burst through the door, Triss trailing behind her. “Seriously! What the fuck?”

Jaskier jumped up from behind his desk, knocking his paper work all over the floor. “Bollocks! Shit! I mean… oh cock!” His travel mug tipped over as he scrambled after the the sheets of maths homework. Coffee poured everywhere, including down his teal floral shirt.

“Triss!” Yennefer snapped. “Why is there a child teaching in my classroom?”

Triss sighed and walked over to help Jaskier save his marking from the coffee that was now leaking onto the floor. “Yen, this is Jaskier Pankratz. Our new year two teacher.”

“What are you, twelve?” Yen asked raising her eyebrow at the young brunet.

“I’m twenty-six!” Jaskier pouted. “I just have good genes and quite frankly a fabulous skincare routine. Did you want a copy?”

“Are you saying I look old?” Yennefer smirked at Jaskier who visibly started to panic.

“Oh no. No no no. You look very radiant, ethereal! Eternally youthful. Please don’t kill me?” He fell backwards in a fluffy of maths homework.

“Oh dear god.” Yennefer covered her face with her hand. “I thought this place couldn’t get any worse. Come on Triss, there’s a couple of bottles of wine with our names on it. See you around, Buttercup.”

“See you on Monday, Jaskier!” Triss passed him a handful of sheets she had managed to salvage from the coffee.

“Holy mother of…” Jaskier breathed as he stared after the hurricane that was Yennefer Vengerberg.

_______________

Triss giggled at the memory. It had been just under three years ago, back when Yennefer and Geralt were still going through their off and on again stage. Jaskier had looked like a deer stuck in headlights in the fierce presence of Yennefer. Triss knew her friend could be quite intimidating but underneath it all was a loyal friend. A lot of her scary demeanour was just a mask to hide her insecurities. Yennefer wanted everything in life, a family, a career, fame, money, power. She wanted it all.

But she was so terrified that she would never be enough, never deserve the things that she desired. Her relationship with Geralt hadn’t help. They burned brighter than the sun on their good days but their fights could have risen the Gods from their slumber. They pulled and pushed at each others souls, tearing each other apart. Triss had never met Geralt before Ciri had started at the school but she’d been there for Yennefer every time he broke her heart.

“It absolutely was that bad.” Jaskier pouted. “I ruined my favourite shirt and made a complete fool of myself. She was looking at me with murder eyes!”

Triss patted his arm sympathetically. “If Yennefer wanted you dead, Jaskier, you and I wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

Jaskier staggered back and stomped over to pick up his guitar case and satchel. “Wow. Thanks Triss. That is… so comforting.”

The bell chimed in the corridors, signalling the end of lunch.

“Bollocks!” Jaskier cursed and scampered out of the room. “This is all your fault Triss Merigold.”

Triss smirked after him. “You love it, Buttercup!”

_____________

Triss pulled her thick wooden green coat around her. It was surprisingly cold for the end of September and she’d forgotten to bring gloves. She was on home time duty this week which mostly involved waiting in the playground with the kids for the parents who had yet to learn how to read a damn clock. She stuffed her hands in her pockets in a poor attempt to keep them warm. At least her hair was long and thick enough to keep her ears warm. She daydreamed happily about a warm bath and a hot chocolate with extra marshmallows and whipped cream.

“Ms Merigold?” A small voice broke through her daydream and she felt hands tugging at her coat. She looked down at Ciri who was staring back at her with tears in her eyes. “Where’s Coën?”

Triss glanced down at her watch and bite her tongue to stop herself from swearing. Ciri’s babysitter was over thirty minutes late. It was unheard of. He was normally waiting at the gates as soon as the bells rang to signify the end of the day, but today Ciri was the last kid left.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. Come on, let’s go inside and I’ll give Geralt a call.” Triss took the young girl’s hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. Ciri clung on to her tightly and sniffed, wiping her eyes with her free hand.

“What if he’s hurt?” Ciri asked quietly.

“I’m sure he’ll be alright.” Triss reassured her, wishing that she could believe her own words.

The pair of them hurried back inside and out of the cold. Triss let go of Ciri’s hand so she could search her desk for the file where she kept the emergency contact details.

“Mr Jaskier!!” Ciri cried and flew off down the corridor.

Triss looked up to see a very confused primary school teacher, guitar case slung haphazardly over his shoulder, struggling with an armful of small child. His leather satchel had dropped to the floor, books spilling out with a clatter.

“Ciri?” He stammered before he regained his composure and met Triss’s gaze with a worried look.

“Coën’s in trouble!” Ciri cried. “He’s going to leave me! Everyone always leaves me!”

“Oh Ciri.” Jaskier returned the girl’s clinging hug as she sobbed against his chest. “Ms Merigold is going to call your dad. We’ll figure this out together.”

Ciri sniffed loudly but nodded. “‘Kay.”

Triss found Geralt Rivia’s number with ease and dialled, praying that he would answer. She made a mental note to get Coën’s number too, he picked up Ciri most evenings during the week, depending on Geralt’s shift pattern, it was foolish that the young man hadn’t provided his contact details.

The phone rang three times before Geralt’s gruff voice answered.

“Geralt.” He grunted.

“Geralt, Hi. This is Ms Merigold, from Ciri’s school.” Triss started.

“Fuck. What’s happened?”

“Coën didn’t show at pick up today. Mr Pankratz is here with Ciri but she’s not taking it well.” Triss explained in a rush. She glanced over at Ciri and Jaskier. He’d sat down on the floor with her and seemed to be distracting her with a story. She still looked shaken but had calmed down and appeared to be completely captivated by the stories he was weaving.

“I’m on my way.”

Triss didn’t get a chance to reply as Geralt hung up the phone and the line went dead. She strolled over to Jaskier and Ciri, sitting down beside them. Jaskier glanced up at her without pausing his tale of knights and bards and princesses, and she nodded.

Ciri wasn’t an idiot though. She cut Jaskier off mid-sentence. “Is my dad coming to pick me up?”

“Yeah. We’ll wait here until he arrives yeah?” Triss suggested. “No point staying in the cold.”

“Is Mr Jaskier staying?” Ciri asked with wide eyes.

“As if I would leave you here!” Jaskier gasped and placed a hand over his heart, dramatic as always. “You are one of my Buttercups and we stick together!”

Jaskier pulled out his guitar whilst they waited for Geralt Rivia to arrive. Triss always enjoyed watching Jaskier play. She didn’t often get the chance. She knew he played for his class but her job kept her at her desk for the majority of the school day and they didn’t socialise that much outside of work. Occasionally, a handful of the teachers would head to the pub on a Friday evening but it wasn’t exactly the place to start playing acoustic guitar. Usually she’d only get to see him play quietly in the corner of the staffroom if he was working on a new song, or occasionally at a school event.

This was different though, it was intimate like a lullaby being sang in the dead of night. Triss was completely enchanted by her friend and was really starting to wonder how he wasn’t a famous musician. She’d expected him to play something uplifting to distract the young girl but Jaskier seemed to have other ideas. He played a song about heartbreak that was so full of yearning that even Triss could feel the telltale prick of tears in her eyes, and it seemed to do the trick. Ciri cried too but it wasn’t the chaotic full-bodied sobs from before. Tears rolled down her freckled cheeks quietly and Triss suddenly understood.

Jaskier was allowing the young girl to grieve.

He was telling her, through his music, that it was ok to be scared. It was ok to have these feelings and to cry. The teachers had all been concerned that Ciri didn’t seem to have processed the trauma of her young life very well and here was Jaskier, drawing out those emotions that the young girl had kept tucked away. Coën not turning up had triggered something in Ciri, some fear of abandonment that no one had realised had developed.

Triss smiled as she wiped a tear from her eyes. The young teacher had more depth than she’d realised. She’d underestimated him, perhaps they all had.

“Ciri!” Geralt came rushing through the doors, shattering the moment into a thousand shards of shimmering glass.

The girl in question squealed and flung her tiny body towards Geralt. Jaskier almost dropped his guitar in surprise and even Triss jumped a little at the sudden rush of movement.

“Dad!” Ciri cried as she wrapped her arms around her father.

“I’m here, Princess. I’m here.” Geralt reassured her in a low voice.

“Where’s Coën?” Ciri asked wide-eyed.

“Flu. He text me but it didn’t come through until I left work. I’m sorry.” Geralt explained as he kissed her hair. The silver-haired man then looked up to face Triss and Jaskier. “I am so sorry. What do I owe you?”

“Owe us?” Jaskier spluttered. “Geralt.”

Jaskier said the other man’s name like a prayer, fervently and full of adoration.

“You would have been home over an hour ago if it weren’t for me.” Geralt insisted.

Triss noticed with barely hidden glee that Geralt was focussed almost completely on Jaskier. Triss was certain that she could have slipped away and back to her car, and Geralt wouldn’t have noticed. So it seemed that Jaskier’s little crush wasn’t quite an unrequited as he thought.

“Geralt, it’s our job to ensure the children are safe. It was simply an unfortunate and completely unforeseen event. This is not your fault, nor is it Ciri’s or Coën’s. You owe us nothing.” Jaskier insisted.

“Hmm.” Geralt hummed but continued to watch Jaskier intently as the younger man packed up his guitar. “Thank you.”

“That’s quite alright, Geralt. We’re happy to help, right Triss?” Jaskier blushed and looked towards her.

Triss smirked. “Delighted, Mr Rivia, but try not to let it happen again, or I’ll have to inform Yennefer.” Triss teased.

Geralt scowled but Ciri perked up at the name. “Auntie Yennefer?!” She squealed in delight.

“An old dear friend of mine, Ciri.” Triss nodded, throwing a smile at the young girl.

“Please don’t tell Yen.” Geralt groaned.

“Yeah, Ms Merigold. No need to get Yennefer involved.” Jaskier mumbled, glancing down at his feet and then back up at Geralt.

Geralt peered at the brunet. “I thought you only met her once.”

“A story for another time I think.” Jaskier blushed and sent her a warning glare.

Triss rolled her eyes. “Ask Yen next time you call her.”

“Dad.” Ciri tugged Geralt’s arm. “I’m hungry.”

Geralt growled. “Right. Time to go. Thank you for keeping her safe, Ms Merigold. Jaskier.”

“Anytime!” Jaskier replied brightly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Ciri! See you, Geralt.”

“Have a good evening you two.” Triss waved them off.

Once they’d left the building, Jaskier sank to his knees and groaned.

“Alright there, Jaskier?” Triss teased with a laugh.

“Fuck me, he’s gorgeous.” Jaskier buried his face in his hands. “This year is going to destroy me.”

“Wouldn’t you rather Geralt destroy you?” Triss giggled as she pulled him to his feet and linked their arms.

“Triss Merigold!” Jaskier gasped. “No, no. You’re right. Oh good lord!”

“Ask him out.” Triss suggested.

Jaskier laughed weakly. “Not gonna happen. Stregobor would have me quartered.”

“Coward.”

“Absolutely! Come on, I think we deserve a drink! To the pub!” Jaskier announced loudly and together they finally left building for the evening.

______

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #triss merigold #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #yennefer of vengerberg #geralt x jaskier #teacher!jaskier #fireman!geralt #you set my heart ablaze #wolfie's witcher writing

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zeleniafic · 4 years ago

Note

I don't know much Auriga, and that is a travesty cause I love hp ocs. Please tell me more about her so we can fix that!

I’ve never posted about her before!! Auriga has existed in word docs and emails and notes for several years but I’ve never posted anything about her/her fic. She’s very dear to my heart and it’s like... weirdly difficult to throw info about her up here now after just working on it in private for so long?!

Warning that this is INSANELY long even though I tried to condense it, I am so sorry lmao. Auriga means so much to me and I have a LOT of stuff for her from over the years... this really is the “short” version LOL

So anyway... Auriga is Sirius’ twin. She spawned out of a desire to explore the Black family dynamics, and have a character that is not so polarized as Sirius... and, in some characterizations, Regulus too. The story does address Sirius’ darker side (like, say, sending a schoolyard nemesis to potentially get eaten by a werewolf?! bro.......) but for the majority Auriga is the shade of gray in the middle of the brothers, in a sense. She never strays toward Voldemort like Regulus did at first, but she is not as stereotypically “good” as Sirius, as far as the general consensus of the wizarding world is concerned. The “light v dark” / “good v evil” system being SO SO RIGID in HP is something I passionately hate and I consistently reject it in my writings, even with more lighthearted characters. Auriga, in essence, was created directly because of that. She is not a “light” witch nor is she a “dark” witch, and in fact, she rejects that entire dichotomy as I also usually do. She’s just... Auriga. Not a goody two shoes Order member who won’t aim to kill if she needs to, but also not a murdering bigot like the Death Eaters.

Unfortunately, her willingness to get her hands dirty without remorse puts her at odds with the Order more often than not, while her refusal to follow Voldemort makes her a target. She very much gets stuck as a lone wolf figure, which... she kind of always was, tbh. She was very close with both Sirius and Regulus growing up, but the older they get the more fractured it is - she is always stuck in the middle of their fighting or unspoken tension at home, and her being sorted into Slytherin distances her from Sirius. She so desperately wants them to stop fighting and for the three of them to be a united front again the way they were as children, but it just never happens. As soon as Sirius is sorted, there’s a fault line between the brothers and she is left straddling the divide trying not to fall. Regulus’ death is something that fractures her as a person, and she sees it as her greatest failure in life that she could not save him. There is also some other stuff going on in her life, and some decisions she made with lasting repercussions, that make her feel like it is her fault he ended up where he did.

Auriga is... kind of repressed, tbh? The way she was raised, she’s just really emotionally stunted. Sirius and Regulus are too but it displays a bit differently for each of them, and for her it’s being the perfect pureblood princess and having trouble displaying her “improper” emotions or having agency for herself beyond the family’s uses and expectations for her as a daughter.

To be frank, I think her fic is the darkest and grimmest of any of my WIPs. It’s just a very ADULT story, in terms of the themes that play a big role in it and the difficult subjects it tackles, if that makes sense? It looks at a lot of aspects of pureblood culture that are just footnotes in canon, and it builds from there. Walburga and Orion’s parenting being directly abusive in several ways, and the psychological/emotional aspect of growing up in the culture and household that the Black kids did. It grapples with the commonly accepted sense of morality, and how it gets murky in wartimes. And it also tackles the patriarchal elements of pureblood society - betrothals, arranged or even FORCED marriages, and the potential lack of agency/lack of consent for witches in particular that stems from a blood/lineage/name obsessed culture. One of the rifts that forms between Auriga and Sirius as they get older is that he does NOT understand what it is like to be a pureblood witch from a family like theirs, and how different it is from his lot. They can commiserate about their family and their upbringing, but so much of his freedoms are not available to her. When he runs away to the Potters’ and she refuses to go with him, unwilling to abandon Regulus, this comes to a head. Walburga is furious about Sirius of course, and this is shown by how much more controlling she is over the two remaining children - Regulus being pushed toward Voldemort, and Auriga being pushed into a betrothal she was diplomatically resisting beforehand. This is a whoooooole fiasco and plotline that deals with forced marriages, lack of consent, and mental manipulation/use of mind-altering magic in order to trap Auriga into the marriage.

After escaping this, she’s... pretty traumatized, understandably. She changes fundamentally as a character after this, becoming less stoic and composed “pureblood heiress” and instead lets out all the anger that’s been collecting inside her all this time. She leaves the family after she’s mentally coherent again, in a pretty theatrical way, but she is VERY angry with Sirius and - illogical or not - she throws a lot of blame his way for what happened to her, so she refuses to show up at the Potters and instead makes her own way. This is a BIG fracturing moment for the siblings.

A lot of her seventh year is dealing with the repercussions of that forced marriage, both physically and mentally. She’s in a really bad place when the year starts. The silver lining is, she 100% gets her revenge on the fiance AND on Walburga for what they did to her, and eventually she starts to be more of herself - her true self, the one she was hiding behind the mask all those years. She finally is able to pursue the relationship between herself and Remus, which had been building for years but which she consistently denied because she was afraid to make him a target of her family. By the end of the seventh year, she has completely the family off and they are in a relationship.

The golden few years here in the middle, ironically, take place during a war. She has mostly patched things up with Sirius, and she and Remus are dating and sickeningly happy, she’s got true friends for the first time in her life. Things are really good on a personal level, even as they are fighting a war.

Unfortunately, things fall apart again. After Peter’s betrayal and Sirius’ framing, she has a falling out with Remus over his believing the story. Despite all the issues between herself and Sirius, she never EVER doubts his innocence. EVER. She completely cuts Remus off when he starts believing it, and the both of them are spiraling after that. This is worsened by the fact that shortly later she is wanted as a supposed accomplice of Sirius and has to go on the run. It’s not surprising - she was the Slytherin, she was always darker than him, she’d committed lesser crimes or toed the line of what the Ministry approves of... if they named Sirius Black, infamously defiant of his family and a loud and proud Gryffindor, as a Death Eater... it’s a lot easier to make the leap that she was one too. The public wholeheartedly accepts it and she is hated intensely, and is forever on the run after that. By the time it gets to Harry’s time, she’s a pretty dangerous character, even more so than before. She and Sirius reunite, and eventually she and Remus patch things up. There are some lasting complications from earlier plotlines I won’t delve into right now, and tbh their ending is... pretty fucking depressing?! They don’t ride off into the sunset in any way shape or form. But they do get closure, and they do find their own kind of peace before the end. And I think it suits them, and the story, in the end. Auriga’s story was never intended to be a fix-it fic or even really address major HP canon lot elements, it’s very much just about HER as an individual and the different dynamics of what it means to be someone like her in that culture, society, and world.

So basically I’m really mean to Auri but writing about and really diving into difficult topics through her POV is really cathartic for me for various personal reasons and despite her entire life being a FUCKING TRAGEDY, she’s been around for a long time for me and I love her so much and she means a lot to me!! :’)

#this really is the condense version!!! i swear it!!! i just. apparently cannot stop talking about Auri. i really do love her sm #fd: harry potter #ask game #mine #ch: auriga black #a-song-of-quill-and-feather #answered

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qobiin · 6 years ago

Text

i looked at you and knew

pairing: irondad (peter & tony)

genre: fluff, light angst | tony as peter's biological dad au

warnings: past child abuse (howard’s a+ parenting), non-graphic childbirth

word count: 4010

summary: Tony's entire world goes sideways when he finds out he has a son on the way.

part one of one day you'll grow up and see (i'm not the man you think i am)

“Sir, there seems to be a disturbance at the front gate that requires your attention.”

Tony sighs, setting his tools down before he looks up to frown at the ceiling. “Jar, didn't I tell you to only interrupt me in case of emergencies.”

JARVIS does not immediately reply, but when he does, his tone has changed. “I believe this is something you do not want to dismiss, sir.”

“Fine,” Tony groans, finding a somewhat decent rag to clean his hands. “What is it?”

Again, the AI takes a moment to respond, voice low and almost muted, unsure of the response it will receive. “A woman named Mary Fitzpatrick is demanding to be let through to see you, sir. She claims to be with child. Your child, to be exact.”

Tony rolls his eyes but stands up anyway. Plenty of women have claimed to be pregnant with his kid. None of them have ever been true, of course, but he deals with them personally anyway. Just in case.

He walks up the stairs from his lab and strolls outside, shading a hand over his eyes as the hot Californian sun hits him. Thanksgiving has just recently passed and one would think that winter would be prevalent even in Malibu, but one would be ultimately wrong. California is always too hot and Tony loves it.

He probably could have just driven himself to the front gate, but his legs and back ache from all his time spent sitting in the lab, tinkering away. He needs the exercise, no matter how little it is.

Up ahead at the front gate, a woman is standing with her arms crossed. A car is beside her, probably her own, and Happy stands in front, blocking her entrance. Tony rolls his eyes at them both but makes sure his expression is neutral once he is close enough to be heard without shouting.

The woman is pretty with long, brown hair and dark brown eyes. Her build is slight and she is plenty attractive, even with her glasses. Tony can definitely see how he got into bed with her, but he doesn't quite recall the experience of it. If anything, he would be hard pressed to even remember her name if he had happened to run into her someplace else.

“Mary! It's been a while. How are you?”

Mary doesn't say anything, only cocks her head to the side with an unimpressed look on her face. Tony fights back a sigh and waves a hand towards Happy.

“Let her through, Hap. We’ve got business to attend to.”

Happy grumbles, but opens the gate anyway and mutters a curse under his breath when Tony walks back towards the house while Mary climbs into her car. She beats him to the front door but waits patiently as he walks up the drive. Tony takes his time, stretching out his legs as he approaches.

“Let’s go inside, shall we?” Tony asks.

Mary doesn't reply again, but she follows dutifully after him when he steps through his front door. JARVIS does not greet him as he usually does and Tony makes a beeline for his office.

“Please, sit. I’m sure you don’t want to have this conversation sitting down,” Tony says, motioning towards the chairs in front of his desk. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Just water is fine. Thank you,” Mary responds.

Ah, I remember that voice, Tony thinks to himself. He smiles and makes a show of pouring her drink from his bar in the corner of the room. He hands her the cup and sits behind his desk with his own drink in hand.

They stare at each other for another moment until Mary clears her throat and sets her drink down on Tony’s desk. “You know why I’m here.”

She doesn't phrase it like a question, but Tony decides to treat it like one anyway.

“You’re pregnant. Congratulations!” Tony smiles, clapping his hands together once.

Mary doesn't smile back, but he's sure she's fighting not to roll her eyes at him. “I want to get the paternity test done and over with, so you’ll know it's yours.”

Tony nods, all businesslike now as he tips his head up towards the ceiling. “Just need a bit of your blood to do it. Jar, mind setting her up in the bathroom?”

“Will do, sir.”

Mary doesn't jump as the AI responds, which surprises Tony since he usually garners a lot of entertainment by introducing new people to JARVIS. He stands again and leads the way towards his closest bathroom, watching as Mary steps in and closes the door behind her.

He hears the water running after a few minutes and then the door opens and there’s Mary. She looks a little pale, so he offers her his arm and walks them carefully back to his office where she can sit down again. As soon as she has settled, he pushes her cup from earlier back into her hand and sits in the other chair beside her.

He knows next to nothing about pregnancy or pregnant women, but Tony isn't heartless either. No matter what the media may like to paint him as.

Mary is quiet as they wait for the results. Tony added DNA tests to JARVIS’ database after the third woman who claimed he impregnated her came knocking on his door. Since then, he’s improved the software remarkably and shortened the waiting time. He has been thinking about sharing it with hospitals, but what kind of questions would that earn?

Ones he doesn't want to answer, that's for sure.

By the time JARVIS is announcing that he has the results, Mary is looking a lot better. Her water is mostly gone too because when Tony offered to get her more, she politely declined.

And isn't that a game changer? Most of the women he has dealt with before for this kind of business have been angry, nervous, scared or a mix of all three. Mary, on the other hand, is polite and direct. A welcoming change.

“Lay it on us, Jar,” Tony says, eyes on the ceiling instead of the woman next to him.

“It is a match, sir. Miss Fitzpatrick is carrying your child,” JARVIS announces, his tone almost proud.

Tony’s entire world goes sideways.

He blinks up at the ceiling for an indefinite amount of time until he remembers that Mary is beside him. She looks calm, assured too, but Tony has a war waging on inside him.

“I want you to keep the baby,” Mary says, blunt and to the point. “My fiancé and I can’t afford to keep it and he doesn't want to raise a child when it's not his. I don’t want to put the baby in foster care after it's born either. Our child would never live a happy life there.”

Our child. Oh, God. You’ve screwed up big time now, Tony.

“You don't have to decide right now. In fact, I want you to take some time to think about this, but I want you to keep our baby,” Mary murmurs.

“Why?” is all Tony is able to gasp out.

Mary smiles, reaching out to push his hair away from his face. “You might think the opposite, but I know our child would have the best life with you. So just think on it. I left my number with your security guard out front. When you’ve made a decision, call me.”

Tony nods because he doesn't know what else to do and watches Mary rise. He stumbles out of his chair, grabbing a sticky note and pen to write on. He scribbles Pepper’s number and email across the tiny page then scratches those out and writes his own instead. He then tears the sticky note off and pushes it into Mary’s hands, feeling faint.

“I’ll cover the bills, just send them here. Anything else you need, send it here too and it’ll be taken care of. Don’t worry about the cost,” Tony stumbles over his words, half-crazed as Mary accepts his offer.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” she says, folding the sticky note and pushing it into the front pocket of her shorts. “Remember to call me.”

Tony nods again, this time a little less out of speechlessness and more out of agreement. Mary smiles once more, the sight beautiful and heartbreaking all at once. She presses her palm to his cheek and then turns and walks out towards her car, driving away from him with his child.

His child.

Pepper’s going to kill him.

For three weeks, Tony tinkers away in his lab. He refuses to see anybody that isn't Pepper, Happy or Rhodey and works the better part of his days and nights away.

He’s rarely in the office, only allowing Pepper to drag him in when there is an important board meeting he absolutely cannot miss again. Obadiah breathes down his neck for the new plans on the weapon they mean to release soon, but Tony ignores him. Only Pepper and Happy know of his predicament and neither one of them are inclined to give him helpful advice, but Tony can't blame them.

He pays to keep them around. Of course, they aren't going to help him with decisions like this. Decisions that will change the course of his entire life and likely that of his company.

But he isn't giving them much credit either, is he? He knows that either of the two would be willing to listen and put their two cents in about what he should do, but he doesn't want them to.

The fact of the matter is that Tony wants to keep his child more than anything in this world. He wants it more than he has ever wanted anything, but he knows he would only screw it up. His own relationship with his father was vying for his praise and then resorting to acting out instead to just get his attention. His mother was kind and she never allowed Howard to lay a hand on him while she was present, but she never knew about all the other instances either. Jarvis, their butler and Tony’s pseudo-father did, but if Maria did not take heed of the hints Jarvis dropped every now and then, what were any of them to do really?

Tony’s life now is a mess. He jumps into bed with anyone attractive and willing enough, drinks like it’s his last night on this pathetic Earth, and buries himself in his work whenever it interests him enough. Pepper is the one who sets him straight half the time. And still, Tony is a mess.

He has had more than a dozen women claim he knocked them up and only one has ever been true. Only one out of hundreds of one night stands. Tony has always been careful to wrap up, but even then he still ends up with this large amount of woman vying for him to take care of a baby that isn’t his. Of course, he gives them some money anyway because he has enough to spare and he isn’t a heartless bastard. And yet Mary has been the only pregnant woman who ever approached him with a clear head, a determined attitude and a kind word for him about this. He could almost imagine how well mannered their kid would be until he ruined it.

And what about the press? He was shoved into the limelight as soon as he was born. His childhood was nowhere near as normal as Rhodey's had been. It's what made him into the man he is now, a drunk and a workaholic who can't seem to stay out of the way of cameras and flashing lights no matter how hard he tries. Of course, his own father didn't help matters but he can't take all the blame either.

Tony wants to keep his child, wants to watch them grow up and teach them how to ride a bike and tie their own shoes the same way Jarvis did for him. The same way his father did not.

Is it worth it though to subject that innocent baby to all his fuckups and inconsistent behavior just so that he could have even a slight chance of proving he is nothing like his father?

Before Tony can think on it any longer, his phone rings. He stares at it for a moment, wondering who it could be and trying to figure out if it would be worth it to get up from his lab table and walk all the way towards his desk. He almost startles when JARVIS speaks up and glares up at the ceiling.

"Sir, Miss Fitzpatrick has sent you the bill for her first prenatal check-up."

Tony releases a breath he had not known he was holding, rushing towards his phone with a sudden sense of urgency he didn't have before. Mary's email is short and to the point with two attachments of the bill and an ultrasound photo. He can barely breathe as he loads the photo to his servers and blows it up in front of him, hand raised as if afraid to touch the projection. JARVIS has already allotted the appropriate funds into Mary's bank account to cover her bill, but Tony is too absorbed in looking at the photo to do much else.

He doesn't know how long he stands there, simply taking in the sight of the tiny little speck that is his child. JARVIS is quiet as he looks on, not offering something for Tony to latch to.

But it probably isn't necessary anyway.

"Jar, reply to Mary's email and ask if everything is well with the baby and the location and date of her next appointment," Tony announces, not taking his eyes off the ultrasound photo.

"Done. Will you need anything else, sir?" JARVIS asks, tone polite but knowing.

Tony nods his head, wiping what feels suspiciously like a tear from his face. "Once you have the necessary information, please schedule my jet a flight plan for the day before spanning to the day after Mary's next check-up. Look at the available property nearby as well and pick one for me to stay in for an indefinite amount of time."

"Very well, sir."

"Oh, and buy the hospital or doctor's office she visits too. Arrange for all future visits and medicines, whether prenatal or not, to be paid by me."

"Very well, sir," JARVIS repeats, amused.

Tony ignores that, saving the photo in a new folder he promptly renames as "Bambino" while his phone rings again.

Mary is more than surprised to see him at the next check-up.

She's alone, and showing just a little, but she looks well. Tony smiles at her as she stands up to greet him, pressing a kiss to both her cheeks before he settles down beside her in the stiff waiting room chairs. Tony had made sure that no one else would have an appointment at the same time as them, giving them a three-hour window of solitude. He paid off the doctors and nurses to achieve it then also made sure that everybody who had to reschedule their appointments because of them would still be tended to just the same.

So Mary shouldn't actually be waiting to be seen at all, but Tony asked the front nurses to not call her in until he had arrived.

"How's everything?" Tony asks, fixing the ends of his jacket as he avoids making eye contact with her.

Mary takes hold of his arm. "I'm fine, just a little morning sickness, but we're okay."

Tony nods, biting his lip until he decides to take the plunge. "I want to keep the baby."

"I knew you would," Mary says, smiling at him. "He'd have such a good life with you, Mr. Stark."

"Just call me, Tony. You are carrying our child, after all."

Mary nods, still smiling. "Tony."

Tony attends all of Mary's check-ups. No matter how inconvenient it may be or if he has to skip out on a meeting that will determine the wellbeing of his company, he shows up for each and every one of the appointments.

At the fifth one, they find out they're having a boy and Tony throws himself into a panic again.

Is he going to be like his father with his son? Would this be easier if he were having a daughter instead?

The only one who is able to get him out of his head is Rhodey and that's mostly due to a tin of cookies and an indiscreet threat to fly his mother up to knock some sense into Tony herself. Tony loves old Roberta, but he would rather she did not try and give him parenting advice just yet. Maybe after the baby's born. Maybe.

By the seventh check-up, Tony has a room ready and set-up for Peter in both his home in Malibu and the penthouse suite JARVIS found for him in New York. He's read the best parenting books JARVIS had been able to find and started drafting a hundred new codes to add to JARVIS' database once his son is born. He still needs to figure out what clothes to get and decides to wait until he can drag Pepper off with him. The nursery in both houses is painted a light purple with constellations painted on the ceiling. Tony has Peter's crib set up in his room and a traveling pen ready in New York where he will stay for one week after the birth before bringing Peter back to Malibu.

Mary is now swollen with child and tires easily. Tony still has not met her fiancé, Richard, but from what he's gleaned, he hopes he won't have to meet him ever. Richard cares nothing for Peter and wants this whole thing to be over with so he and Mary can have their wedding and continue with their careers. Mary keeps telling Tony she's lucky that Richard forgave her for cheating on him and Tony supposes that he could force himself to understand her fiancé's point of view. He wouldn't want to raise a child that wasn't his either, but Peter is his.

Peter is his son and Tony doesn't like the way Richard treats him. He wonders what would happen if Mary were to change her mind and keep Peter instead. Not that she seems to have second thoughts about this, but Tony likes to be prepared. Just in case.

Of course, Richard does take care of Mary and is there for her when Tony is in Malibu, but as they reach the eighth month of Mary's pregnancy, Tony makes a point of being present often. She has check-ups weekly now, to make sure everything is going smoothly until the birth and Tony attends to some business in New York for the meantime. He frequently invites Mary back to his penthouse and they look over the nursery together, choosing some clothes that they think Peter might like.

Pepper gives him an earful about being away from the main branch for so long, but Tony ignores it. At least until he calls her in a panic when Mary goes into labor two weeks early. She promises to be there as soon as Mary is done giving birth and the thought of having Pepper to lean on calms him considerably. She's always been the one to reign him in when his ego or imagination gets the better of him. Pepper's his backbone and his self-control all rolled into one.

He hasn't the faintest idea what he would do without that woman in his life.

Tony rushes Mary to the hospital and lets her hold his hand with more strength than he thought possible from her as the doctor and nurses rush around them. Her contractions have been getting shorter and shorter as the staff hurries to get everything ready in the delivery room. Tony is forced into scrubs that do nothing for his figure, but then Mary starts to cry. Her screams follow soon after, each tear and shout hurting Tony more than she could ever probably guess. Richard isn't here, but Tony didn't really expect him to be anyway.

Mary's two weeks early and while it means Tony might be able to take Peter home to Malibu sooner than expected, he has no idea what it will mean for him once he is out of the womb. He starts to panic about it, thinking that maybe Peter is just a little too early until one of the nurses looks at him funny and mentions how the baby is a week too late to be considered a preemie and should be fine once out.

Tony calms down after that but winces in tune with Mary's sobs.

It's not until hours later on August 10th, 2001, that Peter Stark takes his first breath and wails loudly as he is received into the world.

He's bloody and so tiny that for a second, Tony is worried the nurse had it all wrong, but then Peter's handed off to him as they work on Mary and he's too focused on looking down at his son to notice much else. Peter quiets as soon as Tony starts to gently rock him, making sure that his head is supported and he is tucked in close to Tony's chest so he feels safe.

Tony thought he wouldn't be one of those parents that claim their kid is the most beautiful thing on this planet straight out of the womb, except he really should have known better than to think that. One look at his son was all it took for Tony to fall in love with him.

Mary is breathing easier beside him, covered in sweat and her hair in complete disarray but she doesn't ask to hold Peter and Tony doesn't offer. She told him before that it would be easier if she never got the chance to hold him in her arms before Tony took him.

A nurse takes Peter back and cleans him up, swaddling him in a diaper that looks huge on him before setting him down in a carrier that Tony can push into the hallway. He steps out while Mary is cleaned up and then transferred to the room Tony set up for her. Tony is so engrossed in drinking in the image of his tiny, newborn son sleeping that he doesn't notice Pepper or Rhodey waiting in the hallway. They rise from the stiff hospital chairs they have spent hours sitting in and approach him.

Pepper touches his shoulder while Rhodey crouches down to look into the carrier and stare at Peter. Tony turns to face his assistant, offering her a smile he is certain has never graced his face before.

"Everything okay?" Pepper asks, eyes flickering from Tony to Peter and back. "Happy wanted to come up, but he said hospitals creep him out."

Tony nods, laughing at Happy's excuse as he turns to stare at his son once again, feeling something warm like sunlight slide over his chest and surround his heart. "Everything's fine."

Peter snuffles in his sleep, squirming before he settles again when Tony leans down, instinctively pressing his palm down on his son's stomach. Rhodey grins at him, patting Tony on the back as he stands.

"Look at that, he already knows who his daddy is," Rhodey teases.

But the jab doesn't do anything to ruin Tony's mood. Instead, he laughs to himself under his breath and rubs Peter's stomach rhythmically.

"It's alright, Petey. You can sleep for as long as you want. Daddy will watch over you and make sure you're safe," Tony croons to his son, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to Peter's forehead.

Peter doesn't grace that with a response, not like he could considering the fact that he can't speak, but the snorts of laughter behind Tony are all he needs at this moment anyway. Two of his closest friends and his son.

Nothing else.

a/n: i'm not sure when a part 2 will be up, but go ahead and send me what you'd like to see as part of peter's firsts (:

#irondad #spiderson #irondad and spiderson #peter & tony #tony & peter #marvel #mcu #series #f:marvel #g:fluff #t:series #p:peter&tony #s:odygu&s(intmytia)#m: fic

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ohcoolnice · 5 years ago

Text

very unpopular opinion: Stop asking for money on tumblr

I’m gonna get so much hate for this but i can’t even hold back anymore.

so i hate to be *that person* because everyone is going through shit, but let me just make my point here:

I’m an 18 (19 in less than a month) year old white girl with a black father and a white mother. I might be bi but i’m really just confused tbh.

This is all irrelevant, though, because I live in an abusive home, which isn’t something i’d stand for if it were anybody else, i don’t give a shit if you’re a purple girl and thanos is your dad and you’re lesbian. It matters when people are hurting. My father controls my bank account, expects me to pay him, refuses to let me have ANY money, and the 20 dollars i have is from babysitting, and it’s hidden in my room, taped under my bed because it’s the only place he might not find it, since he searches through my room on the regular.

I do not have a job, because i had to leave the job i’ve had since i was 14 due to health issues, and i’ve been searching for a job for about six months, and haven’t got anything that’s more than a week (i worked a week on comic-con in the summer). I’ve probably applied to over 100 jobs by now, but I simply don’t have the “experience” that is so required but never given.

I’m currently making money via an online captioning site, that pays per video minute of captions, not per hour spent captioning, so i can spend 50 hours that week captioning, and only make $16. It’s not fast money, but it’s MONEY.

As i said, I live in an abusive household. I was very open about this on the last tumblr i had, but i decided i wouldn’t say anything about it on this one, i don’t like the way i’m addressed once people find out. It’s been so long that i’ve come to normalise the abuse, and it rarely makes me cry anymore, but what does make me cry, is seeing happy families and good relationships on TV. Something i might never have.

I had to use everything I’ve saved up since i started working at 14, over 5 years ago, and now my bank account is empty, and I’m struggling to earn enough to pay off my credit card (had to buy school supplies- i’m a fashion student). I have to come up with excuses why i don’t have certain materials in class when the truth is that i can’t afford anything at all. I live at home with my parents, grandmother, and three brothers.

The worst part of all this is that my family isn’t poor. Honestly, it’s the complete opposite. My father has a net worth of over 3 million, and my mother is not far behind. My brothers are constantly treated with new shoes and clothes and school supplies (two younger, one a year older than me who is on an internship in Halifax), and my parents love to go on multiple vacations each year without their kids, which i understand, four kids is a lot of work.

We’re not in debt and we’re well off. Our house is small, yes, but everyone has their own room and there is a separate apartment in the basement for my grandmother, and we have a backyard that’s oddly large for the city.

So why am i so broke?

Honestly, i’m not sure. I know my father loves me, but the times i can see that are so few and far between that i don’t even know anymore. My second youngest brother stole my father’s credit card and cash multiple times this year, racking up a lovely bill of over $2,000 worth of money stolen.

As a punishment, he has a full season pass to Canada’s Wonderland, gifts for every occasion, and he’s practically my parents’ favorite. Sure, they scold him when it happens and they find out, but their punishments never last more than a day, whereas i am still blamed for attending a year of private school in the fifth grade- something that was their choice, not mine.

And that’s not even the abusive aspect to my house. That’s merely my parent’s preference of my brothers over me.

My father is emotionally abusive, screaming and yelling and calling me fat (though i’m in relatively okay shape, and underweight) and lazy and stupid and somethings i’d rather not type out. If he’s in a mood, I’m his target, even if i’m not home, i’ll open up my email to see a bunch of wonderful new emails in my inbox telling me off.

He’s also been physically abusive.

So many people have told me to call the cops or anything, but at home, everyone is constantly yelling at me, and calling me a liar the moment i open my mouth, but i rarely ever lie because i absolutely HATE liars.

My father hates what i do, he hates what i want to do, because, to him, fashion isn’t a real career. He hates that I’m in art and that i paint and draw and that i barely was able to pass math in high school.

I’m also ADHD. While i don’t have any money, everything i make will be going towards paying my tuition. I have two scholarships, but still have to pay about $8,000 after the deductions.

I currently have a near-perfect score in all my courses, all 100% except one 80% (an 8/10), to which i was told that if he saw anything like it again, I wouldn’t be going to school next semester.

So for my Adhd, I have to take medication, and i’ve gotten better at being able to function without, but i still can’t fully, and it’s really hard to explain what i mean by that, so i won’t, it’s really too complex. For two and a half years, ending this summer, I was SEVERELY depressed: cutting and numb and crying myself to sleep more nights than not. Panic attacks and Anxiety attacks were the norm. Honestly, I have so much shit due that i’m gonna cut this short, because i have four more projects due this week, three due tomorrow.

I don’t have a phone, because i’m not “responsable like your brothers” and I have to walk down poorly-lit and dangerous areas of downtown after class to get to the subway. if something did happen to me, though, i’m not sure my family would really care. maybe my grandmother and my brothers and my mom. maybe my mom.

Basically, I understand that life is hard, but it really rubs me the wrong way when i see people asking for money on tumblr as if there is NO other option. there’s always some other way to do things. I’ve gone through more things in my 18, almost 19 years, than most people would in their lives, in terms of psychological and physical harassment.

And yet i have never asked for money, especially not from random people on the internet. Even though all i have in my purse for the rest of the year is a few coins that i probably just found on the sidewalk, I still give change to church boxes and i still leave food from my lunch next to homeless sleeping people- something i wish everyone did- because while my life might SUCK, other people have it worse, and I know that even if i have nothing, there’s always things i can do about it.

I don’t want pity, or anything from this. I’m just adding all that to help back my point and to show that I understand hardship.

There’s a website called TASKRABBIT and others like it that pays you to do tasks for others. There’s also things like DOORDASH and PETSITTER.COM and hundreds of other alternatives. I have to wait a few days, as you have to be 19 to join many of these, but please consult alternatives before asking others for money, perhaps asking others to give their money to people who have less, like those in shelters with families and children. Donate food etc.

Please stop asking for money. The device you’re using to ask for it on can be used to make money. So please, use the internet. Legally.

I know people can be rude, and I worked as a swimming instructor for four years, so i understand dealing with both difficult adults and children, and I’ve been called things in and out of home i’d rather not say, but that’s customer service for you. The customer is always right, even if they’re a jerk.

There are plenty of things online to make money from, and i company i work for required me to not give out it’s name when i started working for it, but there’s plenty of work out there that doesn’t require an interview or anything.

I’m sure things are hard now, and i’m not trying to be rude, but things like this really bother me, especially when there is clearly other options.

Best of luck to all of you in your future endeavors.

#tumblr stop #stop asking for money #unpopular opinion #i'm gonna get hate for this #yell at me #i don't care #i stand by my opinon.

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gremlinkweenarchive-blog · 6 years ago

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First Burn

A/N: So like I know this was NOT on my schedule at ALL but this song came on shuffle and I was inspired so enjoy this absolute pain. Listen to this song for an extra dose of pain. If you know Hamilton, then you know what’s about to go down.

Warnings: Angst, cheating, mentions of a marriage ending with kids, drinking when upset, but that’s about it

Word Count: 3 K

Tag List: @langdonsinferno, @americanhorrorstudies, @ccodyfern, @michael-langdon-owns-my-soul, @codyfernss

If you knew what today would bring you, you would have stayed in bed all day long, maybe for the rest of your life. It started as any typical Monday, breaking the illusion of free time the weekend brought was always the hardest, but feeling your husband squeeze you tight made you smile. Duncan kissed your neck and you cuddled into him further.

"I don't want to get up," you mumbled.

"Then stay in bed, dear. Take the day off, you deserve it."

You sighed as he finally opened your eyes and looked up at the ceiling. "You know I can't do that. Neither can you, Mr. Secretary of Treasury." You poked his stomach and he let out a little chuckle though it didn't sound as lively as he usually was. You went to roll out of bed, but he caught you, holding you in bed.

"What?" You chuckled.

"Just know that I love you."

Your brow creased. Duncan looked more serious than you've seen him in awhile. "Yeah, you weirdo, I know that."

He leaned up to kiss you. Something sweet and sleepy, but full of love and passion. With that, the both of you got up and got ready for the day. Both of you in suits, and he was staring off into space rather than eat his breakfast when your nanny, Elise, showed up for the morning. You sighed in relief and handed her one of the twins.

"Thank you, Jack is so fussy this morning and I don't know why," you complained and she smiled.

"Babies have their moods just like adults."

They were your first borns, and this woman made a living rearing children, so you believed her.

"Seems to be Jack's not the only one in a mood," she remarked about Duncan, who seemed to be lost in his thoughts.

"Like father, like son I guess," you chuckled, though you were worried about your husband, but you trusted him to come talk to you when he was ready. You figured it had to do with those nasty rumors flying around about Duncan abusing the power of his position. You knew that was crazy talk. He'd never, but already having stared prison down the barrel once, you didn't blame his aversion to these types of rumors.

He got up, without touching his breakfast and kissed Jack and Eva goodbye before giving you one last kiss and hug. The kiss seemed to last forever and once he pulled away, you gave him a smile, but worried was plain as day on your face.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I know you do," you smiled a little more genuinely. That was your little way that you said I love you back, but it also said that he could relax, things weren't as horrible as he thought they were.

He left for the day, and you finished getting ready as Elise got the children settled down.

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

You entered the boardroom on your floor. There was a case that you and your team were meeting for. You saw everyone glued to the T.V. as you walked in, sipping your thermos of coffee.

"Come on folks," you didn't even look to the screen, you were tossing your jacket on a chair and setting your briefcase down, "I've got partner to make at this god-forsaken law firm, and I'll be damned if Dale makes it before I do."

"Umm, Mrs. Shepard," one of your interns spoke, "You should watch this." She turned up the volume, and you looked up.

Shock flooded your system seeing your husband on screen. You read the running banner and it didn't make sense. You read it again.... And again. Sound faded out as you read the banner yet again.

"Secretary of Treasury Shepard admits that the suspicious emails and what appeared to be a skimming scam, was in fact a hidden affair."

You blinked, and you couldn't believe it, but then you heard his words coming from the screen.

"While this act is inexcusable, and I deeply sorry for the pain this causes my personal life, and my family, but I never put the integrity of my position or my department on the line..."

That's all you cared to listen to. Your stomach as flipping. He chose his job, the world over you. You felt like you were going to be sick or pass out, or maybe both. Your intern grabbed your arm.

"Do you want to go home?" She asked you, her eyes were clearly concerned and you nodded.

"Then let's go, the media's going to be swarming this place any second."

She wasn't wrong, and she helped you by grabbing your things and darting off.

"I'll be sure to send someone over with your car later."

In the emotion fog, you had one clear thought run through your head. Remember to hire this girl when she graduated.

There were already camera crews in the car garage when you stepped out of the elevator. You kept a stoic face. You heard clamoring, begging for comments. One aggressive reporter managed to get in your face and making you stop.

"Do you have any comments about the news press your husband held this morning."

Without even thinking, you answered, "Fuck off, bitch," before you pressed past, getting into your interns car. You were sure to hear about that one from your bosses later, but if they couldn't understand that your husband announced to the world that he cheated on you without even telling you first, then they would just have to deal with it.

The drive was silent, and you were surprised that you weren't crying. It didn't feel real. This had to be some awful dream, you were going to wake up any minute. You were lost in your thoughts, but she pulled up to your drive way much quicker than you thought.

"Thank you, Elizabeth," your voice as thick. Your face was wet and you touched your cheek. Apparently, you were crying.

"Are you going to be okay, Mrs. Shepard?"

That name used to bring you joy, a little surge of excitement every time you heard it, even just this morning before this horrific news, you felt a twinge of joy when she addressed you as such.

"Just, Y/N, Elizabeth. Don't call me that again."

She nodded.

"I'll see you when I go into work next." With that, you got out of her car, and walked up to your house.

Elise greeted you and she knew. You could tell by the look on her face, trepidation, concern, pity, sadness, all of it.

"There were people calling, looking for you, so I took the phone off the hook."

You smiled, well, the most of what you could muster of one. She knew what to do before you even knew the situation.

"Uhh, Elise?"

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"Can you take the kids to my mother's house? I don't..." You didn't know what to say. You just didn't want them there. You wanted your space to process. Get whatever you needed to do without having to worry about your children or scaring them. They were too young to understand this anyway. They were just babies, and and maybe, just maybe you wanted to punish Duncan a little.

"I understand, Ma'am. Just call me when you're ready to have them back. Take as much time as you need."

You nodded and she left to go get the children ready for the day out.

You kissed your children before they left, and you waited for them to leave before you went to the liquor cabinet, and pulled out the George T. Stagg, pouring yourself a healthy glass. You didn't care if this was Duncan's 800 dollar bottle of bourbon. You were collecting your alimony early.

Sitting down, you took a breath. This still felt like a nightmare that you were destined to wake up from any moment. You drank half of the glass in one go. This wasn't real. He didn't do that to you. He couldn't do that to you. He told you that he loved you this morning. Sure, he had been a little distant in the past, but he was on the fucking presidential cabinet. Late nights were apart of the deal. He had calls that he could take with you in the room. He needed to take trips for the weekend... Right? He needed all of that for work. He loved you. He only laid down in your bed. You were the only girl for him, he promised that to you. It didn't matter that his gaze lingered too long on your sister? It didn't matter that he never shrugged off a friendly touch from a woman, even if the contact lasted just a hair too long right? None of that mattered. It couldn't matter because he promised you.

Oh God.

This was real. This was real. This was real.

In a sudden fit of rage, you flung the glass against the wall and the delicate thing nearly exploded on impact, and a sob escaped your chest.

He did that to you. He did that to you. He told the world about his infidelity before he told you. He mangled your heart, and let the world see it before he showed you. It felt like your skin was crawling, everywhere he touched, felt dirty and you were crying so hard, you were nearly gagging and choking.

You forced air into your lungs. You forced yourself to calm down. You didn't get so far in life because you broke at every little thing.

Then again, this wasn't a little thing. You didn't let people into your heart, everyone betrayed you. Even your parents betrayed you, yet, you had met Duncan while you were in law school. He could make you laugh, he made your heart sing. You let him in. He made you believe that love was real again. You married him. You bore his children. You trusted him above all, and this is what he gave you in return. You were right, everyone would betray you, given the chance.

The love you held for him was turning to ash in your mouth. You grabbed the bottle, fucking the glasses, and you took a healthy swig.

You made your way up stairs, refusing to look at all the pictures of you and your family hanging up on the walls. You were afraid you would break looking at them. A family, happy and carefree, built on lies.

You walked into your room, staring at the shared bed. The one that you conceived your children on, the one that was supposed to be sacred. You wondered if he fucked the other one on this bed while you were in London for business five months ago. You took another swig. Thank god for the 70% alcohol by volume on this thing.

You weakly moved to the closet. You flipped on the light, feeling like a monster, no, not a monster, a corpse was in there, waiting for you to make it's grizzly discovery. There was a black box you hid behind your shelves. It was a sacred. It was the shrine you built to your relationship with Duncan. You saved every love letter, every card, memories of your firsts, anything and everything. You pulled it out from it's hiding spot and held it close to your chest. You took another swig before you put the bottle down to hold it closer.

Time didn't hold meaning, who knows how long you were crying as you held that shrine, but you knew that your head hurt when you were done. The house was still silent, and it was beginning to feel more like a tomb than a home. You sniffled and picked up the bottle again, taking another swig.

You grabbed a sweater and headed for the backyard. You got the fire pit ready for a fire, and you tossed a match on top, watching the flames erupt and consume the wood while you felt nothing. You sat down in front of it and gingerly opened the box. On top was the first love letter we ever wrote you. A week after you met him, you got it, and all he could do was gush about how you were the most beautiful woman he had ever met and he needed to know you more.

A faint smile graced your face before the thought crashed through your head. "Not beautiful enough."

You took another swig before you looked at the fire, then at the letter. Your eyes then moved every carefully pack to the fire as the course of action became clear.

With a simple flick of your wrist you pushed the paper into the flames, seeing it consumed. There was no pleasure in this, but a conviction that you had to do this. You had to burn him out like an inflection.

You knew it was dark before you were down with ready the letters and burning each one. You were beyond drunk now, but you didn't care. You just didn't want to feel anything, but your chest still felt like it was physically breaking as you watched the flames lick the air.

You heard footsteps behind you, and you knew who they belonged to. You would always know who they belonged to. He was silent. Was there anything to say.

He came closer cautiously.

"What's this?" he asked softly as he grabbed the corpse of the shrine.

You yanked the box away from him and tossed it to the flames. Better to burn it than to let him defile it further.

"I kept all your old letters in there." You explained coldly, "I saved every letter you wrote me. Every last one, and when I was missing you, or when I was sad, or even when we were fighting, I'd read them and remember how much you love me." You let that hang in the air, and another wave of tears almost broke free, but you reigned it in. "I guess I was wrong though."

"Y/N, please, let m-"

"Don't," you held up your hand to stop him. There was nothing he could say to make this better. "You can stand over there and watch, but you are not making this better." She didn't trust him, she didn't trust herself that she could stay strong not to fall in his arms.

"God," she scoffed and took another drink, "I don't even know who you are."

"Come on, y-"

You held up your hand again, and he stopped. You hated him in this moment, but god did you want him to hug you. You wanted him to make this better, but you knew he couldn't.

"You told the whole fucking world that you brought her into our bed," a tear rolled down your cheek. "You cleared your name, but you have destroyed our lives. You understand that, right?"

"You think I could let them think that I was abusing my position? Y/N, you know what I had to go through with my parents, I can't and won't just stand by and let people tear down my name,," he could hear he was pleading, but you didn't spare him a look.

"Well, God forbid, that someone someone whispers against you!" You lashed out finally looking towards, "They whisper against you, and you have to scream!" You screamed the last part, a sob wracking your body.

He went to hold you and you pushed his hands away, "Don't!" You sobbed, and covered your face. He was helpless to fix this. You both knew that.

Finally, your sobs calmed down, and you looked at him again, that hate burning bright. "You want to know about whispers, Duncan? You want to know about whispers that destroy everything you worked for? I know how you look at my sister," you spat out.

He went to speak, and for the third time, you spoke, "Don't."

"I see how other women look at you. Don't you dare think I'm so naive. I see how they fall for your charms.You are just so goddamn charming. I was willing to write off that that was just you, but you always liked that, didn't you? You like their attention, and you are so fucking obvious sometimes, Duncan. " You had ignored the signs, and for that, you could only be angry at yourself.

You shook your head, and you stood on uneasy legs.

"What are you going to say to the press?"

The question felt like a slap, always caring more about the world than his home.

He felt that hatred hardening in your heart. "Don't worry," you said as you wiped your tears. "I won't say anything. I'll let the world wonder what I did when you broke my heart."

You saw the pain in his eyes, he was crying too. You wanted nothing more than to wipe them away, then to pretend that this was okay. To make him feel better, but what then, of your broken heart?

"You threw this all away, you know that, right?"

"Yes."

Her heart broke, but she had one last thing to say. "You know when the time comes Duncan, when Eva and Jack ask about what happened, why mom and dad aren't together, you are going to have to look them in eyes and explain the pain and the embarrassment you put their mother through? I'm not going to tell them. That is your sin to confess."

You had might as well have slapped him across the face with how he looked at you. "Please, Y/N-"

"Get out," you spoke coldly.

"Ple-"

"Get out of my house!" You screamed. You couldn't stand this anymore.

He stopped and stared at you. Maybe it would have been kinder to slap him than to tell him that based on his face. He whipped his face, and nodded. "Alright, I'll go."

#cody fern #duncan shephard #duncan shephard fanfic #cody fern fanfic #hoc fanfic #my fic

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purpleswans1 · 5 years ago

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A New Meaning for Deku

Technically for Villain Month, but doesn’t have much of a focus on the villains so I won’t be tagging it as such. It’s still part of my Villain!Izuku AU though.