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parkertech · 4 years ago

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Tattoos & Tears — CHAPTER 6

a/n: on everybody's 18th birthday, they get a tattoo of their soulmate written on their wrist. for you, it's your best friend who you thought you got over. who even has a girlfriend of his own.

warnings: swearing, slight smut

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The room seemed to shrink more and more as seconds were spent in pure silence. Peter never left his glaring eyes from you, eyeing how you couldn’t look at him. Instead you kept twirling your fingers and looking at them.

You knew eventually the secret would be out, but now that it became a reality, it was way more intense than you thought it was going to be. You’ve never seen Peter look at you like that. It’s always been smiles and laughter, twinkling eyes and happiness. Now, it’s silence and glares, hands in tight fists and waiting for someone to say something. Peter was getting impatient by the minute, and was tired of the rather very undeserved silence you were giving.

“Speak.” It wasn’t a question. It was more of a demand. His void was raspy and cold, causing shivers to run down your back and goosebumps to arrive on your skin. You opened your mouth to say something, but closed it immediately afterwards. You wanted to scream sorry and confess your heart out. You just wanted to drop all your walls and let it all out. But the words wouldn’t come up. It obviously didn’t make Peter happy. It only made him angrier.

“SPEAK!” He yelled at the top of his lungs. He ignored how you flinched and stepped away from him. All his friends could have easily heard him, but that wasn’t his focus either. His focus was on how betrayed and hurt he felt. You never kept secrets from him, especially something this big. His heart was aching from your actions, and it overcame all his senses and gave him no control.

“I....I-I’m sorry...” you whispered under your breath. Peter scoffed. Then chuckled. And then chuckled again. Now he was laughing in disbelief.

“Sorry? Sorry? That’s what you’re going with?” You knew it was a bad starter, and Peter was in complete disbelief. He deserved way more than just a sorry. “What are you sorry for, Y/N? Hiding the fucking fact that you’re my supposed ‘soulmate’?” Something about the way he said soulmate made you lose the shy demeanor, which was replaced with an anger mirroring his.

“Yes! Of course I’m sorry for that! ‘Oh, let me go up to my boy best friend since middle school and tell him the tattoo is his name when he has a fucking girlfriend!“ Peter groaned and looked away, knowing you were somewhat right. But you did more than hide it.

“Okay, yeah, sure, but you said it was Brad! You lied to me!” The haunting memory came back, and it was your turn to look away.

“I had to come up with something! If I didn’t you would’ve been on my ass about it!” You sighed and started rubbing your temples, trying to calm down. “This is exactly why I didn’t wanna say anything! Because you’re in love with...MJ.” For some reason, that last sentence was hard to get out. It knocked the wind right out of you, causing your chest to ache and your eyes to tear up. Peter noticed and looked down at his shoes, his own memories coming back.

“I....I’m not anymore...” he mumbled meekly.

“What...?” You started wide eyed at him, taken aback by his sentence. He’s always been in love with her. Ever since the beginning. He’s done everything for her. He must be lying. That’s the only explanation. “Listen, Pete...my hearts already been broken from this...you don’t have to lie.”

It was Peter’s turn to look at you in disbelief. Heartbroken? What?

“What do you mean?” You sighed, knowing exactly what to say at that moment. The secret was already out. No point in hiding anymore...

“Peter...I’ve been in love with you since freshman year, I was just really good at hiding it. D-Do you remember the week where I went M.I.A?” He nodded and swallowed hard. “That was because I saw you kiss MJ...hence the whole ‘heartbreak’ thing. I went through it already and I don’t want to have to go through it again, so don’t lie and say you love me.” You couldn’t hide back the pain in your voice. Peter’s head was running one hundred miles per hour, causing him to sit down on his bed, running his hands through his hair.

He took in your words and your confession slowly. Heartbreak. Kissing MJ. You love him. As crazy as it sounds, he didn’t even hang onto the fact that you loved him. And he was your soulmate. It all clicked when you really looked at it. Peter didn’t know whether to love it or hate it.

For some reason, Peter’s silence led you to slowly sit down next to him. He kept looking away from you, keeping his elbow on his knee and his hand in his curls. You took a deep breath, realizing he wasn’t going to say anything. “Like I was saying...you love MJ. And I’m with Brad, so...maybe we can put this behind us and act like it never happened?” You proposed. Peter sniffed and looked at you and disbelief.

“We cannot put something like this behind us. And I don’t love MJ, I said it already.” Still in disbelief, you titled your head and squinted your eyes slightly.

“If you don’t love her then why are you still in a relationship with her?” You were putting him on the spot, and now it was Peter’s turn for his anxiety to grow.

“Because I don’t wanna hurt her, Y/N! MJ’s a cool person, but I don’t like her as a girlfriend anymore. I don’t love her anymore.” You watched intently as he kept his eyes trained on yours. Your face fell in realization. He was telling the truth. “I...I love you.” He whispered. For some reason the air became thicker and the only thing in that small bedroom was him. His eyes never left yours, as you both kept staring at each other.

There was some sort of black hole that was aching between you two, causing to slowly pull closer to him. Peter saw as your widened eyes softened, and he titled his head towards yours. His diverted from your lips, then your eyes, then back at your lips again. You were leaning more closer now. So close, that Peter’s breath was tickling your nose and cheeks. In an agonizing and long few seconds, you felt his soft lips on yours, and your shoulders relax. Peter hummed softly into the kiss, feeling his own weight being lifted off his chest. There goes the butterflies in his tummy, and his flushed, red cheeks. Your self consciousness was turned off, as you decided to keep initiating the kiss, and press your lips more firmly against his.

Slightly taken aback, Peter’s lips stuttered before moving with yours. Soft, gentle pecks turned into slow, passionate open mouthed kisses, and you found yourself needing to pull away at the lack of oxygen. Your forehead never left his, both of your eyes hooded and your pants mixing. You looked up into Peter’s eyes, and then his face. Something about how flushed his lips and cheeks were made that familiar desire crawl back all over your body. You didn’t hesitate to fist his t-shirt in both your hands, and yank him towards you for another kiss.

Peter groaned before kissing you back with just as much force, causing a rhythmic smacking sound erupt in the room. His hand started slowly crawling up your hip, gripping it tightly. You softly whimpered before hiking both of your legs next to his hips, straddling him. The position got you closer to Peter, making that fire in your explore even more. To say you’ve dreamed about this day would be an understatement.

Peter was beginning to grow impatient as he pulled away, trailing his kisses down your jawline. You tilted your head back, giving him more access and freedom to do whatever he wanted. His grip on your hips tightened, surely leaving marks as his lips danced on your neck. You gasped as he kissed your sweet spot, feeling Peter smirk against that same spot. He started sucking and nipping, causing you to softly moan into his ear, gripping his chocolate curls and tugging. He groaned into your neck before smoothing the red mark with his tongue. You closed your eyes and hummed, causing Peter to be more aggressive and start sucking more marks into your neck.

Sure, you’ve had your first kiss before, but they compared nothing to what was happening now. No one kissed you like this before. Especially not Brad.

Wait, Brad!

“P-Pete...” you whispered softly. Peter misunderstood your sound for one of pleasure, and started sucking even harder. As good as it felt, you knew how wrong it was and started to gently push against his chest. But he couldn’t seem to take the hint, being completely entranced by you. You started pulling away from him and hitting his chest more firmly. “Peter!”

Peter heard your alarmed cry and looked up at you panicked. “W-what? What did I do?” A million thoughts ran through his mind, but his main one was that he mad you uncomfortable and fucked everything up. His hair was a mess, now being a messy plop of curls, his chest heaving up and down from how passionate the moment was. You took one last glance at how perfect he looked, no matter how messy he was, before getting off his lap and losing his touch entirely.

“T-This is wrong...so wrong.” Peter swallowed hard and looked at you embarrassed, while you tried to smooth your hair down and collect yourself.

“I’m sorry-“ Peter started.

“D-Don’t, just...never speak of this again.” You looked at him with slightly teary eyes before opening the door and storming down the hallway. You quickly grabbed your phone from the couch where everyone was sleeping and made a beeline for the front door, practically slamming it down and sprinting towards your house.

Peter was still in slight shock, trying to process what happened. He knew it was wrong, but you kept imitating it. So who’s fault is it? Fuck, what if MJ finds out? He would hurt her more than ever. He thought he got this weight off his shoulders already, but you pulling away from him made it come back twice as heavy. He groaned and hid his hands in face, sitting in silence with nothing but his thoughts. Now he definitely had no choice. He had to tell MJ as soon as possible.

———

Peter tried texting you before going to bed, but you never even opened them. His stomach was stuck in knots that couldn’t be untangled, the nights events replaying in his head. He kept his hands buried in his pockets and his head down, taking occasional glances so he could see where he was going in the sea of students. He glanced up and saw MJ leaning against his locker looking left and right. He blew some air out, mentally preparing himself before standing next to her. She sent a friendly and sweet smile before kissing his cheek.

“Hey, loser.” She mumbled. He chuckled a bit at the nickname, knowing this might be the last time he’ll ever hear it.

“H-Hey, um, I-I have to talk to you...” He said meekly. MJ’s smile didn’t change as he kept looking at him.

“Okay, yeah, one second, Y/N!” She shouted from the hall. Peter looked behind her, and saw you chatting with Brad at the lockers not too far from them. He noticed you were wearing a turtleneck, probably to hide the hickeys he unintentionally gave you last night. Once he locked eyes with you he looked down and cleared his throat. “Can you come here for a sec? Bring Brad with you.” You furrowed your eyebrows and looked at Brad, only to find him mirroring you. He shrugged slightly before walking with you in front of MJ.

“Hey MJ, what’s up?” You asked cautiously. Peter was silent and glaring daggers at Brad, who had an arm around your shoulder. Much to his please, you gently shrugged it off and kept your attention on MJ.

“Nothin’ just thought I’d need you all 3 for this right here.” MJ pulled out her phone and turned it on it’s side, so the screen was now in a horizontal view. You all moved closer to her and looked at her phone. You felt your heart drop and your face pale.

It was a video of you and Peter from last night, making out—you straddling his waist. The smacking sounds and soft moans didn’t make it better, and your ears started ringing while Peter’s throat started growing a lump at the bottom.

“Y/N...are you fucking kidding me?” Brad asked you, pure anger lacing his voice. You looked up at him, your eyes glossy in tears, your mouth open in shock. “When the fuck was this?”

“Last night. At Peter’s birthday party.” MJ answered for him. Her voice was calm in the most disturbing way, not an ounce of hurt or betrayal in it. You saw as Brad’s jaw clenched, his own betrayal showing through.

“Why the fuck would you do this, Y/N?!” MJ scoffed and turned to Peter.

“Yeah, Peter. Why would you do this, too?” None of you had an answer as Peter looked down at his beat up shoes and you stared at Brad’s hurt expression. The next few seconds are spent in silence before Brad scoffs and turns away from you, starting to walk away.

“Brad, wait!” You chased after him as Peter eyed you, feeling guilt slowly eat him up. He turned to MJ’s emotionless glare and swallowed thickly.

“In case it’s wasn’t obvious, we’re over, and you’re fucking dead to me.” MJ demanded. Her voice was now cold and aggressive, making her even more intimidating than before. She slammed her locker door, causing Peter to flinch. “Have fun with your soulmate, Peter.” MJ spat out, before turning away and walking to her first class, leaving Peter at his locker, the aching in his chest alternating between softening and becoming even more painful.

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Taglist 🏷 (requests are open!)

@marvel4geeks @ladykxxx08 @chloecreatesfictions @joyleenl @witchything @pluckypete @yourneighbourhoodclown @elamvlfoy @trumpettay @pparkeramorr @naioimie @tommyrec @jackiehollanderr @juliebean247 @whatthefuckimbisexual @eternal-writers-block @tomhollandthing @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @perspectiveparker

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker imagines #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #spider man #spider man imagine #spider man imagines #spider man x reader #spider man x you #spider-man far from home #spider-man homecoming #spider man far from home imagine #spider man homecoming imagine #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland imagines #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader

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nomazee · 4 years ago

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Komorebi (2)

komorebi, p.2

synopsis: Tsukishima dislikes the amount of parallels there are with you and Hinata. He dislikes the way you’re so energetic and exuberant when you want to be, and the way you can get along so well with people. He dislikes the way that people are naturally drawn to you, and the way you’re so willing to put time into your dumb gifts and snacks and treats for a team of boys you barely know.

But Tsukishima does not dislike you. And he supposes that’s part of the problem.

series content: developing relationship, (sort of) ooc tsukishima, strangers to (sort of) friends to lovers, angst, fluff, slow burn

(alright!! here’s p2 of this whole mess!! i’m sorry for taking so long to get this out, the week’s been a bit stressful what with school coming up soon.

this chapter is short, and so was my last one and every other chapter i post is probably gonna be as short as this—i mainly want this whole story to be written in these short snippets that contain specific scenes between characters that push how the story progresses, so in a way it’s sort of a collection of thoughts/scenes?? but very....concept/plot-driven. that doesn’t make any sense i’m just spewing words here LMAOA

but tl;dr chapters are gonna be short but for a reason!!! writer individuality or something like that !!!

i hope you guys like this!! thank you for all the support, and happy reading <3)

☾.:°∗★.:☆:.★∗°:.☽

Against Tsukishima’s wordless wishes, you become an annoying constant in his day-to-day life.

While you don’t show up to every practice that the volleyball team has, you make a valiant effort to make an appearance at as many practices possible. You never stay for long, twenty minutes at most, and make sure to stay out of everyone’s way if need be. (Though, Tsukishima would argue that that’s still not enough and it’d be best for you to stay out of the gym entirely.)

On the days that you don’t come to practice, in the morning or afternoon, Tsukishima still catches glimpses of you throughout his day despite not being in the same class as you. You’re friends with Hinata—he knows this already—and it seems that you two are loud enough to catch his eye whenever he walks in the hallway.

He makes it a subconscious habit to scoff under his breath and roll his eyes at the sight of you interacting—you know, as friends do—and he doesn’t miss the knowing looks Yamaguchi sends him when he does so. Tsukishima wonders what Yamaguchi knows that he doesn’t know, himself. There’s not much information that fits in that category, to be honest.

Not only do you bake, he learns, but you like making gifts in other forms. It’s annoying how persistent you are with giving these things out—friendship bracelets in painfully bright colors, little canvases of suspiciously similar-looking landscapes that you cover in glitter varnish to make it “prettier” (your words, not his), and even scarves—yes, plural—that you’ve managed to knit neatly and hand out to multiple members of the team (not all of them, as that would be difficult to manage with the yarn that’s in stock at your local craft store and the amount of time that you have on your hands. But Tsukishima is slowly starting to wonder if you’re able to alter the concept of time in an attempt to make as many useless crafts as possible).

He knows that you’re not directly bothering him—which is probably intentional, and influenced by Hinata mindlessly chattering about the tall middle blocker and telling you all about his emotionless disposition—but he still can’t help but be annoyed at all the attention you manage to grab from the team, during practice, no less. He doesn’t care about the sport, he assures himself, but he cares about maintaining some kind of order in an already order-less team of boys.

Tsukishima finds that your presence lingers with all the gifts you decide to give out—he catches colorful bands around the wrists of many of his teammates, which couldn’t not be yours, necklaces around some of the first years’ necks that have been tucked snugly into their uniforms, glittery earrings that Yachi and even Kiyoko have decided to wear with an odd sort of pride.

At the sight of a navy and orange chevron bracelet tied tightly around Yamaguchi’s wrist as they walk home, Tsukishima scoffs habitually. His friend glances up from beside him, brows furrowed in curiosity. Before the boy could ask anything himself, Tsukishima took the initiative to make a snarky comment.

“You’re really wearing that dumb thing she made? Really?” He pauses to avert his eyes from Yamaguchi’s slowly growing smile of amusement, then, “She makes so many childish gifts all the time. It’s getting annoying.”

Yamaguchi hums, smile still persistent on his face. “Maybe you’re just upset that she hasn’t given you anything personal yet.”

The blonde wants to scoff at that, but feels like he’s been doing too much of that so he rolls his eyes instead. “Yeah, sure. Very accurate, Yamaguchi.”

“I’m serious!” His friend responds, the knowing look in his expression returning. “Think about it. Everyone has gotten a gift except you. Maybe you’re just getting angry about that.”

“I’m not a child.”

“I mean, you’re fifteen. I think that’s still a child, technically.”

“Shut up, Yamaguchi.”

“Sorry, Tsukki.”

The two walk in silence for a minute, which Tsukishima thoroughly enjoys until the quiet is once again breached by Yamaguchi’s comments.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better,” he starts, “she asked me what your favorite color is. I think she’s making you a scarf now.”

Tsukishima lets out a sigh of mild aggravation. “Great. Now I know to keep my trash can empty so it’ll fit in there.”

Yamaguchi returns his friend’s previous sigh, a tone of resignation hidden in the exhale. The rest of the walk was quiet, save for the loud music playing from Tsukishima’s headphones in an attempt to block out any other potential comments.

———

Within a week, Yamaguchi’s guess about your upcoming gift is proven correct. You catch them both right before they enter the gym for practice, shouting their names in glee as you sprint towards them, a sky blue bundle in your hands.

Tsukishima forces himself to turn around and face you, seeing as Yamaguchi does so. The shorter boy greets you with a smile and a wave, while the blonde stubbornly remains silent.

You look up, the upturn of your lips remaining even when faced with Tsukishima’s disdainful mien. You extend the object in your hand, tassels and all, and Tsukishima thinks, ‘Oh, God. It really is a scarf.’

“I made this for you!” You exclaim, followed by a stupid giggle that tightens the strings in Tsukishima’s lungs for some reason he’d rather not get into. "It’s your favorite color— or, at least, according to Yamaguchi. I hope he wouldn’t lie to me…?” You send a playfully suspicious look at said boy, and he laughs along with you before your attention is drawn back to the still-silent blonde in front of you.

He hasn’t made a move to take it yet, but you’re steadfast in your resolve and pester him again. “Here! You can take it. I used this super soft yarn for this, it was a bit more pricey, but I think it was worth it. My mom helped me pick it out. You know, I almost dropped a few stitches by accident, but I’m thankful it didn’t unravel completely! I think I would’ve cried if it did.”

You ramble on and on about this stupid blue scarf for minutes and Tsukishima wonders why he hasn’t tuned out your voice yet. It rings steadily in his ears, and while he wants to compare it to the annoying chime of an American school bell, he can’t seem to make that connection without feeling as if it’s off.

He interrupts you in the middle of a rant about stockinette stitches. “It’s spring,” his tone is dry and blunt, and he doesn’t look in your eyes as he speaks. “I don’t need this.”

Your smile wavers. Tsukishima is the slightest bit shocked at that—at the falter in your ever-positive demeanor, but doesn’t say anything as you give a laugh (stiffer than before, he notes dizzily) and thrust the scarf at him yet again.

“Yeah, well, it’s for the future! Never too early to start stocking up for winter, you know?”

His eyes finally flit up to meet yours, and for a moment he regrets it. The sun is high, and casts gold glitter in your irises that moves like shimmering fabric with each slight movement of your eyes. You blink up at him owlishly as you wait for a response, whether verbal or in action, and he’s snapped back to the present as soon as your brow furrows.

“That’s stupid,” he says, but a hand hesitantly reaches out to take the scarf from you regardless. He hears Yamaguchi take in a sharp breath of air, and your expression falls completely.

Your eyes fall to the side, a little ways away where a lone white flower sits among a patch of grass. “Right. Sorry.”

Tsukishima doesn’t find any pleasure in seeing your attitude change so quickly. He thinks it’s because he wasn’t expecting a change at all—at least, not in this way. You’re just like Hinata, he keeps telling himself, and Hinata doesn’t get upset over his comments, not sad. He gets annoyed, which is what makes his reaction so funny in the first place.

Why aren’t you getting annoyed? Why aren’t you saying anything back?

“I’ll see you later, Yamaguchi!” You walk off before he can say anything else. Yamaguchi gives you a hesitant wave as you turn around and leave, and only then is Tsukishima aware of the fact that you hadn’t bothered to say bye to him.

Whatever, he tells himself. Doesn’t matter that much. Practice starts soon, he should be getting dressed already. He relays this to Yamaguchi, who gives him a look that borders on concern before letting out a sigh and shaking his head at his blonde friend.

A voice in the back of Tsukishima’s head tells him to apologize the next time he sees you. His conscious mind argues that there’s nothing to apologize for, and he forgets about the entire conflict by the time practice begins.

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bisexualalexclaremontdiaz · 4 years ago

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The Magpie And Her Bandit: Chapter 13

Hey yall look I didn't take five months this time! This one was pretty fun to write, I'm sure ull see why in a second. This one's 1054 words and Maggie's POV. Also I put this series on pretty new AO3 account, so if yall could go give me kudos cuz I crave validation. Also please reblog!! Other Chapters

“But, Mags,” Max turned back to her, hand out to grab hers, “You-”

But she was gone.

Maggie could see Max frantically look around from her dark hiding spot, watching as he opened her mouth to call her but then close it. He pursed his lips together and gave a last resolved glance around before turning around, sprinting to the police car where his friends were. His family.

A family Maggie could never be a part of.

It’s for the best, Maggie thought to herself as she watched the red and blue lights fade as the car drove away, No point in messing up his life anymore than I already have.

She waited till the coast was clear before emerging from her hiding spot, pulling her hood up to cover her face and casually strolling away from the crime scene. The cops didn’t stop her as she continued away, waiting until she was out of their sight before breaking into a sprint.

As she ran, her mind raced as well. She needed to disappear, at least for now. Lucky for her, she had prepared for this exact situation.

She ran to her apartment, a small, messy thing she struggled to pay the monthly rent for. Her landlord was outside of her building when she arrived but he barely glanced up from his cigarette to acknowledge her as she continued into the apartment.

She didn’t bother with the elevator, her adrenaline taking her up the stairs much faster than it would have. She rushed up three flights of stairs when she got to her floor, pushing open the creaking door as she slowed her walk to seem more casual.

She fumbled for her key, her usual steady hand shaking as she pushed it into the lock. Her apartment was a cluttered mess as usual but she never cleaned. It wasn’t like anyone ever visited.

Maggie went to her room and opened her closet, digging in the back for her already-prepared bag. She pulled it out, taking a quick moment to inspect the contents.

Inside the bag were several pairs of clothes, some knives, a gun and some gloves, which she pulled onto her hands. Then she opened up the hidden pocket in the inner lining and pulled out a wad of cash, flipping through it quickly and deeming it not enough.

She went into her kitchen, climbed onto a counter and opened the cabinet above her fridge. She reached toward the back, pulling it away and grabbing the small safe hidden in the secret space.

She opened it and pulled out the second wad of cash from it, as well as the jewelry and the second gun and added them all to the bag. She took one of the knives from the bag and took a quick breath before grabbing her hair and slashing the knife through it. She took the hair and went to the small bathroom. She placed the hair in a neat pile right in the center of the bathroom before going back to her bedroom, getting one last thing from her closet.

A canister of gasoline, bright with warning labels.

She walked out of her room, pouring a small trail of gasoline as she moved through her apartment. Finally, she got to her bathroom.

She poured the smallest amount of gasoline near the pile of hair, gave a satisfied nod before placing the now mostly empty canister next to it. She locked the door from the inside and closed it. She took one last look around her apartment before pulling out a match from her pocket.

She lit the match, staring at the flickering flame for a moment before throwing it to the ground, not waiting to watch it spread as she rushed out into her balcony.

She could begin to smell the smoke behind her as she looked at the three stories of building below her. She took a breath before swinging her bag over her shoulder and dug her gloved fingers into the brick of the building, scaling down the wall as the fire alarm of her apartment began to ring.

By the time she reached the bottom, the entire building was ringing with the sound of alarms, people’s confused voices drifting out of the windows along with its blaring. She prayed silently that there would be no victims of her hasty exit.

But she could not dwell on that for any longer than a few seconds before moving forward, running away from the building she had once called her home.

She didn’t know where she was going but that had never stopped her before but before she left, she had one more thing she needed to do.

She moved through the dark city, blending in with the crowds easily as they all journeyed through the night. In the back of her mind, she wondered if they were running from something too, out so late.

She could hear the sound of a fire engine in the distance as she neared her destination. She lowered her hood as she reached the tall, white building with the word ‘Hospital’ written over the entrance.

For a moment, she hesitated but then pushed through the revolving doors with a few others. She headed straight to the emergency wing, knowing they must have taken Danna there. And after about twenty minutes of searching, she found them.

She could see Max, Nova and Adrian standing together in the hall, standing close and conversing with grim expressions on their faces. From behind them, Oscar and Ruby appeared, holding coffees and snacks, which they passed around. Maggie carefully stayed near the corner, hiding partially behind a couple as she watched them. She could not see Danna or her fiancé but she assumed they were in the operating room the group was huddled outside of.

Then Nova looks up.

Her brown eyes land on Maggie’s face and she squints, stepping forward. Maggie’s own brown eyes widen as pulls her hood back down and rushes away.

“Maggie?” Max’s voice comes from behind her but it’s already fading as she picks up her speed. She is out of the hospital in minutes, releasing a breath of relief as she enters into the cool night.

“Maggie?”

Maggie whips around and freezes when she sees the face in front of her.

Nova.

Tag List: (Message me if you want to be added or removed)

@evellyncelia @novas-tunnel-of-anxiety @jacihayle @kaiderforever @lothloriien @itsalittlebitchilly @magykaldealings @honey-harper-official @allyendergirl @cyborg-lunar-queen @janisarkisian @rvbell @f-r-o-p

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kutemouse · 4 years ago

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Caught (Prologue)

Disclaimers: All “Save Me” webtoon and BTS MV/highlight reel/film references and plots belong to BTS and BigHit. Not sure who edited it or made it, but the “I’m Fine/Save Me” ambigram pic I used came from here. All pictures of Kim Taehyung belong to BTS and BigHit, I just edited them for my header. The picture of BTS came from Vogue Japan, I just edited it for my header. I got the Kim Taehyung Wings Film Gif from DannyBriz on Wattpad.

A Note from Kutemouse: Awwww, thank you for reading my stuff, @chocolatewolfuniversitytrash!

So, this sweet little mini series is inspired by several things… The movie 365 DNI, the Save Me webtoon, the BTS MV universe, and ideas I’ve come up with waaaaaay too late at night 😂 Honestly, I’m OBSESSED with the whole MV/highlight reel/wings films arc that started with The Most Beautiful Moment in Life Pt. 1, and I’ve ALWAYS wanted to write a story inspired by it. So, kutie pie @chocolatewolfuniversitytrash, thank you for allowing this dream to come to light.

About the non-con request, I was all like, “EEEERRRRRRMMMMMMMM idk,” because I’ve never written non-con and therefore don’t… know… if I’m comfortable with it…? I will attempt to do my best. Either way, I hope you like what has come out of my brain 😅

Also, thank you to @btssmutheaven for revealing my drafts (NOT REALLY, ILY) to @taemaknae for reading my shit and loving it, and to @kpopyandere for being the best unnie account and helping me realize I can write all the yandere ideas I want.

Age Recommendation: 21+ (this is NOT one for youngsters, kuties, and is MOST DEFINITELY NSFW)

Genre: Mafia!AU w/ BTS, Jailbird!AU w/ Taehyung, Yandere!BTS

Warnings: ALL THE WARNINGS. Just kidding, uh… Swears. There are minors in this section but they do NOT do anything sexual. I ain’t about that kinda life, y’all. F*ckboy Taehyung. Fluffy friendship. Angsty jealousy. Mentions of drug use and alcohol consumption (NOT by minors tho). Yandere themes including unhealthy obsession and possessiveness. Making out. No smut in this part, but it’s heavy af.

🚨TRIGGER WARNING. DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE ISSUES WITH THE FOLLOWING.🚨

Mentions of abusive relationships, mentions of a parent abusing their child, mentions of sexual abuse, mentions of schoolyard bullying, mentions of a violent murder.

These are not fleshed out or detailed scenarios. When I say “mention,” I mean briefly discussed after it happened, not during, and definitely not in any detail whatsoever. You DO NOT have to read my work. You decide what you are comfortable with. All I want is for you kuties to be happy.

Word Count: 6.1k (WTF is this even allowed?!)

Summary: Kim Taehyung was the absolute love of your life… until he became a murderer. With him serving a life sentence in prison, you were finally free to live out the rest of your life however you wanted. Just when you thought you were at the top of your game, ready to take on the world, Taehyung reappears like a monster not even your worst nightmares could dream up. He gives you a year to fall in love with him, but now the question is, can monsters even be loved?

Master List

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Caught (Taehyung Series, Yandere, Smut, Angst) Prologue

I remember the first time I saw Kim Taehyung. We were both fifteen, just starting out in high school. Back then, I remember the way he lazily leaned against a locker with his arms crossed, seemingly waiting for someone. His hair was bleached a ridiculous bright blonde on the top and left brunette everywhere else. He had on dramatic, black eyeliner that served to accentuate his inky eyes, and he wore a studded leather jacket with his shirt and tie rather than the traditional uniform. Intrigued, I opened my locker and picked out my books for my next class, watching him out of the corner of my eye.

I saw him zero in on his target and take brisk, wide strides towards her as she twirled the combo to her locker. She looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes as he caged her in by leaning down to whisper something in her ear. Suddenly, the hallway was filled with flirtatious giggles and I turned away, rolling my eyes. So he was one of those assholes.

I watched him do this with every single girl in our class. I swear, he had his routine down to a science. Chat her up, openly flirt, flirt some more until she caved in to whatever he desired, then drop her like a hot frying pan. It took a couple months for his interest to finally land on me.

“Hey.”

I didn’t bother to look up as I twirled the combination to my locker and popped it open.

“Hey,” he said louder.

I flicked a glance his way. “Do you need something?”

His eyes narrowed. “Do I look like I need anything?”

I huffed out a sigh. “What do you want, Kim Taehyung?”

He let out a snort, leaning against the locker next to mine the same way he’d done a thousand times with a thousand other girls. “So you know my name, but I don’t know yours. You’re new, right?”

“I transferred in at the beginning of the year,” I said impatiently. “And we’re in the same class, so you should know who I am.”

Taehyung’s lips curled up into a playful smirk. “Really? No, that can’t be right. I definitely would’ve remembered you.”

I rolled my eyes and slammed my locker shut, walking quickly away. Taehyung jogged to keep up. “Just tell me your name,” he insisted.

“Why?”

“C’mon, I’m just trying to make friends.”

I whirled around, stopping both of us in our tracks. “Friends? Is that what you’ve been doing with every other girl here? Just making friends?”

Taehyung smirked once more and took a step towards me. I don’t know why, but I took a step back. I should’ve held my ground, should’ve told him to fuck off right then and there. Instead, I let him back me up against the wall and entrap me within his darkened gaze, the same way he would for the next three years of our lives.

He leaned down to whisper in my ear, his breath tickling the skin of my cheek. “We can be more than friends… but first, you have to tell me your name.”

I shoved him off me and practically sprinted down the hall, cheeks aflame with embarrassment. My peers and classmates who saw the exchange teased me for weeks afterward, no matter how much I kept my head down and avoided Taehyung like my life depended on it. It wasn’t until I heard him telling off some of the more tenacious gossipers I decided to give him another chance.

I tapped him on his shoulder as he stood in front of his locker. His eyes widened when he turned to see me standing there. “I’m L/n Y/n,” I said meekly. “And I wanted to thank you for what you said to those people.”

“You heard that?” he asked, the skin of his neck flushing pink.

I nodded.

“You’re welcome,” he said, tossing me a boxy grin.

That day, a seed was planted that eventually grew into a steady, beautiful friendship. A year later, I had come out of my shell quite a bit thanks to Taehyung, and I had a solid group of mates that I adored and relied on. Tae was my best friend, and I was his. Of course, we still got teased quite a bit about being a couple, but I figured we were both long past that.

Taehyung matured alongside our friendship. He stopped wearing thick eyeliner and sporting ridiculous hair colors, instead opting for a softer, more natural look with caramel brown locks and the unblemished glow of his slightly-tan skin. Gone were his dramatic, attention-seeking ways. His voice also deepened, dropping almost an entire octave. Yet despite all of his changes, he still stayed an absolute fuck-boy, shagging a new girl every other week. I came to realize it was all part of his personality, though, and I loved him no matter what.

The summer before our senior year was when I realized that love ran way deeper than friendship. We were at my best girlfriend Chaeyoung’s house when Taehyung stumbled in with yet another girl, his hair freshly dyed a bright cerulean blue. “Hey everyone!” he called out, slinging his arm around the girl’s shoulders. My smile faded as I looked over and noticed she was beyond gorgeous, with waist-length black locks that seemed to flow down the perfect curve of her back. I shuddered as a green monster reared its ugly head deep within me.

Taehyung was with that girl for a few months, which by his standards, was practically a lifetime. The entire time they were together, I felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff about to swan-dive into devastating heartbreak. Each time I saw him kiss her, each time I saw him smile at her, each time I saw him lean over and whisper something in her ear, a piece of my soul shriveled up and died. I did my best to put my feelings aside, knowing I already had my chance and he would probably never look at me that way again. Even after they broke up, I kept my love for him tamped down and tucked away deep in the recesses of my heart, scared of ruining our friendship.

His break-up only served to draw us closer together, and slowly, without me realizing it, our friendship began to bloom into something more. Taehyung and I started to tell each other everything, including the messed-up secrets our home lives made us keep. One day, we were sitting in an empty classroom after school. I was trying to study, but kept getting distracted by Tae staring longingly out the window. “What’re you looking at?” I finally asked, putting my pencil down.

“Nothing,” he said simply. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“About when we’ll finally get out of here.”

I smiled, my heart thumping a little faster. “We?”

He turned and tossed me his signature boxy grin. “Yeah. We. We’ll make it out of here someday, Y/n. I’ll get away from my bastard of a dad, you’ll get away from your selfish mother, and we’ll have a house in the country with big, open fields and plenty of space to finally fucking breathe.”

I smiled and stored those words away, using them to comfort myself whenever my mother and her asshole of a boyfriend wouldn’t stop yelling at each other, or worse, when they’d pass out on the couch, too drunk or high to stay coherent.

One night around three in the morning, my phone began to buzz and didn’t stop until I finally popped an eye open, fumbled around for it in the dark, and pressed it to my ear. “Hello?” I mumbled.

“H-Hey.”

I sat up. “Taehyung?”

“Y/n, I n-need your help,” he said shakily. It sounded like he was… crying?

I immediately got out of bed and pulled some jeans on. “Tae, it’s okay,” I said soothingly, trying to hide the panic I was feeling. I knew Taehyung’s home life was extremely hard. In fact, most of our home lives were terrible. The only two in our friend group who even came close to “privileged” were Chaeyoung and Jin, and that was because their parents had more money, not less problems.

I myself had plenty of issues. The reason my mother and I moved here when I was fifteen was to escape her abusive boyfriend, and even then, we still lived in constant fear of him finding us again. I guess that fear drove her into the arms of the first strong-looking man who looked twice at her, because her new boyfriend, Manseok, seemed to fit the same abusive pattern. At least he didn’t hit her when he was sober.

I wasn’t exactly sure how terrible Taehyung’s life was until the night he called me. At his request, I stole a few bills from my mom’s purse as well as her ID and put us up in a cheap motel room for the night. Jumping up when I finally heard his knock, I quickly pulled the door open to reveal Taehyung, his blue hair stringy from the rain outside. He was panting like he ran all the way there. I covered my mouth with my hands as the dim lighting revealed his left eye swollen shut, covered in nasty shades of scarlet and purple. His lip was split and bleeding, and his right cheek had another bruise and cut creeping down to his jawbone. The worst part, though, were the red finger-shaped marks that covered his neck.

“Y/n,” he croaked out. I held open my arms and he fell into them, not leaving their safety until well into the morning. I iced his black eye and bruises as much as I could, and bandaged the cuts that covered his face. Taehyung’s face was pressed into my chest, his breathing deep and even as he finally slept.

I decided then and there I’d never let him go.

Thankfully, Taehyung felt the same way. Within a week, he brushed off every other girl he was chatting up and focused all of his attention on me. We spent hours with each other after school, either in person or on the phone, and it became a common occurrence for him to intertwine his fingers with mine or peck me sweetly on the cheek.

I quickly grew dissatisfied, sick of the friendship barrier preventing us from taking things further. We spent an entire day together one weekend, talking, laughing, walking the streets, and trying different foods from vendor carts. As the sun started to go down, Taehyung wrapped his arms around me from behind, pressing his chest into my back. He was teasing me, I forget about what, and he leaned down to kiss my cheek when I turned at the last second and let him peck my lips instead. I laughed as his dark eyes grew wide with shock.

That was all it took, though. One kiss, and he was mine. Or rather, I was his. Afterwards, he pulled me into a deserted alleyway and we kissed until the sun completely disappeared. As the stars appeared in the sky above, Taehyung asked me to be his girlfriend, murmuring in my ear about how much he loved me and how he had never stopped loving me, even after I turned him down. With my heart practically bursting, I readily agreed.

Back then, Taehyung had a knack for getting in trouble, and me being his new girlfriend did nothing to hinder that side of him. He was definitely the “bad boy” of our school, constantly rebelling against the system by swapping his uniform for street clothes and ditching classes. His favorite form of rebellion, however, was street graffiti. He loved spray-painting words and drawings all over the walls of our neighborhood alongside his best friend, Namjoon. Tae was nearly caught by the cops a couple of times, but thanks to his quick instincts, he managed to give them the slip.

Still, a boy with bright, blue hair was bound to stand out, so after a couple nights of close calls, Taehyung finally dyed his hair back to that soft, caramel brown that I loved running my fingers through. We sat together at a bus stop, watching cars and people go by with fingers intertwined, when Tae stood and pulled a paint can out of his jacket pocket.

“Again?” I asked. Despite my teasing tone, I smiled up at him.

Taehyung tucked his bottom lip between his teeth with a grin as he sprayed something onto the panel beside us. “Look,” he said once he was finished, tilting his head to admire his work.

I stood up to see the words “I’m fine” sprayed in green. The font was the most interesting part, though, too curly in comparison to Taehyung’s usual writing. “Now look at it from upside-down,” Tae said.

I threw him a skeptical look before obediently curving my neck and scoping out the piece of art as best I could. “Save me,” I read out loud.

Taehyung nodded. “It’s for us,” he murmured.

I looked up at him, emotions surging through me like a waterfall surging down a cliff. “It’s beautiful,” I said, my voice cracking.

Taehyung looked at me, concern filling his features. “Baby girl, what’s wrong?”

“I-I have s-something to tell you,” I stammered.

With many tears and a shaky voice, I began to explain to Taehyung the events that had transpired only a few nights before. How my mom’s boyfriend had quietly snuck into my room while she remained passed out on the couch. How he had told me to be quiet as his hand started stroking my arm. How he had held his hand over my mouth and yelped when I bit him. How I had screamed so loud our neighbors called the cops. How he was carted away by the police with my mother shrieking the entire time about how I was a brat and a dramatic liar.

Taehyung’s gaze grew darker with each word. “That bastard,” he spat, clenching his fists. “I will end that motherfucker.”

“Taehyung, stop,” I sighed. “It’s over. For now, at least. I’ll stay at Chaeyoung’s until graduation.”

“What do you mean? He’s not going to jail?”

I hung my head. “My mom left to pay his bail an hour ago.”

Taehyung slammed his fist into the same panel he just graffitied. “So that jerk is going to walk free?!”

I stood up and ran my hands soothingly over his shoulders. “For now. I’m going to press charges, but in the end, it’s my word against his. Who knows how the system will treat him.”

Taehyung let out a feral growl, turning away from me. “I’m sick of this shit,” he snapped. “My dad, your mom’s boyfriend… neither of them should be walking free after everything they’ve done.”

Not knowing what else to do, I hugged him tightly from behind. “Just another few months,” I said quietly. “And then we’ll be out of here. A house in the country, just like you said.”

“That’s not good enough,” Tae snapped, turning back towards me. My mouth parted in surprise as I looked into his eyes and saw something there I’d never seen before. It was like a slow-burning flame, one that hadn’t yet risen into a raging wildfire, but threatened to if it wasn’t quickly put out.

Taehyung suddenly grabbed my hand and tugged me down the street. “I’m dropping you off at Chae’s,” he said. “And then I want you to stay there for the next twenty-four hours. I don’t want you going out for any reason, you understand me?”

“Taehyung, what are you saying? You’re scaring me.”

He stopped walking, turning so we were facing each other once more. The flame I saw earlier began blazing, turning rapidly into something uncontrollable and destructive I didn’t know how to stop. “This ends tonight,” he growled.

True to his word, he dropped me off at Chaeyoung’s, not leaving until he made me promise I wouldn’t go out until he said so. After a week, with Tae’s permission, I went home to get some clothes and personal items only to find my mom sitting on the couch, strung out of her mind. “Is he here?” I asked tentatively.

She raised her red-rimmed eyes to meet mine. “Who?”

“Manseok. Your jerk of a boyfriend.”

My mom shrugged and scoffed. “Haven’t seen that bastard for a couple days now,” she said, her words slurring together. “He upped and left us. Stole some money from me to do it, too.”

The feeling of relief that I felt was short-lived once I remembered that asshole would probably be back for more, just like the others. I quickly gathered my things and left, stopping only to make sure my mom had enough food for the next few days.

Ever since that night, Taehyung withdrew into himself. He still held my hand and kissed me, but it was distant, emotionless, like he didn’t know how to feel his feelings for me anymore. He weirdly became somewhat possessive of me, keeping me practically glued to his side whenever he was with me, and constantly texting me when we weren’t together. Whenever other boys looked my way, Taehyung shot them down with harsh words and incessant bullying our friends joined in on. I insisted they stop that kind of behavior, and for a while, I thought Tae and his friends complied. It wasn’t until much later in life when I realized they never truly stopped. They just got better at hiding it.

One night, I was at Namjoon’s place waiting for Tae when Joon’s phone rang. ��Taehyung?” he said, turning away from me when I looked up. “Hey, calm down. You did what?!”

He stood up quickly. I motioned for him to put it on speaker, but he waved me off. “Okay, stop. I’m coming over right now. Just stay put, dammit.”

Joon grabbed his jacket and rushed towards the door. “Wait!” I cried. “What happened?!”

“Nothing that concerns you,” he snapped. “Stay here. I’ll bring Taehyung to you, alright?”

Neither of them came back. Before the sun even thought of rising, I determinedly ran all the way to Taehyung’s apartment, desperate to see him and make sure he was alright. As my sneakers pounded against the pavement and my breath started coming out in ragged gasps, I suddenly felt a hand grasp my forearm and yank me into a side alley.

“What are you doing here?” a voice growled as I yelped in surprise. I looked up to see Jungkook standing there, glaring at me.

“I want to see Taehyung,” I retorted, ripping my arm from his grasp.

He crossed his arms. “Not gonna happen.”

“Like hell it’s not!” I snapped. “Where is he?”

Jungkook grabbed the front of my jacket, preventing me from pushing past him. “Go home, Y/n.”

“Absolutely the fuck not!”

Sick of my shit, Jungkook picked me up, threw me over his broad shoulder, and carried me out of the alleyway. I kicked and screamed the entire way. He set me down once we were on the main street. “Taehyung will call you when he can,” he said firmly. “I won’t say it again, Y/n. Go home.”

“No!” Tears welled up, and I furiously swiped them away. “I’m his girlfriend! Tell me where he is right now or I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Jungkook snapped. “Y/n, you don’t even know where he is. Fucking leave, or I’ll carry you all the way back to Chae’s myself.”

It didn’t take much longer for me to realize Jungkook wouldn’t relent. Eventually, I went back to Chaeyoung’s and spent the day staring at the wall beside my bed. What did Taehyung do? What were his friends protecting him from? When had things gotten so fucked up?

My questions were never answered. After a full week of silence, complete with him missing school, Taehyung showed up at Chae’s place asking for me. “She doesn’t want to see you,” Chae snapped, closing the door as I meandered into the entry hall.

Taehyung stopped her by slamming his palm against the wood. “Please, Chae,” he begged.

Recognizing his deep tenor, I walked up and put my hand on my bestie’s shoulder. “I’ve got this, Chae,” I murmured. She left with a huff.

Taehyung looked terrible. Dark circles ran under both eyes like he’d spent multiple nights without sleep, his hair was unkempt, and his skin was much too pale. Without another word, I immediately took him inside and dragged him up to my room. He took a shower in my en suite bathroom while I washed his clothes. After he dressed, we sat on my bed, still not speaking. “What happened?” I finally asked.

He tossed me a weak smile. “Life happened.”

I shook my head in disgust. “You leave me for an entire week with no explanation, and that’s all you have to say?”

“Baby girl, please,” Taehyung said, clasping my hands in between his large, rough ones. “I’m sorry I left you alone. I asked the guys to keep an eye on you, and they said you’ve been doing fine.”

“Fine is an overstatement,” I snorted, tearing my hands from his grasp.

He didn’t relent, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into his broad chest. “Let go,” I ordered, trying and failing to push him away.

“No,” he said simply, tightening his hold. “I love you, Y/n. Everything that happened this past week happened for us. For our dream.”

I managed to pull back enough to look up into his eyes. The spark of mischief that normally resided there was gone, replaced by a dull sombreness that made me ache inside. Whatever had happened that week completely changed Taehyung for good. He was no longer quick to smile or joke, and I began to yearn for the blue-haired boy of the past. I couldn’t tell him that, though. Despite everything, I still loved him.

A month passed, and as our graduation approached, Taehyung talked more and more about moving out to the country. I responded enthusiastically outwardly, but on the inside, I didn’t know if moving out was such a good idea. It wasn’t just the way he had changed. It was having issues with my mom as well. Since Manseok never came back around, her behavior grew more erratic each day. I moved back in to take care of her, and she depended heavily on me. I was afraid if I left, she would fall off the deep end again and never be able to make it back to the surface.

The last day I saw Taehyung dawned bright and filled with hope. “I’m feeling good today,” he announced, slinging an arm around my shoulders as we walked to class.

I smiled up at him, glee spreading through my limbs when I saw a trace of that mischievous spark back in his eyes. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” He tossed me a grin. “I haven’t been able to go out and tag anything lately… but I kind of want to tonight. You in?”

“Of course.”

As night approached, we walked hand-in-hand down the street until Taehyung led us back to that bus stop where he painted the “I’m fine/Save me” ambigram. I sat on the bench and watched as he began to create something new. I don’t think he had a set plan. The painting started off in meaningless loops, the jet-black color standing out in stark contrast to the white behind it.

Suddenly, bright lights filled our vision flashing a blinding blue and red. “Freeze!” a loud voice yelled.

I remember Taehyung’s wide, dark eyes finding mine, filled with panic. I remember the rough skin of his palm sliding into mine and yanking me upright. I remember how we sprinted down the street, the fear of being caught pumping adrenaline through us. How he ran faster than me, tugging me along to keep up.

Taehyung looked back and pulled me into an alleyway to try and lose them. We turned a corner and met a dead end. With our backs pressed against the wall, I looked at Tae. “Dammit,” he panted, the corners of his mouth turning upwards despite our situation.

I began to run out the way we came, intending on dragging Taehyung with me, but he yanked me back, slamming me against the wall that entrapped us. He kissed me, feverishly pressing his tongue inside my mouth before I could stop him. He yanked my wrists upwards, pinning them almost painfully against the brick above us as his mouth continued exploring mine and his hands roamed up and down my body.

He pulled back, allowing me to finally suck in some oxygen, and even as I coughed, he continued pressing kisses from my cheek to my jaw to my neck. Tae finally stopped as loud voices and beams of flashlights got closer. “I love you, baby girl,” he murmured. “Don’t forget that.”

“Tae, what—?”

He stepped out from behind the corner, raising his hands in the air. I ducked down into the shadows the alley provided, scooting backwards and pressing my hands over my mouth.

“Get over here, punk,” a gruff voice commanded. I heard the grinding click of handcuffs closing over wrists as another voice began to read Tae his rights.

I scrambled to my feet, realizing too late what was happening. No, no, no, no, no. He couldn’t take the fall for both of us. Not like this. Still, even as I moved to step out into the light and reveal myself, something stopped me. I don’t remember exactly what it was. Possibly the thought of my mother, my friends, how close I was to graduation. Like I said, I don’t remember. All I remember was the panic I felt when I realized the love of my life had just been arrested.

I showed up late to class the next day, not wanting to answer questions from my friends about what had happened and why I looked like absolute shit. I realized my efforts weren’t needed when two detectives pulled me out of class and escorted me to the police station, causing my classmates to start buzzing with gossip like the annoying wasps they were.

“So… L/n Y/n,” the cop, Detective Kwak, said. I looked up at her, nervously twisting my hands in my lap. “You are dating Kim Taehyung, correct?”

I nodded slowly. She had brought me here for “routine questioning,” yet I began to suspect more when they put me in an interrogation room. “For how long?” the detective asked.

“About a year and a half,” I muttered.

“So your relationship was serious?”

“You could say that.”

“How serious?”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, how serious were you? Did you have plans for after graduation?”

“I guess. We were going to move in together.”

“Here in the city?”

“No,” I replied, shaking my head. “Somewhere far away.”

“Because of your troubles at home?”

It was then I got defensive. “What do you know about that?” I snapped.

Detective Kwak stared me down, an amused smile playing around the corners of her lips. “I know enough. I was promoted to detective only a month or so ago. Back in my street days, I was one of the cops called to your house.”

My mouth parted in surprise at her words.

“I remember that night pretty clearly,” she continued. “Your mom’s boyfriend attacked you, right?”

I swallowed hard and sank down in my seat, rubbing my arms with my palms in an effort to keep myself contained. “And she did nothing to defend you, correct?” the detective prodded.

“Stop,” I whispered.

“What about Taehyung? Did he do anything to defend you?”

“What the fuck is this about?” I burst out. “I thought you brought me here because… because…”

“Because of the graffiti?” she asked pointedly.

I nodded.

Detective Kwak leaned forward over the table. “Look, Y/n, I don’t give a damn about the fact you were his tagging partner in crime or whatever. This is much bigger than that.”

“What do you mean?”

She sat back and stared at me, her eyes like cold, dark tunnels. “Kim Taehyung has been charged with murder. His prints match a partial we lifted off of a crime scene.”

My mouth dropped open. “W-What?”

“That’s right,” she said. “We only identified the body yesterday. Does the name Lee Manseok mean anything to you?”

I froze as the syllables of my mother’s boyfriend’s name rolled off the detective’s tongue. She nodded at my reaction. “I thought it would. He was found in an abandoned warehouse about a week after he was killed. He’d been beaten to death.”

My blood ran cold, causing goosebumps to raise on the flesh of my arms. I shook my head fiercely. “No, that can’t be right,” I said. “The guy was a dick, anyone could’ve done that to him.”

“That’s what we thought at first. We first suspected his wife.”

“He… He has a wife?”

“And two kids,” the detective scoffed. “Your mom picked a real winner. But then we finally got Taehyung in custody thanks to your shenanigans last night and what do you know? His prints match the one we found at the crime scene.”

“You’ve got it wrong,” I said firmly. “Taehyung wouldn’t do that.”

“Wouldn’t he?” she asked, folding her arms over the table. “Sounds like he really loved you and would do anything to protect you.”

“No, there has to be a mistake. Even if Taehyung did kill him, it had to be out of self-defense or something.”

“Maybe so. But if you knock a guy out and then continue beating him until he dies, is it really self-defense?”

“It is if that guy could come back and hurt someone you love for revenge,” I retorted.

The detective’s face remained expressionless. “Unfortunately, the law says differently.”

“The law can go to hell for all I care.”

She chuckled. “Whatever you say, kid. Look, the crime scene revealed that more than one person beat the literal life out of Manseok. If Taehyung did this, he didn’t do it alone. Do you happen to know who else would have helped him commit murder?”

I stayed silent as I thought for a moment. Any of our friends could’ve helped him, with maybe the exception of Chaeyoung. I thought of Jin, Hoseok, Jungkook, Jimin, Yoongi and Joon. I thought of the way they moved around school like a unified group, making fun of anyone who wasn’t them and bullying people who got in their way, especially any other guy who dared look my way. Still, they wouldn’t have helped Tae commit flat-out murder, would they?

“Anyone at all?”

The detective’s voice brought me out of my thoughts. I shook my head. “No. No one.”

She sighed. “There’s something else. We’ve been trying to get ahold of Taehyung’s father, but he seems to be missing.”

“Missing?”

“Yes. He hasn’t shown up at his job at all in the past month and a half. His credit cards haven’t been used, either.”

“So?” I snapped. “The guy was an alcoholic, he could be holed up somewhere drinking himself to death.”

“Maybe so, but my guess is we’re going to find him in some abandoned building or maybe at the bottom of the ocean one day. Your boy, Taehyung? I’ll bet he’s the one who put him there.”

I slammed my palms on the table. “LIES!” I yelled. “He wouldn’t do that!”

“Wouldn’t he?!” Detective Kwak shouted, rising to her feet. “Tell me something right now, Y/n. Have you noticed him acting differently? Have you noticed any changes in his behavior?”

I immediately looked down at the ground. “No,” I muttered.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I said, NO!”

“Enough with the lies!”

“I’m not lying! You are!”

The detective opened her mouth to retort, then thought better of it and sat down instead. “The evidence doesn’t lie, Y/n,” she said.

“Look,” I said. “If you want someone to put in jail, put me in jail. Taehyung’s gone through enough in his life. Please don’t put him through this.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

Tears welled up in my eyes and I put my hands over my face and began to sob. Detective Kwak stood up and came around to my side of the table before placing a hand on my shoulder. Once my sobs began to cease, she offered me a tissue. I wiped my eyes and blew my nose. “Thanks,” I muttered.

“Listen,” she said gently. “I’ve made arrangements for your aunt to come pick you up.”

I looked up at the detective in surprise. “My aunt?”

“Yes. Your mom’s sister. She’s filed to gain custody of you, and in light of recent events, a judge granted it to her.”

“Wait, my mom’s sister? I thought she lived in America.”

Detective Kwak’s mouth visibly tightened. “No, actually, she lives in Busan. Seems your mom kept that from you as well. Your aunt’s been trying to get in contact with you, Y/n. She says she sent letters.”

I stared at the wall across from me. Every limb, every nerve ending, every cell in my body was starting to go numb. It was all too much. My boyfriend was a murderer, my mom’s ex-boyfriend was dead, Taehyung’s dad was missing, and now all of a sudden I had a long-lost aunt who was now my sole guardian?”

“She’s very well off,” the detective continued. “She’s even offered to pay for your mom to get treatment in a rehabilitation facility. Whatever future you have with her is sure to be a bright one.”

“If you say so.”

“I know so. I’ve met her, only briefly, but she seems very nice.”

I let the silence grow between us, not bothering to give a response. The detective finally sighed and sat back down in her chair across from me. “Y/n, Taehyung is going to jail for a very long time. Maybe even for the rest of his life. I suggest you move on with your life. Move to Busan. You’ll attend a great school there, and probably university as well. You can start down an entirely new path.”

The memory of Taehyung’s handsome face swam before my eyes, his bright, boxy smile lighting my insides on fire the way it had for the past year and a half. “What if I don’t want to?” I whispered.

“Well… That’s up to you. But the sooner you move on, the sooner you’ll stop feeling this pain.”

Detective Kwak stood up, motioning for me to stand up as well. “Come on. Your aunt’s waiting.”

We exited the interrogation room, the skin on my face itchy and dry from crying. I knew I probably looked like a mess, but I didn’t care.

“Y/n!” a deep, familiar voice shouted. I froze in my tracks, slowly raising my eyes to his inky ones. He struggled in the grip of two cops, his hands handcuffed behind his back.

“Hey baby girl,” he said, smirking. “Nice of you to come visit me.”

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Detective Kwak hissed.

“You said to move him into the interrogation room.”

“While it’s still occupied?!”

“Don’t worry,” Taehyung quipped. “We can share, right baby?”

“Get him out of here!” Detective Kwak snapped. “Now!”

The cops shoved Taehyung towards the interrogation room. I turned to look at him, desperation clenching at my heart. I realized this might be the last time I saw him, the last time I would get to tell him something. Anything. My mouth opened but no words came out.

“Don’t worry, baby girl!” Taehyung shouted, lurching towards me. “I’ll get out someday! And I’ll come for you! I will always come for you!”

I shook my head and felt tears prick at my eyes once more as the police wrestled with him. “I love you, Y/n!” he shouted just before they shut the door on him.

“Sorry about that,” Detective Kim said, holding a hand to her heaving chest. “You weren’t supposed to cross paths.”

“It’s okay,” I murmured, and to my own surprise, I meant it. I was glad I saw him one last time. I realized, in that moment, that the blue-haired boy I once knew and fell in love with was completely gone. His eyes, which once held a spark of playfulness and mischief, now held nothing but misery and woe. He let his anger for the world overtake him, allowing it to blaze a path of self-destruction that I could no longer follow.

Maybe the detective was right. Despite the fact that Kim Taehyung was the love of my life, maybe, just maybe, it was time to move on.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Part One is HEEEEEEERE! 😉

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spiderman-homecomeme · 4 years ago

Text

day seven - pull-out p.2

ONLY ONE BED

A/N: Well, here we are friends. It’s time to say goodbye to spideychelle week. But really, when you think about it, isn’t the real spideychelle week the friends we made a long the way?

Okay, but for real, this has been so fun!! Both writing and seeing all the creations made by our talented fandom! Thank you again @spideychelleweek for putting this together <3 Till next year

There’s stuff in this fic that’s pretty new for me, as I’ve never written explicit smut before, and it’s something I’ve been thinking about trying for a while. So, I figured Spideychelle Week would be the best time!

Without further procrastination on my part: enjoy some 6.3k of cow facts that will impress your friends, Peter being a mess, MJ being a mess, everyone’s a mess, smut, and ONLY. ONE. BED.

Read here on AO3

“Hey, uh, MJ.”

Peter’s voice is hushed as he gently nudges her.

She mumbles and stirs, blinking sleepily at him as she returns to a vague form of something akin to consciousness.

“MJ.” His hand brushes her arm once more, leaving a certain warmth that she can’t quite place. “We’re here.”

Sure enough, there’s a faint glow coming from the porch light ahead, though it’s entirely too bright for one o’clock in the morning. MJ sits up in her seat, yawning as she stretches her arms out in front of her. Her eyelids droop for another moment as she goes to unbuckle her seat belt, and she can just barely hear the opening of the driver’s side door as Peter climbs out of the old Volvo.

“You don’t need me to carry you in do you?” Peter’s gently teasing voice cuts through her sleep-raddled mind.

Apparently he’s done being a weirdo.

The thought of being held against her best friend’s chest flashes through her mind, fleeting, but it’s there alright. She shakes it away almost as quickly as it appears. She cracks an eye open, quirking an unimpressed brow at him as he leans against the door frame with a stupid little smirk on his face.

“Fuck off,” she groans.

Something in the way he shakes his head with a snort of a nervous-sounding laugh causes her stomach to flip, filling with butterflies.

Again, she simply brushes it off.

But then, watching him pop open the trunk, his shirt riding up a little as he lifts the lid, she wonders if he’s thinking about the way their hands touched in the car as much as she is. It was a soft touch, warm, and in a way, inexplicably familiar. Though, as much as it made her heart seize, Michelle’s not sure why she didn’t just pull her hand away.

Then again, Peter didn’t pull away either.

It’s dangerous territory, this kind of thinking. “Do you think there’ll be any cows on the beach?” She asks through a yawn, a teasing lilt to her tone.

Peter barely glances back at her, scoffing. “Shut up.”

A smirk pulls at her lips.

They grab their things from the car, MJ feeling as though she’s moving through quicksand as she gathers her bearings, trying to get a feel for her “land legs” after sitting for so long. The walk to the front porch feels like a half-marathon, and it feels even longer as Peter struggles to remember the door code to get in.

Finally, after a nearly eight hour drive after class, they step inside the small beach cottage.

The house is silent and dark, the only light coming from a lamp in the kitchenette. Ned and Betty must have gone to sleep hours ago, there being practically no sign of life in the house except for the few dishes in the sink. There’s a note on the counter, from Betty giving them instructions for the wifi, the tv, and of course, how to work the shower.

MJ can feel herself once again falling closer and closer into the welcome embrace of sleep. She doesn’t waste any more time, nearly pushing past Peter as she heads for the open door to their bedroom. She can hear him laugh behind her, and she bites back her own smile when he calls out a soft, good-humored, “hey!”

But as they both step into the room, they’re met with a rather strange surprise.

When Betty had told them about this house, she had sworn up and down that there was room for four people to sleep. Two bedrooms, three beds. One for her and Ned, two for Peter and MJ. It was simple.

Here, however, in this dark, moonlit room at one in the morning, there’s only one, full-sized bed.

One bed, and a single, dark leather loveseat.

The silence that falls between them almost crushes their shoulders under its weight. MJ can practically hear the collective overthinking they’re about to do.

“You can take the bed—” They both say simultaneously.

Peter immediately cuts in. “Uh, you—you should take it,” he insists, his lips stretching into a sheepish grin as he scratches the back of his neck.

“No, it’s fine,” MJ replies, setting her backpack down next onto the leather sofa, flinching at the way the fabric squeaks under the weight of her things. “I can take the couch. You take the bed.”

“No, no,” Peter repeats back to her. “Seriously, I’m cool with it. Plus,” He continues, putting his own bag down next to hers and ignoring how the squeaky leather groans again. “Being Spider-Man, I’ve gotten pretty used to sleeping literally anywhere. Just one of my many talents,” he cracks a joke, his almost timid grin wreaking havoc on her insides. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve woken up on the side of a building.”

She quirks a doubting brow in his direction, though the corner of her lips twitch upward.

“For real,” Peter pushes. “I’m cool with it. The super-speedy healing will help with the lumpy couch.”

Her lips purse as she lets out a quiet hum. She’s quiet for a moment, her brows pinching together. “It does make sense,” she finally nods.

Peter smiles.

“I mean, you are the short one,” she teases.

“Hey!” He fights to get rid of his smile as he shoves her playfully. “Only by, like, two-inches.”

Their shared laughter dies for a moment, and they’re left alone in the quiet, dim room.

MJ wants to roll her eyes, even though she’s beginning to feel that same, creeping awkwardness from earlier. “Why—” She clears her throat, telling herself that it’s only so she can get the tired scratchiness out of her voice. “Why don’t we just both take it? We’re adults. And friends. We can share. Besides,” she pauses, her eyes drifting to the bed in question, a strange yet not entirely unwelcome heat rising to her cheeks. “It’s not a queen, but we could both fit.”

“No,” Peter spits out, perhaps a little too quickly. A faint blush falls across his face, and he coughs again, rocking back on his heels. He huffs out a breathy laugh. “No… You—You really don’t wanna share a bed… with… with me. I—” He chuckles. “I’m a huge—HUGE—blanket hog. And, like… I always try to cuddle whoever’s in bed with me—not that… I’m ever in bed with a lot of people… or I mean—random people. Just—”

Throughout his rambling, Michelle starts to really feel that now annoying, almost tingling warmth even more, the same one she’s been feeling since this damn trip started. She shifts on her feet, trying not to think about what it might feel like to have Peter’s body pressed up against her, snuggling up to get warm, in that very bed.

It alarms her just how quickly she thinks that, yes, she would really like that. Very much.

“—I guess I get cold at night? I don’t know, every trip for decathlon in high school, Ned would always complain if he had to share a bed with me at one of the hotels.”

His quiet laughter fills the room around them, and MJ can’t help but notice the correlation between that sound and the speed at which those stupid stomach-butterflies’ wings flap.

“—I honestly don’t know where I get it? I mean, I slept with a teddy bear until I was thirt—”

“—Okay, fine!” MJ sets him free from his rambling, a tired laugh hiding under her words. “You take the couch. I’ll take the bed.”

Peter nods, lips pressing together into a thin, yet slightly triumphant smile as he goes to move the bags off of the loveseat.

After a beat, he speaks again, chuckling quietly. “We made that a lot harder than it needed to be.”

MJ can’t help but let out a snort. “Yeah, probably.”

“Well, uh—” He coughs to hide the jittery waver of his voice. “I guess I’ll get the couch ready.”

“Sounds—sounds good,” Michelle exhales a sharp breath through her nose, a twitch of a grin appearing on her lips. She lamely throws a thumb over her shoulder. “I’ll—I’ll just go get ready for bed. In the bathroom. Yeah,” she adds, toying with the loose threads at the hem of her t-shirt.

He looks up from his bag, brows raised, eyes dopey and sleepy. “Oh, cool. Okay. I’ll—” He clears his throat again. “I’ll use it after you.”

“Cool,” she mutters without another glance, looking down at her feet as she grabs her toiletry bag and a new t-shirt and sleep shorts, before practically sprinting out of the room and into the hall. She doesn’t stop until she gets to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her and leaning against it. Relief is the one thing she can feel in that instance, yet her breath is still stuck in her throat. Closing her eyes, she runs her hands over her weary, yet tingling face.

God, what was wrong with her?

The icy floor of the bathroom tile does nothing to cool the warmth radiating from her head to her toes. With another quick, sharp exhale she moves to the sink, splashing her face with cold water. She looks up after a beat, staring—borderline, glaring—at herself in the mirror.

Get it together, MJ, she thinks to herself, mouth setting in determination.

One weird road trip, one single hand touch in the car, one glimpse of abs, one bed, and one over active imagination; the key ingredients to begin the process of breaking Michelle Jones.

But she won’t let that happen. No, she absolutely will not. Sure, Peter’s probably one of the best people she’s ever known, and sure, he’s funny—sometimes, mostly on accident—and sure, he’s got the body of an olympic gymnast, and she can’t get the image out of her mind that olympian bod wrapped around her in bed, but none of that means anything. Anything at all.

None of it’s relevant to how she feels right now. And none of that changes anything about how this night—this trip—is going to go.

Yes, maybe she’s had this stupid crush on her stupid best friend for some stupid amount of time.

But again.

It’s not relevant here.

She’s just had a weird day. That’s it. She’s tired. She needs to sleep.

Forcing any and all thoughts concerning the boy in the next room, she starts her nightly routine; brushing her teeth, washing and moisturizing her face, the basics, not rushing anything. She takes her time changing her clothes, perhaps a little longer than normal. But again, she tells herself it’s only because she’s tired—not at all that she’s avoiding going back to the room where Peter is. When she runs out of things to do to procrastinate going back, she brings herself to the mirror again, staring at herself with almost disappointment.

But then, she steels herself. She didn’t need to be freaking out right now. Peter’s just a person. He’s just her best friend. They’ve had plenty of sleepovers before, and this is no different. And besides, they’re sleeping in two separate places, so really, all of this inner turmoil is pointless. Nothing’s going to happen.

And really, why should she be freaking out about the guy who read her cow facts for a solid thirty minutes of their trip?

With a solid, resolute nod, lips pressed tightly together, she exits the bathroom and goes back down the hall, opening their bedroom door without a second thought.

Big mistake.

Big BIG mistake.

She really should have waited maybe five more seconds, because when the door swings open, Peter’s standing there in just his boxers, his head caught in his t-shirt as he pulls it on, chest and abs just out and ready to go.

Big mistake—that absolutely doesn’t mean anything.

It suddenly becomes very confusing to MJ why the Brant’s would have the thermostat set at eighty degrees.

Michelle decides that there’s a very interesting spot on the wall just above his head.

Peter pulls the shirt the rest of the way on, his eyes widening when he sees his friend just standing there. “Oh, uh, hey.” A not-cute-at-all unforgiving blush rises to his cheeks, spreading to the very tips of his ears.

They both huff out an awkward laugh.

“Uh—” Michelle finally meets his gaze, finding it damn near impossible to go back to her spot on the wall now. “Bathroom’s—bathroom’s open.”

The chuckle that comes out of him is breathy. “Cool. I’ll just—go use it, then.”

“Yeah.”

She waits until the door closes behind him to smack herself on the forehead. Groaning, she flops herself on the bed, covering her face again.

These feelings have always been here, she knows that, she’s not dumb; but they’ve never been this intense and the way he’s been acting all day and in the past fifteen minutes hasn’t been much help at all. She wonders if he’s been so strange because he’s feeling those things, too. She’s seen that guy hopelessly in love, and it’s always looked kind of like what he’s doing tonight, but…

This feels like a whole new level of loser.

Truly, she has no idea how she’s going to get through the night.

But maybe—

No.

No. She’s not going to think about this any more. She’s going to go to bed before he gets back. That way, she doesn’t have to talk to him or see him. She’ll sleep, and then they can just hang out tomorrow. With Ned and Betty. Not alone.

As long as their not alone, she’ll be fine.

She gets up to shut the overhead light off before turning the bedside lamp on, passing a brief glance to the loveseat turned bed across from her. Shaking her head, she pulls back the blankets and settles into her own bed.

When Peter returns, the room is dim, Michelle scrolling mindlessly on her phone. She wonders if she appears a little too casual for comfort, but she shakes that thought away as the door clicks shut behind him.

Peter’s silent as he settles into the couch, the leather groaning and squealing loudly under his movement. The noise cuts through the air, causing them both to freeze for a moment. He grins sheepishly as he nestles further under his blanket, his face becoming only partly visible.

Michelle doesn’t say anything as she turns to the bedside lamp and switches it off.

The room becomes blanketed in dark, and it takes a moment for their eyes to adjust. The air feels heavy; soul-crushing, even. It’s deathly quiet, and Michelle’s almost a hundred percent positive that Peter can hear her breathing and the way her heart’s beating like an out-of-time snare drum.

She closes her eyes, willing her mind and body to return to that feeling in the car, before she started having this weird, sudden existential crisis. And to some degree, it starts to work. She counts, starting at one, hoping that having her mind focus on something other than the current situation might help. Her mind starts to drift, her counting switching to random, sleep-induced thoughts, and her body starts to feel heavy, sinking further into the fluffy mattress—

EER-ER-EEEP

But she’s startled, yanked back to reality by the loud squeaking of Peter tossing and turning on the loveseat.

Once again, the deafening silence returns, but Michelle doesn’t say anything, annoyed, but still electing to just ignore it. All he’s doing is getting comfortable. No reason to attack him for that.

It’s quiet again, and for the second time, she closes her eyes, taking in a deep breath. Minutes go by, and she’s finding it harder and harder to get that feeling back. The counting from one doesn’t work this time, her brain immediately crossing to the Peter lane that’s always there. The thoughts and feelings from earlier in the day and in the bathroom flood right back—especially seeing him mid-putting-a-shirt-on—and it suddenly becomes too hot to be under so many blankets.

Trying not to let even the tiniest bit of frustration show, she flips onto her back, staring up at the ceiling, subtly scooting a little closer to the wall to be as far away from her problem as possible. Drawing in a long, deep breath, she closes her eyes again.

It’s quiet again, the silence that fills the room bringing the mood back to what might be serene if she weren’t so stressed out. She focuses on her breathing, on slowing her heart beat to a semi-normal rate, pushing any and all thoughts about Peter Parker out of her head—

EP-EEEEER-EP

EEER-EEP

Peter groans from his place on the couch as he turns on his side, cutting the silence of the room with his restlessness.

There’s a moment where she thinks that he’s finished, that he’s finally settled.

ER-EP

And instantly, the moment is gone.

“Peter,” she almost hisses.

“Sorry!” Peter whispers back. “I can’t—ugh… get comfortable. It’s like there’s a giant metal rod just… Stuck right in my back.”

She doesn’t say anything in return, sighing as she turns over on her side, facing away from him. If anything, as annoyed at his noisy fidgeting as she is, she can see the silver lining—being angry at him is a nice distraction from whatever the hell the other feeling is—illness, pining, lust, she doesn’t know. At least now she can just focus on how much of a pain in the ass he’s being.

She does feel sorry for him, of course. The couch hadn’t looked all that comfortable when they walked in, and a loveseat isn’t a good option for anyone, no matter how tall or super-powered they are. It would have been much easier for them both if he had agreed to just share with her. It’s not like it’s that big of a deal.

(It is.)

It’s not like all she’d be able to think about would be his hand next to hers, the warmth of his body lulling her into a homey comfort.

Nothing like that at all.

Feelings for her best friend aside, she’d be more than able to share a full-sized bed—that’s really meant for only one person—with him. But then, she thinks about how much—how quickly, he’d rejected the idea, and then she deflates. He’d been so defensive, so insistent. So—

EEEEEEEE-EEEP

Michelle can hear him suck in a breath, bracing himself.

“Oh, my GOD.” She whisper-shouts into the pitch black room, grabbing her pillow and pushing her face into it.

“I’m sorry!” Peter matches her tone, sitting up before throwing himself back against the cushions.

No. She will not listen to this all night. She’s had enough.

If’s she going to get any sleep at all—

Peter sits up again, listening as MJ starts rustling around on the bed. “What—What are you doing?” He asks carefully.

“Scooting over.” She snaps.

“What? Why?”

“Just get in the bed, Parker.”

“Wha—what?” Even in the dark of the room, Michelle can practically see the blush fall over his entire face.

She scoots closer to the wall, huffing indignantly. “Because I don’t wanna have to listen to that all night. I’d like to sleep at some point, if that’s okay with you.”

It takes a moment for Peter to respond, and at first, Michelle thinks—worries—that she’s taken a step too, far.

But then, the couch squeaks again as Peter stands hesitantly.

“...Are you—Are you sure?” He asks, his voice coming closer, her heart leaping into her throat.

Despite the rush of blood roaring in her ears, she holds her ground. “God, yes! Just get over here already,” she whispers again, opening the blanket for him to get in.

She can hear the hesitation in his silence, but she’s surprised when the bed dips beside her. His hand brushes her arm as he crawls under the blanket and settles into the mattress. When he settles in, he keeps a respectable distance, clinging as close to the side as possible. It’s certainly a tight fit, even with both of them as close to their respective ends of the bed as they can possibly get, and although he’s almost falling off the edge, she can still feel the his warmth.

And then, they both lie there for what seems like hours, each holding their breath, neither one daring to speak, neither one truly settled.

Michelle tries moving, turning away from him, though it doesn’t help much. He’s still too close; she can still feel him right next to her.

It’s not fair, she thinks. It’s really not.

Though she’s not all that surprised; she shouldn’t be. This is exactly what the both of them had been avoiding.

Michelle shifts again before sighing in defeat.

“What’s wrong?” Peter asks as he turns on his side, his quiet, soft, sleepy voice so incredibly close. She shivers.

“Can’t sleep,” she says, nestling further into her pillow.

On instinct, she turns back around to face him.

Perhaps a mistake.

His face is mere inches from hers, her breath catching in her throat. If the lights were on, she’s sure she could count every freckle on his nose. He quickly pulls back to give her another centimeter of space. “Sorry,” he whispers, the sheepish grin on his face audible.

“It’s fine,” She breathes out, albeit a bit shakily, as she rolls over onto her back again.

Her hand falls to the middle of the bed, but she yanks it back when her pinky brushes his. “Sorry,” she says, huffing out a laugh at herself.

Peter rolls onto his stomach, his face turning to her as he rests his head on his pillow. “You’re good,” he mumbles groggily, his eyelids drooping with every passing second. “This is so much comfier.”

She smiles, a warm fluttering in her stomach as she looks over at him. His breathing deepens slowly, and soon, she can tell that he’s fast asleep.

He could fall asleep anywhere, he said.

Anywhere except for a loveseat.

Sleep doesn’t seem to want to come as easily to Michelle. She still tosses and turns, feeling herself drifting in and out of the first stage, never fully asleep and never fully awake, staying in that torturous limbo in between for what feels like a whole-ass eternity.

When a solid-ish form of rest finally comes, it’s gone before she has a chance to realize. She opens her eyes again, seeing the hint of the beginning of morning light through the single window in their room. Craning her neck up from her pillow she looks over Peter’s sleeping form and at the alarm clock on the bedside table.

4:48 AM.

She falls back against her pillow with a frustrated huff.

“You okay?”

If she weren’t so sleep deprived, Peter’s soft voice so suddenly awake and beside her would have made her jump. Instead, she passes him a fleeting glance before rubbing her one of her eyes with a knuckle.

“Can’t sleep,” she says again, just as she had earlier.

Peter rolls on his side to face her fully, his arm tucked under his pillow, his lips pressed into a thoughtful line. “Do you want more cow facts?”

Her laugh cracks, voice worn from a lack of sleep. “No. No. I’m good. Thanks, though.”

“I’m gonna get you more cow facts.”

“Peter—”

But he’s already reaching for his phone on the table, turning back to face her after typing into his google search. His face glows blue from the light, and she can’t help the way her lips tug upward at his look of fierce concentration.

“Okay, you can pick—”

She stares up at the ceiling.

“—27 Amazing Cow Facts That Will Impress Your Friends, or—get ready for this—”

She will not look at him.

“Are you ready?” He doesn’t wait. “10 ‘Udderly’ Fascinating Facts About Cows.”

“Peter—” She warns, her grin hiding nothing, as she turns on her side to face him.

“Pick!” He insists, his quiet voice full of mischief and excitement. “You gotta.”

Her eyes narrow. “Neither.”

“Okay, we’re going punny,” He decides for her. “Did you know that cows cause more deaths than sharks per year? Crazy right? Where’s Cow Week then, huh?” He scrolls further upon earning no response besides a deadpan stare. “You ever wondered why Cows moo? Well, these moos are the pick-up lines of the cattle world. Bulls and cows let each other know that they are ready to, in the words of a bovine Marvin Gaye, get it on.”

“I hate you.”

“Cows can see three-hundred-sixty degrees. Kinda like chameleons—HEY!”

Before he can even finish the fun fact, her hand shoots out to yank his phone out of his hands. His reflexes are much fast, and he holds it away over the edge of the bed.

“No more cow facts!” MJ hisses as she reaches over him, her arm laying across his chest, in an attempt to snatch his phone and throw it across the room. “No more!”

Peter lets out a breathy laugh, and it’s then, when he just drops his phone, that she realizes how close their faces are; his nose just barely brushing hers, his breath fanning her face. They stay like that a moment, her hand unconsciously smoothing over the fabric of his t-shirt, unable to tear her gaze from his.

Almost instantly she pulls back, muttering out a sorry.

But she doesn’t fully move away, and neither does he.

There’s a moment, one where it all just suddenly clicks—where it all falls neatly into place, like that last, perfect piece in Tetris—and it’s when she finally lets herself look right at him; when she sees that tiny, shy smirk on his face; when she sees that unspoken tint to his eyes as he looks at her.

“Do you, uh—” He swallows. “Wanna hear another one?”

There’s nothing she can do to stop herself from smiling a soft smile.

“No.”

Against any of her better judgement, she leans in.

The first brush of her lips against his is barely there. It’s unbelievably soft, almost as if she’s dreaming. Peter startles at the touch, and she pulls back. He stares at her, mouth parted as he looks at her, speechless. A nervous laugh bubbles up out of him as he tentatively brings a hand to brush her wild curls behind her ear, staying there.

“You kissed me?” He asks dumbly.

She nods, mentally reminding herself to breath.

And that’s all it takes.

A split-second later, he’s crashing his lips against hers, sighing in relief at the contact, his hand moving to cup her jaw. And it’s a feeling that’s everything to her. For something that’s been so hyped up in her mind for so long, she feels delighted shock in finding that the feel of his mouth moving with hers far exceeds any of her previous expectations.

There’s a faint tremble to her hand as she cards it through his stupidly soft hair, gathering the strands, giving an unconscious, yet gentle tug. Peter groans, the sound sending a tidal wave of electricity through her.

And truly, she thinks she could live in this moment for forever, cheesy as it sounds.

His hand moves to her neck, bringing her even closer to him as tilts his head, deepening the kiss. With his free hand, he grips at her waist—her old t-shirt bunching as he pulls himself up to lean over her—before moving down to smooth circles into her exposed hip.

A harsh, short breath escapes her as she grips onto his black shirt, her other hand slipping underneath it to smooth across his stomach.

“I’ve thought about this for a long time,” Peter murmurs against her lips when he pulls back. “Like—a long time.” His laugh is breathy.

Hers is, too. Almost moreso. “Yeah,” she grins. “Me, too.”

The way his smile stretches, reaching all the way up to his eyes just might kill her, she thinks for a split-second, and she comes to her own rescue by pulling his face back down to hers.

She can feel his smile widen through the kiss as he rolls them over, her legs coming naturally to wrap around his waist as he lays on top of her. He squeezes her hip playfully, his hand ghosting across the waistband of her shorts. At her sharp intake of breath, he retracts his hand quickly, as if he’s been burned, mumbling out a “Sorry” against her cheek as he moves to press kisses along the column of her throat.

Michelle feels herself laugh breathily, still unable to bite back her smile. “It’s… It’s fine.” She takes his hand back to it’s place on her stomach, encouraging him to continue, her body screaming in celebration.

But he pulls away, looking at her inquisitively, the hand she’d moved coming back to rest on her arm. “We don’t have to do anything—”

“—I know we don’t,” she cuts him off, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she grins up at him. “But I want to.”

Somehow, someway, his grin seems to get even bigger, and he tries twisting his mouth in an effort to hide it. “Me, too.”

Without another word, she pulls him back down, kissing him soundly, his hand still resting against the flat of her stomach. Again, he deepens the kiss, a hand reaching to cradle the back of her head as his lips mould perfectly against hers. His tongue shyly brushes against her lips, and she readily parts them.

Her breathing grows ragged once more, and unconsciously, she rolls her hips upward, moaning softly into his mouth at the feeling of his hardness briefly pressing against her. He holds himself up with his free hand, muscles tensing as he bites back a groan. Her smile against his lips grows, and she does it again, earning the same reaction.

He huffs out a nervous chuckle, his kissing growing gentler as his other hand comes once again to the waistband of her soft sleep shorts. Slowly, almost too slowly, his hand dips under her shorts, and he freezes again.

Michelle’s ready to pull away and ask if he’s alright before he starts to just barely touch her.

Her hips jerk slightly, and she laughs quietly when he pulls away from her, looking down at her with curious concern before cupping her through her cotton boyshorts. One of his fingers traces a line down the middle of the soft fabric; it’s a faint touch, almost ghostly, but it’s more than enough to make her face burn hot. Almost experimentally, he presses down harder, his strokes smooth as he starts to rub slowly, the corner of his lip quirking upward at the tiny gasp that comes out of her.

He matches the pace with their breathing, his movements slow and deliberate. Pulling her in for another quick, yet sound kiss, he removes his hand. Instinctively, she raises her hips, her own shaking hands moving to remove her sleep shorts. She pushes them off, though she struggles getting them past her thigh, Peter swooping in to move them down the rest of the way.

“Teamwork,” he jokes lamely.

“Great—ah,” She responds, her voice catching when he returns his hand it’s earlier ministrations. “Great job.”

“Thanks,” he says with a small smirk.

This time, his strokes are faster, and he adds just the tiniest bit of pressure. Michelle’s breathing gets heavier, less steady, and all she can do is close her eyes and focus on just how fucking good it feels.

And also, how god damn frustrating it is that he’s still not actually touching her yet.

She can feel Peter’s smug smile against her neck when she lets out the quietest whine and she almost speaks up, ready to tell him off—joking of course—until she feels his hand finally dip past the navy blue lace trim.

Fuck.

His fingers hover above her silky skin before coming down slowly. They both let out shaky breaths as he touches her—finally touches her. His movement is still tentative as he goes to tease her entrance, collecting her wetness and swirling it over her clit, the slight tremor in his hand giving his nerves away. Unconsciously, her hand comes to rest on his, guiding him softly into a gentle rhythm. He murmurs something incoherent before capturing her lips into a tender kiss.

He repeats his movements, dipping his finger further into her each time.

“Oh—” A soft moan escapes her when he inserts a second finger, an uncontrollable grin pulling at his lips at the sound.

His fingers pump and in out of her, curling, speeding up when he notices how her breathing matches, his eyes trailing down to her lips. Michelle can hear her heart thundering in her ears, her breathing growing ragged as he picks up his pace.

But before she can feel herself getting closer to that point, Peter removes his fingers, sitting back on his heels as he rests between her knees. The whine that comes out of her at the loss of contact would almost be embarrassing if she wasn’t so annoyed. She glares up at him, though her gaze softens when he glances down briefly, then back up again, his eyes questioning and earnest.

“Can—” He clears his throat. “Can I—?”

It takes her a moment to register what he’s asking, but then it hits her.

Oh, fuck.

“Yes!” She answers a little too quickly, disguising her excitement under a cough. “I mean—” she replies slowly, lowering her voice. “Yes.”

He grins easily at her, the expression making her heart seize.

His smile fades as he leans down, his fingers tracing the lace trim of her boyshorts, pulling them down slowly, leaving them to hang off of her left leg. Before she can make any comment—perhaps one about how he half-asses everything, though perhaps, she thinks, it’s not the time for that—he dips his head down quickly, his lips meeting hers.

Michelle shudders, and her breathing hitches as he flattens his tongue before licking a long stripe up the length of her center, the fingers of his left hand digging into her thighs. Instinctively, her hands fly to his hair, wrapping themselves in the soft curls, smoothing them down as he sucks on her clit, tracing smooth circles with his tongue. He moves his free hand back up to her hips, curling two of his fingers into her once again.

After a beat, she lays back, allowing herself to become lost in the feeling, letting Peter coax soft moans from her lips, unable to stop her body from tensing, her insides twisting in white hot pleasure. He quickens his pace, and she has to cover her mouth to stifle her moans. He glances up at her, a sight that’s almost too dizzying when she dares a quick glance in return. She feels that same heat pooling in her stomach again, a wavy smile tugging at her lips as she feels herself getting closer and closer.

Her thighs twitch, tensing around Peter’s head, and for a moment, she worries that her hair pulling is a little rough—which doesn’t seem to be a problem, given the moans that Peter gives when she tugs and pulls, and frankly, it’s hard to focus on anything else with how she’s teetering back and forth on the edge. With another swipe of his tongue, Michelle gasps, bucking her hips upward, her fist in his hair holding him in just that right spot.

The coil tightens, the heat burning, and with added pressure to her clit, she feels herself flutter and spasm around his fingers as she releases, back arching as he whimpers under her breath. Peter pulls back, his breathing as ragged as hers, wiping his mouth before crawling up to meet her.

She doesn’t wait for him to ask before pulling him down, capturing his lips into a heated kiss, sighing as she tastes herself on him.

For a moment, there’s nothing else said between them as Peter pulls away, laying on his side next to her, the only sound in the room being their labored breaths.

“Go team,” he jokes.

With a playful eye roll, still breathless, MJ goes to pull the blanket back over them after the AC kicks in again, sending a shiver through her. “Go team,” she says back.

As soon as she’s back against the pillow, he moves in again, his hands moving to cup her face as he plants a soft kiss on her lips that makes her heart flutter. Her hand sneaks under the blanket as she tilts her head to deepen the kiss once more. The surprised grunt the comes out of Peter as she dips her hand under the waistband of his boxers, grabbing his dick, causes a faint, tired laugh to bubble up out of her.

He kisses her back eagerly, laying them back against the pillows as he brings a hand to rest on her naked hip.

It’s such a happy moment, Michelle thinks. Her heart feels as if it’s soaring in her chest, her cheeks warm and glowing. She likes this loser. So much. And she’s unbelievably glad that he feels the same.

Peter groans, feeling her soft hand tighten around him. His strangled moan is cut off. “Oh, God—”

And, perhaps in what they’ll remember as the ultimate, literal cockblock of all time from a Certified Moment Killer, Ned Leeds, their dear, dear friend, barges into the room.

“—Guys! Betty and I are gonna go watch the sunrise! Wanna—?”

He freezes, seeing his two best friends huddled together.

“—What’s going on guys? Why are you… in the same bed…?”

It’s in that moment that Michelle’s exceedingly glad she put the blanket back on so that they’re friend can remain blissfully unaware.

It’s also in that moment that she promptly takes her hand off of Peter’s dick.

Peter and MJ exchange glances

“...There was only one bed. And the couch sucked.”

Ned stares at them, his brows pinched together. He points a thumb at the loveseat in question, his expression seeming to state the obvious.

“You know that’s a pull-out couch right?”

#spideychelle #spideychelleweek2k20 #petermj #peter parker #michelle jones #cw: smut #spiceeeey

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superfem-imagines · 5 years ago

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Morphine and Memories

Will there be a part two, or a follow up as to how B!D would recover and or other memories/flashbacks between the sisters?

A/N: I’m so glad you liked it enough for a part two. As soon as I read this I had some ideas running through my head. A few hours and 1,679 words later and we got a part two to Bluffing or Bullshit?

(I really like the doctor and the ideas I had while writing her parts, maybe I’ll make a series with her in it?)

The door to the med bay opened with a loud bang, making all three of the occupants jump. Kara stopped and smiled sheepishly, gently closing the door and moving into the room. At the doctors glare towards her dirty supersuit, Kara huffed and disappeared, quickly coming back dressed in DEO sweatpants and standard issue t shirt.

Kara moved to the side of the bed by Alex, squeezing your good thigh. “Hey, y/n. Sorry I couldn’t come busting down doors, small alien attack in the city.”

“Alex told me,” you reassured, wincing as the doctor started cutting your jeans. “Hey doc? These were my favorite pair, do you think the DEO will replace them?” You asked, grinning at her.

“Stop getting into these situations and I’ll see what I can do.” Dr. Porter negotiated. She had been the one to patch you up whenever you got hurt (usually by doing stupid stuff in the field).

“But how will I see your beautiful face?” You flirted, smiling as you watched her freckled cheeks blush a light pink. You laughed as she lightly wacked you, shaking her head to hide her smile.

“Keep it up and you won’t get no morphine,” you let out a mock gasp, clutching your hand over your heart.

“You wound me.”

Smirking, Dr. Porter left to get the medicine. You turn back to your sisters, groaning at the shit eating grin on Alex’s face.

“You like her,” Kara taunted in a sing song voice, lightly bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Do not,” you mumble, glaring at both your sisters. Alex was still grinning at you, which was kind of unnerving.

Before you could say anything else, Dr. Porter came back, a couple vials and needles in her hands. She silently put a dose in your IV, leaving it to set in while she readied everything she needed. Dr. Porter sat on a rolling chair and pulled a tray table with her, clamps and threaded needle resting there.

You grit your teeth as she put on her gloves and picked up her clamps. “Em,” you say in a low voice, lightly gripping the doctors wrist. She smiles and nods, knowing how much you hated this part. You turned to your sisters, not wanting to watch.

“Y/n,” Kara’s voice caught your attention. “You remember when we told the school about James cheating?

You chuckle, remembering what had happened. “Yeah! Him and his friends chased us down.”

“Do you have all the pictures?” Kara whispered as she jogged up beside you. With a feral grin, you opened the duffel hanging off your arm.

All the pictures were copies of a built guy in a football jersey kissing a brunette in the park, who was definitely not his blonde girlfriend. You had taken the picture over the weekend on an icecream trip with Kara. And as payback for all the bullying, you and Kara were going to plaster them all over the school and put them in the student lockers.

All day you carried the full duffel, until you and Kara skipped last period and took tape from the storage closet to hang them up. The entire hour you guys worked to hang them all over the walls and fold them into the lockers, that way they couldn’t just tear them down.

Some of them had red marker defacing the image, “CHEATER” and “PRICK” written in bold letters. Right before the bell rang you took out a big sharpie, repeating the words from the images along with “BULLY” and sketched middle fingers all over his locker.

You guys packed up and went into the bathroom, waiting for the bell to ring. When it did, the students were loud but slowly grew quiet as they saw all the pictures. You and Kara left the bathroom, pretending to look stunned at what had happened. Walking towards where his locker was, Kara followed you in walking with the crowds to avoid being caught.

At his locker stood James, staring stunned at the writing on it. His girlfriend stormed up, yelling at him about the pictures. Kara gasped beside you as she slapped him across the face, before turning and walking away. James, face red from the slap and the embarrassment, looked around and caught your eye. You grinned, flipping the marker in your hand.

Seeing the anger in his eyes, you grabbed Kara by the arm and told her to run. You guys took off down the hall, the stomping feet of James and his friends chasing after you. You burst through the front doors, laughing as you let go of the duffle bag and spilling the rest of the pictures all over the steps. You guys sprinted down the sidewalk, towards the town buildings.

Veering right into a store street and right again into an alley, you pulled Kara behind a dumpster, clamping a hand over her mouth as you grinned. You listened as the guys ran by, yelling obscenities. You peered around the corner, and took off once the coast was clear. Never slowing down, you guys ran all the way home and collapsed on the bed.

After catching your breath, you looked at Kara and her wide eyed expression. You guys let out loud, full belly laughs, laughing so hard you started crying.

“No one even found out, either!” You exclaim, wiping away tears as you finished telling the story.

“How did you guys get away with it?” Alex asked, shocked. She had been there, seen all the pictures.

“I had a friend hack the cameras and delete the footage.” You shrugged, remembering making your friend swear not to rat you out. And he never did.

“Do you guys remember the rooftop marshmallows?” Alex asked, eyes lit up.

“That was so much fun! Mom was so mad though,” you say, wincing at the memory of Eliza’s face.

Alex climbed through her bedroom window, plastic bag clamped between her teeth. Making it onto the roof, she softly walked over to you and Kara, tossing the marshmallows on the little pile you had made. Alex grinned at the sight of her sisters wrapped in a blanket together.

“Alright Kar,” Alex began, squatting down. “You need to get a hold on your heat vision, so we’re gonna roast some marshmallows.”

“Like the ones we had camping?” Kara’s eyes lit up at the thought of food, then she frowned, remembering how out of control her vision got. “What if I hurt you guys?”

“You won’t, Kara.” You say gently, grabbing her hand. “We trust you, ok? You’ve got this.” Kara nodded hesitantly, taking off her glasses.

Alex and you worked to open all the packages as Kara sat with her eyes closed, adjusting to the unfiltered sounds. When she was ready and had opened her eyes, you guys already had sticks setup with marshmallows.

Kara took a deep breath and squinted her eyes, a vein in her forehead popping with the effort. After a couple long moments of silence, a thin red beam shot out and lit the marshmallows on fire. Grinning, Alex blew them out.

“Close!” Alex exclaimed, popping a burnt marshmallow in her mouth. “Try and concentrate more.”

“If it helps,” you interject, holding out your loaded stick. “Focus on one of our heartbeats. That’s what Clark did once.”

Nodding, Kara focused her attention on the stick. A thin beam came out and hit the marshmallows. This time, instead of catching on fire, they slowly started to brown. Kara closed her eyes, opening them again and grinning at you two.

You all made s’mores, getting gooey marshmallow all over your faces.

“We did that for hours,” you said gently, smiling at the story Alex told.

“It was a big step to me controlling my powers,” Kara murmured, fiddling with the blanket. “The heartbeat thing really helped, I still listen sometimes when I need it.”

You and Alex both take one of Kara’s hands, all of you quiet. The moment was broken when Kara snorted.

“Rao, I just remembered the dinosaurs!” Kara exclaimed, laughing.

“You wouldn’t believe us!” You and Alex both yell, grinning.

You three all sat on the couch, a laptop balanced between you. “The birds were believable since I can see them, but giant man eating lizards?” Kara squinted at the screen, convinced it was fake.

“Dude, they were real!” You laugh, pulling up another image. Kara only shook her head, sure that you guys were messing with her.

“Here!” Alex pointed at the TV with the remote, playing a documentary on dinosaurs. Three hours and five documentaries later Kara finally relented, reassured on the fact that the giant beasts were once real.

“There’s speculation that they were actually giant birds and not reptiles,” you grin at Kara as she turns to you.

“Now you’re really messing with me!”

Before any of you could launch into another story, Dr. Porter pushed away, pulling off the bloody gloves. “Done?” You asked shocked, looking down at your stitched up leg and all the other cuts that were now sewn closed.

“Yup,” Dr. Porter said, popping the ‘P’ and the band of her glove at the same time. She held up the bullet, gripped in some tweezers. “Now this will go into evidence.”

“You’re good at that, doc.” You quip, shaking your head.

In lieu of an answer, she smiles and tells Alex that she can put a bandage over the stitches on your thigh once you took off your jeans. Dr. Porter left, Alex grabbing some scissors as Kara got you new clothes.

You groan as Alex cuts off the remainder of your bloody pants. “I really did like these jeans.” She laughs at your pout as she wraps your thigh. Kara comes back with clothes like the ones she was wearing, helping you change into them.

“That’s ok, I’m sure your dear doctor will help you get new ones.” Alex says, smirking as you groan again.

“Don’t think we would forget Y/n.” Kara says as she helps you stand. “You have to tell us all about her.”

#supergirl imagines #b!d reader #baby danvers #kara danvers x baby danvers #alex danvers x baby danvers #morphine and memories #bluffing or bullshit?#requested #kara danvers imagine #alex danvers imagine

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tommyparkerr · 5 years ago

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Promises BONUS III | Peter Parker x Reader

So...this is it, guys. The end of the road. :’( On the bright side, though, I’ve had so, so, so much fun with this series and I feel like I grew a lot as a writer through this. I explored a lot of new scenes and emotions and POVs which gave me an idea for a new series I want to start with an OC (@dahliaspidey knows exactly what I’m talking about here), and I never would have felt confident enough to write it if I hadn’t written Promises. These bonuses were kind of a last hoorah for me to finish off the series because I had so much left to say about Peter and Y/N’s future that I couldn’t not share it.

I want to thank everyone who has shown me support through this series, and even though it doesn’t have as many notes as I’d hoped when I first started writing, it’s been good for me. Especially now that I want to write an OC, and we all know how those go. However, I know now how to write for myself and that I’m always going to have someone who supports me. So, if that’s you you haven’t gone unnoticed. I appreciate you so much, and even if you only stick around long enough to leave a like I want you to know I appreciate you, too. :)

Anyways...Onward! This is the bonus I’ve been wanting to write since the very beginning, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. It encompasses what this entire series was built off of: angst, frustration, tears, and a good dose of fluff to make up for it. I love you all!<3

Words: 6.6k

Warnings: Angst, tears, sadness, mentions of anxiety...then f l u f f

-Masterlist-

P R O M I S E S - B O N U S T H R E E :

“Mary-Jane Parker, you get back here right now!”

The four-year-old simply giggled from her hiding place in the closet, a large hand sneaking from behind her to cover her mouth. When it served no help in muffling the noise, which only seemed to grow louder at the attempt of being quieted, the hand offered her another one of her favorite cookies. She took it without hesitation, shoving it into her mouth and smearing chocolate on her white shirt.

“Oh, c’mon–did you really have to do that?” the cookie-offerer whispered in distress, attempting to brush away the mess she’d created. “We had a deal, Miss Virginia Parker, and now your mom’s going to kill me and it’ll be all your fault.”

Mary-Jane Virginia Parker smiled a toothy grin, tipping her head back to look at the man behind her. “Sowy Gwanpa Pops,” she said through the mouthful of cookie she still had, her words coming out jumbled and skewed but nevertheless warming the fifty-year-old’s heart.

“See? This is exactly what I’m talking about–how am I supposed to be mad at you when you say stuff like that? Please, please never learn how to pronounce your ‘r’s, because it’s the cutest damn–dang, sorry, and please don’t tell your mom I said that–thing I’ve ever heard.”

The girl giggled again and reached a hand out for the Chips Ahoy! package her grandpa still held. He rolled his eyes but gave her another, this time taking one for himself as well.

“How long aw we gonna hide fwum Mommy?” she asked after chewing and swallowing and grabbing another. Tony knew he was going to get into huge trouble by letting her have so many cookies and agreeing to hide her so she didn’t have to take a nap, but it was Christmas Eve and he just wanted as much time with his granddaughter as possible before the Parkers headed back home to Queens.

So, Tony shrugged. “Until nap time is over, I guess.”

The girl’s eyes widened as if she couldn’t believe it was possible to hide for so long. “But what if Mommy finds us?”

“You’ve played hide-and-go-seek before, right? The tag version?”

She nodded quickly, loving every opportunity she got to show her grandpa how much she knew. “I love that game, Gwandpa Pops! Sophia and Maggie and I play it all the time! I can wun fastah than anyone on the playgwound!”

Tony grinned, a sense of pride filling him even if there was no definite proof that was true. But with half of Peter's DNA in her, it was possible. Though, they wouldn’t know that for sure until she was older. Much older, hopefully. “Good. When your mommy finds us, we’re going to run faster than you ever have on the playground, all right?”

“All wight,” Mary-Jane nodded, now on a mission. “Can I have anothuh cookie pwease?”

Suddenly the closet door was yanked open and light filled the previously dark area. Mary-Jane reacted quicker than any of them could have hoped to themselves (except Peter, of course), snatching the package of cookies from her grandpa before squealing and sprinting through her mother’s legs into the hallway.

“Oh, I see how it is!” Tony shouted after her, now cookie and granddaughter-less. “Take the cookies and leave the old man to die!”

Of course, if the giant grin on his face said anything, he didn’t mean a single word.

There was a sigh and Tony sheepishly looked up, raising his hands in surrender. “Okay, before you say anything, I haven’t seen my granddaughter in, like, a whole month now, so if you want to steal her away from me on Christmas Eve to go take a nap like some wimpy little kid-”

Tony ignored the exasperated, “-she is a little kid, Tony-” from his wife and went on.

“-then maybe you should let her come stay at Grandpa’s more often. I’m just saying.”

While Pepper simply looked frustrated, a guilty look suddenly overtook Y/N’s face. It still didn’t change the fact that Tony was at the mercy of the two scariest women on earth right now, but at least he wasn’t alone. He had Peter, who looked oddly entertained but slightly guilty as well.

“Peter, can you go find our daughter, please?” Y/N said, sighing. “Tell her no nap, but we do have to have a family discussion in the living room.”

“Wait...” Tony said, looking between his wife and daughter-in-law with practiced caution. “Am I in trouble or not? Because on the one hand ‘no nap’ sounds like I won, but the family discussion part sounds like I’m walking to my deathbed.”

“Trust me, old man,” Pepper said with a roll of her eyes as she practically yanked him upright. “If we wanted to kill you, you’d have been dead ages ago.”

It was times like these where Tony was reminded just how terrifying his wife was. “Somehow, I know that’s absolutely true,” he agreed.

Pepper smirked, ushering Y/N to follow along behind them as they made their way to the living room. “Good to know old age hasn’t stolen all of your brains yet.”

Tony was about to protest when Peter and his granddaughter made their appearance, Mary-Jane sitting on her father’s shoulders while each of them chomped down on a cookie.

“Hey, Gwandpa Pops! Daddy wants to give you a cookie too since you only got one.”

Tony grinned and took the package Peter was stretching out to him, his eyes gleaming with mischief. Suddenly he wasn’t so sure about the situation but took the package anyway, looking inside it to find...nothing.

Tony looked up and glared. “You little sh-”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Pepper interrupted, giving Tony a dirty look. Tony winced and plopped down on the couch while Peter and Mary-Jane howled with laughter. Peter only shut up when Y/N gave him a nasty look of her own, which in turn made Tony snicker. Peter gently lowered Mary-Jane down and told her to go play in her room, then sat next to Tony.

“You’re whipped,” Tony whispered low enough so the girls (who were settling down on the couch across from them) couldn’t hear.

“At least I only answer to two women and not three,” Peter shot back, obviously referring to his wife and daughter. Tony chuckled, inconspicuously pointing to Pepper.

“I’ll believe that when I see you tell her no, Parker.”

Peter scowled but didn’t respond.

The mood in the room dropped from humorous to serious way too quickly for Tony’s liking, concern overtaking him when he saw Y/N holding Pepper’s hand and Peter suddenly leaning forward practically radiating anxiety. Although Tony knew there was nothing said that he hadn’t picked up on, he was positive he must’ve missed something that caused the mood in the room to become what it is. He thought about saying something but decided to let Y/N do the talking, which was probably the smartest choice considering his wife’s deadly stare.

“Okay, um…” Y/N looked at Peter, who nodded at her in support. “So, first things first, I guess. Um...well, the good news is that we’re pregnant again. A little girl.”

Tony simultaneously felt joy and dread fill his heart, and from the looks of it, Pepper was experiencing the same thing. This was nothing like the announcement for Mary-Jane, and the growing anxiety made his knee start to incessantly bounce.

“And?” Tony prodded impatiently.

Pepper’s jaw dropped. “Tony,” she hissed, her eyes aflame.

“What are you mad at me for?!” Tony exclaimed. “It was silent and I don’t do well with silence, you know that! And whenever there’s good news there’s bad news and I really don’t want to allow my head more time to dream up worst-case scenarios that keep me up all night! I was simply speeding the process along, that’s all!”

“Pepper, it’s okay,” Y/N assured her with a small smile. “Really. We all know Tony’s a blabbermouth, anyway. Were you really expecting anything else?”

“Hey, since when did it become ‘Gang up on Tony’ day? Because I elect to make it ‘Gang up on Peter’ day instead,” he said, ignoring Peter’s sputtered protests.

“Woah, that’s totally unfair!” he exclaimed. “And it’s so not cool.”

Tony shrugged, leaning back on the couch. “Yeah, well, life’s uncool. Deal with it, kid.”

“But you can’t just do that-”

“Of course, I can. I’m Tony Stark-”

“And I’m your son-”

“The doctor doesn’t know if the baby will make it through the pregnancy.”

The room fell deadly silent after Y/N’s interruption, and the hint of a smile that had started to form on Tony’s face dropped. His heart stopped beating for a minute and his head went blank, completely lost on how to process the information. When he finally snapped back to reality, he saw that Pepper had a hand over her mouth in shock but that her eyes were filled with tears, Y/N was wringing her hands in anticipation, and the boy next to him...well, Peter looked utterly defeated.

“How…” Pepper’s voice shook. “How far along are you?”

“Eighteen weeks,” Y/N answered, looking down at the floor. “We just found out the gender yesterday before we came here. I’ve been on strict bed rest for the past six weeks which is why...well, why we haven’t been here.”

Tony suddenly felt guilty for throwing his granddaughter’s missing presence in their face now. He’d meant it as a joke because he was sure they had their reasons and that they weren’t purposefully keeping her from him, but...he would’ve never guessed that their reason was this.

“Does Mary-Jane know you’re pregnant?” Tony asked, feeling some of his anxiety slip away at Peter’s shake of the head.

“No. We...we didn’t want to tell her yet in case...in case…” The rest of the sentence was never spoken but fell just as heavy upon the room’s occupants as if it were.

After a bit of silence, Y/N spoke up again. “It doesn’t mean that we will lose her, it’s just...it’s just not highly likely that we won’t.” At that she started to cry, no longer able to hold back her trembling jaw and dam in her eyes. Pepper immediately brought her into her arms, and Tony was about to make his way over as well when Peter suddenly jumped up and ran down the hall. He debated for a moment where to go and who to comfort, because it was plainly obvious Y/N needed all the support she could get right now and that meant that Peter probably did too, but he also wasn’t sure if Peter’s running off meant he wanted to be alone. Lucky for him, Pepper opened her eyes to see his turmoil and nodded her chin toward where Peter had gone. Following his wife’s instructions, because her instincts were always right, he shot up, placed a kiss on Y/N’s head, then went off to chase Peter down.

“Pete?” he called out after searching for him for what felt like ages. And, yes, he could’ve just asked FRIDAY, but this time he preferred to find him himself. “Peter, bud, where are you?” Tony didn’t get a direct answer, but he did see a certain room light on without any noise to accompany the sign of life inside. He took a breath before opening up the door.

Bright pink walls and a littered room floor filled his view, Barbies and stuffed animals and storybooks scattered all over the place like an intricate booby trap. Luckily there weren’t any Legos within the mess; he’d stepped on enough of Peter’s to last a lifetime. And, in the midst of it all, he saw the boy he’d been looking for.

Tony quietly lowered himself to the ground next to Peter, careful not to disturb the sleeping girl in front of him.

“She’s always needed her afternoon nap,” Peter said, his eyes not looking away from his daughter. Tony smiled at the Spider-Man toy she held as she slept, curled into a ball that made her look ten times smaller than she already was. “One time when she was two, she got so grumpy with us for not making her take a nap that she just laid down on the floor and took matters into her own hands. Slept hard as a rock,” he chuckled.

“And now here we are,” Tony said with a grin, not doubting for a second that the story wasn’t true. Mary-Jane Virginia Parker had been stubbornly independent since the day she was born, each passing day growing into a stronger leader than she was the day before.

“Here we are,” Peter agreed, a smile on his face. “Seven hundred and thirty days later and we’re in the exact same position.”

They both were quiet for a while, Peter eventually reaching out to brush Mary-Jane’s curly brown hair out of her face. It seemed that touching her was all it took for him to break, as his entire body immediately began to shake.

Tony didn’t dare touch Peter for fear he’d really start to cry and the four-year-old would wake up to the scene. “Let me get her into bed and I’ll meet you down in the lab, okay, Pete?”

Peter nodded and quickly stepped out of the room without a single comment; Tony thought it would be harder to get him to leave but, then again, Peter probably hadn’t wanted to wake Mary-Jane and cause her to ask questions they couldn’t answer about why her dad was crying.

Tony’s knees popped and his back protested as he picked up the little girl and carried her to her bed, tucking her in and giving her a kiss. He took a moment just to look and take her in—his only granddaughter and the only person he could love more than anyone else in the world. And now he was supposed to get two—two beautiful baby girls—and so was Peter and so was Y/N and so was Mary-Jane, but now it was possible she’d be taken away from them before they could get to know her and it wasn’t fair.

But looking at Peter and Y/N and how strong their first daughter turned out to be, he hoped—he knew—that that baby girl was going to live. She was going to defeat every odd in the book and come out stronger than anyone could have hoped; she was going to be the biggest miracle they’d ever experienced because there was no other option.

She was going to live. She had to.

Tony eventually made his way to the lab, feeling both hesitant and eager to get to his kid as quickly as possible. He wasn’t sure he would have the right words to say, but he could try.

He’d lost too much in his life, and fate be damned if it was going to try to take that baby girl away from him too.

When he got down to the lab, he half expected to see Peter sobbing in a corner somewhere he couldn’t easily be seen. However, it wasn’t what he got. Instead, he got what looked like a lifeless Peter sat on a workbench with head in hands, his body absolutely still. Tony carefully approached him, not sure what to do. He received no reaction as he got closer, leading him to perch himself on the seat beside his unusually quiet kid. Tony didn’t know if he was supposed to break the silence or not, but luckily he didn’t have to wonder long.

“Hey.”

Tony winced at the sound of his voice, raw and ruined. Maybe he’d stayed in the room with Mary-Jane longer than he thought he did–long enough, at least, for Peter to cry until his lungs gave out.

He lifted his hand and dropped it onto Peter’s shoulder, choosing to go with silent acknowledgment rather than verbal. Apparently that was all Peter needed to break down again, as his voice dropped to a whisper and he brokenly sobbed, “She’s the best thing that ever happened to me, Dad. I can’t-I can’t lose one of her. I can’t lose her, Dad, I can’t.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out who Peter was referring to, and normally Tony would have made some sort of quip about his ingenuity, but now all he did was reach over and wrap his kid up in his arms. Peter laid his head on his shoulder, and his hands shook as he clutched onto Tony’s AC/DC shirt. Tony couldn’t help it when tears pricked his eyes and a lump formed in his throat; seeing Peter like this–so broken, so afraid, so helpless–hurt more than he ever imagined it could. And Tony was afraid too, because that was his granddaughter and his kid and his daughter-in-law the world was messing with, but he had to be strong now. If not for Peter and Y/N, then for himself.

“You won’t,” Tony said, his voice firm but quiet. “You won’t lose her.”

Peter didn’t respond at first. “How do you know that?”

“Because I’m a genius,” Tony automatically quipped and immediately regretted it when he felt Peter stiffen. “Sorry, sorry–not the time for my not-so-genius wit, I know.” He took a deep breath. “Look, Pete, I know it seems like this is the end of the world for you, but let me tell you something: That baby you’re mourning right now? She’s still alive. Her heart is still beating and her brain is still thinking, yet you’re acting like she’s already gone. She’s alive, Peter. She’s alive, and she’s yours, and she needs every ounce of love and encouragement she can get so she can grow.”

“She’s not a plant, Dad,” Peter mumbled, voice muffled by Tony’s shirt.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Hear me out, okay? Yeah, maybe she��s small right now or the doctor is expecting some sort of health issues, but even if she was born a little small or with six toes, you’d still love her, right? And you better say yes, because if you don’t this whole plan I had laid out in my head just went to shit.”

Peter smiled–just a little bit–and Tony felt accomplished.

“Of course I would. I do.”

“Then what are you doing sitting here crying for her?” Tony asked seriously, pulling Peter off his shoulder and looking him straight in the eye. He was simultaneously going for tough love and compassion, making his next few sentences come out assertive yet soft. “You love her, so act like it. Look–if Mary-Jane told you she wanted to play on the soccer team but was horrifyingly bad at it, you wouldn’t stomp on her dreams, would you? You’d encourage her, Pete; you’d cheer her on, no matter what. Mary-Jane is strong and brilliant and braver than I ever could be–what do you think makes this little girl any different?”

It was silent for a long time as Peter simply stared at Tony with eyes full of unshed tears. Then he started to smile–a watery smile but one nonetheless.

“She is brilliant, isn’t she?” he tearily laughed.

“Of course she is,” Tony said. “I’m her grandpa.”

Peter smirked. “Grandpa Pops.”

Tony playfully glared as he pulled Peter back in for a half hug, half noogie. “Get over here, you little twit.”

—

The call came in the middle of the night at approximately 2:33am, disturbing Tony’s and Pepper’s rest alike (though Tony had only been asleep for an hour now). Pepper stumbled out of bed to grab the phone–whether it was his phone or his wife’s he didn’t know. He was expecting her to simply decline the call and take care of whichever important business person forgot time zones were something that existed in the morning, but she instead of picked it up with a too loud, “Hello?”

Tony groaned and grumpily mumbled, “Who the hell-” but was interrupted by the ‘zip it’ motion given by his wife. He turned over and put a pillow over his head, grumbling to himself and fully planning to murder whoever was calling at 2:33 in the morning. That was until he heard the next words from his wife’s mouth.

“Right now? She’s in labor right now?!”

Suddenly Tony was more awake, moving the pillow off his head and shooting upright. He looked at Pepper to hopefully get some answers, but all he got was a frantic waving toward the closet. Luckily Tony picked up on it and threw the sheets off of him, nearly tripping over his own feet as he picked out clothes for the hospital.

“Peter–Peter calm down, okay, hun? Take a breath–Peter, slow down!”

Tony’s heart clenched and he finished slipping on his chosen AC/DC shirt (he still couldn’t believe that the kid mistook them for Led Zeppelin) only to leave his pants behind as he rushed to Pepper. She was still trying to get Peter to calm down–unsuccessfully, it sounded like–but before she could say anything further Tony impatiently stuck his hand out and said, “Give me the phone, Pep.”

She looked relieved, not even bothering to tell Peter she was handing over the phone before depositing it into Tony’s hand and going to get dressed herself.

As Tony put the phone to his ear, he immediately heard the ramble the kid was in the middle of, panicked and breathless. He didn’t waste any time in reacting. “Peter? Pete, it’s me, kid. Breathe. I mean it, Underoos. Breathe. Breathe, and then we can talk, okay? I’m not talking to you until you pause for a minute and breathe.”

The rambling died almost immediately, replaced by gasps for air that were partially caused by not breathing for a good minute and a half and partially by the anxiety Tony was sure was coursing through the kid. Tony let the silence go on for a few more seconds before speaking again. “Okay, kid, that’s a good start. Now, when you’re ready to tell me what’s going on, I’m listening.”

Surprisingly, Peter took a few more breaths before beginning to explain. “It’s Y/N–she’s in labor right now. We just got to the hospital and the doctors are getting everything ready and oh my go-”

“Breathe, Pete. Remember?”

He took in a choked breath. “Yeah–right. Right.”

Tony waited a moment or two, contemplating on where to lead the conversation. “What’s up, kid? Are you all right? Is Y/N all right?”

“I don’t–I mean, yeah, Y/N’s fine, I’m fine, but like–what if it’s not, Mr. Stark? What if it goes wrong and something happens?”

“Listen to me, Peter,” Tony said seriously. “Everything is going to be okay. Remember almost five months ago when you didn’t know if you’d even make it to today? Well, today is here, Peter, and it’s waiting for you to get your head out of your ass and pull yourself together to go be with your wife and soon-to-be daughter. You got that? I know anxiety can be a pain in the ass, but you cannot let it win this time, okay, bud? There’s too many people who need you in that room right now, your unborn daughter being one of them. So know that Pep and I will be there, but you’ve got somewhere to be right now, and it is not in the hospital waiting room. You go there after little Anthony is born, okay?”

That managed to get a small laugh out of Peter, and Tony smiled in relief. “We’re not naming her Anthony, Mr. Stark; we’ve been over this.”

“Sorry Pete, you’re cutting out and I totally did not hear what you just said. But we’ll be there soon to meet little Miss Anthony Junior,” Tony joked as he sat on the bed and worked on putting on the pair of pants that Pepper handed to him; she was rolling her eyes and shaking her head at where their conversation had turned back to, but she had a smile on her face which told him she wasn’t truly annoyed. Besides, it had only ever been a joke; there was no way Tony would let them really name their daughter Anthony, which was why he found it so humorous when he entertained it.

Peter laughed again, then went quiet. Tony frowned. Just as he was about to check the phone to see if the call had dropped somehow, Peter spoke up. “Thank you, Dad.”

Tony genuinely smiled and finished putting his sweatpants on as he replied, “Anytime, Pete.”

The call ended.

—

The waiting room ended being pretty empty when they got there. Tony guessed it had something to do with the fact that it was three in the morning, but he knew for a fact that nothing good happened after midnight (nonetheless on a Friday night) so he was pleasantly surprised when he found that the only people he had to share a waiting room with was Pepper, May, Mary-Jane (who was sleeping on May’s lap when they arrived), Rhodey, Happy, and one night shift nurse who seemed close to falling asleep at the lack of patients. Rhodey and Happy had shown up a couple hours later at a more respectable hour, but only because Tony hadn’t called them until then.

They all took turns dozing off, making sure at least one of them was awake in case Peter would make an appearance. So far it had been radio silence, which was either really good or really bad, but no one but Tony seemed overly anxious about that so he forced himself to relax. He took Mary-Jane from May when she excused herself to the bathroom and went on a coffee run at about seven o’clock, knowing that at this point no one was going to be sleeping anymore; it had been close to four and a half hours now, so in about an hour they could start taking bets on when the next Parker would show up. Of course, there were no guarantees it would even happen until late afternoon, but he knew no one would bet that in order to avoid jinxing it. They were all eager, and hearing absolutely nothing for almost five hours was hard for all of them.

The waiting room started to fill up as time went on, but for a Saturday morning it wasn’t too bad. The poor night shift nurse left at seven o’clock, and May winced in empathy when she tripped over her feet trying to get to the time clock.

It was approximately seven-thirty when they started taking bets: May with her best guess being 9:30, Pepper with an optimistic 8:15, Rhodey with a strangely specific 9:52, Happy with a not-so-optimistic 11:45, Mary-Jane with a wild guess of 13:13 not knowing what exactly they were all talking about but wanting to participate anyway, and Tony with a guess he never got to speak because a familiar, more exhausted version of Peter Parker showed up. No one seemed to notice but him yet, so at Tony’s questioning look and Peter’s nod of his head, he wore a smile as he spoke past his throat suddenly closing up, “Seven thirty-seven?”

All heads snapped to the doorway now and May was the first to react, jumping up and rushing to her nephew to give him a hug. Peter closed his eyes and accepted the action, practically sinking into her arms. Mary-Jane went next, shouting an excited, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!”

Soon the entire room followed, laughing and smiling through happy tears, and Tony had never seen Happy cry before, but now he was and he would hold it against him forever if not for the fact that he was crying too. All of those months endlessly stressing and worrying over Y/N and baby, praying that they would simply make it to tomorrow, finally could fade away. And the relief that resulted from that was enough to make tears arise in even the most emotionless man’s eyes.

“Not that I’m saying I don’t appreciate the hugs, but I think there’s some others who would like to see you as well,” Peter’s voice spoke, and suddenly everyone was stepping back and looking to him expectantly. He ran a tired hand down his face, accepting the coffee May handed him with a grateful smile. “There can only be two of you back there at one time for right now, excluding Mary-Jane. Everyone’s fine, but Momma and babies are exhausted and can’t handle everyone’s excitement all at one time.”

Only silence followed his statement, the only one not seeming to pick up on the heaviness of what Peter just said being the recently turned five-year-old currently clinging to her dad’s neck. Peter attempted a sly smirk, but it only came out as a half-smile.

“I’m sorry,” Tony said, still staring. “Did you just say babies? As in plural? As in babies, not baby?”

Peter’s smile grew slightly. “Oh, yeah–fun fact: Did you know it’s possible for an entire baby not to show up on a single ultrasound? Because I sure didn’t. Seems kind of ridiculous, right? But I guess that’s Parker luck for you. Leave it to us to beat the impossible; first becoming half-spider, then being discovered and mentored by the Tony Stark, somehow managing to get a girl way out of my league, then having a baby we weren’t even supposed to have, let alone two of them.”

May let out a breathy laugh and lifted a hand to her mouth to keep her cries muffled. Pepper did much the same, laughing as tears shone in her eyes. Rhodey simply laughed and clapped him on the back while Happy grinned and rested a hand on May’s shoulder. Tony still stood there, seemingly speechless, until Peter turned to him for a reaction.

“How do you miss a whole ass baby?”

Pepper gasped and hit him across the arm but he paid no attention to her, only staring at Peter as he threw his head back and laughed and May put her hands over Mary-Jane’s ears. Tony finally started to break out into a grin since the new announcement, itching to get his hands on his two new granddaughters.

When Peter finally settled down, his extended laughter probably due to sleep deprivation and complete and utter exhaustion, he held Mary-Jane closer to him and placed a kiss on her head before turning his gaze to Tony and May. He softly smiled, his eyes tired but never so alight with happiness. “Did you want to meet them?”

“Do you even have to ask?” May responded, using a tissue to dab at her eyes. Peter looked at Tony now, raising a brow inquisitively. He rolled his eyes, sniffing in an attempt to hide his previous tears (though he was sure there was no use, proven by Rhodey’s quiet snicker at the action).

“What Aunt Hottie said, kid.”

Peter nodded and turned to everyone else sympathetically. “I promise you’ll get to meet them soon. I just...we just feel like May and Tony should be the first considering…” He trailed off, his eyes begging them to understand.

Pepper stepped forward and kissed the boy on the cheek, smiling comfortingly at him. “Don’t worry about it, Peter. We understand, I promise.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rhodey said with a smirk. “Letting the proud parents go first and everything–it’s tradition.”

Tony rolled his eyes at his friend and shoved him half-heartedly back toward the waiting room but didn’t attempt to deny it. After all, Peter was his son and Y/N was practically a daughter, and he knew May felt the same.

As Peter led them back to the room, Mary-Jane participated in making funny faces from her place in her father’s arms, facing her Grandpa Pops and Grandma May and currently competing with them both to see who could make the goofiest face. Peter looked behind him at one point to see Tony’s attempt and burst into laughter, May hurriedly telling him to shush (as though she wasn’t laughing) before they woke up the babies. And considering they were right outside the door, it was probably a valid concern. Not one that stopped Mary-Jane, however, from squirming out of her father’s arms and opening the door himself, running into the room and yelling, “Mommy!”

Peter cursed and quickly followed, grabbing her just in time to keep her from jumping onto Y/N. Y/N looked at her husband gratefully and relieved before smiling at her daughter and gesturing for Peter to lay her down beside her.

“Hey, baby,” she greeted, combing her fingers through her hair. “Did you have a fun time with your grandparents and uncles?”

Mary-Jane nodded and snuggled into her mother’s side, closing her eyes with a yawn. “We played lots of games and I won them all.”

Y/N now turned her gaze to Tony and May, who were standing in the door still, transfixed as they watched Peter walk to the other side of the room to carefully scoop up a tiny, sleeping baby with a pink hat. She smiled at them, her eyes even darker than Peter’s, and said, “Who would’ve thought that all this time we were worrying for just one baby Parker, we were actually worrying for two?”

May laughed and finally stepped inside, going over to her daughter-in-law and giving her a gentle hug. “You did good, sweetheart.”

“May?” Peter interrupted quietly. When she turned around, he nodded his head toward the bundle in his arms and asked, “Do you want to hold her?”

May hurriedly nodded and stepped back, sitting on one of three chairs beside the bed. Tears reappeared in her eyes as Peter lowered the baby girl down into her arms and she choked on them as she whispered, “She’s so beautiful.”

Peter smiled and lowered himself beside her, staring lovingly at his aunt and newborn daughter. “She is, isn’t she?”

May only laughed and ran a gentle finger down the girl’s cheek. “Oh, Peter. She’s perfect.”

Tony blinked and fell out of his stupor, stupidly stumbling forward until he could peer around May’s shoulder at the tiny bundle of joy. He didn’t have to stare for more than a tenth of a second to decide that she was, indeed, perfect. He smiled, biting the inside of his cheek to fight the tears wanting to flood his eyes.

“What’s her name, Underoos?”

Peter looked at May with a loving grin. “We thought Bailee May sounded pretty good to us, if it sounds good to you.”

May snapped her head around to look at both her nephew and his wife, her lip trembling. “You...you’re serious?”

Y/N spoke up, her eyes drooping but her mind still conscious enough to respond. “Never been more serious.”

May choked on a sob, reaching an arm to Peter to pull him into an awkward yet suffocating embrace. “Of course. Of course, it sounds good to me, you guys.”

When Peter pulled away he stood, nodding at his seat while he looked at Tony, obviously wanting him to sit. Tony obeyed but couldn’t ignore the wide grin spreading on Y/N’s face as Peter went to get Baby Girl Number Two.

There was only one problem.

When Peter lifted Baby Girl Number Two out of the cradle, it was, in fact, not a baby girl at all. A blue hat adorned this baby’s head, along with a little blue blanket, and Tony wondered why he thought that both of them had to be girls, but he didn’t care.

“That’s not a girl,” he managed to say as Peter handed the baby over to him. He took the third chair beside him, leaning over to tuck his beanie back over his ear.

“No, I’d say not,” Peter laughed, Y/N chuckling as well. It was only then that Tony realized Mary-Jane had been unusually quiet, chancing a glance over to see her fast asleep against her mother’s shoulder. He smiled, and looked back down at the other sleeping Parker he held in his arms. It was silent for awhile as the room’s occupants admired the view, and for once Tony was completely content with the quiet.

A tiny noise escaped the equally tiny lips of his only grandson (his favorite grandson, now), and his little fists clenched and unclenched as he sleepily wiggled around. Without a second thought, Tony gently reached for his hand and stroked the back of it.

“What’s his name, Pete?” May whispered, Tony just barely picking up the question as his attention was focused solely on his grandson.

“Benjamin,” Peter answered, looking at his aunt with a sad but content smile. “I think he would’ve liked that.”

May bowed her head with a matching smile, nodding ever so slightly. “I know he would’ve liked that.”

“His full name is Benjamin Anthony,” Y/N spoke, sensing that Peter was too lost in thought to finish and May was too deep into her emotions to recognize that Peter hadn’t fully answered her question. But Tony was listening. “Benjamin Anthony Parker.” He froze, staring at his daughter-in-law with wide eyes. She simply smiled and nodded once in his direction. “No, we weren’t going to name our baby girl Anthony, so when we got a boy...well, that was really a no-brainer.”

Tony stared for a few more seconds at a clearly amused Y/N before turning to Peter. Peter was wearing the same look. The only thing he had to offer was, “Dad, meet your namesake. Benjamin Anthony, meet your grandpa.”

Another noise escaped the boy’s tiny mouth as if in acknowledgment, causing Tony to look back at him. Suddenly the weight he felt in his arms wasn’t only physical weight but the weight of his love. And as he looked around the room at his ever-growing family, that weight only grew heavier. But he welcomed it, the weight warm and pleasant and filling his heart with light.

Tears pricked his eyes and he turned back to the bundle he was holding, sniffing as he murmured, “Hey there, Ben. Guess you’re our little miracle. I think you and I are going to have a lot of fun times together, but just remember to admit nothing and deny everything.” Ben started wiggling again, uncontent with his inability to move even while asleep, causing Tony to chuckle. “Your chance of not having ADHD was already screwed with your dad’s genes, but with me in your name it’s practically a double whammy and I can’t even say I’m sorry about that right now. God, the world doesn’t stand a chance, does it?”

Ben made a noise again, and Tony would’ve commented on it had it not been followed by the opening of his eyes. He was speechless, mesmerized by the baby blues that he knew would turn brown like his sister’s when he got older. But they were absolutely perfect now, as were the little fingers now wrapping around one of Tony’s own. The tears that were swimming in his eyes fell, and he didn’t even try to hold them back. He smiled wider and with more love than he had in a long time, leaning closer and whispering, “Let me tell you something, Ben: you’re my whole world–you and your sisters and your mom and dad and grandma. And I promise that I won’t let you go a single day without feeling loved, because I love you so much, buddy. I promise I’ll never stop loving you–not for a month, or a day, or even a single second.”

Ben’s eyes fluttered back closed and he fell back into sleep, but his fist refused to let go of its grip on Tony’s finger. Tony closed his own eyes and gently touched his head to Ben’s, being careful not to let any tears drip on his face.

“I promise,” he whispered. “I promise.”

—

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kentuckywrites · 6 years ago

Text

Santago and the Not Red Nosed Mediator

Santago gets another assistant in his Christmas shenanigans in the form of a friendly Mediator ( @anryl ).

The bedside clock read 12:03. Sydney blinked a few times as he stared at it, wondering how on Mira he’d slept so late. He forced himself to sit up, running his fingers through his long, unkempt hair. After a loud yawn, he looked over his shoulder towards the other half of the king-sized bed. The covers were pushed back; he was the only one left. Sydney raised an eyebrow, but the question of where his partner was didn’t linger for too long. He simply grabbed his glasses, hopped out of bed, and headed downstairs to make himself breakfast.

Or at least, that was the plan before he saw the mess.

Every device was on: the TV, blaring news about the weather for the next few days, the coffee brewer, whirring to life next to an array of empty coffee mugs, the lights, brightening up the carnage spread throughout the room. Sydney had to stop halfway down the stairs as he almost tripped over said carnage. It was a thin strip of paper, stretching out down the stairs and over the railings and thrown over every piece of furniture. He could just make out Pongo’s scribbly handwriting on the paper.

After stepping carefully over a few tangled strips, Sydney finally spotted Pongo, hunched over the island counter and staring down at the end of the paper - or, was it the beginning? - all while sipping from a dark blue mug. He wasn’t wearing a top, but Sydney saw Pongo’s usual vest and underarmour on the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

“...Pongo? What the fuck are you doing?” Sydney decided to ask.

Pongo’s eyes shot upwards and he jumped back, almost spilling the contents of his mug. “SHIT - I MEAN FUCK - NO GODS DAMN IT -”

Sydney couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m more of an awful influence than I thought, huh?”

Pongo regained his composure, standing straighter as he grasped both the mug and the paper a little tighter. “Do not say that! You are the light of my existence! - well, I mean, the sun also helps keep us all alive too but you get what I mean!!”

“Heh...same to you. Don’t know where I’d be without you.” Sydney looked away, biting the lip between his piercings. “But ah, it’s too early to be sappy. What’s up with the paper everywhere?”

Pongo paused.

“It is a list.”

His words sounded forced. Sydney could understand at this point that Pongo was being honest, though the subject was something he didn’t want to be entirely honest about. He danced around and over the paper on the ground in an effort to reach Pongo, who watched with an amused expression.

“Well, if there’s anything you need help with regarding said list, let me know,” Sydney made the last few steps over to Pongo, who purposefully angled his wrists so that Sydney couldn’t see the list’s contents.

Pongo grinned softly. Sydney blinked once, and something soft pecked his cheek, a familiar warm sensation that sent chills up his spine. Pongo returned to looking over the list.

“I will actually need one thing from you, if that is okay,” He told him.

“Sure. Name it, I’ll do anything.”

“...I want you to um...I want you to be home for Christmas.”

Sydney tilted his head at first, but then his curiosity shifted to understanding. “Oh. Of course, fuck, I’ll be home, I promise.”

Pongo gripped the list tighter. “F-Fantastic! We can spend it together! Christmas, I mean! Yes! It will be tons of fun!” He began to collect the list into his hands, though he only managed to grab so much of it before realizing just how long it was, just how much of the room it spanned across. “Now, ah, I would love to stay but I have a lot of errands to run - Eros needs a tuneup before tonight so I ca - SO I CAN PERFORM IMPORTANT MISSIONS BECAUSE BLADES DO NOT REST ON CHRISTMAS EVE -”

Sydney slipped his hand over to Pongo’s left hip. That got the Interceptor to shut up very quickly.

“Then don’t let me keep you,” He winked, “I’ll be home when you’re done with it all.”

Pongo let out a small, shaky exhale. “Right. Sorry, there is just a lot to do tonight. I promise I will be back - though, ah, it might be very late tonight.”

Sydney nodded once, and Pongo pulled away from his grasp, bending down to pick up some more parts of the paper. Without asking for permission Sydney went around the table to help pick some up, and in the next ten minutes they’d compiled all of the paper into Pongo’s large and loving arms. He had to put it down onto the couch to quickly throw on his under armour and vest, but he managed to pick it all up again on the first try.

“Okay! Have a wonderful day, Sydney!” Pongo called out as he somehow opened the door on his own to leave. As soon as the door closed behind him Sydney smirked, taking a brief look around and placing a thoughtful hand to his chin.

“Now, what to do while he’s gone…”

Danny knew about Christmas. Meep had told him wonderful stories about the holiday, and they even got to read some of the history behind it, since the information was recovered from one of the Lifehold databases. He understood why the commercial district was covered in garlands and why the windows he walked past sported figurines of Santa and his sleigh and reindeer. It was a great tradition, he thought, and he beamed thinking about how Santa would visit them all again this year to deliver gifts.

Though he couldn’t help but think about it. How exactly did one man deliver gifts to an entire planet? And how had he gotten aboard the White Whale? Danny’s focus shifted, his mind wandering as he tried to process the different answers for his questions. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t comprehend the figure sprinting towards him at full speed, unable to dodge away thanks to a large collection of paper in his arms.

“gAH -”

The collision was quick and strong, knocking Danny to the ground with a thud. He managed to keep his head from hitting the sidewalk too hard, but he couldn’t say the same about his rear, which now stung like the toxins from a madness hornet. With a small groan he sat himself back up and assessed the damage on the other figure’s end. The papers - wait, paper, it was all one long sheet - was scattered all over the other person’s body, though as they sat up Danny could pinpoint a key feature that helped identify them: pupiless indigo eyes.

“P-Pongo?” Danny stuttered, “Are you okay?!”

Pongo shook his head, and at first Danny panicked, thinking that was his response. But eventually Pongo started to laugh.

“I am alright, are you? I am really super sorry about running into you, I am in an awful rush and I cannot really see past -”

“The paper,” Danny guessed, reaching down to sweep up some of it in his hands. In doing so he noticed words written on it, childish calligraphy marked in black pen. He thought nothing of it until he saw names. And next to those names, objects.

Scarlen: Geographical History of Planet Earth

Draco: History of France

Sunel: heelies

Blue: robo kitty plushie

Shintaro: worm on a string

Danny’s eyebrow perked up. “Hey, Pongo, what exactly is this?”

Pongo froze.

“A...a list.”

Danny didn’t need any other clues after that.

“Wait, are you...ARE YOU SANTA?!”

Pongo’s hands went up defensively. “W-Wait, shoosh! Please, not so loud!”

“Oh, ah, sorry. But...are you -”

“Y-Yes?...Well, I was never on Earth because...you know.” Pongo gave a small shrug. “But for the entire time that New Los Angeles has existed, I have been acting as Sandy Claws.”

“...Santa Claus.”

“Sappy Cause, yes,” Pongo nodded feverously. “I think this is the third year I have done this. The new influx of xenoforms in NLA has made the list much longer than last year, but it is nothing I cannot handle!”

Danny chuckled. He stood up with some of the list in his hands, and Pongo was quick to follow, taking some more of the list in his arms. He caught a group of people giving them weird stares from behind Pongo, but he didn’t let his attention linger for long.

“So you’ve been delivering presents year after year all by yourself?” Danny asked, “That sounds like a lot of work for just one person, I’m really impressed!”

Pongo buried his face into the paper in an effort to hide his rising blush. Whether it was from embarrassment or nerves, Danny wasn’t sure. “Well I mean, ah, I had a lot of help from my bestest friend L’Cirufe, though I am the one who buys all the gifts and ends up delivering them.”

“Doesn’t that kill your credits account?”

“You would be surprised, especially considering how much Commander Vandham is willing to pay for a nice tank top.”

Pongo shifted his stance. “Well, in any case, I need to get going. My Skell needs to get checked in for a tuneup and if I stay any longer I will be late for the appointment!”

The paper made more crumpling sounds, disguised under the bustle of commuters and BLADEs going about their day. Danny scratched the back of his neck, giving Pongo a small grin. When the idea struck him, his jaw went slack and he jumped up once. “Wait, Pongo, do you think I could help you? With delivering presents this year, I mean. I could pay for the stuff you’re buying too if you need.”

Pongo stared at him, pensive. Danny may not have known the exact thoughts running through the Interceptor’s brain, but he could see them running through his indigo eyes. Inside them danced little lights, shooting stars of inspiration, sparks that didn’t die even when Pongo spoke again.

“You could be Randolph.”

Danny squinted at him. “D-Do you mean Rudolph? And how would I be a red nosed reindeer?”

“I mean, you could get a costume like L’Cirufe and I do,” Pongo suggested, “Wait, did I mention L’Cirufe helps me every year? He is an elf, so that is why I picked Rudolph for you, since I am Santa, unless you want to be Mrs. Santa Claus?”

“I’ll take Rudolph,” Danny giggled, “Parts aside, where should I meet you to help out?”

“Oh! Ah, after Eros is tuned up and after I go on the spending spree, L’Cirufe and I usually go to the top of BLADE Tower to sort through all the gifts and make sure we have everything. We used to meet in my barracks, but then there were too many gifts to fit in there!”

Danny caught Pongo’s feet tapping up and down, remembering what it was Pongo was trying to do. “Okay, I won’t keep you much longer, but I really want to help. Maybe cut the list and let me buy some of the things on it, and I’ll bring them up tonight!”

“Okie dokie!” Pongo nodded, scrambling through the extensive list to find a spot to cut. He eventually reached a point where the end was in sight and tore it as carefully as he could. Danny opened his mouth to argue - he’d ripped it so that Danny would only get less than a fourth of the list!! - but the deed had been done. Pongo thrust the smaller sheet into Danny’s hands.

“Right, get those, if you could wrap them before tonight that would be amazing, and remember, top of BLADE Tower, nine P.M. sharp!” Pongo chirped, and before Danny could reply Pongo was bounding past him, a skip in his step. Danny watched him go, laughing as he promised to be there. Once Pongo was out of sight Danny looked down at the portion of the list he’d been given, recognizing some more names.

Touya: hot chocolate and kitty mug

Christie: Ovis pillow

Mina: Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen

Pandora: rose gold earring/necklace set from Delair’s

Athena: A Tale of Two Cities, Charles Dickens

Jenkai: even BIGGER Ovis pillow

Danny blinked a few times. Those weren’t the only ones on the list, of course, but they were just a few of the names he recognized. And he couldn’t help but gape at what was written for Pandora - how was Pongo going to afford that?! Well, it was Danny’s problem now, and he was intent on getting started. With a deep breath and a puff of the chest, he set out, determined to get everything Pongo needed for the night.

He wondered along the way if Pongo had gotten himself anything. The answer came quickly. Danny made a mental addition to the list.

To his surprise, buying all the gifts cost Danny less than five thousand credits. Pandora’s earring and necklace set contributed to seven hundred and fifty of those credits, but it was still less than he expected, and he even found time to buy wrapping paper and bags to wrap them all in. It didn’t make them any easier to carry, so Danny even put some credits into buying a larger bag for them all. He patiently stood in BLADE Tower’s elevator with the sack now, thankful that no one else was in the elevator with him. He wouldn’t have been able to explain everything without ruining the magic.

The elevator came to a stop at the top level of the tower and the doors slid open without a noise. Danny walked out and ascended the small flight of stairs that would lead him to the roof. At the top was another door, and one shove later he’d made it to the roof. He laid eyes on Pongo almost immediately, who stood next to a lit up Lailah Queen Skell with the list still in hand. However, instead of his usual Interceptor garb, he now donned a red and white fluffy coat with a black belt around the waist. His black hair was covered partly by a Santa hat, though Danny noticed the puffball on its end was heart shaped. Pongo was joined by L, who was pacing back and forth next to the Skell and donning a rather revealing elf costume. It didn’t have sleeves and had no pants, showcasing his strong thighs and calves. Danny rolled his eyes.

Pongo gave Danny a wide grin and rushed over to meet him at the door. Danny didn’t notice the pair of reindeer antlers in his hand until Pongo had put them on his head. As he adjusted them with one hand, Pongo rattled excitedly. “Danniel, you made it!! I got you antlers because you are our Rudolph now - though Rudolph had a red nose according to the stories, but you are still close enough! Oh, I hope it was not too much trouble getting all the gifts, I can take that bag if it has all the gifts in them, see, I have a much bigger bag attached to Eros with all the gifts in them, wait, were you able to wrap them -”

“I did!”

“Thank goodness! Thank you so so much Danniel you have no idea how much this means to me -”

L stepped forward, laughing and adjusting his pointy elf hat. “We suggest you inhale the atmospheric contents, Pongo! There is still time before the deliveries must be made!”

Pongo heeded his advice and stopped to take a deep breath. Once he had regained his composure, he told Danny, “My apologies, I get nervous about this. I want everything to go right, you know?”

Danny nodded. “I get it. Now, is there anything else I could do to help?”

There was a long silence and Pongo put a finger to his chin. Something about his costume made him look younger, more innocent. How was the sky so dark now, yet his eyes so bright? He got too focused on them, and in the seconds after the silence had started, it was broken.

“Just help me check through the presents one last time, I would say. The delivering stuff is all on me, so once I am on my way, you could get back home and get some rest. Who knows, you might even find a gift at your front door when you wake tomorrow morning!”

At that, Danny’s face fell. Over Pongo’s shoulder, L gave Danny a reassuring wink. “No worries, our mediating companion! Pongo has accomplished the deliveries for two years straight - wait, we request a stop in the current conversation, what is the sexual identity of time?”

Pongo’s eyes widened. “...Is time...gay?...No, I have no idea, I do not think it applies to any conversation here. Danniel, I require the sack of gifts, then we can run through everything one more time before I depart.”

“Right! Let’s do this!’ Danny cheered.

Together the four collected all the presents together and ran through the list one more time, making sure every name had a gift. Danny’s head perked up when Pongo called Meep’s name, and L held up a small box from the large sack on Eros’s back.

“What did you get Meep?” Danny asked.

“Oh! Something called a friendship rock,” Pongo explained, “See, it is like a normal rock, but it is the symbol of friendship.”

Danny had a feeling Meep would be happy to receive that.

The list reached its end sooner than he realized, and no name went without a gift. Although, once the end had been reached and the two natives of Mira were about to pack everything back up, Danny realized there were some names missing from the list. Notably: “Pongo, L, why weren’t you on the list?”

L’s answer came quick. “It is simple: we do not celebrate the Chris Tee Mas. But we are one of Pongo’s greatest friends, and assisting him in his hollandaise efforts brings me great joy - enough to be considered a gift all in its own.”

A hint of blush made its way across Pongo’s cheeks and nose. “Aw, L’Cirufe...ah, I am not on the list because of a similar reason. Delivering gifts and making people happy is a gift to me.”

Danny shifted his hands behind his back, carefully trying to put his hand in his back pocket. Looks like I was right, he thought as he slowly took out a small box, he deserves a gift...even if it’s not much.

As Pongo was about to turn away, Danny reached out with his empty hand and caught Pongo’s forearm. “Before you go, ah...I wanted to give you something.”

Pongo turned back to look at him, lips pursed open. “Danniel, you did not have to -”

“For all the smiles you’re about to put on peoples’ faces, yes, I had to.”

Danny held out the box, no larger than his palm, a small pastel blue satin cloth fitted around its edges. Pongo hesitated before taking it, observing it quietly. After a moment, he opened it and peered inside. Danny explained, “See, ah, the jewelry set Pandora wanted - that you had written down for her - didn’t say anything about rings, but there were two rings with the only rose gold set they had left so I thought maybe you’d like them?”

“They are really pretty, Danniel…” Pongo breathed. Danny had to squint to see the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “Th-Thank you…”

L looked over Pongo’s shoulder, gasping at the rings in the box. “Oh! Are you assisting in Pongo’s proposal plans, Danniel?”

Danny took a step back as Pongo jumped in surprise. “WH-WHAT?! D-DANNIEL HAS NO IDEA ABOUT THAT - OH G-GODS UM, I SHOULD GO AND DELIVER PRESENTS NOW, SEE YOU GUYS LATER!!”

And off he ran towards Eros, making sure to close the box and put it in one of the coat’s pockets before climbing up to the cockpit. With the sack secured, all that was left to do was turn Eros on and take flight. As Eros ascended into the night sky, L and Danny waved him goodbye. The Skell trailed like a comet in the sky, leaving behind wisps of pink and purple in its wake. Danny wondered then how many people would make a wish on the nonexistent shooting star. He closed his eyes. Maybe just this once, he’d make a wish.

I wish everyone has a great Christmas.

He opened his eyes again, and the waiting game began.

L offered to stay with him for the night, but Danny was persistent. He didn’t think he would fall asleep that night; it was too enchanting to watch the star fly around and deliver presents. Danny told L he would be okay on his own, and L left close to midnight. He found a small wall to lean against and allowed himself time to relax. When was the last time he’d had this? He told himself to do this more often - maybe not here, maybe not like this, but somewhere, and maybe with some art supplies.

Danny almost didn’t catch the first hints of the sunrise. How had time flown by so fast?! He sat himself up, hearing his spine crack as he yawned and stretched upwards. As if on cue, the roar of a Skell’s engine grew louder, louder, and Eros appeared on the horizon, approaching BLADE Tower. Danny waved towards it, and the Skell eventually came to park on the roof. The engines were killed, and the cockpit slid open. Santa Claus - Mira’s very own Santa Claus - hopped out, greeting Danny with a gentle smile.

“Danniel,” Pongo said, pulling the hat off and tossing it back up into Eros’s cockpit. “Why did you wait here for me? You could have gone home and gotten some rest, you know.”

“I figured Rudolph sees Santa’s adventure to the end,” Danny admitted, “Plus, I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Pongo joined him sitting next to the wall, sighing as he let himself lean against it. “I am fine, Danniel, I -” He couldn’t stop himself from yawning, unable to finish his sentence.

Danny took a long, hard look at him. Pongo stared out at the open expanse of sunrise, the light catching his eyes but doing nothing to brighten them now. If anything, they looked dull - not lifeless, but tired.

“You should get some sleep,” Danny began, but Pongo cut him off.

“No. I do not sleep.”

“Why not?”

Pongo paused.

“...Nightmares. Every time I close my eyes they haunt me. They feel so real and no matter what I do I cannot control them.”

Danny became aware of the distance between them. There was a mere inch between Pongo’s gloved hand and his own, and with one decision there was no room at all. Pongo’s head tilted, incapable of showing any extreme forms of surprise.

“Danniel?”

Danny grinned. “People have come to me with that problem before. Sure, medications work, but I think what you need is some reassurance.” He used his right hand to pat his left shoulder. “Try napping on my shoulder. I’ll be like your human safety blanket.”

It didn’t take long for Danny’s grin to reach Pongo. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

Slowly, surely, Pongo scootched over closer to Danny and laid his head to rest on his shoulder. With the distance closed, Danny could smell Pongo’s hair, soft touches of vanilla on the breeze. Its length posed a short lived challenge, for Danny was able to push some loose strands away before it could make his nose itch. He even let his cheek rest on Pongo’s head, closing his eyes for a brief moment before letting the cool air embrace them.

“Try to get some sleep now, okay?” Danny whispered.

Pongo didn’t respond. Danny couldn’t see whether his eyes had closed or not, but he could just make out the slow rise and fall of Pongo’s chest, an indication of sleep. He wasn’t concerned, and instead took a moment to admire the reds and oranges of the sunrise. Everyone would be waking up to presents at their doors, radiance that could rival the dawn. It made Danny feel warm inside, accomplished. Ready to take on another day.

He spoke to the city, to all its inhabitants, and he spoke to the planet, their home amongst the stars.

“Merry Christmas, everyone.”

#xenoblade x #Santago and the Not Red Nosed Mediator: Short Story #Danniel #L #Sydney #did I top last year's fic? I'm not sure #I still think this is adorable #and I hope I got Danny right because I'm rusty with writing him #also FUCK THAT LITTLE PLOT TWIST IN THERE #YOU KNOW THE ONE

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closetfanfictionauthor · 6 years ago

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based on this comic by wingedcorgi here on tumblr here is this jily one-shot that i couldn’t stop myself from writing

edit: i was reading through this and i wasn’t crazy about how it was written so i edited it and i’m much happier with this version

Lily Evans was late for Potions. She was sprinting down the corridor, a stitch in her side as her breath came out shorter and shorter, the door to the dungeons coming closer and closer as she ran.

She hadn't planned on being late, in fact she had set off for her class a lot earlier than had been strictly necessary. But because it was Hogwarts and no one could go longer than half a day without a duel breaking out in the middle of school grounds, she was forced to intervene as her duty as Head Girl.

It involved a Hufflepuff and a Slytherin of all people. The Hufflepuff had been spouting some sort of nonsense about Voldemort going about things the right way, and the Slytherin, who Lily now knew was a Muggleborn, had given the Hufflepuff a good arse-kicking before she had stepped in and put a stop to everything. It had taken quite a bit of shouting, at least three Shield Charms, and a threat to take away over fifty points from each house if both students wouldn't knock it off.

Which was why Lily barreled into her N.E. level Potions class, completely interrupting Slughorn while he was introducing the potion they would be working on that day. Her bag hung off one shoulder, her robes were hanging from her elbows, her hair which was previously in a neat bun, was now tangled and hanging by Lily's lower back in a large knot.

"S-sorry I'm-I'm late, P-Professor Slughorn," Lily puffed out, her right hand clamped to her side as she bent over, her left hand pressing on her knee as she tried to catch her breath and stop the pounding in her head. The entire class turned around to stare at her as she staggered to the empty seat that was next to James and collapsed into it.

"Not a problem, Lily," Slughorn replied with a fond smile before resuming his speech. Lily was only half listening to Slughorn's words as she rummaged in her bag for some spare parchment and ink. She wasn't looking when Slughorn took the lid off of the cauldron sitting on his desk at the front of the class, too busy pulling out piece after piece of her Potions equipment that she'd need for that class.

Lily's attention was dragged away from her bag and back to what was happening during the class by a powerful smell that seemed to have filled the entire class. She wrinkled her nose and grimaced. In normal qualities it was the kind of scent that Lily would've enjoyed immensely, but there was such a concentrated smell of it permeating the class it made her nose hurt. She looked around her to see if anyone else smelled the same thing but found that her fellow classmates had dazed looks on their faces and silly, sleepy grins pasted on.

There was something familiar about the smell, something woodsy or musky about it, like it was someone's cologne. For the life of her she couldn't figure out why it seemed so familiar, or where it was even coming from. She leaned over towards James to ask him if he smelled what she smelled when she caught the scent on him.

"Christ, James, how much cologne did you put on today? It's as if you bathed in it," she complained loud enough that Slughorn, and the rest of the class, stopped what they were doing and stared at her. She pinched her nose closed in a weak attempt to stop the headache she no doubt knew was coming. "It's making my nose hurt," she went on in a nasal voice that set the corner of James's mouth twitching upwards.

Oblivious to all of this, Lily gave another strong sniff in the air, not noticing the grin that was beginning to spread across James's face, and frowned in confusion. The smell of his broom polish immediately followed the intense aroma of James's cologne.

"Have you been polishing your broom, too?" she went on, squinting at James in confusion. James didn't get the chance to answer, mostly because Lily was on a roll, but also because he couldn't stop himself from smiling even if he'd tried. "You might want to lay off it for a bit, you absolutely reek of it."

"Have you been to the history section in the library again?" Lily asked in confusion as the smell changed once again. "It's like that dusty, old book smell you get whenever you've been searching through obscure texts that no one has bothered to read in decades. Like that one time I caught you searching for books on Animagi near the restricted section."

It was only when she caught the gleeful looks on her classmates' faces, and the amused look in Slughorn's eyes did Lily realize her performance had derailed the lecture.

"Thank you, Miss Evans, for demonstrating, as I was saying," Slughorn went on, as the rest of the class sniggered at Lily's outburst, "Amortentia smells different to every person depending on what attracts them most."

Lily could feel her entire neck and face getting hot and turning red. She looked down and slowly slid down in her seat until only the top of her forehead could be seen. If the ground opened up and swallowed her whole, she wouldn't object. James managed to slide even closer to her, that idiot grin of his still on his face, one arm thrown across the back of her bench.

Someone let out a wolf whistle, which made Lily turn even redder. She brought her hand up to her forehead to make sure no one could see how alarmingly red she turned. She didn't even want to think about the look of disgust on Snape's face.

"Say Lils, you seem awfully smitten with your Head Boy," James whispered into her ear. She jumped at his closeness. She didn't have to look to know everyone was watching them flirt, she could feel their eyes on her.

"Please, for the love of Dumbledore, shut up," Lily choked out. James's arm moved from hanging from the back of her bench to around her shoulders as he tugged her towards him, because Potions class was obviously the place to start acting like a couple and marking your territory. Although Lily was lying to herself fiercely as she tried to convince herself that she hated it and thought it stupid (on the contrary she could not be more delighted).

James leaned down to whisper in her ear again, the grin still on his face (Lily was fairly certain it would never leave his face). "You're right, we can discuss this more in depth later."

And because Lily had already exposed herself to her entire Potions class, and the rest of Hogwarts, she decided she might as well do it properly and replied with,

"If 'discuss' means anything other than mess around in your bed, I will be very disappointed in you."

#jily #fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #james/lily #amortentia #jily fluff #jily fic #jily fanfic #fluff #romance #embarrassing #marauders #hpft

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jestbee · 7 years ago

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Phanfic Round Robin - Group 2

Tags: Angst, domestic violence in the past, a new story about murder, established relationship

Words: 3.5k

Writers: (in no particular order) @artsietango @p-hantasticpheels @softdans @heartfeltfangirl @phantasizeit @phanarchy

Notes: Group 2 were the first to finish! Well done! this was a lot of fun, and all the fics turned out a bit different.

I’ll post the bit I wrote above the cut, and then the rest of the fic, written collaboratively by the group, below it. Enjoy!

Can’t Take it Back

He can't take it back. He wants to, if he could rewind and make the words jump back into his mouth, snatch them back from the air between them he would. But he can't.

It's out there, and the look on Dan's face is raw and open and Phil doesn't really know what to make of it.

One of them is going to have to say something soon, they can't continue on like this.

“I…” Phil tries, but it's no use.

It was a mistake. He's concentrating on the game and not the words that are coming out of his mouth, that's how it had happened.

Now the game is paused, music still playing in the background, colourful characters suspended mid-action. Everything seems like it's paused, because that's what happens when this kind of thing is said.

Dan shakes his head and for once Phil isn't really sure what he means to indicate by it. Above their heads, staring down, a red light blinks ominously. They stare in silence and the camera keeps rolling.

Dan has a good sense of humor. Phil tries to remind himself that, but the game is on hold and he still isn’t speaking. It could be shock that Phil said such a thing while recording, that he would imply a romantic relationship. Truthfully, in his focus, Phil forgot entirely about the gaming channel.

He knew that wasn’t it though. This was crossing the lines for them no matter what context. Maybe if it had been about anyone else, but no. It was Sam he had compared Dan to, Phil’s last lover, and though it was a joke the comparison also wasn’t very kind.

Still in silence, Dan stood and dropped, chucked really, his controller on his chair. He exhaled slowly, regaining composure.

“I can’t believe you,” he said as he clicked the camera off. The red light shone bright for a moment before it dimmed into blackness. Dan spun around, swiftly making a beeline to the door.

“Dan!” Phil called out behind him. He heard the door click shut with finality.

Phil pushes his hands back into his hair, tipping back in the office chair dangerously, knowing if Dan was sitting beside him he’d scold Phil for being careless. Still flashing in and out of focus, the glowing red PAUSED screen catches the curve of his glasses and he reaches up to switch it off, knowing he’ll have to scrap the footage. There’s no way he wants to sit and edit through that; he doesn’t think Dan will, either.

“Babe,” he’d said, voice laced with irritation, letting slip not a pet-name but a marker that he was annoyed with Dan, “will you stop- Dan! I had it, then, why did you do that? You’re so cocky, don’t be a Sam”

They could withstand a lot of things from one another; they were so intensely close, after so many years, that barely anything fazed them. Sam, though. It was when Dan was still working through a mountain of insecurity and self-doubt, when he sometimes looked at Phil doe-eyed because he was a smitten nineteen-year-old without the means of expressing it just yet, when he’d try valiantly to hide the darkened, crestfallen expression on his face at the mention of Phil’s relationship. It would have been easier to categorize as jealousy and file it away, if not for the fact that Sam was a complete asshole. Dan saw it, and a little too late, Phil saw it, and when Phil was still cut up about it Dan swore up and down that he’d never, ever be like that. Any notion that Dan could be anything like him rubbed Dan the wrong way, and Phil hates himself for accidentally implying it.

Just as he stands, dusts off his jeans, readies a speech in his mind, he hears the front door click back into place and knows he’s well and truly fucked up. In vain, he tries Dan’s mobile, throwing his own to the carpet when he hears the familiar melodious ringtone echoing down the hall. Part of Phil knows that Dan needs his space, needs to go for a walk and cool off and come back when he’s ready, but the desperate, guilty, anxious part of him urges him to look high and low until he finds Dan. Frustrated and at a loss, he collapses back into the shitty futon with his head in his hands, wondering how he can make this better.

It’s cold out.

It’s cold and the chill is dry and biting. It leaves a painful burning ache in Dan’s knuckles as he rubs them absently for warmth.

Dan’s been walking for almost an hour now and he’s under dressed for the weather in his flimsy jumper and simple black jeans but he has no concern for his ice cold limbs as his mind is numb from disbelief and betrayal.

He knows though that Phil didn’t mean to say that. He knew it as soon as Phil spoke, the instant regret filling his wide blue eyes, mouth parted as if he couldn’t process the words he said himself but what’s done is done and Phil can’t take those words back even if he wants to, while Dan can’t pretend he hasn’t heard them.

He’s hurt and the emotion is justified.

Dan can be obnoxious, he could shout too much or buy weird expensive potato sacks for clothes but he could never be Sam. Phil comparing them even on accident is something that leaves him rattled.

Sam Hayden would’ve seemed normal enough to anyone with his blonde hair, charming smile and masterful words but Dan knew better and it was a curse in itself that he did.

He’d found out tracing scars upon scars on Phil’s body and soul. He’d found out piecing together a person who was too precious to be ever treated in such a deranged and downright psychopathic way.

Dan would’ve never treated Phil like that. He never could and he never would and that’s one of the reasons being in the same sentence as that monster hurt him enough to storm out without a second thought.

He loves Phil so fucking much.

He’s loved him since he first saw him on that YouTube window rambling on and on about everything and nothing as Dan wonders how one person could be allowed to be so enchanting. He’s loved him on that grainy, flickering Skype screen with his mane of a hair ruffled to a mess, bangs in his eyes and a shy smile on his pink lips. He’s loved him with his arms wrapped around him in Manchester’s train station, breathing in his scent and wondering how he could even be real.

He’s loved him through pain too, just like he has with Dan’s. He’s held Phil through the worst of his nightmares, worst of his flashbacks. Rubbed his back and matched his shallow breaths till he could see Dan again instead of cruel green eyes and rough cold hands.

Phil knows it all and Dan knows that Phil knows how much a comparison with Sam fucking Hayden would kill him but he’s let the words slip.

Dan’s mad at him, rightfully so and he has a full mind of giving him the silent treatment at least until he’s ready to forgive him but then he notices the television playing on the screen of a shop he passes by.

He stops dead in his tracks.

The caption’s up in blaring red, loud and ringing in Dan’s ears. The newscaster’s voice is somber as he recounts how a man has killed his girlfriend during a domestic argument, strangling her to death. The police lead out a large man with blonde hair and green eyes with cuffs around his wrist and the same cruel expression and Dan feels sick to his stomach.

“Maria Williams died from homicide via strangulation, according to Alfred Tiller, chief deputy. William’s boyfriend, 32-year-old Sam Hayden, was present at the scene when authorities arrived, according to local Police Department. Hayden was arrested and now faces a preliminary charge of murder.”

No.

Dan feels like he could wretch as he turns and sprints back to the apartment. He hopes to God Phil hasn’t seen the news. He reaches for his pocket to take out his phone and call Phil to make sure but curses as soon as he remembers he left it back in the lounge.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, “fuck, fuck.”

A woman with a child clutching at her hand a few feet across of him scoffs at him, but Dan doesn’t even apologize. He just stares back at her before he turns and starts jogging back to where he came from.

This is all so messed up.

A minute ago all Dan felt was white-hot anger running through his veins, anger and hurt at the fact that Phil used such a sensitive topic against him. Now he only berates himself for it. It’s not him who’s been in that abusive relationship, not him who still wakes up crying sometimes, who had to work through years of therapy and slowly trying to trust again.

Fuck.

And while for Dan, seeing this news broadcast has shocked him deeply, he is not the one who sees that kind of face in his nightmares.

He’s panting by the time he makes it into the house they live in. He waits for the elevator, come on, come on, maybe he should have taken the stairs, but it’d probably take longer- The elevator arrives, and he gets inside, sacks against the handles.

Why did he overreact so much? He doesn’t know, he’s going to analyze that later, but right now his mind is filled with all kinds of scenarios where Phil is breaking down. His mind plays through them all and he stands, helpless, watches as the numbers tick by as he slowly climbs the building.

And then he’s there, he jumbles in the key, jerks open the door, and-

“Dan?”

Phil is in the hallway looking at him. He is not hurt, he is not crying or panicking, he is okay.

“You’re okay,” Dan breathes in relief, “you’re fine.”

“I mean,” Phil starts, “I- I am sorry for what I said. I know I shouldn’t... but, wait, why were you... are you worried? About what?”

Dan swallows. Phil doesn’t know yet, and Dan freaked out, and now he’s gonna have to tell him because he will find out sooner or later anyway.

“Um,” he says, very eloquently, “can you come sit down with me?”

Phil nods, looking confused, but he lets Dan pull the front door closed, pass him in the hallway, and lead him into the lounge. They both sit, poised awkwardly on the edge of the couch. Dan is suddenly reminded of sitting on the same couch in their old London apartment, listening in horror as Phil broke down and told Dan that he didn’t think his relationship with Sam was “all that healthy anymore.” Phil had started crying and hyperventilating and apologising, like it was his fault for all of it. Dan hadn’t known what to say. He could only rub Phil’s back, in what he hoped was a soothing manner, and ask Phil what he needed from Dan. Although Phil didn’t tell Dan the extent of the abuse that day, it had been one of the first steps toward getting out of the relationship with Sam and recovering.

Dan remembers what it was like to feel utterly powerless as he watched Phil cry and panic about someone that Dan thought Phil was in love with. He remembers what it was like to have no words for Phil. Dan feels the same wordlessness, now.

Phil is waiting patiently, playing with his long fingers in his lap, pointedly not looking at Dan. But as the silence stretches on, Phil says: “I’m sorry about what I said. I don’t know why I said it. You aren’t—you aren’t Sam. You’ve never been like him. You helped me through all that, so I can’t imagine how much it hurt to be compared—”

“Phil,” Dan interrupts, “stop, please. It’s forgotten. Sometimes we say stupid things we don’t mean. God knows I’ve done the same.”

Phil knows Dan is right. Their relationship hasn’t been an easy one, with one of them recovering from abuse. In the beginning, it was hard on Dan, especially because he was still so young when Phil finally broke up with Sam. They had a lot of fights back then.

“Plus, I found something out… something that made me forget that I was even mad at you. But I’m scared to tell you.” Dan whispers, not trusting his voice to be strong enough to speak normally.

Phil bites his lip and reaches over to grab Dan’s hand. It’s their only point of contact, but the familiar heat of it calms them both, just a little bit. He tries not to let his brain run wild, but what could have Dan possible discovered in his short walk around London that has gotten him this torn up? “Whatever it is, Dan, I can handle it.”

Dan nods, but still doesn’t say anything. The words are there, but Dan can’t fit them together in a combination that doesn’t sound so utterly wrong and evil.

Phil squeezes Dan’s hand, reaches out to Dan’s chin and tips his head back to get him to look Phil in the eyes. “Whatever it is, Dan. We can handle it. We’ve been through so much together.” Dan exhales a breath, slowly, tousling a little bit of Phil’s fringe in the process. Dan leans forward to press a quick, chaste kiss to Phil’s lips. Phil lets go of Dan’s chin. And then:

“I think… Sam is in jail.” Dan is so quiet that Phil must strain to hear the tiny words floating past Dan’s lips. But when Phil works out what Dan has said and realizes their meaning, he freezes. Sam. His ex-boyfriend Sam? In jail?

Phil closes his eyes and breathes in the manner that his therapist has taught him to. Slowly in for six seconds, and then slowly out for seven. Repeat. When he has a handle on his heart and lungs, Phil whispers, “in jail for what?” even though, deep down, his heart knows what he’s in jail for. He can almost feel it. Or maybe he can just deduce it, based on his own experiences. Sam’s abuse began subtly; he was controlling and used guilt to make Phil do and think certain things. Sam manipulated Phil, making him feel like he was lucky to be loved by Sam, because no one else could ever love Phil’s quirks. Things got incrementally worse, so slowly that Phil almost didn’t even detect changes. Physical abuse didn’t even come into the equation until years into their relationship—and even that started out small, forgivable. Sam’s abuse was a gradually boiling pot, in which Phil was trapped. The increasing heat was only ever slightly uncomfortable, until Phil had something healthier to compare his relationship to. But, Phil knows, that if he had stayed in that boiling pot, that he would have been slowly boiled to death.

And Phil knows. Sam was in jail because he had successfully boiled someone to death.

Dan, unaware of Phil’s inner thoughts, responds to Phil is a gentle voice. He is rubbing Phil’s knuckles with his thumb in a familiar, soothing gesture. Phil’s eyes are still closed because he knows that, if he opens them, the world will seem too bright and overwhelming. The room will spin, and harsh colours will press themselves painfully into Phil’s eyes. Dan confirms Phil’s premonition, making it one of the only moments in his life that Phil wishes he wasn’t just a little bit psychic. “Sam… Sam is in jail for… killing his girlfriend.”

At that, Phil collapses back on the couch, his head landing on the back pillow with an uncomfortable clunk. Dan doesn’t follow; he knows that Phil needs space in these moments and will ask Dan if he needs more. Dan is still holding Phil’s hand, but he angles himself toward Phil, bringing a knee up on the couch to make it more comfortable for him.

Phil’s head is swimming with memories and thoughts. He tries his best to allow them space in his head, but not fight against them or dwell on them. Another technique taught to him by his therapist… that isn’t really working. Dan’s words—killing his girlfriend—are echoing in his head in a painful crescendo. Moments in Phil’s past are flashing in his head. They aren’t complete enough to be flashbacks, but quick and plenty enough to be jarring and confusing.

Phil snaps and pushes himself off the sofa, opening his eyes for the first time in a few minutes. The sudden movement is a mistake and he sways on his feet, pitching dangerously to one side. Dan sees it, hops up, and steadies Phil with his hands on Phil’s hips. Phil tenses at the touch and Dan detects the almost imperceptible movement. He reassures Phil, “it’s just me. It’s just Dan. I’m just making sure you don’t fall and hit your head. Do you want me to help you to bed?”

Phil turns to Dan with wide, terrified eyes. His irises are a shocking, icy blue. They don’t look unfocused and distant, thank god. But Phil sounds desperate when he says “Please.”

Slowly but surely, Dan ushers Phil to his bedroom, helping him down onto the checkerboarded blue and green covers. Phil mutters out a weak thanks before nearly collapsing onto the bed, his knees pulled up and his arms going limp, his hand not letting go of Dan’s. Dan takes a deep breath, almost regretting telling Phil, but it was too late now, and at any rate, he had the right to know.

“Is there anything I can do?” He asks softly, rubbing his thumb against the back of Phil’s hand, trying to magically make him feel better through the small, simple motion.

“I dunno, just - just- please don’t go.” Phil murmurs, fighting the tears that started to prick his eyes.

“Are you sure? Are you sure you don’t want to be alone?” Dan asks, his worrying giving an edge to his voice.

“I can’t, I just can’t...” Phil manages to choke out, tears slowly escaping down his cheekbones. He scoots over a little to make room for Dan on the bed.

Carefully, Dan awkwardly crawls onto the bed to lie down next to Phil, wrapping the arm attached to Phil’s hand around him. It takes a few minutes, with a couple of prompts from Dan to just breathe, until Phil finally begins to feel himself calm down.

He sighs, tightening his hand around Dan’s as he brings it up to his lips, kissing it lightly. Dan’s embrace becomes a little more protective after he realizes Phil is going to be okay, that everything is going to be fine between them.

Phil begins to turn over to face Dan, letting go of his hand to wrap his arms around Dan’s chest, burying his face against it.

Dan rests his chin on top of Phil’s head as Phil manages to stammer out, “I-I’m so sorry. I should never have compared you to him. You’re nothing like him Dan, nothing.”

“Ssh, I know, it’s okay. It’s okay, I forgive you. I know you didn’t mean it.” Dan says, rubbing his hand reassuringly up and down Phil’s back. “It’s okay.” After a moments pause, Phil whispers,

“That poor woman. I should’ve know, I could’ve stopped him-“

“It’s okay Phil. You did your best. There’s wasn’t anything different you could have down. Try and rest.” Dan says, his voice almost breaking when he hears Phil blame himself. A couple more moments of silence pass between the two.

Dan is almost certain that Phil has fallen asleep when he says, “I love you Dan. You’ve loved me better than anyone ever has.”

Dan blinks back tears, unable to form the words to speak his love to Phil. Instead, he kisses Phil on the forehead, and wraps him tighter in his arms. His eyes fluttering closed, Phil releases one final shuddering breath before he settles into Dan’s frame, finally falling into a safe, restful sleep. It takes Dan a few minute to close his eyes, a couple of his tears sliding onto Phil’s pillow unnoticed as he held the tall man closer, fiercely promising himself that he would never allow anyone to harm this man again before falling into a fitful sleep.

#Phanfic #Phanfic round robin #round robin fic #Phanfiction #fanfic #fic #roundrobin

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mickelbackk · 7 years ago

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Secrets

Warnings: drugs, alcohol, gang, mafia, smut

I’ve never really written any fanfiction before but I’m trying with this so I hope you like it! Please leave me feedback.

Plot: You really didn’t think you would have fun at the party until you ran into that group, your life flipping upside down.

Chapter One

You took one last look in the mirror, fixing your pastel purple hair quickly before turning off the light and making your way out. You weren’t usually invited to parties, only going to a few in your teenage life. But, considering you were closer with most of the people at your job, you decided to go. You quickly grabbed your bag and keys, heading out to drive to his house. Once you got there, you saw an array of lights coming out of the house with loud music blasting through the open windows. You parked on the side of the road and let out a small sigh, remembering how your friend wanted to introduce you to a group of his friends. He knew that you had gone through a pretty bad breakup a couple months back and he also knew just how lonely you were so you were excited to meet whoever these ‘friends’ were. You slowly walked up to the door, fixing your lacey crop top as you went. You slowly opened the door to be bombarded with large crowds of people, most of them having an alcoholic drink in their hand while some were just dancing and partying, probably already too far gone to drink anymore. You let out a shakey breath as you made your way through the crowds of people, recognizing a few faces. You just wanted to find your friend so you could meet these mysterious men. Your eyes traced the entire room before seeing his smiling face in which you immediately ran towards him, trying your hardest not to get trampled by the crowds. Why was everyone here so god damn tall? When you finally made your way over to him, he quickly gave you a hug and greeted you. “Y/N! I’m so glad you could make it! The guys are in the kitchen, go say hi to them! You’ll know who they are.” As he yelled over the music, you tried your hardest to take in everything he was saying. You nodded before quickly and nervously making your way to the kitchen, also wanting to get a drink. When you entered the large kitchen area, you saw a group of very attractive Koreans all standing in a circle, being quite loud and routy. You couldn’t help but smile at them. You decided to quickly grab a drink first, picking up a Sprite out of the fridge before slowly making your way over to them. When you got closer, they all stopped what they were doing to look at you. “U-Um…David said that he wanted to introduce us.” You tried your hardest to not show how nervous you were so you quickly took a sip of your Sprite, giving them a small smile. Suddenly, one of the taller of the men with purple hair quickly grew a smile at you and reached his hand forward to introduce them. “Oh! You must be Y/N! I’m Namjoon.” You quickly shook his hand before letting the rest of the group introduce themselves. There was a shy boy who was standing behind the man named Taehyung who perked your interest but you quickly let your eyes follow along the other members as they introduced themselves. Even though you were nervous, it all immediately left you as the group began talking again, asking you questions about yourself and cracking jokes about various things. Your eyes quickly trailed around all of them as they spoke until you had met eyes with Jungkook, knowing that he had been staring at you this entire time even if you acted like you hadn’t noticed. When your eyes met, he quickly averted his as they landed on the ground. A small frown grew to your face before looking back to the other members, seeing that a few of them had noticed the youngest boy’s reaction. Little did you know that they all knew each other way too well and they knew what was going on even if you didn’t. You and the group talked for around a half an hour before the conversation died, this being your opportunity. “Hey, do any of you guys smoke?” You hadn’t realized that this question would excite all of them before they all quickly yelled an array of “yes”. You let out a laugh before pointing in the direction of the front door. “I brought some bud with me, did you guys wanna go on a drive?” And just like that, you were all practically sprinting out the front door and over to your van. You heard the boys yelling in excitement at your hippie van, it being orange with a large smiley face painted on the side of it. You giggled as you unlocked the doors and opened up the back door, letting it slide open only to reveal the windows with curtains over them and couches instead of car seats. The entire bus smelled like nothing but incense, weed, and cigarettes. As you walked to the driver’s door, you heard a small voice behind you before seeing him walk to the passenger side door. “Shotgun.” When you got into your van, you looked over to see Jungkook sitting next to you while putting on his seatbelt. There was something about this boy that you just couldn’t figure out. You quickly started your van with a loud grumble escaping into the air, the machine barely functioning with how old it was. The entire drive, you were simply playing the radio as you heard the rest of the group in the back talking away. Except one, Jeon Jungkook. He was dead silent the entire ride. Luckily, your excuse for not talking was the cigarette in your hand. Once you pulled into the parking lot of a closed business, you quickly turned off your car before crawling into the back. You \turned on your speaker before beginning to play a Pandora station, The Mowgli’s coming on immediately. It was your favorite band and really didn’t think anyone knew of it until you heard Jungkook yell excitedly as he crawled his tall body from the front with much more struggle than you had. “I love this song!” You quickly cracked the window that was next to you, the curtain just barely moved from it before lighting up another cigarette and packing the bong you had in the back. “I was surprised when you guys said you smoked, you don’t seem like the ‘stoner’ type to me.” You quickly put the cigarette in your mouth, using both of your hands to grind up the bud. “Not everyone who smokes looks like a hippie like you, Y/N.” You let out a giggle as you heard Jimin speak from in front of you on the couch, you and Jungkook being the only ones sitting on the floor due to the lack of space. It was true and you would admit it. With your pastel hair with a few dreads and braids through it and a bandana tied up on top, light blue loose ripped jeans and a floral top being covered by the odd colored cardigan you were wearing, everything about you screamed hippie trash. You quickly lit up the bong with the cigarette in one hand before passing it around, it going around everyone at least three or four times. When you all settled into your seats, having all of them get a drink from your cooler you had, you quickly began to speak. “We should play some games! Truth or Dare anyone?” You let out a small giggle before seeing their excitement about the small game. Despite these boys exterior they were still children at heart, luckily you were the same exact way. You let out a hum before pointing your finger at Jin. “Jin! Truth or Dare.” You would never admit it but you loved truth or dare. You could always come up with the best responses for everyone. Jin thought of a moment before speaking, seeing the excitement and worry in his face. “Dare.” You quickly thought to yourself, trying to remember anything he had said to you or what you had found out about him in this night. You smiled to yourself before speaking, deviance in your voice. “I dare you to finish this mostly packed bowl.” You had heard Namjoon and Jungkook joking with him about how he was a light weight so you figured this would be the most fun. Everyone in the bus began to yell excitedly as Jimin took the bong from your hand and handed it to Jin for you. An array of words came from the boy’s consisting of “Do it!”’s to chanting the poor boy’s name. You couldn’t help but laugh at them as they all gasped as soon as he lit it. Poor Jin couldn’t even finish it in one hit. When he was finally successful, you all cheered him on before hearing Namjoon speak up, excitement in his voice still. “Your turn, Jin.” The boys had gone around a few times doing awful dares and you finding out way too much about them before it made it to Jimin. The pink haired man slowly looked over at Jungkook before speaking, his voice showing just how much interest he had in messing with the youngest. “Jungkook…truth? Or dare?” Jungkook immediately grew nervous at him being pinpointed, literally everyone in the bus staring at him including yourself. He swallowed the lump in his throat before speaking, his voice quiet from his nerves. “Truth.” Jungkook definitely would have said dare if you weren’t there and all of the boy’s knew it. But, luckily, Jimin was fully expecting his answer. “Is it true that you have a crush on Y/N?” Your eyes grew a little wide as you looked over at Jimin before back to Jungkook. The young boy looked down at his hands in silence, obviously trying to figure out how he should answer it. If he lied, they’d all know. A small sigh escaped into the air before you heard the boy’s voice, having an odd sense of confidence behind it. “Yes, I do.” All of the boys began screaming as you quickly averted your attention to your cigarette to hide any signs of flush that had quickly come onto you. You had thought he was cute when you had first met him, but the thought of him thinking you were actually attractive made your heart feel like it could explode. The questions went around a little longer before it came back to you, seeing Yoongi staring directly at you. “Y/N, truth or dare?” The only thing that went through your head was ‘I’m not a pussy’ as you quickly responded with dare. With how baked you were right then, you probably would have done anything that was dared to you. A small grin grew to the black haired boy’s face as he spoke again, obviously somehow having this planned out in his head just like Jimin had. “I dare you to make out with Jungkook for exactly one minute.” Your eyes grew wide as you stared at Yoongi, your body freezing. Regret quickly sunk in as the boy’s in front of you began to scream in excitement, laughs echoing through the van you were in. It wasn’t until you met eyes with Jungkook that you felt your heart beating in your ears. Could you really make out with him? You didn’t even know how old he was or anything about him really. You let out a heavy sigh before tossing your almost finished cigarette out the window.

“Fine.”

#bts #bangtan boys #jungkookxreader #mafia au #gang au #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #park jimiin #kim taehyung #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #min yoongi #kim seokjin #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #btsfic #secrets

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danatole-headcanons · 7 years ago

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Ace, Andy, Kena, and Vic’s Danatole Kid Hcs

@melchirits

* THE KIDS * * helo naught xhildern, it’s danatole child time * THE KIDS: Fyodor(Theo) and Lucette (Lucy) Dolokhov-Kuragin * Dickle * every close friend/relative gets One Name to suggest * all of them are really good and considerate…………..until they go to balaga, a family friend * they tell balaga that he has One Chance……. And the name he choses is dickle * “ok balaga you have one shot at this, don’t fuck it up” * “ok ok hear me out. dickle.” * anatole is dying * dolokhov is having a heart attack in the background, im fucking wheeding * “ok but give me at least three chances” * “hear me out: succulent butterfly or FUCKING NUTMOBILE” “why’d you scream the second one?” “Because it should be in all caps” “get the fuck out” * “you had one chance, WE’RE NOT NAMING OUR GOTDAM SON DICKLE” * “but can the middle names spell dickle, what about troika” * “balaga please get out of our house it’s midnight” * “how about pikachu. Or ash ketchum.” * fedya, screaming from the background, heart attack paused: “YES” “i think i thought of the perfect name” balaga literally gets to anatole’s height by climbing him and whispers, “the loud THX noise from that one movie.”[a] * “name the child the THX noise” “balaga,,,,its been four days please leave” * he Won’t give up * Other balaga recommendations: * FUCKING NUTMOBILE * lucas steele, and variants * paul pinto * razor boy * succulent * marvin * paul pinto in khakis * lucifer * succulent butterfly * lampost * trash can * naruto * pikachu * ash ketchum * kukas steeke * THX noise * fursuit * (anatole kicks him out after that one) * ALSO * “fedya you are the father” * “so are you” * “oh shit true” * the first child (theo) grows up and learns that they were literally almost named fucking nutmobile and is ready to deck both balaga and their dads * balaga is like “im gonna teach your kid how to drive” * anatole astral projects while Everyone it holding fedya back from destroying balaga * balaga teaches the kid how to drive anyway bc fedya and anatole can’t stop him * so the kid gets pulled over by a cop the first time they drive (w/balaga) bc of course * the police person is just like “I KNOW YOU” and balaga screams “FLOOR IT” * “green means go, red also means go probably, yellow means speed up” * “balaga why is my kid crying” “,,,,,,,,,,reasons” * balaga calls theo dickle forever bc he can * Lucy has Fedya’s Determination and she does everything balaga does better * balaga cries into a wine bottle on the pavement * “balaga eating saltines and chugging wine on the sidewalk”~Quote from Ace * one time balaga takes lucy out for night lessons * fedya wakes up as this is happening and has a panic attack because “where is our kid oh dear god” * he literally sprints out into the driveway and balaga screams “FUCKING FLOOR IT” and lucy’s doing all sorts of pro maneuvers * while balaga ends up hanging on for dear life because “oh so this is what it’s like to be my passenger” * “lucy lucifer” * balaga has a corkboard full of parking tickets he never paid, he hoards them like trophies * (balaga voice) speed limit 420 haha nice

* “Balaga that says 42,,,” * “if i put four engines in my car,,,” * balaga owns a school bus that’s decked out like a monster truck * balaga works for uber AND lyft, like a double agent * one time he gets an uber and lyft at the same time so hes like fuck it and gets them both * fuzzy dice on rearview mirror * balaga’s car is named nutmobile & it has a nut sticker * balaga sleeps in his car in a walmart parking lot at night?? * on lucy’s first birthday balaga teaches lucy how to say fuck and fedya decks him in the street * balaga picks lucy up from school or something one day and he saw her and just yelled “HEY LUCIFER” * lucy whips around like YEAH FUCKASS WHAT DO YOU WANT, she was like 14 * BALAGA IS LITERALLY AT ANATOLE AND FEDYAS HOUSE ALK THE TINE AND HE IS JUST YELLING LUCIFER ALL GHE TIME AND FEDYA ID LIKE SHUT THE FUCK UP BALAGA * balaga runs like naruto * balaga was the babysitter literally all the time * balaga worked as a gym teacher for a month before getting fired * (“what’d he get fired for?” “nothing you can prove”) ~Andy and Ace * someone else parks in his parking spot and he just keys the car * balaga worked as a librarian for two hours before being fired for telling the kids to shut the fuck up * balaga never gets fired from uber no matter what * Review: 5/5. Almost died but i got to my destination, 30 minutes away, in 2 minutes. * “LUCY, HYPERDRIVE” * balaga has completely taken over anatole & fedya’s garage * they try to walk in one time like “is this is fucking dead rat” and he shoots them with a paintball gun and says “no this is covfefe” * Balaga goes as a gc egg shaker for halloween w the kids * “No you just hear the beads and then theres tiny egg man” ~Kalvin * “yeah the guy who lives in our garage uhhhh tiny egg man” ~Theo * lucy draws balaga and he says “hell yeah fanart,” hangs it up on like the ceiling of his car * when lucy and theo play mario kart she always chooses rainbow road * chooses monopoly for Family Game Night * “lucy please we’ve been playing for three days” “no it’s blond dad’s turn” * anatole’s dying on the floor, fedya’s crying, theo’s dissociating * theo’s a hide and seek master

*They watch Buzzfeed Unsolved * lucy & theo go ghost hunting, lucy’s humming the ghostbusters theme and theo’s shaking like a leaf in the corner with ten vials of holy water on him * “hey demons it’s me, ya boi” “LUCY NO” * “COME AT ME DEMONS!” “L U C Y P L E A S E” * Theo is Dipper Pines * lucy is always ready to Deck People (kalvin style) * lucy has a pokeball in her backpack to throw at people she doesnt like * the guys at school call her “hellraiser” and the girls call her “lucifer” * theo and lucy are Not Straight in the slightest * lucy is pan, theo is gay & ace, & also trans * lucy makes so many innuendos she got detention multiple times because of it * theo can play literally any instrument and spent his money on bookfairs in elementary school * Theo knows that anybody who plays violin is a basic bitch so he plays viola instead * “Fyodor jr.!” “Sorry dad, you’re basic.” ~Convo with Anatole * theo quickly become better at gambling than fedya, it switches from fedya letting him win to him actually getting demolished, fedya cries * lucy does the thing where it looks like you’re doing ballet but then you go over to someone and kick them in the face * lucy literally carries around a bag of glitter to throw on people when they say/do something stupid * lucy’s ringtone is the THX noise and it’s always so fucking loud * ippolit kuragin is the cool uncle but also cryptid * is a fashion designer in NY apparently * unrelated: (dolokhov voice) me me big anxiety * theo stans all the murder musicals * also is totally straight for phillipa soo * also stans all things LMM * lucy’s contact pick for Blond Dad is That anatole pic * lucy is team valor and theo is team instinct * fedya’s valor, anatole’s mystic (prettiest logo???), balaga’s instinct * everyone outs poor anatole for being on team mystic * “so uh anatole what team did you pick?” “mystic” “oh because they’re smart and stuff–” “no, they’re the most aesthetic * the kids are highkey competitive about pokemon * anatole does that thing where he does 600000 soft restarts to get a shiny starter * he REALLY LOVES alolan vulpix!! * lucy has an embarrassing collection of photos of anatole * Balaga insists on giving the kids The Talk * theo didn’t talk for a week after but it could have gone much worse * someone: so how’d It Go? * theo, shaking, looking up with the purest fear in his eyes: it could have been worse * balaga teaches theo to curse * also, someone @ theo : “fuck, i mean shoot! im so sorry!!” theo, drinking a glass of vodka: what the fuck you can swear around me i literally fuckimg 21 years old what the shit * theo, quietly: in the heights is better than hamilton * lucy, a floor down: EX-FUCKING-SCUSE ME * once lucy asked balaga “hey do you sell drugs” * and balaga was like “no why, do you need them? bc i can get you them” * everyone sees theo as the calm kid, but if you talk shit about his family he Will duel you in a denny’s parking lot @ 3am hamilton style * there’s always the option to go live in the garaga with balaga * Theo’s secret dating the Andreirretasha kid, Nico(lai) * They are the cutest couple™ * Okay some Mama Helene™ bs * Helene was the mom, Fedya was the dad * “Helene and Dolokhov arm-in-arm,” * Lucy looks like a mini Helene, Theo looks like a mini Fedya * The only difference between Helene and Lucy is while Helene has the green-hairpiece-thing, Lucy wears a mauve bow * On Lucy’s fourteenth bday, Helene bent down to eye-level, look soulfully into her eyes, and said this: * “Lucy, as my daughter, i feel as if you should have this..” * It’s a necklace that says “Bitch” * Lucy was 13 when she started her drunk text collection * On Lucy’s 16 bday, helene gave her her most prized possession * “Lucy, I want you to have this, I was going to give it to you later in life, but you’ve come so far already..” * She pulls out a book from her purse, written in fancy calligraphy on it are the words “Burn Book” * “Lucy this is everything that someone i know has done wrong, treat it with care…” * It was one of the only times lucy has ever cried * You bet your ass there’s an entire section dedicated to Anatole * “Anatole, age 1-6, Anatole, Age 7-10, Anatole, Age 11-13, Anatole, Age 14-18, etc” * Theres even some stuff about Cryptid-Uncle-Ippolit * “Hey dad? Remember when you and uncle Pierre tied to guy to a bear for shits and giggles?” * Theo is on the spectrum * Helene got him a fidget cube * He and Lucy do sibling costumes * Theo is a gangly mess of limbs like how does the kid function * Theo was cis-passing when he started dating Nico * When he told him he was trans, Nico just shrugged and kissed him alot * Yeah so I love these kids and might write a fic

#be gondrey chat #nutmobile chat #helene bezukhova #helene kuragina #pierre bezukhov #andreirretasha #natasha rostova #anatole kuragin #fedya dolokhov #fyodor dolokhov #danatole #natasha pierre and the great comet of 1812 #the pride of sacrifice #balaga

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bts-love-sweat-tears · 7 years ago

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The Boy from the Beach

Name: The Boy from the Beach

Type: Gang!au, Fluff

Pairing: Jimin x Reader (feat. cameos by Jungkook and Yugyeom)

Rating: PG-13? Gang references? Kissing? Probably PG. I’m old and you hooligans are pretty streetwise these days :P

Warnings: None really? Brief creepiness/intimidation.

Word Count: 1,323

A/N: This was basically an exercise in curiosity. Mostly because I wanted to post something for all of you lovelies (I know I’ve barely been on tumblr lately 😞 ). But also because I have been crazy busy with school and would love to go to sleep at a (somewhat) normal time, but still write. What I did was set a timer for one hour, and at the end of one hour whatever I had written I would post, with minimal editing (like this is something new, lol) and without sitting on it for a while. So this is probably the hottest off the press you will ever get from me <3.

A/N: Ok, I somewhat cheated. It was an hour and 15 minutes. And I had to cut a scene where Jimin is jealous of her abs. Please imagine and enjoy.

You stretched out as far as you could on your oversized beach towel, and rolled your neck. You had been reading for an hour or so, but knew you had to flip over to your front or your tan would be uneven. Undoubtedly your dad would make some passive comment later about how brown you were, but that was his problem. You loved the feeling of the sun on your skin, and the way you looked after you had spent as much time outside as possible.

This was one of your few days off from the family business- no responsibilities, no guards, and for one short day, you could pretend to be a normal girl in a flouncy bikini, with the only concern being the evenness of your tan and the plot of the trashy romance novel you were reading. You were sure the guards were nearby somewhere, but they were doing a remarkably good job of blending in-not that you expected any less from some of Korea’s most elite guards.

Not that you needed them, which was why you were able to have this day to yourself. Your dad had every confidence that you could handle yourself. For years he had been reluctant to train you, hoping for a son, but when it became clear that it wasn’t going to happen, he embraced training you whole heartedly. Not that you’ve ever had to use that particular skill set, but “forewarned is forearmed,” as the cliché goes.

You settled back down onto your towel, thoughts of your father and his companions retreating to the back of your mind. This time you were face up, and you were able to survey the beach around you. Haeundae Beach had once been a somewhat seedy part of Busan, but you would never know it, looking around at all the beautiful people with a backdrop of sparkling high-rises. Your dad had made some of his earliest money redeveloping the area, which meant that you had a pretty sweet penthouse view.

Despite the fact that it was early October, the beach was packed due to the unseasonable weather, and the film festival that was about to kick off. From your vantage point, you could see the lines snaking around Centum City. As much as you liked to support the Korean film industry (you had cried during the ending of Train to Busan), you would be avoiding the crowds and cameras.

As your thoughts drifted, your peripheral vision caught someone moving swiftly to your left, and someone to your right. You didn’t think they would be a threat, and this was your first critical mistake of the day. Before you could realize it, there were two (unfortunately) familiar faces on either side. Jungkook and Yugyeom. Scions of the other family in the area, which your father euphemistically called your family’s “competitors.” They had sat down on either side of you, close enough that you found it intimidating, but that casual passerbys might only see as close friends. Normally you were confident in a fight, but each of them were trained just as much as you were, if not more. Not to mention that you were barely clearing 155 cm (5’1”), much to your dismay, their reach would be much longer. You could probably win and get away, but not without creating a massive scene that you had no interest in seeing unfold. The last thing tourists and film critics needed was an introduction to the families that ran the grittier side of Busan.

Jungkook slung his arm around you in an overly casual way, and Yugyeom smiled his signature smirk.

“Enjoying a beach day?” Jungkook asked. “The view is pretty spectacular,” he continued, eyeing you over. You tried to squirm away at that, only to bump against his partner in literal crime on the other side of you.

“Easy, now. We wouldn’t want to cause a scene, now would we?” he asked, whispering in your ear and making your skin crawl.

As you momentarily weighed the pros and cons of your next steps, a sweet, but firm voice, echoed from behind.

“Funny, but it looks to me like you guys are the ones making a scene. Maybe you should leave her alone?”

You wondered who the voice belonged to, but as the two jumped at the unexpected confrontation, you saw your chance and took it. Spinning around, you jumped up, pushed them off balance and grabbed the hand of the unlucky passerby who had willingly jumped into this mess. Despite what your father would have said, you knew that you couldn’t just leave him to their wrath.

As you ran, he was in surprisingly good shape, and must do a lot of cardio, because he kept up relatively well. But you were in better shape still, and he began to tire before you did. And, apparently, before Jungkook and Yugyeom, who had regrouped and were sprinting down the beach after you. Your training told you that you could never outrun them, and that you would have to find cover somewhere to hide until they gave up-or until you could call for reinforcements, but you didn’t want to have to explain that to the boy that was with you.

You sprinted off the beach access ramp, and darted around the corner. Even as he slowed, the boy didn’t complain. You ran into the first small shop you saw- a clothing store, and thought to hide in the stall. Not your best idea, but you didn’t have many resources or much time at your disposal.

The shop owners gave you a strange look, but luckily didn’t say anything. They probably recognized the tattoo on your exposed shoulder and left the two of you alone. But clearly this guy didn’t, since he kept asking questions that you couldn’t or didn’t want to answer. In the too close space of the changing stall, his questions were rapid fire.

“Who are you? How can you run so fast? Do you know those guys? What do they want with you? They seem scary? (is this a question? you eye-roll internally. He’s clearly on an adrenaline high). For some unknown reason, maybe because of the smutty novel you’d been reading earlier, maybe because his lips have looked so soft and appealing the entire time he’s been rambling, the only sensible way to get him to stop is to kiss him. So you do. And his lips still under your own.

And it’s lucky timing, because as you do, you hear the doors bang open loudly, and meek protests of the staff. From the way they are talking, Jungkook and Yugyeom are incensed that they have lost the two of you. In their rage, they aren’t very thorough, and with the light out and the two of you wedged behind the door, they only spare a cursory glance in your direction. Thank god. You exhale slowly, but the boy creates no additional space between you. In fact, his hands are firm but gentle on your hips, and though you are no longer kissing, the two of you are forehead to forehead and nose to nose.

“What is your name?” he whispers, still breathless, though from running or kissing you can’t be sure. You’re feeling pretty breathless yourself, though you’ll never admit as to why. While he had been asking before, you were pretty sure he was some city slicker from Seoul, but hints of a Busan satoori closer to your own have slipped out.

“Kim Y/N,” you whisper, giving only your real first name and a fake family name. He doesn’t need to know the full details of your family. He can be eased into that later, if he sticks around, you amend internally. “Yours?”

“Park Jimin.” And with that, he leans in and continues to kiss you, and you know that you are even more of a goner than the heroines of your beach novel.

#bts fanfiction #bts imagines #jimin x reader #jimin x you #gang!au #park jimin #jeon jungkook #kim yugyeom

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group3rawbabbage-blog · 8 years ago

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Lighting illuminated the sky beneath my window, ominous thunder shook the earth. My heartbeat mimicked the deafening clattering of the roof to the heavy raindrops pounding the pavements outside. The curtain covering my window is ajar, with only darkness beyond it saved for occasional flashes of lightning. With a mother of all storms rapturing outside the walls, everything is pitch black, only a small hint of luminesce from my dim side table lamp aided my vision. It was almost midnight, just a few more minutes before the big ben coos a low bassic ding and I glanced at the small stand-up calendar in my wooden bedside table.

The shiny paper decaled with ornamenting flowers and swirls greeted my sight, looking all pretty and dainty. But something outshone its beauty, my eyes slowly trailed the thick blood-red ink that had tainted the fancy paper, marking out the first eight cells of the second month of the year. I took a deep breath, bracing myself from the pain but nothing could brace me from sudden surge of melancholic nostalgia that washed over me like a tsunami.

My eyes welled up with tears, blurring my vision, because lying next to the streak of eight x’s was a number heavily encircled with crimson ink, the most unforgettable day of my life, the only day that will always be a part of my happy memories - the day I met him.

It was the evening of February 9th when I was just about to go home from school when the heavens went crazy and played a prank on me. I was walking out of the huge metal gates, umbrella-less, and the rain began pouring, hard, like shards of glass from the sky shooting straight to the ground and I sprinted for my dear life. I didn’t know towards where the hell I was running but I kept on doing so and I found myself inside a coffee shop just nearby my school, soaking wet, trembling with the cold and I hugged myself tighter, concealing myself as a shivering mess inside this air-conditioned space. I mumbled an incoherent profanity riddled sigh as I blamed myself as to why I left my umbrella at home when I force it inside my full-packed bag even at the sunniest of days.

Annoyed, I clicked my tongue and ran my hand through my dripping hair, combing it as my fingers laced through it in a swift motion. My eyes darted to the glass walls protecting the homey café from the storm venturing outside and I turned my head at the sudden distortion of my peripheral view. It was a young-looking guy, probably about my age, looking straight into my eyes with a smile as he pulled my hand that had somehow made its way between my lips. There was an awkward staring contest for about three seconds and I felt my eyes grow enormous. I snatched my arm away from his grip as my back straightened from my slouch and I stiffly looked down, embarrassed. I was unknowingly doing my bad habit again, chewing onto my nails until they’re bitten raw. Now my fingers hurt but what’s worse is that someone saw me doing something so unhygienic.

I remained frozen and stared at the blue and green plaid skirt as I waited for him to leave but he didn’t, even after a few minutes. I slowly peeked to see what he was doing, only to find him leaning on the table, looking straight into my eyes, one hand propping his chin up. My gaze caught his orbs and he beamed at me, brighter than the sun, lighting up the atmosphere as if though there is no heavy blizzard outside and I was mesmerized at how one smile can do such a thing. He looked so handsome with that stupid smile on his stupid face but he also looked so ridiculous at the same time, maybe it was because of the pink post it note stuck onto his forehead that moved up and down as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

My eyebrows knitted as I tried to read whatever words are written on the paper but I can’t recognize any character at the movement of the paper or maybe, I can’t seem to comprehend because I was distracted at how his face is dangerously close to mine. I hastily snatched the note from his forehead in a small swift motion and I defensively backed away, widening our proximity and I earned a small chuckle from him. I gathered whatever sanity I had left and pushed his stupid grin out of my head. I concentrated on the paper in my hand, eyeing whatever written in it in a clean but manly handwriting that’s probably his. I felt the corners of my lips tug slightly upwards and I didn’t care if my smile looked very sinister because what’s beside the wet shape of my thumb would make anyone crack into a smile, ‘Hey idiot. :P’

I looked up at him and on his face is a grin stretched from ear-to-ear. I don't know how but I just found myself lost in the forest of his eyes as he was drowning in the ocean of mine. He erupted into small fits of laughter and I couldn't help but join him in this small sweet moment to be cherished. Sadly, it was already deep in the evening and my parents would scold the life out of me if I went home way past my curfew. I went home with an unwipable small grimace that evening, because he left me his jacket but he took my heart in exchange of it and I knew I was doomed.

After that, our futures became intertwined and it still plays in an unending loop in my mind. It was because of him that I magically had enough strength to crawl of out my shell that held me almost my entire life. All my life I thought I was only living because I’m not dead yet. All my life I never thought that someone’s happiness and miracle can come in form of a pair of eyes, a beautiful mind and a beating heart. I always believed that life is a curse and living is a drag, I always thought I’d stay inside my cave until he came barging through my walls and showed me otherwise.

He’ll always be my awesome person, the only one who dragged me out of the darkness and led me towards the beautiful part of life. He’ll always be the reason I believe in happily-ever-afters and he’ll always be why I put up a hell of a fight in this cruel world. It was too good to be true, like I was living in my own new fairy tale and I think the heavens thought of reminding me how there should always be 'bitter' next to my 'sweet.'

I was happily skipping out of my classroom, on the way to meet him. He's definitely the sweetest guy ever. A month more before our friendship anniversarry and I carefully counted the dates and encircled May 9th with a thick crimson ink. I was approaching our favorite whimsical themed coffee shop and he was there, sitting at our usual spot adjacent to the glass walls, near the right corner of the cafe if viewed from the outside. He had one arm propping his chin up as his gaze was on the people walking down the pavements of the streets. I carefully entered the cafe and slowly creeped beside him, covering his eyes with my hands and he chuckled.

He didn't even guess, somehow he knew the smell of my perfume, the soft palms of my hands and the slim shape of my fingers. He knew it was me. We laughed and talked about the weirdest topics until the cafe doors were closed and we were asked to leave. "I'll miss you," he croaked with a sad smile and I wanted to laugh at the sudden shift of his emotions. But somehow, there was a nudging nerve somewhere in my heart. He told me he's going to miss me but why did it sound like he was the one leaving?

That was the last day we met, the last time I saw his eyes, the last time I saw him smile, the last time I'll probably be that happy. I didn’t know he was sick, very sick that we were running out of time. Later that evening, he was rushed to the hospital due to his somehow uncurable heart disease he was diagnosed with years ago.

He was a ticking time bomb and I never knew that he was, so I recklessly spent time with him when I could’ve stayed by him more. He didn’t want to leave but he needed to and I wanted to hate him so much for that. He proved that some people can only really stay in our hearts, not in our lives.

But if you ask me, do I regret knowing him? I’ll tell you the same thing I told him as I watched the light leave his eyes – no, because I can’t form a rainbow without his sunshine after my rain. The hands of the clock finally striked twelve and my world came crumbling into pieces again. I approached the calendar with a blurry vision, tear stained cheeks, broken heart and a marker in my hand to cross out February 9th.

Goodbye.

Ahllia Bernadette F. Evidor - Memoir

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