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chifuyusfingers · 3 years ago

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Dad! JJK boys reaction to your baby kicking for the first time.

Gojo

Letting out a cry of pain from the weird feeling, you woke up from your sleep, sitting up heavily breathing, you clutched your arms around your pregnant belly softly not to hurt the baby. Hugging it and cooling down your breathing, trying to comprehend what has just happened.

Many paranoic thoughts filling your mind. Is something wrong? Did something happen to the baby? Thinking about the worst scenarios, another one of those weird tumbling motions occurred in your swollen belly. Bending down to place your ear on the top of your belly of 5 months, you caressed it, trying to feel the twitches again.

Looking to the side, you placed your hands on your sleeping husband gojo, gently shaking him to wake him up.

His sleepy eyes slowly opening, trying to get used to the darkness in the room. Mhm, what is it, baby? Did something happen? Why did you wake me up for?“ hardly understandable mumbles left his mouth as he laid in his place, not moving a bit, still not woken up.

"Toru, I think that… the baby just kicked.“ swiftly sitting up after those words came out of your mouth, his widened eyes in shock. "Really? Did the baby kick? Oh my-"

Gojo did the same thing as you did, laying his head on your belly, his hands wrapping around your bottom, trying to feel anything. And as the baby kicked again, your belly moving softly under his head.

Gojo almost jumped out of his place in amazement as he felt that. "Oh holy Y/N, that was- -your belly just moved, I felt it. Oh my God your baby just moved.“

Tugging up your top to expose your baby bump, he planted kisses on it, still astonished from the new feeling of a baby moving inside your body. "My baby? It’s your baby too, it’s our baby and it moved, Toru.“

You both giggled at the new feeling, it all felt so real, now that you could really feel your baby. "Come on, let’s get back to sleep, you have to rest.“

Going back to sleep, he spooned you from behind, his arm embracing you close to him, caressing your baby bump until you fell asleep again.

Yuji

"Y/N do you know where is the bottle of the vinegar?“ Yuji shouted for you to hear, rummaging all over the kitchen, trying to find the liquid he was looking for.

You were laying on the couch, resting with a book in your hands, since any excessive movement made your pregnant body tired.

One eye on the pages of the book, the second one looking out for your husband Yuji who was cooking you two a meal, making sure he didn’t hurt himself or mess something up.

Even though Yuji was a good cook, he was a bit clumsy so occasional cuts on his fingers weren’t that occasional. Suddenly a dull pain hit your belly, causing you to cry in pain, wrapping your arms around your swollen belly.

As Yuji heard your painful whimpers, he dropped the knife he was holding, cutting his finger slightly, but that wasn’t what he cared for, immediately running over to you.

"Y/N Are you okay? What’s going on? Is there something wrong?“ kneeling in front of you, letting his hands fall onto your knees. Your head lowered down, trying to overcome the pain that hit your ribs and abdomen.

" I don’t- don’t know, it just suddenly started to hurt so much.“ his worried expression turned into a soft one in a blink of an eye. " Isn’t it… our baby kicking?“

Getting the pieces of information that flowed through your brain together, you realised that Yuji might have a point.

"Aww Y/N, I’m so sorry for what our baby is putting through, come on lay down, I’m gonna bandage my finger, and I’ll give you a massage, maybe it’ll relieve stress, what do you think?“ nodding you laid down, still not over the pain your baby just gave you.

Yuji ran back to the kitchen for a second, rummaging over the boxes of medicaments and this type of stuff, trying to find a plaster to wrap his finger in before going back to you and sitting on the couch. He laid your head on his lap, his hands massaging your stiff shoulders in circular motions while singing to you, trying to help you relax.

Megumi

The weekend always meant Megumi well-deserved rest. Usually, the two of you spent a weekend together in bed, lazily cuddling and watching series you abandoned throughout the week. Today was not any different.

Laying in the bed under piles of comforter, you nuzzled your back into Megumi’s chest, letting out small mewls at how comfortable his presence was. Ever since you got pregnant, Megumi treated you like the most fragile crystal vase in this world.

His arm wrapped around your baby bump protectively, the other arm laid under your head. Watching the characters move on the screen of your notebook, your attention fully captivated.

You were on the edge, almost not breathing from the unexpected plot twist, when your swollen belly twitched lightly. Frowning your eyebrows at the weird feeling, it was as if butterflies were flying in your stomach.

But the nervous twitches did not stop, yet, they only intensified. You remembered an article you read a month ago, about how to distinguish when a baby kicks or moves. Concentrating more on the feeling, it was the same as described in the article.

Turning around to look at Megumi, his eyes closed as he was probably napping. Shaking his shoulders to wake him up, he opened his sleepy eyes. " Megumi“ humming tiredly, he tried hard not to knock out, but listen to what you had to say.

" I think our baby moved“ His no longer sleepy eyes opened widely, looking at you with excitement. "Really? How does it feel? Oh I can’t even imagine it, let me touch.“

His loosened grip around your belly now tightened, his hand roaming all over your belly, trying to feel anything. "But I don’t feel anything Y/N.“ he looked at you sadly, for not being able to feel his child kick.

"It’s because the baby stopped moving, Megumi I’ll tell you the next time it moves.“ He nodded dejectedly and laid back down, holding you close to him as you two resumed the series while waiting patiently for your baby to move.

Nanami

"That’s him, that’s the guy. The guy with the black hat is the killer!“ shouted gojo as the aforementioned character of the movie you were watching appeared on the screen.

" I swear try to do this once again and you’ll be the one left out when we have the next movie night.“

Switching between the channels you turned the TV off and decided to rather talk together since nothing watchable was on. You listened to the men who was talking about his next week’s schedule.

Laughing at some of the sarcastic remarks your husband Nanami made, you comfortably positioned yourself on Nanami’s laps, his strong arms keeping you close and wrapping around your baby bump protectively.

It was as if your baby reacted to the feeling of his dad’s hands when you felt some weird twitches and tumbles. Shrugging your eyebrows at the weird feelings you supposed was the baby kicking, you lightly bent forward, your fingers circling over your bump, occasionally poking it to get another reaction from the baby.

"Is something wrong, Y/N?“ queried your husband Nanami, catching the attention of gojo, who stopped in his convo, instead diverting his attention to you.

"-I think our baby moved…“ as soon as the words left your mouth, gojo jumped out from his seat, coming over to you and immediately placing his hands on your belly out of curiosity, leaving you and Nanami speechless as the men tried to feel your baby moving.

"Get your hands off my wife’s bump, you’re irrelevant right now. Her dad should be the first one to feel her kick, her uncle is further in the line. Make your own child.“

Getou

Having to deal with pregnancy was hard, but having to deal with pregnancy when your partner couldn’t be present all the time, was even harder.

When you got pregnant Getou made sure to be there for you as much as he could.

Coming out of your shared bedroom, you yawned, still not completely woken up from your night sleep. Picking some milk out of the fridge to cook oats in, you made yourself oatmeal with fruit and a cup of coffee to eat for breakfast.

Digging your spoon into the bowl, you couldn’t get yourself to have a bite. Your stomach feeling somehow heavy. It wasn’t like the morning nausea you had in the first trimester, it was just a bad feeling as if someone was squeezing your stomach.

You at least drank the coffee as you sat down on the couch in your living room, turning the TV on to listen to watch some news. You caressed your baby bump out of a habit, it was almost like a routine, every morning when you and Getou watched the news, he’d always caress your belly.

Sipping on your coffee, you felt a sharp kick to your ribs and stomach, spilling the coffee all over your clothes. You shrugged your eyebrows, mouth wide opened as you tried to hold back your tears from the sharp and tingling pain.

"I’ve been carrying you for over 5 months and this is how you repay me with your first kick?“ Saying playfully to your baby even though you knew it can’t hear you, you couldn’t help but smile at the precious feeling of your baby kicking even though it was painful.

'I should probably say this to Getou, he’d be happy to know that our baby kicks’ you said to yourself as you picked your phone and dialled his phone number, hoping that he’d be able to pick up.

"Good morning love.“ you subconsciously smiled at his sweet voice as he called you the pet name he often used.

"Getou, our prince kicked me. It hurts like hell, he’s a strong boy, he must be taking after his daddy.“ you could feel the regret in his voice at not being able to be there when your baby kicked for the first time.

"Really?I’m so sorry that I couldn’t be there when he kicked for the first time, wait for me I’m home soon“

Toji

Chopping some pepper bells, onions and tomatoes, you put the aforementioned vegetables into a pot, pouring a bit of oil and letting it roast on a low heat as you poured some vegetable broth onto it afterwards.

Looking up to see your partner Toji enter the kitchen with no t-shirt, his sweatpants long hanging as he rubbed his sleepy eyes, from having to wake up after coming home late.

"Good morning. “ He smiled at you beamingly, brushing his hair with his fingers and pouring himself a glass of water. "Good morning, babe. I’m so tired, my muscles stiffened as I slept, I must be getting old.“

Laughing playfully at his remark you resumed your previous activity of cooking, pouring some seasoning into the pot.

The sleepy figure of your partner Toji, disappeared from your sight as he got behind you, his long limbs wrapping around your waist as he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, whining out of the comfort.

"Toji we can cuddle later, I have to finish cooking, okay?“ He groaned in disagreement not moving a bit as his grip tightened around your '5-month old’ baby bump, running his fingers over the material of your top.

You were so engaged in cutting tofu, that you didn’t pay any attention to the feelings in your lower belly. Sensing some tingling, you brushed it off, thinking it was only Toji's fingertips trying to tingle you to make you stop doing your actions.

"What was it?“ Letting out a quiet 'what do you mean’ you continued not taking your eyes off the cutting board. "Your belly moved.“ Turning over to look at him, you raised your eyebrows, not getting any of his words. "It didn’t move.“

"It did Y/N, I felt it.“ Letting out a small chuckle you turned back. "Toji, I’m not going to stop and cuddle you, this attempt to make me stop is hopeless.“ as you cut the food, you suddenly felt a movement in your lower stomach.

"Wait, what, it really moved. Woah, it must be our little girl.“ tears fell down your cheeks at the new feeling, happiness overflowing your veins. "See? I wasn’t lying!“

Inumaki

"What can I get for you?“ asked the young waiter dressed in a uniform with the logo of the café you were in.

"She’s pregnant and she shouldn’t drink much caffeine, so one strawberry and one watermelon lemonade.“ ordered your husband Inumaki, before you could even open your mouth to say something.

Turning to face his caring and lovely smile, you pouted at him, for not giving you a chance to order something yourself.

"You know I can order for myself? And I didn’t have any caffeine in a week, so I could at least have an iced latte.“ He shrugged his shoulders, as he gazed around the café.

"It’s not about the caffeine right now. Do you remember? We had our first date here and drank the same thing, I just wanted to recall the memories.“ You smiled as you replayed those reminiscences in your mind.

"Who would’ve thought that a bundle of joy will come out of the single date, I can’t express how happy I am. I still remember that day, I was so nervous and embarrassed myself so many times that I thought you would’ve never wanted to go out with me again, yet you did.“ you smiled at his remarks, thinking about how he almost tripped on his own foot from how nervous he was.

"I did. And there wasn’t a time when I regretted, going out with you was the best choice of my life.“

As the waiter was approaching you with the lemonades, you felt fluttering movements occur in your lower abdomen. Onum noticed the grimace on your face as you lightly hugged yourself, but waited until the waiter left.

"Is something wrong Y/N?“ You looked up to meet his worried face. "I don’t know, there is a weird fluttering feeling in my stomach and it’s just… weird.“ You answered as you took a sip of your tasty lemonade, his gaze softening.

"Y/N, it must be our baby, he started kicking, don’t you think?“

______________________________________

Heya earthlings! I hope y'all are doing well~ And I was quite busy these days because of my damn exams, so I wasn't able to answer your requests but now that I'm here, I'd make sure to do it.

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cherryatiny · 4 years ago

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𝐃𝐚𝐝! 𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳: 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞

𝐺𝐼𝐹𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒, 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑡 𝑔𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑤𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑠

⩥ 𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠

Letting out a cry of pain from the weird feeling, you woke up from your sleep, sitting up heavily breathing, you clutched your arms around your pregnancy belly softly not to hurt the baby. Hugging it and cooling down your breathing, trying to comprehend what has just happened.

Looking to the side, you placed your hands on your sleeping husband Hongjoong, gently shaking him to wake him up.

His sleepy eyes slowly opening, trying to get used to the darkness in the room. „Mhm, what is it, baby? Did something happen? Why did you wake me up for?“ hardly understandable mumbles left his mouth as he laid in his place, not moving a bit, still not woken up.

„Joongie, I think that... the baby just kicked.“ swiftly sitting up after those words came out of your mouth, his widened eyes in shock. „Really? Did the baby kick? Oh my-“

Hongjoong did the same thing as you did, laying his head on your belly, his hands wrapping around your bottom, trying to feel anything. And as the baby kicked again, your belly moving softly under his head.

Hongjoong almost jumped out of his place in amazement as he felt that. „Oh my Y/N, that was-your belly just moved, I felt it. Oh my God your baby just moved.“

Tugging up your top to expose your baby bump, he planted kisses on it, still astonished from the new feeling of a baby moving inside your body. „My baby? It's your baby too, it's our baby and it moved, Joongie.“

You both giggled cutely at the new feeling, it all felt so real, now that you could really feel your baby. „Come on, let's get back to sleep, you have to rest.“

Going back to sleep, he spooned you from behind, his arm embracing you close to him, caressing your baby bump until you fell asleep again.

⩥ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐰𝐚

„Y/N do you know where is the bottle with caraway seeds?“ Seonghwa shouted for you to hear, rummaging all over the kitchen, trying to find the seasoning he was looking for.

You were laying on the couch, resting with a book in your hands, since any excessive movement made your pregnant body tired. One eye on the flavescent pages of the book, the second one looking out for your husband Seonghwa who was cooking you two a meal, making sure he didn't hurt himself or mess something up.

Even though Seonghwa was a great cook, he was a bit clumsy so occasional cuts on his fingers weren't that occasional. Suddenly a dull pain hit your belly, causing you to cry in pain, wrapping your arms around your swollen belly.

As Seonghwa heard your painful whimpers, he dropped the knife he was holding, cutting his finger, but that wasn't what he cared for, immediately running over to you.

„Ah fuck it- Princess! Are you okay? What's happening? Is there something wrong?“ kneeling in front of you, letting his hands fall onto your knees. Your head lowered down, trying to overcome the pain that hit your ribs and abdomen.

„Ah, I don't- don't know, it just suddenly started to hurt so much. As if you hit my ribs with a bat.“ his worried expression turned into a soft one in a blink of an eye. „Isn't it... our baby kicking?“

Getting the pieces of information that flowed through your brain together, you realised that Seonghwa might have a point.

„Aww Y/N, I'm so sorry for what our baby is putting through, come on lay down, I'm gonna bandage my finger, and I'll give you a massage, maybe it'll relieve stress, what do you think?“ nodding you laid down, still not over the pain your baby just gave you.

Seonghwa ran back to the kitchen for a second, rummaging over the boxes of medicaments and this type of stuff, trying to find a plaster to wrap his finger in before going back to you and sitting on the couch. He laid your head on his lap, his hands massaging your stiff shoulders in circular motions while singing to you, trying to help you relax.

⩥ 𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨

The weekend always meant Yunho's well-deserved rest. Usually, the two of you spent a weekend together in bed, lazily cuddling and watching series you abandoned throughout the week. Today was not any different.

Laying in the bed under piles of comforter, you nuzzled your back into Yunho's chest, letting out small mewls at how comfortable his presence was. Ever since you got pregnant, Yunho treated you like the most fragile crystal vase in this world.

His arm wrapped around your baby bump protectively, the other arm laid under your head. Watching the characters move on the screen of your notebook, your attention fully captivated.

Turning around to look at Yunho, his eyes closed as he was probably napping. Shaking his shoulders to wake him up, he opened his sleepy eyes. „Yunho...“ humming tiredly, he tried hard not to knock out, but listen to what you had to say.

„Remember the article? I think our baby moved...“ His no longer sleepy eyes opened widely, looking at you with excitement. „Really? How does it feel? Oh I can't even imagine it, let me touch.“

His loosened grip around your belly now tightened, his hand roaming all over your belly, trying to feel anything. „But I don't feel anything Y/N.“ pouting at you sadly, from not being able to feel his child kick.

„It's because the baby stopped moving, Yuyu. I'll tell you the next time it moves.“ He nodded dejectedly and laid back down, holding you close to him as you two resumed the series while waiting patiently for your baby to move again.

⩥ 𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐞𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠

„That's him, that's the guy. The guy with the black hat is the killer!“ shouted Wooyoung as the aforementioned character of the movie you were watching appeared on the screen.

„Oh my fucking god Wooyoung, I swear I'm gonna sew your mouth one day, try to do this once again and you'll be the one left out when we have the next movie night.“

The boys started scolding Wooyoung as he once again spoiled the movie you were watching, some of them throwing pillows at him.

Switching between the channels you turned the TV off and decided to rather talk together since nothing watchable was on. You listened to the eight men that were discussing their next week's schedule.

Laughing at some of the sarcastic remarks your husband Yeosang made, you comfortably positioned yourself on Yeosang's laps, his strong arms keeping you close and wrapping around your baby bump protectively.

It was as if your baby reacted to the feeling of his dad's hands when you felt some weird twitches and tumbles. Shrugging your eyebrows at the weird feelings you supposed was the baby kicking, you lightly bent forward, your fingers circling over your bump, occasionally poking it to get another reaction from the baby.

„Is something wrong, Y/N?“ queried your husband Yeosang, catching the attention of the others, who stopped in their convo, instead diverting their attention to you.

„I-I think our baby moved...“ as soon as the words left your mouth, all of the boys jumped out from their seat, coming over to you and immediately placing their hands on your belly out of curiosity, leaving you and Yeosang speechless as the 7 men tried to feel your baby moving.

„Oh my god, guys I feel it kicking.“ San immediately scoffed at his words, responding sassily. „Shut up Wooyoung, you don't feel anything, you made that up because you just want to be the first one to feel our little niece move.“

„Get your hands off my wife's bump, you're irrelevant right now. Her dad should be the first one to feel her kick, her uncles are further in the line. Make your own child.“

⩥ 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐒𝐚𝐧

Having to deal with pregnancy was hard, but having to deal with pregnancy when your partner couldn't be present all the time, was even harder. Many would've thought that having an idol husband must be a dream come true - a life out of fanfiction.

But at the same time, you have to deal with an exhausted man who has a packed schedule and hardly any free time. After the two of you got married, San and his group adjusted their schedule to have more time, after all, all the members weren't that young anymore and they also had their own lives.

When you got pregnant San made sure to be there for you as much as he could, it wasn't a comeback season so it was possible. However he was shooting for a drama he was supposed to play a lead role in, so he left for a 'job trip' for two weeks since they were shooting in Jeju Island.

Digging your spoon into the bowl, you couldn't get yourself to have a bite. Your stomach feeling somehow heavy. It wasn't like the morning nausea you had in the first trimester, it was just a bad feeling as if someone was squeezing your stomach.

You at least drank the coffee as you sat down on the couch in your living room, turning the TV on to listen to watch some news. You caressed your baby bump out of a habit, it was almost like a routine, every morning when you and San watched the news, he'd always caress your belly.

„Ah, I've been carrying you for over 5 months and this is how you repay me with your first kick?“ Saying playfully to your baby even though you knew it can't hear you, you couldn't help but smile at the precious feeling of your baby kicking even though it was painful.

'I should probably say this to San, he'd be happy to know that our baby kicks' you said to yourself as you picked your phone and dialled his phone number, hoping that you won't interrupt anything and he'd be able to pick up.

„Good morning princess.“ you subconsciously smiled at his sweet voice as he called you the pet name he often used.

„Sannie, our prince kicked me. It hurts like hell, he's a strong boy, he must be taking after his daddy.“ you could feel the regret in his voice at not being able to be there when your baby kicked for the first time.

„Waah really? Ah I'm so sorry that I couldn't be there when he kicked for the first time, wait for me I'm home in 3 days.“

⩥ 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢

Looking up to see your partner Mingi enter the kitchen with no t-shirt, his sweatpants long hanging as he rubbed his sleepy eyes, from having to wake up after coming home late after his practice.

„Good morning sleepyhead.“ He smiled at you beamingly, brushing his hair with his fingers and pouring himself a glass of water. „Good morning, babe. Woah, I'm so tired, my muscles stiffened as I slept, I must be getting old.“

Laughing playfully at his remark you resumed your previous activity of cooking, pouring some seasoning into the pot.

The sleepy figure of your partner Mingi, disappeared from your sight as he got behind you, his long limbs wrapping around your waist as he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, whining out of the comfort.

„Mingi we can cuddle later, I have to finish cooking, okay?“ He groaned in disagreement not moving a bit as his grip tightened around your '4-month old' baby bump, running his fingers over the material of your tank-top.

You were so engaged in cutting tofu, that you didn't pay any attention to the feelings in your lower belly. Sensing some tingling, you brushed it off, thinking it was only Mingi's fingertips trying to tingle you to make you stop doing your actions.

„What was it?“ Letting out a quiet 'what do you mean' you continued not taking your eyes off the cutting board. „Your belly moved.“ Turning over to look at him, you raised your eyebrows, not getting any of his words. „It didn't move.“

„It did Y/N, I felt it.“ Letting out a small chuckle you turned back. „Mingi, I'm not going to stop and cuddle you, this attempt to make me stop is hopeless.“ as you cut the food, you suddenly felt a movement in your lower stomach.

„Wait, oh my, it really moved. Woah, it must be our little princess.“ tears fell down your cheeks at the new feeling, happiness overflowing your veins. „See? I wasn't lying!“

⩥ 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠

Standing in backstage, you watched from behind as your husband Wooyoung performed their newest comeback's title song on the music show stage.

Swaying his hips and letting out soft angelic sounds off his mouth. Finishing it off as an ending fairy with his serious but hot pose. Bowing respectfully to the cameramen and staff, sweaty figures of the members left the stage as they returned to the backstage, breathing heavily from the dynamic choreography.

„You were amazing guys, as always.“ You exclaimed as they neared you, grateful smiles on their faces. Wooyoung took your hand on his way and you followed him to their changing room.

„Uhm, I'll wait for you outside while you change.“ you stated as you sat on the metal bench that was in front of the changing room. Running your hand up and down your visible baby bump, you closed your eyes, just trying to think peacefully about anything that came up to your mind.

A gentle thud in your womb breaking you out of your concentrated state. You focused on your swollen belly, thoughts running all over your mind. Could it be your son? Not paying attention to the sound of the door opening you still thought about the uncanny feeling.

Since it was your first pregnancy, how were you supposed to distinguish between those feelings?

„Y/N, I'm done, let's go, Yunho is paying for dinner.“ Looking up at his smiling you focused on his deep hazel eyes with little sparkles in them. „Youngie, I think our baby kicked...“

A really loud 'woah' left his mouth along with some cheerful squeals, alerting all the people in the hallways.

„Really? Did our son really kick? Don't play your jokes on me. We'll have to celebrate then, come on, give me your backpack and I'll treat you the best meal of your life.“

„You? Didn't you say Yunho is the one who's paying?“ you remarked playfully in the mood to tease him for every detail he says. „That's just a bare detail, come one honey.“

⩥ 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨

„What can I get for you?“ asked the young waiter dressed in a uniform with the logo of the café you were in.

„She's pregnant and she shouldn't drink much caffeine, so one strawberry and one watermelon lemonade.“ ordered your husband Jongho, before you could even open your mouth to say something.

Turning to face his caring and lovely smile, you pouted at him, for not giving you a chance to order something yourself.

„You know I can order for myself? And I didn't have any caffeine in a week, so I could at least have an iced latte.“ He shrugged his shoulders, as he gazed around the café.

„It's not about the caffeine right now. Do you remember? We had our first date here and drank the same thing, I just wanted to recall the memories.“ You smiled as you replayed those reminiscences in your mind.

„Who would've thought that a bundle of joy will come out of the single date, I can't express how happy I am. I still remember that day, I was so nervous and embarrassed myself so many times that I thought you would've never wanted to go out with me again, yet you did.“ you smiled at his remarks, thinking about how he almost tripped on his own foot from how nervous he was.

„I did. And there wasn't a time when I regretted, going out with you was the best choice of my life.“

As the waiter was approaching you with the lemonades, you felt fluttering movements occur in your lower abdomen. Jongho noticed the grimace on your face as you lightly hugged yourself, but waited until the waiter left.

„Is something wrong Y/N?“ You looked up to meet his worried face. „I- I don't know, there is a weird fluttering feeling in my stomach and it's just... weird.“ You answered as you took a sip of your tasty lemonade, his gaze softening.

„Y/N, it must be our baby, he started kicking, don't you think?“

#ateez #dad!ateez #ateez fluff #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez headcanons #ateez x reader #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho

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marsofaries · 4 years ago

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The Itsy Bitsy Spider {Katsuki Bakugou x Reader}

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Cursing, Blood, Assault

Summary: Your grumpy (and ridiculously attractive) neighbor helps you rid of the spider in your new apartment. Things grow from there.

Notes: fem!Reader, ProHero!Bakugou, Bakugou hates feelings

That’s it. You were moving out.

So what, that you just managed to unpack the last box in your new apartment? One look at that eight-legged... creature, and it was their apartment now. You weren’t trying to be dramatic, but spiders were the absolute bane of your existence.

This led to you shakily standing over the said arachnid, a large All Might mug trembling faintly in your hands.

“Oh shit, oh fuck-- FUCK!” You shrieked as the spider took a quick dart to its left. Nope. No way.

It had taken about an hour before the spider was successfully captive. Another hour to finally figure out what to do next.

And now there you were, pacing back and forth in front of your neighbor’s front door, mumbling failed greetings to yourself like a desperate prayer.

“Hi, I’m-- that’s not right. How about ‘I just moved in and--.’ God, I sound like an idiot.” Gathering all of your courage, you rapped three quick knocks on the front of the wood. The urge to bolt was suddenly very powerful.

“I swear to God, Shitty Hair, if you-- Oh.” The door was suddenly swung open to reveal the most gorgeous person you had ever seen in your whole life. With biceps the size of your head, the man completely dwarfed you in size. He almost took up the entire space of the door, his spikey blond locks brushing the top the frame. Vermillion eyes stared at you cautiously as you forgot everything you were about to say. “The fuck you want?”

As you made no move to answer, the Greek god of a man pulled his lips into a scowl.

“What are you, a fucking stalker or somethin’?”

That definitely brought you out of your reverence.

“W-What? No!”

A scoff left the man’s lips, and you suddenly wanted nothing more that to kick him straight in the jewels. However, you were on a mission. A mission to rid a tiny eight-eyed demon from your living room.

“There was a, uh...spider.” You slowly trailed off, waving weakly in the direction of your apartment across the hall.

“A spider? Really?” The blond questioned condescendingly, rolling his stupidly-perfect crimson eyes.

A light flush brushed your cheeks in embarrassment as you stared down at your shoes. You were sure he was going to slam the door right in your face. But he didn’t.

The man brushed right past you, marching right though your open door-- making sure to loudly mumble as many complaints as he could. You stumbled after the tall blond, failing to keep up with his abnormally long strides.

You watched in silence as he crouched by the downturned mug, raising a single perfectly-sculpted brow. However, your silence was quickly turned into a squeak of horror when your neighbor dumped the spider into his bare-hand.

For a moment of absolute terror, you thought the stranger was going to throw it at you.

Wide-eyed, you watched as he pushed open the nearest window and placed the spider on the railing of your fire-escape. Having pushed the window back down, the man turned back to leave your apartment. As he walked past, he shoved the now (thankfully) empty mug to your chest.

“W-wait!”

He paused, sliding his crimson gaze to yours.

“M-My name is (Y/L/N)… (Y/L/N) (Y/N).”

You weren’t quite sure why you felt the need to give him your name. Maybe it was because he helped you when you were absolutely sure he wouldn’t. Or maybe how he decided to let the bug free instead of kill it. Maybe it was the amused huff he let out when he heard your terrified squeak. Perhaps it was all three. You didn’t know.

His striking red eyes suddenly raked your frame before a smirk settled confidently on his all-too-attractive lips.

“Bakugou Katsuki.”

~~~

“HOLD THE FUCKING DOOR!”

You let out a squeak at the sudden yell, sticking the toe of your nude-colored pumps between the sliding elevator doors. A muscled arm wedged itself between the doors, pulling them back open.

“You.” You breathed as none other than your extremely hot neighbor was revealed. The blond was clad in a loose black V-neck and sweatpants-- a large duffel bag thrown over his shoulder. His hair was slightly damp, as small beads of water dropped off the edge of his spikes every couple of seconds.

“Stalker.” He acknowledged with a grunt. The corner of Bakugou’s lips shot up at your protests.

The ride down to the lobby was relatively silent and slightly awkward. You kept switching your weight on both legs as you struggled to find something to say.

“The fuck you dressed so fancy for?” The explosive blond finally said. You couldn’t help but let out a breath of relief at the break in silence.

“I got a new job at All Might Bank!” You were pretty excited, as it was your first day. The bank itself was pretty fancy, and you were cheery that it was named after the old symbol of peace. All Might had been your favorite hero growing up but you grew out of your hero phase as you had gotten older. Nowadays you couldn’t tell one hero from the other.

You turned to Bakugou with a smile, content that he even cared about your life. It was quite a surprise when compared with the vibes he gave off.

“What about you?” You asked cheerily.

“... Agency.” He grunted.

“Oh! Are you a model or something?” You knew it! There was no way that a man as attractive as Bakugou Katsuki was not the cover of every magazine. He was, just not for the reasons you thought. You watched in confusion as the explosive blond emitted a loud snort.

“Or something...”

DING!

You were almost sad as the elevator dinged, signaling the end of the ride. Although it was short, and mostly awkward, you found yourself enjoying his company. You walked side by side until you reached the doors to outside, pausing slightly when he went to part.

“Thank you.”

Bakugou froze at your expressed gratitude, studying your figure with renewed interest.

“You know... for the spider?” You seemed to lose all cognitive brain function when he looked at you with those frustratingly gorgeous vermillion eyes. Bakugou scoffed and turned away, muttering a quiet response. Little did you know that he was trying to hide a light blush.

“Whatever...”

~~~

You were happy to say that these shared elevator rides became a daily ritual, to the point where Bakugou started to bring you his delicious leftovers for your lunch (he made the meals especially for you, but would die before he ever admitted that). Before you knew it, you were quite smitten with the blond.

You couldn’t help but replay this morning’s occurrence in your head as you filed checking account after checking account.

“Good morning, Bakugou-kun!” You called as you exited your apartment. You didn’t even have to look anymore. Bakugou had a habit of waiting for you outside your door to give you his most current dish.

“Morning.” He grunted in response, hating the way his heart skipped a beat.

His eyes scanned over your form, (longer than considered friendly) as he checked your outfit. Bakugou always seemed to have some sort of fashion-ready advice on the tip of his tongue, and with you still thinking he was a model-- you were more that happy to comply. And also for the fact that he really did have a good eye for it.

“Undo the top two buttons… you look like a nerd.”

Your eyes quickly flashed to your white button-up, pulling at the two buttons with one hand.

“Better?”

Bakugou only grunted in approval. He was trying to act like he wasn’t on the verge of kissing the ever-lasting life out of you.

~~~

“Hey, Newbie! Get me a coffee, will ya?” You were quickly pulled out of your daydream by one of your (slightly arrogant) bosses.

“Of course, sir.” You answered as you hurried to the other side of the bank. You’ve been at your new job (and apartment) for about a month, and they still won’t let up on the whole “newbie” stuff.

You sighed as you waited by the coffee maker, situated right to the left of the big glass entrance. Oh, how you would have loved to pour that coffee right over your boss’ head. Too lost in your own head, you failed to notice the suspicious group of men heading straight for the vault until one of them grabbed your arm.

“What the fu--”

“EVERYBODY DOWN OR SHE DIES!”

Oh shit! Oh fuck! Your mind was reeling at a million miles per hour. The man had pulled you to where your back was to his front, and had a blade pressed against your throat. It seemed to come out of the inside of his wrist, being a relatively deadly quirk if handled correctly.

Everyone within the pristine building froze but quickly dropped to the floor after some warning shots from one of the robbers. Another suddenly morphed into some sort of beast and marched to the steel vault door.

You suddenly wished that you had a more physical quirk, cursing it for being so useless in this situation. Yeah, you knew basic self-defense, but it would be futile with three other villains in your midst.

Minutes felt like hours, and you could only hope that someone had alerted the police and nearby heroes. You winced as the blade dug into the delicate skin of your throat.

A sudden explosion burst through the skylight of the building, raining glass shards on the hostages. All at once, people were screaming, running, and blast after blast started ringing in your ears. You let out a sigh of relief.

The heroes were here.

Using the distraction, you quickly gripped the man’s arm tight below the base of the blade. You pulled it away from your neck ever so slightly, ducking your head to pull yourself through the gateway you had created. Keeping your hands locked at the base of the robber’s wrist, you twisted his arm and shoved up-- forcing it to pop from its socket.

A sudden bump to your shoulder from a running hostage caused you to slip up on your little self-defense sequence, allowing the man to break from your grip. He whipped around to face you, holding his dislocated arm. You panicked, so... you socked him in the face.

He let out an enraged cry, thick blood gushing from his nose. You were a bit surprised with how easy it was to land a hit on him. You thought that villains would have been more prepared before robbing a bank named after All Might.

Oh, well.

You punched him again in the nose for good measure, and he was out like a light. His hot red blood coated your knuckles, and you gagged in disgust. Ew. You wiped the back of your dominant hand on you button-up absentmindedly, before being shoved to the floor by your panicking boss. Wow. Your limbs felt like mush now that the adrenaline was wearing off, and you suddenly couldn’t find the strength to pick yourself off of the floor.

A final explosion went off, followed by the most desperate and wretched call you had ever heard in your entire life. And the call... sounded suspiciously like your name.

Your eyes shot up at the scream, searching frantically for the owner of that voice. You knew that voice, you only ever heard it in grunts and light-hearted mocking sentences, but you knew that voice.

“Katsuki.” You breathed, eyes suddenly locked on familiar crimson irises.

Relief flooded his features as he saw you, and was at your side in seconds-- dropping quickly to his knees.

“Oh my god.” Bakugou breathed, grabbing your head and cradling it tight to his chest and-- what the fuck was he wearing? Wait, there was no way... he was the explosion hero you saw on the news! Holy fuck!

“You scared the shit out of me! Do you know how terrified I was when I heard there was trouble at your work?! And you didn’t answer your goddamn phone? Jesus Christ, (Y/N).” Worried rambles fell rapidly out of Bakugou’s lips, seemingly void of any filter. You would have been ecstatic by his cute little worrying if your mind wasn’t reeling by the fact that your crush neighbor was one of the top ten heroes in Japan.

He suddenly grasped both sides of your face and pulled back so you were eye to eye.

“Are you hurt? I swear to God, if someone hurt you-- I’ll fucking kill them.” Bakugou’s eyes were frantically scanning your face, looking for any sign of injury.

“...Katsuki?” You mumbled softly, and he immediately froze. He felt his heart lurch in his throat as his name tumbled from your lips. You, on the other hand, were completely, and utterly lost. “You’re a pro-hero?”

“....What?” Bakugou questioned dumbly. “You could have been seriously hurt and that’s the first thing you think about?”

“What? I thought you were a model.” You whined, lightly smacking his chest.

At this, Bakugou let out a loud laugh, and you just watched in awe. You had never seen him laugh before. Even though half his face was smeared in black makeup and little injuries littered his skin-- it was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen in your life. He pulled back to look at you, but suddenly froze.

“You’re hurt! Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?!” Bakugou shouted, spotting bright red stains on the front of your blouse. You quickly grabbed his hand, hoping to soothe his panicking.

“Hey, hey!” You yelped, gaining his attention. “It’s not mine.”

You gestured over to the villain knocked out next to you.

“Holy shit.” Katsuki breathed, before turning his vermillion gaze back to yours. A quiet, amused huff escaped his lips. “So you’re afraid of a spider, but can knock out a villain?” He questioned teasingly.

A light blush covered your cheeks, causing you to force your eyes down. You suddenly noticed just how close you two were. You were situated about half way onto Bakugou’s lap, as one of his large hands softly held your waist. The other was still trapped between your own. This caused your blush to only darken.

“Hey, eyes up here.” Bakugou muttered, lifting his hand from your waist and to the base of your chin. You force your eyes back up to his, but couldn’t help but sneak a quick glance to his lips. However, Bakugou saw it, and that was all it took.

Bakugou crashed his lips onto yours, and you were quick to respond. You tangled your hands within his soft blond locks, allowing him to completely dominate the kiss. His hands held you tightly to his body, refusing to give even an inch of space between you two. He didn’t let go even as you pulled back for air, his lips chasing after yours.

Time seemed to stop while he was kissing you, and every one was distressed with the thought of losing you. It was soft and sweet, and then rough and desperate-- the sweet smell of caramel, of Bakugou, invading all of your senses.

You finally broke for air, breaths mingling shamelessly. Bakugou rested his forehead on yours, wanting nothing more than to never let you go.

“I’m so glad I found you, Stalker.”

Bonus:

A low whistle dragged out across bank, turning the couples’ gazes over to a certain hardening hero.

“SHITTY HAIR, I SWEAR TO--”

The End.

Notes: This was my first imagine! I hope you guys liked it!

The police watching the final scene like: 👁👄👁 can we go home?

#bakugou #bnha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou imagine #bakugou katuski x reader #mha #bhna #mha x reader #pro hero bakugou #mha katsuki #bakugou fluff #aged up #bnha bakugo katsuki

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batarella · 4 years ago

Text

3 birds 1 stone - chapter 12

‘Dick, Jason, and Tim. Supposed brothers 'till the end, until all three fall in love with you. Who wins your heart?

The man who earned it, the man who stole it, or the man who always had it?’

A/N: We continue the three perspectives!!! AND we got special appearances from a few characters today eeeeee we’re so close to the finale. Hope you guys enjoy this one!

WORDS: 12,068 WARNINGS: violence, arm dislocation, muscle injuries, alcoholism, mentions of coffee addiction and insomnia

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST

-----

Dick:

That day, this all ends.

Telling himself he got into this mess because he hadn’t a choice, that he hadn’t already stopped because it was all just too riveting and captivating and not at all within his control, was nothing short of a lie.

He had every say in it.

But not even his fucking conscience could convince him to stop. He wanted this mess. Dove right into the lava. He knew every bit of the heartbreak he’d have to endure and he willingly brought it to himself. To get lost into the deep dark woods, with nothing more than an oil lamp, to be pricked by the many thorns and suffocated by the leaves and trees that crowd about much like a bush. To get lost in her, and never want to climb out of any of it. He knew how slippery the road ahead of him was and still he kept going, kept driving, sped up a little even when he thought he’d actually get to where the stars pointed him to.

But so profoundly was his loss of himself, without much effort at all to escape from those grasps even when he told himself he did; going to another woman, wanting the same arrest of his heart to hopefully take him away, but without halting those thoughts of Y/N and how her smile that he’d seen earlier that day would last until dark, maybe even beyond that. Those flares of her face and her voice and how he let them speak to her every night, change them into burning whispers against his ear when he’s memorized her voice too much to make her say anything he wanted her to, even when they only last in his head.

Dick never tried to stop her from taking her heart like that, even when he had to watch her be with another.

Tonight, it all ends. Every bit of this torture that he brought only to himself, it all comes to this sorry halt.

Dick, standing atop a roof of an office building in Dresher, knew that at that moment, he had to sit this one down. He had to be alone and in the darkness to make this as painful as it possibly could, hoping that if all that pain were to be felt now, compress them into this little tub of static blackness, then perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad the next day, and the day after that. Even when he knew this would backfire, he had to.

No one, especially not Y/N, would want him to end up with her. Tim deserved her. Hell, even Jason’s done a lot more for her sake than he had. He can't hope anymore. He can't let this go on.

All this would have gone better if he’d known this sooner.

So with him on that rooftop, sitting on the ledge fifty stories above as if not at all was he a push away from death, Dick let his finger scroll across his phone’s screen moist from his sweat. The battery was going to run out soon. He’d been there for hours, staring at that same picture of her from the day in the nursery, when the sun had been kind to her, touching the surface of her skin so perfectly, it showed more of the little details that he’d already memorized. Those exact images would be thrown out by the end of tonight. Pack their bags. Scram them out the door.

It had, as expected, proven to be difficult.

The thirty-seven pictures he took that day, he’d already heartly remembered by the end of it. Countless of times, he pulled them out of his pocket just to take a second to look, even at the worst. Another month had passed and nothing had happened much since, nothing out the ordinary, which meant their friendship was back to how it used to be. They were friends.

And that was why it ends tonight. Because if he doesn’t fight these thoughts, if he doesn’t fight her, he loses her. He loses this friendship.

Are you sure you want to delete this photo?

Confirm.

Thirty-six times, he let his finger do the talking. Not his heart. Not even his brain.

At the last one, the screen was too distorted by a fallen tear that had seeped out of his domino mask for him to go on. It was the only hindrance he needed to give up and stop. At least for a second.

But he couldn’t even dwell on it too much, or let himself cry, let it burn his skin off enough so it wouldn’t hurt any more afterwards. He couldn’t even let himself have that luxury when he heard the thudding noise of his brother’s boot-cladded feet, a Bo staff that hit the ground, and a black cape that enforced a gust of wind to blow against the back of his head.

Dick just closed his eyes, and just after that, Tim walked over to stand right behind him.

Greatest Detective in the World. But even an idiot would know what he was up to, sitting in the darkness crying while his feet dangle off a rooftop’s ledge, eyes to his phone like he was reading the saddest sob story in the whole world or that he’d just received a text that one of his loved ones’ lives had been taken away from cancer.

The way Tim was silent, he knew.

And Dick just let him believe it, without even a word to explain himself, he did. He let Tim’s mind do the figuring out and the explaining because not even his own words would be half that truth.

Tim’s voice that night wasn’t the kind he heard often.

“You think this is the right time for that, Dick?”

A crack on his knuckles, his throat sounding rough and beaten, Dick didn’t know what to even say.

“We called you fifteen times over at the bridge. We needed you-“

“Sorry-“

“And it turns out you’ve been at your phone the whole time-“

“You handled it without me.”

“That isn’t the fucking point.”

A month of silence, since that deathly night after they took Y/N home. Several minutes, together in one car, had proven to be one of the most insufferable moments of his life. And not surprisingly, it went on for even more days after that.

Dick turned off his phone, but Tim snatched it away from his hands and walked away so Dick couldn’t grab it.

He stood from the ledge. “Come on, Tim. Not cool.”

“Hmm. Cute,” Tim faked a smile and swiped around the screen, at the last picture of Y/N he had. “Could have sent it to me. And Jason.”

“Tim-“

“But it’s cool,” Tim said. He threw the phone back at Dick and he caught it just before it hit the ground. “All good. Finally, you have something of her all to yourself, right?”

Tim was Tim. Not this. Not someone so angry and grievous and someone who was looking at him that way with so much disgust when he used to be that young boy of fourteen who looked at his older brother like a god. How long, he thought, must he have kept all this frustration bundled up inside, where not even he could reach into. Someone who’s so calm, so in control of what he says, had finally given in and let his annoyance flourish about. He wondered, as anyone would, at what point Tim had finally had enough of all of this.

“Tim, please-“

“You,” Tim pointed his gloved finger right at Dick’s face.

“You were supposed to be my brother.”

Tim:

Of course, he’s had enough.

He’s had enough of all this a lot longer than anyone else, even he, would have thought.

It might have been since that day Y/N was crying over an argument they once had, over something he can't even remember, that almost pried them apart, only for Dick to come along and console her without telling Tim where he was, and he only knew because Y/N told him what happened. If she hadn’t, Tim wouldn’t have known.

He wouldn’t have known Dick had long been pining over the love of his life, never mind how she was in his arms and kissing his lips and calling for his name.

Dick, who could have literally anyone he could possibly wish for, just had to want her.

“What do you want me to say?” The asshole started after a moment’s silence, of nothing but a helicopter’s whirl from far above, the lack of light from everywhere around them, and their footsteps against the empty cement.

He couldn’t even look at his brother in the eye with his mask on, but he knew enough to know what he felt. It didn’t matter if he was sincere. It didn’t even matter that he cried.

“Nothing,” Tim said. “You’ve done your damage.”

“Damage?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Enlighten me.”

Tim scoffed and faked yet another laugh. It annoyed himself at that point.

“You are unbelievable-“

“I’m not trying to do anything with her anymo-“

“Don’t even start with that, asshole.”

Tim’s hands were shaking, and subconsciously he tried to repress those tremors, hoping they’d go away if he clenched them enough, but they only got worse.

“She was mine,” he cried. “And you just couldn’t handle that-“

“I never tried anything with her when you were together.” Dick tried to step closer to him but he just backed away.

“So you weren’t just waiting for us to break up so you’d swoop in and be the hero?” he scoffed. “I asked you to make sure she was okay, not take advantage of her hurting just so you’d have your chance.”

“And why did you break up, Tim?” He had the audacity to ask. “You didn’t love her anymore-“

“You knew I still did-“

“Then why hurt her?!”

“Because I was hurting her anyway!”

Never. He’s never been this angry. Not that he could recall.

“I was 17. Everything about me changed. Wayne Enterprises. Red Robin. Fucking Bruce dying and coming back to life. She was there but I was about to lose my fucking mind. I thought she didn’t have a place in all that mess anymore so I broke it off.”

Finally, he stepped close enough to Dick, almost to leveling with his height. His brother had his lips hidden, hands falling to his sides.

He looked terrified.

“Two seconds after that, I never regret anything more my whole fucking life. I thought talking to you would make her feel better, but you just couldn’t help but bat your pretty little eyes at her when she was vulnerable. I wanted to go back but I couldn’t ‘cuz you were already there!”

He was snarling, and a growl escaped his throat by the time he backed away. Tim didn’t even get to hear himself until he saw his own reflection in the white of Dick’s mask.

But Dick. He didn’t even take it as a hint to just shut up and take his rambling.

“I never meant to keep her away from you-“

“I went to you, Dick.” Tim wiped his lips with the back of his gloves, watched over to the next building to avoid his brother’s face. “I always went to you for help. With her. You know how long I’ve wanted her. And I went to you because I thought you were my brother and you’d help me.”

“I did help you!”

“You were helping yourself!”

His hands slammed against Dick’s chest, and it was a good thing he didn’t fight back. He would have just taken that as an excuse to keep hitting.

“Tim,” Dick held his hands up. Tim backed away. “Just go to her-“

“THIS ISNT ABOUT HER ANYMORE, ASSHOLE!”

Hands shoving his chest once again. This time, Dick had caught them, held them by his wrists enough so Tim couldn’t pull them away.

“THIS IS ABOUT YOU AND ME, GRAYSON!” Tim screamed. “WHAT HAPPENED TO HAVING EACH OTHER’S BACKS!”

“YOU THINK IT WAS MY CHOICE TO GET IN BETWEEN YOU!?”

It was from a whip of strength not even he had known prior, but it hurt when he finally could take his hands off of Dick’s grip, and with that, he backed further away, though his eyes couldn’t stray from looking straight into his brother’s.

“IT DOESN’T FUCKING MATTER IF IT WAS-“

“THEN I’M SORRY!’ Dick swallowed. “IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED TO HEAR?!”

“No,” Tim’s knees hit the railing and so close did he fall, but he kept himself up, rubbed the bottom of his chin with his gloved hand. “You're not sorry…”

Dick’s silence. Even more so did he want to just lunge at him and strangle his vocal chords. No matter how far-fetched, Dick was supposed to tell him all the things he wanted him to say. So far, he’s said none of that.

Dick just watched when Tim turned around to rest his weight onto his palms, looking out into the open seeking for just about any kind of help there was that he could call out from the wind, but there was nothing.

“You're right,” Dick said, and Tim felt the cement crack from beneath his palms. “I’m not sorry.”

“Fucking bold of you-”

“What would have happened to her if I hadn’t stepped in?” He heard Dick’s voice louder and clearer, which meant he was walking closer towards him.

“I would have come back. I always wanted to come back, but by then she was all over you. I couldn’t-“

Tim looked at his own hands. “I had it coming. I can't blame her.”

Another whiff of air, and it blew the strands of his black locks right onto his eyelids. They stung, but he didn’t push them away. He just kept his eyes locked onto the blankness of the gray, the dark that went all the way into his spirit.

“But I do blame you-“

“Tim, you hurt her-”

“AND YOU HAVENT?!”

Dick caught his Bo staff, which Tim had thrown right at him as swiftly as he turned around. His mouth was as dry as his palms were sweating. His teeth were close to breaking. And his eyes dangerously drifting off into some unknown nowhere just so he wouldn’t have to look at such betrayal.

“Tim-“

Tim was shaking, or at least his hands were, when he gave into his impulses and moved so fast, grabbing Dick by the collar and standing him down.

“You stand there blaming me for all that hurt when here you are-“

“What the hell do you want me to say to you?!”

He was strong, stronger than any one of them would have thought. Dick couldn’t even move, much less out of shock than it was out of his hold on him too overwhelming to counter.

“Tim, this isn’t like you-“

“You have no idea what I’ll do,” Tim growled. “Why do you think I became Red Robin?”

To separate himself from the likes of what it used to be. To not be Robin anymore. To stray away from his ideals, ideals and morals no longer his.

Because he was, in his truest capacity, capable of much darker things than people seem to know. Even his own brother.

“I hate you-“

Dick, who took that second to take advantage of weakness, grabbed him by the wrists and pushed him off with the soles of his feet, not enough to send him to the ground but enough to almost topple him. And when he looked up, immediately, Tim’s fist headed for his brother’s head, but again it was caught by Dick’s palm.

“HEY, HEY, HEY, ENOUGH! BOTH OF YOU!”

A much deeper, louder voice, the third one to be heard that night. It was that, and two strong arms that grabbed Tim by the shoulder and Dick by his suit’s back. Even when it wasn’t even to much effect, they stopped.

At least, for a second they did, before Tim started for Dick’s neck and he had to be held back with a strong hand right against his chest. “Let me go!”

“What the hell is going on with you two!?”

“Stay out of this Jason!”

It was easier for Jason to stand right in between, just to stop either of them from going after their skin. Dick had stopped. Tim, on the other hand, had to be held back by the shoulders. “Tim, calm down!”

“I said stay out of this!”

Jason:

“One of you pinheads tell me what’s going on!”

“Are you really gonna let Jason fight your battles, Dick?!”

Tim tried to push Jason out of the way. He was lucky, in fact, that none of them could see the irate look on his face hidden behind the safety of a red helmet. Otherwise they might have started for him too, just at how disgusted he looked at them both. And he had every right to be. He knew exactly why they were fighting. It was the devil in him who felt like asking.

Jason held him back with his cape. “Hey, KNOCK IT OFF-“

“Let go of me!”

“You don’t think I wanna bash this asshole’s brains out everyday, Tim?!” Jason hauled him to the floor. “Trust me. You can hold back.”

“Oh, fuck you, Todd.”

“You shut up.” Jason pointed at Dick. “If this is about Y/N I know exactly why Tim wants you dead.”

“And why am I the one you two’re ganging up on?!”

“If I was, Dick, I’d just let this one have at it with you. Thank me later.” Jason said, nodding over at Tim. Tim shrugged off his brother’s hold on him and frowned.

“You were never the one to trust, Dick,” Tim gulped. And Jason knew Dick would have thought the same. His flaring eyes, the burn that was almost never there from someone so usually calm. It was unnerving seeing Tim this way. “Look at everyone you’ve hurt. Y/N. Kori. When are you going to stop?”

“Don’t you fucking start with me, you little-“

“Hey! Knock it off!” Jason pushed Dick again with a shove of his hand. Dick stepped back.

“Jason, just get out of here -“

“I don’t know, man; Feels like I have to be the responsible one. For once.”

Tim grabbed Jason’s hand and hauled him to the side so he could step closer to where Dick was standing. “You don’t want to be a part of this.”

Jason, if not at all wanting that to be true in the slightest sense, didn’t fight back and took Tim’s shoving. But, as he’d thought, Dick was the one who looked at him so slyly he wanted to grab his lips and use them to haul him over the building.

Suddenly, every part of his skin wanted to burst, blood beating through every inch of vessel and flesh so much it burned him. His mouth sewed shut, ears hurting at the redness. Again, if not for the helmet, it would have been a dead giveaway.

But Dick wasn’t having it.

“Trust me, Tim. He already is.”

“What the hell do you mean-“

“I said, enough. You two settle this at home.”

Jason tried for Dick’s shoulder just to push him to back away, but he threw his hand off.

“Don’t fucking act like the good guy between the three of us,” Dick said. “What are you gonna say next? That this isn’t what Y/N would want?”

“You think it is?!”

Dick chortled and he turned away. Tim still wouldn’t let his glare away from his brother and if Jason would let him, he’d have mauled him to death.

“You always did think you knew what was best for her, didn’t you?”

“Jason, what the hell is he talking about?”

He never told him. The bastard never told Tim when he was so sure he would, when he basically told him that night outside Y/N’s doorstep that by the end of the hour, Tim would know what he’d done and he’d have found Jason by the next, even when he tries too hard to disappear, which he had tried to do for four months, hiding from his brother, and not long after he’ll never be welcomed into the manor as so much as a guest. It did surprise him, after many months, that Tim hadn’t so much as acknowledged it. Part of him wanted to believe Tim didn’t care, or had already forgiven Y/N and in turn forgiven him.

But, of course, Dick hadn’t told him. The asshole wanted this to drag out as painfully long as he possibly could. Make him carry that burden himself just because he thought it was right, as Tim’s brother, even when he wanted no part of those niceties.

“You wanna tell him?” The blue leotard wearing ass said. “Or should I?”

“Don’t fucking bring me into this shitshow-“

“Brother, you walked right into it yourself.”

“I will kill you,” Jason growled. “One of these days.”

“Tell me what?”

Tim’s voice, the softest it had been since the start of that night.

He shouldn’t.

His little brother, one whose relationship had proven far too difficult to build, if there was ever a chance at a good relationship at all. His brother. An established brotherhood he once despised so much, took too many years just for it to be something tolerable. His little brother.

He never had a little brother like Tim. Perhaps even now, he wouldn’t. Not once he knows.

“Tim, I-“

“Jason, tell me what’s going on.”

Dick no longer even had that smirk on him. He just looked sad for the both of them, as he should be. As anyone should be.

“Just tell him.”

So much did his fist want to just fly and land straight at Grayson’s perfectly chiseled cheekbones, break his face so much he wouldn’t live to stand a day.

But Jason had grown too silent, too guilty.

He couldn’t even take off his helmet and look at either of them in the eye.

Tim stepped right in front of him and on his face kind of worry that often lingered prior to it being the worst rage to ever engulf into.

Was there a way out of this? To counter the impact? Make it so it didn’t hurt so much?

If Grayson had just told him, it wouldn’t have to be this way.

“Jason-“

He looked up, and through the slits of his visor, he knew Tim wanted to look at him in the eye, to find something out of this truth.

“I…”

His throat, it hurt to even breath. And when this happened, he usually takes the helmet off. This time, however, he couldn’t do that. Not when he had so much to say despite him not wanting to.

“I slept with her…”

It was a shame Dick didn’t look too much like an ass right then. If he did, he’d have a reason for himself to just jump at him with a knife. But all he could even see, all he could bring himself to watch, was his feet.

Nothing else. Not when Tim was looking at him that way.

“What?”

“I slept with her-“

Tim.

Was it even Tim anymore? The boy in front of him? Who never looked at him with so much betrayal?

“When?”

“A few months ago…” he said. “Lasted about a month.”

Then, it wouldn’t even have mattered if it were him who broke the news, the asshole that Dick was, or the Gotham Times.

Tim.

No longer his little brother. Never will be again.

Right for the neck. That’s where Tim pounced a second less than he was smart enough to move away.

Dick:

That asshole deserved it.

But if anyone deserved it more than Jason did, it was Dick.

Was it to divert Tim’s attention from himself? Give him a breather and a while for Tim’s anger to mellow down taking it out on Jason so he doesn’t take it out on him so much? Possibly.

But the moment Tim’s hands squeezed the living daylights out of Jason’s neck, he knew he shouldn’t have brought it up. It was wrong. This was all wrong.

He started for Tim’s arms, grabbing them both just to at least give Jason enough time to breath, but this newfound strength certainly wasn’t one he’d expected. When he did manage to pull them off, Tim swung his fist right at Dick’s face.

Then, he went back for Jason, who then took that short time to grab both his fists and stop them for hurling him over the roof.

This was his fault. This was his doing.

And all the more did he want this to end when Jason held Tim strong enough to make him scream, and with that, he threw another punch right for his helmet, shattering the visor beneath his bruised knuckles. Jason tried to kick him away with his knee, but Tim was pushing him.

Jason, who should have been a lot stronger, was not doing much to fight Tim. And instead, he tried talking him out of it.

“Tim!” he coughed. Tim still holding both fists went on to push him. “Tim, stop!”

Head slam against his helmet, and it broke, enough for a part of it to be chipped off and expose his forehead.

Jason finally hurled Tim over to the ground just so he could wipe the blood stain off from seeping down his eyes, but that wasn’t much of a good idea. Not when Tim took that as a chance to jump for his brother, grabbing him by the shoulders, and with the forces of their own bodies flying across the wind, the railing wasn’t enough to stop their fall.

Tim and Jason fell over the building, down fifty stories with one’s hands wrapped around the others throat, and Tim went on to strangle him even as they fell.

Dick, without even thinking much, dove into that same abyss. Did he have a plan? No. Was this going to work anyway? Probably not. But he had to try.

At least, it was all he had to do. When Dick leapt, head soaring straight down for a car so miniscule that wouldn’t be so small the more he wastes time, his brothers thrashing bodies that broke the speed of their fall worked to his sorry advantage and Dick managed to catch up.

He grabbed Tim off, thankfully with the fall lessening his grip but not at all did it change the murderous look on his face. This wasn’t his brother. This can't be him. This was someone who had all his frustrations bottled up in the form of coffee addiction, insomnia, and workaholic tendencies, someone who hadn’t vented out his hurt and anger at him, who he apparently had been hating for a while.

When he had him in his grasps, Dick grappled up to the next building. “Jason, hold on!”

It was, in actuality, the worst idea he’s ever come up with. Other than the fact that Tim weighed a good 170 pounds, Jason was no lighter. Not even in the slightest. And carrying both of them? He might as well be hauling up a whole tank.

That one single grappling hook showed them no appreciation despite it holding on the best it could. And it was to no help that the hook landed on a building too far.

They were just yards up the ground when the rope tightened, and the impact on Dick’s arm he was sure had the bone dislocated. A scream was all he could muster at the shooting pains that went all the way up his neck, but still, he held on, and even when it lasted no more than a few seconds, it was all too agonizing not to feel like it lasted hours.

All it took was to at least break the fall, but that was all he could handle. Dick let go of the grapple gun and they were falling across the whole block, across the street over to an abandoned lot with junkyard cars and probably some broken glass scattered across the ground.

Tim landed on top of one of the cars, breaking the windshield under his weight. Jason wasn’t so lucky, rolling across the cold cement with it hitting his helmet, enough to expose his face.

And Dick, with it not helping his arm at all, landed right against the fenced border and fell to the ground. Some wire sticking out might have impaled his skin.

He was breathing. Was he still breathing? There was throbbing. Redness. Blood that went to his eyes, most probably. He could hear his heart and basically the rest of his senses going haywire.

When he looked up, already Tim could stand, right on top of the cars.

Now lacking his Bo staff, Tim smashed the broken metal beneath his feet and pulled out a slab hard enough to break bones.

Tim:

If Dick were smart, he should have let him die.

This was always how he was, how this was all going to boil down to. His so many ways of dealing with loss, heartbreak, and stress, it was never going to hold him back enough if he hadn’t an outlet. And this, tonight, this was all part of the inevitable. He did what he promised Y/N. He kept off the coffee and had eight hours of sleep every day. But did it mean it warded off his thoughts on her? On his brothers? On their betrayal and how much he’d been holding that all off for months? Not even close. In fact, they grew worse.

Who does he start with?

Dick was all the way over at the fence. Wounded. Dislocated arm. He pulled himself up and went for a wall he could smash his shoulder against just to pull back the bone.

And Jason.

Shit.

Should have went for him first.

Two glocks in his hands. This man wasn’t afraid in the slightest.

“Jason, don’t!” Dick cried. Too late. He already shot one of the cars.

Tim spun about just to dodge at least the shattered glass. He was aiming for his legs, at all the parts of his body that wouldn’t be so lethal. How kind of him.

Which meant, that if it were the vital parts of him exposed, Jason wouldn’t shoot.

So he didn’t even try to hide himself, his chest especially, when he hurled himself over the many car hoods and roofs. Jason kept going, and this time he went to shooting the glass on purpose. Probably to hit him with the shards.

Tim reached the wall and pushed his feet so he’d roll on the ground. Cape up, he looked through the many places to hide, but he didn’t want to hide. What he wanted was to grab one of them, any of them, by the shoulders, pin them to the ground, and have his fist have at it with their stupid faces.

He ran up to Jason, cape protecting his legs and arms, and just as he did Dick had crept up behind him, grabbing Jason by a headlock. Elbow to Dick’s chest, he took that as a chance to grab his guns and throw them over to the side. So close did he miss one of the bullets, if grazing his shoulder was ever a miss. But he ignored that hiss and landed a hit on Jason’s stomach.

But not even that could last long, with Jason practically subdued. Dick set Jason aside to block Tim’s fist from landing anywhere near either of them. He kept hitting, swinging, it was all a blur after the third time he felt his shoulders hurt. And Grayson’s was no better. So he aimed for it.

What was he doing?

Foot landing on Dick’s pelvis. It was enough for his body to skid across the ground. He looked up at his brother, teeth gritting so much that it hurt, Tim didn’t move fast enough before he could move away from Dick’s fist, which landed a good one right to his teeth.

Jason:

This was the most ridiculous fight he’s ever been on. No different from a fucking pellet gun war over at the gardens that one time they were drunk and stupid. This was a game, one he really didn’t want to play. He should have known, and what he thought that time was that somehow, she was worth going through all this chaos for. That moment of bliss, that month of beauty and serenity and peace, was it worth this? With his own brothers?

It wouldn’t have been if it was just a month of beauty and serenity and peace. But it wasn’t just about that anymore, was it?

So this had to be worth it. In every way. With Dick and Tim over a few yards away, Dick holding his shoulder and trying so hard to avoid being hit there and Tim so unruly and angry and being so taken over with his rage, not at all was he anything like this before tonight.

He had the choice. To grab the gun that had skidded over to his side, shoot them both in the shoulder to put everything to a stop, or join in on their rumble to drag this out as long as inhumanely possible. Three different men who knew exactly what the others’ moves will be, this wasn’t going to last very long if it were to be a good way.

But, if this were to be dealt with bullets, he can say goodbye to either of them of ever being his brother again, to never be a part of this family so hard to love but love nevertheless.

He stopped his hand from reaching for the gun, and with that, he started for the two.

Jason grabbed Tim’s ankle just before it would have landed on Dick’s chin, threw him to the side so he’d land on the floor.

Dick’s fist, which would have hit Tim, instead hit Jason right at the nape of his neck. He almost toppled over to the ground, and with that flash of rage, he struck back at Dick right at his bad shoulder. Might have been too far. But he didn’t care.

Tim hit his back, right up against his sharp knee. He cried out at the unnerving bellows that went straight to his head, picked himself up just before he hit the ground.

Another hit for his head, but Dick had stopped it with his own hand, twisted Tim’s ankle so he’d once again lose his balance and fall.

Three different men.

Three different fights.

Three men who knew each other far too well to be beaten so easily.

They jostled and rolled about, around the junkyard over so many of the cars and the broken glass and even the fence that had long blown over. This wasn’t at all supposed to be what they’d spend the night on, but with the slabs of metal being thrown, the cars almost hurled up with their peak human strength, their limbs flailing, some barely missing a nerve on their head and some wrecking a whole tooth out of their mouth, it was not, to even some capacity, ever going to end as well as any of them hoped.

And with them at the middle of the barren empty grounds, Jason dodging Dick’s fist only to meet Tim’s knee, Dick being absolutely smothered by Tim’s head smashing against his, and Tim being pinned to the ground by either of his brothers larger than him that he hated so much.

It all would have ended in death, after the kind of blur that clouded so much of their moral thought and any kind of sense at all to remind them of what they were doing, if not for something far too strong for them to easily swerve from.

Or, better yet, three things too strong for them to swerve from.

At a whiff so quick for any of them to have possibly even sensed, a flash of purple was the first to wave off that blur from their eyes. And it went for Tim.

Stephanie was first to subdue him, holding Tim down with her knee landing right at the small of his back. He cried out both at the shock he hadn’t expected and the pulsing pain that probably went all the way up his spine, but he was done. Steph had grabbed Tim’s head and pinned him down right against the floor.

The next one was Dick, and before any of them could even turn, something so brightly blinding, a figure of yellow, fell from one of the cars’ hood and grabbed Dick by the neck. Duke was smaller, but not at all was that some disadvantage. His huge armored arms, locking Dick enough for him to just flail his hands about, it was enough to make him stop.

And, just as he expected, the next thing he saw after that flash of a second he was spared, was a blur of black so silently creeping up on him, Jason couldn’t move even when he knew it was coming. No one could have seen it. Not even him. By the next second, he was bent over one of the cars, hands to his back, and Cassandra had a taser stuck to his hip.

“NO, NO, NO, CASS DON’T-“

Barely enough to fry him unconscious, but enough to fucking electrocute his skin off so his muscles could barely move.

Dick:

This should all have ended sooner than it even happened.

And the shame crept in, not even when he stopped struggling against Duke’s hold on him, but when Barbara, the last to come into the scene, flew in from the window right across.

She looked like she wanted to murder all three of them by a rope around their necks. One single rope. Having three just wouldn’t be worth it.

She took off her cowl and let her red hair fall to her back, so they’d easily see just how disgusted she looked at them all, at the look on her eyes, at the look on all their eyes.

“Duke, let me go-“

“I’m sorry, Dick.”

“Please.”

“If we could, Nightwing,” Babs swallowed. “I’ll have you tied to that streetlamp for the rest of the night.”

Jason tried to reach for something in the car just to kick Cass away, but she tased him again. Some smoke flew up from his flesh.

“Cass, that’s enough,” Babs said.

Cass glared at them all, then settled to just holding Jason down with his arms.

“Is anyone going to tell me what the hell is going on with you three?”

“Maybe if you get your foot out of my head, Steph, I’d actually get my brain back and answer her question,” Tim said.

“You lost your brain when you fell down that building.”

“You saw that?”

Steph snorted. “You’re lucky I didn’t jump in until I had all of us on call.”

“Lucky?!”

Steph twisted Tim’s arm and his cries could be heard over to the next block.

Jason tried, again, to break free from Cass’s hold, but her fist wasn’t one to welcome when it landed much like a bat would’ve right up against Jason’s head.

And Tim, who almost pried Steph’s knee from against his back, was just pinned down again not even a second after breaking free.

They were too tired to go up against any of them.

So Dick, knowing there was no other, prettier way out of this, let go of his hands from gripping too hard on Duke’s arm. He didn’t let go, but it had loosened, enough for him to properly talk. Babs went over to him. That dagger-infested glower stuck through, but at least there was some appreciation for his lack of resistance.

“It was a misunderstanding-“

“Was it?!”

Babs clenched her jaw.

“This is about her, isn’t it-“

Tim’s voice echoed. “No!”

Tim:

He growled and shoved Steph’s hand away, but they kept on his arms, pushing them down against his spine. She was strong enough to subdue him, stronger now that he was exhausted and his muscles were all strained, but that didn’t mean he was, in any way, going to back down from this fight. This wasn’t over.

He could crane his head up enough to look at Babs.

“This is about these two traitors who lied to my face for months!”

Steph was having too much trouble keeping him down. “Tim!”

“Are you really going to take their side?!”

“No one is taking anyone’s side here.”

Babs eyed Cass at least to make her loosen her grip on Jason’s twisted arms. Cass rolled her eyes, sighed, and still without a word, she grabbed Jason by the back of his collar to make him stand. But it wasn’t without her taser stuck up to his side.

“Cass, I’m not gonna fucking fight you-“

“Just shut up, Jay,” Dick said, and with that, Duke tightened his arm.

“They wanna know,” Tim panted. “Tell them all why we’re in this mess.”

His voice, all broken and rageful and so unlike what anyone would have thought. It turned the heads of everyone around. Steph loosened her hand around Tim’s neck much out of her own disbelief.

“Stabbing me in the back the way you did…”

“Tim, you don’t have to-“ Babs went on, but Tim’s screams were too much.

“Tell them! Say why you’re all a bunch of ass-“

“You’re the one who wanted this to be some shitshow!” Jason’s teeth shouldn’t last long with how much he was gritting them when he hissed and snarled at Cass, who poked the taser just beneath his hip.

“Cass, enough with the taser.”

“Yeah, Cass,” Jason said. “Where the hell did you even get that?”

“Some douchey police officer over at Chinatown,” Duke said to him while still keeping his hands on Dick.

Something so foreign, so unruly and aggressive, it was taking too much control over him. Tim’s eyes were burning, and there weren’t even any tears. His blood pulsed through every vein, strong enough for it to hurt, and loud enough for him to hear it through his bloodied ears.

Tim pushed Steph away and for a moment, he was free. He wasn’t even thinking anymore. He just wanted his hands squeezing the voice out of Jason’s neck.

Babs grabbed him by the cape just as Steph caught up, and again he was on the floor. Still, he screamed, thrashed about because everything within him just yelled for him to finally let it out. He was done being the nice guy, done being the brother they both pushed around, took advantage of, lied to, and picked on because they knew he’d never fight back.

“Tim…” Babs helped Steph holding him down. She looked up at Dick. “What the hell did you do to him?”

“Nothing we can't sort out!”

“Jesus, Dick,” Jason snorted. “You haven’t said one smart thing all day.”

“Like you're any better, you asswipe.”

“Enough!”

Babs stood right between them, otherwise they’d have lunged for each other even if they had a missile launcher aimed for their heads.

“Let me go. Duke,” Dick said. “I’m not gonna fight any of you-“

“Yeah, three seconds ago you were close to running Jason’s head through a windshield.”

“Just let me go and we’ll all calmly-“

“Calmly?” Duke laughed. “I saw you fall down that building from where I stood. None of you know what calm is.”

Duke’s voice was stern and not at all did he sound like he’d trust him enough for that, no different than Steph’s or even just the look in Cass’s eyes. Because, if anything, other than the utter disgust, disdain, and disappointment, everything before them was something not to easily believe.

Not long after, before anything even happened, before Tim heard that first trace of a large black cape and the heavy soles that would have broken the cement floor underneath if he hadn’t purposely landed so swiftly, with the shadow that wasn’t in fact a shadow, but a suit so terrifying, dark, and so close to invisible, it was the night in a physicality no two people could similarly describe.

Tim knew he’d get here first, before anyone else even turned their heads. Because he stopped with his cries and faced his untimely doom. Face to the ground, quiet and unmoving. Everyone else followed but that was after he’d already appeared.

Not even anyone from the likes of the worst villains had seen the look on Bruce’s face as close to the one he had right then.

Jason:

If he were alone, he’d just have snorted. The look on Grayson and Drake’s face. Couldn’t be drawn.

He’s seen that same frown on Bruce every time he shoots a damn gun, which was every night. He could paint it by memory and he wouldn’t miss a detail. The squinted white of his eyeholes, his lips forlorn and flat. His hands, clenched enough for it to hurt, hidden beneath his cape. Oh, Dad. Did I do that?

These guys just needed some getting used to.

And he shouldn’t be amused at the fact that at least, for once, he wasn’t the only one in trouble this time. Tim looked ashamed. Dick looked like he’d seen a ghost. Dick should have known this, at least. He’s steered up a few times of trouble himself. Nothing like what he’s done, that’s for sure. But he shouldn’t be so stricken. Still, he was, which made it all the more inappropriate if he were to smirk right then.

Damian was right beside him. He wasn’t entertained, or intrigued, what he usually was watching his father tell off his brothers. In fact, he looked bothered. Like they’d just taken so much of his time away from what he’d rather be doing, which apparently was more interesting than this.

Ah. Of course. An out-of-town mission. Just Batman and Robin. They left Babs in charge. Probably why she looked just as horrified as Dick, hands to her side and keeping the slight shake of her palms hidden. It seems she prepared for anything to happen on patrol that night, anything Bruce prepared her for being the boss. What they hadn’t prepared for, apparently, was them.

“Batman, I-“ Babs swallowed. “We have this under control. You can go back to-“

“Let them go.”

Chills down everyone’s wobbly spines at his growling voice proved more terrifying under the filter near his neck. Everyone except Jason, of course. But he can't be so relaxed. Cass was getting suspicious. He just felt her hands tighten even more around his wrists.

But perhaps, he should be afraid. He’s gotten into mounds of trouble, but it was never anything like this.

He snorted again. They hadn’t hurt anybody. It was just them three and their lack of brain. They’ll be fine.

He hoped.

“Bruce, they’re trying to kill each other-“

“They can try.”

Babs, right then, might be the one to kill them right after. Maybe with her bare hands. Maybe with a truck. With a deathly, silent scowl at all of them, she nodded.

Duke was first to let go of Dick, and with that a pat on the back. Dick rubbed the back of his neck, stayed put and didn’t even step away. He was relaxed. Ashamed, but relaxed. He just stretched out his limbs and already everyone was satisfied.

Next, it was Jason. With a reluctant Cass finally letting him go, and the taser, Jason tumbled over to the nearest car hood just to keep himself up. That fucking taser robbed him of his knees. How many volts was that thing?

Finally, Steph swung her legs over from holding down Tim’s body and helped him up. She dusted off his back, apologized under her breath. He probably had a lot to say if it weren’t for the seven other pairs of eyes on him, watching him from letting out so much as a twitch.

Tim didn’t shove her away so he could go back to poking Jason’s eyeballs out. He just stood there and stared at him like Jason and Dick were lucky everyone else was around. Which, he probably was. He wasn’t going to deny that.

The last people to be so afraid of Bruce were the three of them, the perpetrators, the reason for this little reunion. So instead of letting out something so cocky and unapologetic, something so at the borders of causing Bruce to have an aneurysm, not one mouth resisted from being kept shut. It was the kind of silence that wasn’t often expected from such an unusual family.

And Bruce looked at the three of them not with anger, or dismay, or even annoyance.

He looked disappointed.

Which, arguably, makes it a whole lot worse. Hell, even for him. He’s been yelled at since the day he came back and all of a sudden a little fight with his brothers is what brings him to shame.

Bruce was unmoving, so his voice startled and shook.

“All this…” he said. “For her…”

No one spoke. Not even a cricket. Even with the horns and sirens from afar, the bustle they couldn’t care less the only noise there was, it was deafening.

“Don’t you think you’ve disappointed her enough?”

Jason ignored the shattered edges of his helmet that poked on his cheek, ignored the blood it drew or the strain on his arms. Everyone did, perhaps.

“Go back to patrol.”

Batman left, as quickly as he’d come. Robin followed right behind him.

Batgirl turned around, nodded at her team, which was all there was out of her, out of anybody. They could see her fists clench, her eyes down and avoiding the others. The Signal flew out of the scene, Spoiler grappled up to the next rooftop, and Orphan disappeared out of thin air, without a word or even a grunt.

Nightwing, Red Robin, and Red Hood left that junkyard lot, and as the brothers they were, and dreadfully still are, they kept out of each other’s ways for the rest of that quiet night.

-----

What was so different about that night, and the many more nights that followed, was how they no longer had each other to turn to, even more now that it seemed they needed their brothers the most. Jason was, in the worst sense, used to the kind of isolation he was forced into after the matter. Dick had to learn to be alone, but it always had been better to have another’s shoulder to lean on and talk to. Tim, not so much. Not when he almost always turned to Y/N. And if not her, Dick. His older brother. One he once looked up to like a being unreachable, now a traitor he’d scoff at if he dared to show up.

So what they did, and what they were forced to do for several nights, was to deal with the cosmos and the whirlwind of thoughts all by their sorry selves. Dick usually could be found in training, spinning about in the uneven bars set up for him at the manor, have the sweat and the strain in his muscles force out whatever it was that bothered him into some physical outlet, how it often had been for many years as he appreciated himself for the care it brought. For the others, however, it wasn’t so much the same. Tim would spend all hours in the office and wouldn’t so much as nap even when his whole body tortured him to at least stop his back from being crouched so much. And Jason, well, had already drowned himself in booze, even more now that the reasons had faded clearer.

Alone in his apartment, over at the nook by the window where he usually spent the day with a book, now his mess of a hair would be plastered against the cold glass and the many bottles that surround him would block the surfaces of the cushion. It never actually got out of hand. He only ever drank to get rid of that noise blaring into his ear the way it was now, the way it was for all three of them.

And Tim couldn’t turn to that same comfort, or whatever it was that caffeine, stinging eyelids, and an unhealthy staring into a computer screen with an all nighter at the office would bring him. That night after the fight, he couldn’t sleep, even when he tried to. Which led to no one’s knowing, a cup of coffee when the day had risen and he was forced to go on with that said day like nothing happened. That cup would turn to two. Three. Eventually it dawned on him that he’d slept what he should have in a single day in a span of three.

Dick’s training, as it turned out, wasn’t so healthy at all. The strain in his wrists began a little over two hours ago. He’d been at the grounds for quadruple that time. For that day alone. Would it kill him if he didn’t stop? Probably not. Would it almost kill him? Probably. But he went on. Kept his hands busy. Forced himself to feel that exhaustion that should be taking his mind out of everything and not amplify it.

But this was only the beginning of what eventually would be that highway to descent, to some slope with no ladder to climb back up to, no guide for them to reverse and no light at the end that would eventually bring some alternative to the truth. They only had the truth to hold on.

Their brotherhood. One so strained. So complicated. One that took far too much time to build and rebuild. They couldn’t, not even if they wanted to, be apart from this family, deny that they were a part of it. They couldn’t escape each other’s presence no matter how many times they’d change their numbers or block out their trackers or find another city to live in. They couldn’t lose something that had grown too strong for them to fight against. That night, they tried. Or rather, the forces tried. The forces run by their bitter rivalry or the want for the same woman.

It was the fifth night after that fight, when Dick let go of the bars, finally giving his hands that rest too many hours overdue. He wiped his sweat, drank from his bottle, and pulled out his phone. That night, he thought it was enough, that this silence and bitterness and sheer negligence over their bond would eventually break for permanence. He knew that this coping was only just the beginning, and that it will, for everything he was certain about, would it become so much more, something so dark, that it would pull the whole family apart. He didn’t want that. For any of them. So that night, he sent a text to Tim and Jason.

Tim’s first account wasn’t on his brothers, though it had crossed his mind many more times than he would have hoped. His first thought, if anything, was how Y/N would have thought if he let himself fall. It’d be in his rule this time, that he wouldn’t let the caffeine get to him or reach to such extremes he’d never otherwise control. But Y/N wasn’t going to believe that, as nobody should. Hell, he probably shouldn’t place that much faith onto himself at all. Even if he does so much as lose an hour of sleep, one for every night until there wasn’t any hours left, if he allows himself one more cup when he had one just half an hour before, he knew it’d be just the beginning.

So, when he got that text from Dick, he realized it wasn’t worth much the risk.

He hated them both like he’s hated no one else, wanted them to realize just how much of a wreck their doings have imprinted on him and Y/N, how the consequences that followed weren’t nearly what they deserved at all. But if he doesn’t fight that hate, if he doesn’t find peace, it’ll be that darkness for him, that same life he hadn’t learned to control, one where he once lost himself to. and in turn, made him lose Y/N. And he’ll lose her again if he won't listen to that conscience. He texted Dick back and told him to meet him at Pauli’s.

Jason, on the other hand, acted as was expected of him. When he saw that text the first thing his lack of conscience told him was to get another phone and forget it all happened, disappear for another few months, show up when it was convenient, and hope that this all blows over before his escapism backfires.

But he never did get to bring himself to throw out his phone and get a new one, much less delete the text before he’s even seen it. A few days after, he let that daft little voice in him to open the text, allow himself a few seconds just to witness its premise. But he’d read through everything in that split second he allowed himself to. Dick didn’t really have much to say. And what else was to come next other than the few days of tussling and fighting and the many more bottles of booze that were not at all helping with those same voices that just wouldn’t shut up.

Was this all worth it? Was anything worth this at all?

Because those few years it took just to have any sort of a conversation with Dick, much more with Tim, certainly wasn’t a few years of a bond rebuilt that he wanted to go through again.

He loved them. In his own, twisted little way. He loved his brothers and actually would go out his way to save them from whatever horrors he’d been forced to face. That love didn’t have to be from occasionally hanging out in the holidays or spent an hour or two in a bar.

At least, in his conscience, if he were to die one day like he’d realize would happen again, knowing life wasn’t exactly his alone to spend and control, he’d know he did whatever was best for the people he loved.

So, despite Dick and Tim not at all expecting so much as a text back, they still had it in them to wait a few hours. In that dimly lit corner of Pauli’s, the aroma of freshly backed pancakes distracting them from their otherwise bland pickup from the rest of their senses. They waited, not hoping for the best.

Jason went into the diner and saw them, ordered a cup, then took a seat across Tim, with Dick in between.

That silence, the same for everyday for the past five, it was haunting and eerie, disturbing, uncomforting, one they knew they’d all have to settle if they wanted to move on and actually bring some light into whatever it was they’ve caused.

Jason didn’t take off his hoodie. Tim warmed his hands with his cup of hot chocolate. And Dick, knowing he’d have to start, cleared his throat and looked up.

Dick:

Seeing Tim walk through that door was a surprise enough, much more Jason coming along and not even was he three hours late. Fuck. Fuck. What does he even say? Where does he ever start? Should he even start?

Giving in to his impulses certainly was bad an idea. This was, in every way, what he should have expected when he picked up his phone and thought to call his brothers hoping it was the right thing to do. And, perhaps, it was the right thing.

But was he the right person to start it? Lead this conversation to the direction he wanted so they’d get to a better place? The one that pushed his impulses in the first place?

They were all too awfully silent. Tim’s had his second round of hot chocolate. He doesn’t even like hot chocolate that much. And Jason looks like he’s hiding himself from the cops with his hood down and neck craned to the table’s surface. He’s never been in anything more awkward and uncomfortable in his years. This was just humiliating.

But, he was sure, humiliation should be the first thing they’d have to go through. Setting their prides aside, talk with the other’s stories in mind and hope that by the end of this, it’ll at least be a bit better.

So he started, in the most bland, uneventful way, he tells them both.

“Thanks for coming,” Dick said.

Tim momentarily bit onto his lip, and Jason stayed motionless without so much as a nod. At least Tim glanced over at him, even when it was just a second.

“How are you, Tim?”

Tim’s finger traced over the brim of his cup. He’s finished it. Didn’t seem like he wanted to order another one.

“Alright. I guess.”

“Good. Jason?”

God, this was awful. He doesn’t even ask how their broken bones are healing after a life-threatening encounter in patrol. Hopefully this greyness wasn’t too weird, not when it should be the start of something even more difficult to overcome.

Jason’s order of coffee came into the table and it made Tim shift in his seat, leaning to the back to stay further away from its aroma. Jason took a sip. “Fine.”

As quiet as they possibly could. Dick wished he had something to order, even when it was just a piece of pie they’d displayed over at the counter. But he didn’t want to get up or even call a waitress.

He was, in the most obvious sense, ashamed. Ashamed that he wasn’t either of them, which he wished nothing more to be. He wished he was them so he wouldn’t have to be the man who’d hurt Y/N the most, when he was supposed to be who she’d turn for comfort, because they weren’t the man who’d been in love with her for so long, never thinking he’d have a chance. And when he did finally have her, even for a just a moment, when he finally got to kiss her that one time he’d been waiting for so many years, it all broke down and nearly diminished what he took years to build. Their friendship. Something so great yet so fragile, when their love never could be so easily set aside to make way for a friendly bond.

“I’m sorry,” Tim said, and his voice had gone softer. “I’m sorry I started a fight. And for being so angry. That was uncalled for.”

He did want all this to be right with them. Both of them. Two of his brothers he’s learned to love. And with that love comes many sacrifices.

“You don’t have to be sorry for being angry.”

“Would you like more hot cocoa?” The waitress came in with a pitcher. Tim declined, and she left.

He stared at the empty cup and rolled his lips.

“Yeah, I… I kinda do.”

Further into the day, the less people there were in the diner. And with that came more silence. There were half the people in there than when they’d first arrived. Soon enough, they’ll be the only ones left.

“I’m sorry, too.”

Then, without even a word, Dick and Tim turned over to Jason.

They didn’t expect him to apologize, or even say anything for that matter, possibly for the rest of the night.

But Jason shrugged, looked up at both of them in the eye, and he nodded. It was enough for them both to know what he meant.

Jason:

Get this over with. As quick as they possibly could. But he should know by now that this was going to take time. With how difficult it was. This wasn’t going to end any better than when they’d started if they rush through.

Jason took a sip out of his coffee and leaned his arms over on the table. Still, he didn’t take off his hoodie, as if he was going to take off not long from then.

“I don’t exactly know where to start,” Dick said. “But I think we should put this out there now.”

Neither of them looked him in the eye. He and Tim both stared at their cups as if it were any interesting.

“I’m sorry if I’m doing this wrong. I’m just saying what I think is best.”

“It’s okay,” Tim said. “Just go on.”

This was harder than when they had to help out the League face Brainiac. And that certainly was something.

“I love Y/N.”

Okay. Wasn’t what he thought Dick would say. But okay.

“Tim loves her, too.”

Shit. Alright. So that’s what this motherfucker thinks he’s doing.

“And I for sure as hell know, that you love her as well, Jason-“

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jason’s voice was deep, controlled, and as monotonous as he forced it to be. Without a flick of a lie or a speck of truth, as they both would have easily picked up if they listened to him hard enough. That is, if it worked. Which it probably hadn’t.

“We don’t know who she wants…” Dick said. “And frankly, I don’t think she does, too. At least for now.”

“It could be any of us.” Tim didn’t take his sight away from the blankness of the white table’s surface.

He can't take this. No. He never should have opened that text. This was a bad idea.

Y/N will choose one of them. Not him. Not when he was the one who fell in love with her far too late, realized just how perfectly imperfect and how she managed to be this little bundle of happiness for him that he never could find in another. Someone whose presence he yearned for on the days when he thought nothing could be okay. He realized all that when too late, when his brothers already cemented their places and have already gone out of their way to win her love. And, on top of all that, he was the one he didn’t have a close friendship as a ground for something to lean onto. They weren’t close. Not like she was with Tim. Not even with Dick.

“This is ridiculous,” Jason stood up from his seat with his cup half finished. “I’m leaving.”

“Jason-“

“Dick, I want no part of this-“

“You can deny it all you want, but what if she chooses you?”

“She won't choose me. That’s the point-“

“Everyone knows that’s just as much of a possibility than everything else. It didn’t even take much time, and already you’ve wooed her. You think we didn’t notice that?”

Jason stopped and faced the counter, away from his brothers.

“Just sit down.”

“Dick-“

“I know this hurts but what if she actually does choose you-“

“I don’t love her.”

“You do. And she might love you back.”

No. Don’t bring his hopes up like this. This fucking-

“And if she does, are you really going to turn her down?”

Jason closed his eyes. He had nothing to say.

“No matter what Tim and I do, if it’s you she wants, then it’s you who’ll make her happy. Do you honestly think I believe you won't at least take that chance?”

Nothing. No voices whispering into his conscience to fuck everything and leave. Nothing that told him what to do, much less what to say.

He just knew that whatever he was, it wasn’t nearly as strong as that one pull that forced him back on his seat.

This shitshow already hurts as it is. What’s a little more?

Tim:

There’s a chance for all of them.

That’s what has always been so hard for him to understand. Never would he have thought it to be true, but it was.

They were both good men, good people, and if he were honest, he’d admit to Y/N being lucky if she were ever to choose one of his brothers in the end. He never, ever wanted to admit that. Not even now.

But for so long, he’s ignored the fact that those choices might be for her happiness, for what she deserves, and that might not always be about Tim. That whatever it was he wouldn’t admit to himself didn’t mean it wasn’t true. Y/N smiles like no other with Dick and no one else understood her like Jason. Even if Tim were her best friend, even if they had together from the very beginning, even if he probably loved her the most. It won't be about that.

So he has to accept all this.

And if it meant her happiness, then that hurt will be a lot easier to deal with.

“He’s right,” he said, and his two older brothers looked up at him.

“I’ve always thought you two… Well, I wish I was in your place. Not always. But, right now I do.”

They were confused to say the least. They didn’t look like they understood. Tim was the one who got to be with her, had years of calling her his love, had her love in return and have her actually show it the same way he did.

But that was just that. He had her. And now he didn’t. Because of him. Because he had her and was stupid enough to let her go, something neither of his brothers would have done if they were him.

And he wanted to laugh at the looks of both their faces. They didn’t have to say anything at all, but he understood. They envied each other in so many other ways, too complicated to map out. Because they’ve all done their own grievances, done so much that they regret.

Which is why this had to happen. Because no one knew what was going to happen next.

“I know it’s hard for all of us…” Dick said. Tim stared out at the window to see the start of the cold evening. “But we’re brothers. I don’t know about you both, but I don’t want this to tear us all apart.”

It already did, he wanted to say.

But it might not be true. It might not be too late. This brotherhood could still be salvaged. And in a way, it might be worth all that hurt.

“The last few weeks have been hard… for all of us… taken its toll on the rest of the family. And we’ve worked too hard on each other. I don’t…” Dick swallowed. “I don’t want to lose Y/N, but I don’t want to lose both of you either.”

It was easier for him to shut his eyes closed.

Neither do I, Tim thought.

“But… Y/N deserves to be happy… We’ve put her through too much.

“And if it means being with the one she loves, one of us, then so be it. We’re done making her decisions. We don’t decide between the three of us. If she wants to choose, then she gets to choose. And we won't have a say in any of it. She decides if it’s one or none of us at all. She deserves this.”

Jason finished his coffee. He no longer sat so stiff.

Tim sat back on his chair and stared out the window.

“And whatever it is, we’ll deal with it. As brothers. We’ll have each other. It’ll be okay. We’ll make it okay.”

That cold night of late November had the first snowdrop of the year. It was light, subtle, and one would have missed it if they weren’t looking out for too long. But they saw it, and never had something so gentle calm what used to be this rageful storm, not since Y/N.

They hadn’t spoken another word in that diner. But for many hours, they stayed.

They continued to wait for many months. They were patient.

October. November. December. January passed.

And on that day of the second week of February, a day Y/N once loved and hated at different times, they put an end to that waiting.

-----

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST

-----

A/N: I honestly can’t wait for the finale. AHHHH

MAIN TAGLIST:

@idkmanicantenglish, @wunderstell, @birdy-bat-writes, @multifandomgirl-us, @icequeen208, @offendedfishnoises, @arkhamtoddler, @elsenthal, @lucy-roo, @loxbbg, @reclusive-chicken-nugget, @l-inkage, @http-cherries, @river9noble, @zphilophobiaz, @annoylinglyaries, @knightfall05x, @hyp-oh-critical, @satan-s-ass, @1-800-starmora, @flowersgirl02, @nahcho, @thatonecroc, @trixie-bb, @daddyissuesmademe, jasonsbitch, @shadowsndaisies @jaybirdbooty @writing2sirvive

SERIES TAGLIST:

@spaceservicestation, @thedeadlythoughts, @vanessafabricius, @pinkforest05

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peaceoutofthepieces · 4 years ago

Text

chapter 34 (part I)

Fake Making-It

Social Media AU

previous chapter

sorry part II won’t come until tomorrow (maybe not even then 😅) and it’s not proofread, so sorry for any mistakes

~^~

Robbe steps out onto the back porch and curses under his breath, quickly pulling on his brown jacket. The night air is cool and crisp and its wind is biting, and he tucks his hands into his pockets in an attempt to save them. Once he’s safely wrapped up, he looks around and instantly lights on a shock of bleached hair.

Sander.

Robbe stares at him and swallows. Fuck.

He begins to turn around to head back inside, but then Sander looks over his shoulder. His eyes light up when he catches sight of Robbe, and then he smiles, and Robbe stomps down the flames in his belly and goes to join him.

“Hi,” he says. “Have you been out here long?”

Sander shakes his head. “Maybe about ten minutes?” He flicks his gaze over Robbe. “Everything okay?”

Robbe tries not to squirm. “Yeah, just needed some fresh air. I was starting to sweat in there.”

Sander huffs, looking back out in front of himself. “Shouldn’t take long to cool down out here.”

That’s probably debatable, Robbe thinks. The air had chilled him instantly, but the sweat’s starting up again. His face feels too hot, even as wind whips at his cheeks and nose and numbs them. He hasn’t dragged his eyes off Sander. He can’t. Even as he tells himself this is what he’d been trying to avoid, his body won’t respond to his brain. It’s listening to his heart instead, and his heart’s focus is all on Sander. He wasn’t supposed to be alone with him. That was the one goal, the one deal he agreed on with Jens. Neither of them were to be alone with Sander or Lucas.

But, well, Jens had been tipsy and dancing (badly) with a group of people, and Lucas had been talking to a separate group in a whole other area of the room, so at least Robbe hadn’t left them alone together. Plus, he hadn’t gone looking for Sander, and he’d asked Jens if he wanted to come outside with him, so this is really not his fault.

He’s knocked out of his daze when Sander nudges him. His cheeks flush at the amused tilt to Sander’s lips, the raised brow. It takes him a moment to realise Sander is holding the joint out towards him in offering. He takes it gingerly, with trembly fingers, telling himself he’s only so shaky because of the cold. The long drag he takes warms him up slightly, but it’s less because of the weed and the smoke and more because he’s thinking Sander’s lips were just here. It’s much more intoxicating.

He shoves the thought away, reminding himself why he can’t have any of that, even as he licks his lips and chases the taste. God, he’s a mess. Jens would take this opportunity to remind him that he’s a mess and tell him to get it together. Sander’s fingers brush against his as he takes the joint back and sparks shoot up Robbe’s arm.

He swallows and curls his arms around his stomach, turning to face out along with Sander. There’s a full smoking area out here, a patio with a few tables and stools with people clustered around them, talking and laughing, all in various states of inebriation. It allows Robbe to suck in a breath and steady himself. He isn’t alone with Sander, not really. He should just relax.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Sander asks.

Robbe hadn’t even realised the other man was looking at him, but he feels his eyes now, heavy and warm. He shifts his weight and aims for a smile. “Yeah, I’m good. Are you?”

Sander nods, shrugs. “It’s just a lot, in there.”

“You mean Aaron’s a lot?” He raises a brow. Moyo and Aaron had both been a little too excited to meet Sander and Lucas, but Aaron had been the one to go starstruck before Sander even opened his mouth. Robbe doesn’t blame him—he can relate.

Sander laughs. “Nah, Aaron’s cool. Everyone is. There’s just a lot of everyone.”

Robbe purses his lips and nods. That, he understands.

“Jens seems better, though,” Sander adds. “Today went well.”

“Yeah, everything’s great so far,” Robbe agrees. “I think he’s mostly just glad the waiting and secrecy is over, you know? Now it’s out there and he can actually talk about it and not have to be so hidden.”

Sander’s expression shutters, and then flickers right back into a smile as he nods. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

Robbe supposes he imagined the blip. He returns the smile and leans against the railing next to Sander. A riot kicks up in his stomach as their shoulders brush, his heart hitches, his breath flutters, no, that’s not right, everything is backwards and upside down and inside out and it’s insane. He doesn’t know how it works like this. He doesn’t know what cruel twist of the universe decided on this fate, in which he could be brought to his knees by a nonexistent touch by someone he can never have. There’s no explanation for the strength and extent of his feelings for this person he really barely even knows. A month and a half they’ve known each other, and Sander has completely taken over his brain and heart without even trying.

He would probably run if he knew. No, he would let Robbe down gently, but in a mildly bewildered state of well, you know I’m already taken.

Robbe has spent many nights turning this exact fact over and over in his head, hurting and doubting. Jens’s words keep ringing in his head. He doesn’t know Lucas well enough, really, but does Sander seem happy? Robbe can’t be sure. He doesn’t know him well enough, either. He isn’t allowed to.

“It feels weird, being around you without the excuse of work,” Sander mumbles, flicking the end of the joint and watching a sprinkling of ashes fall to the ground. “I didn’t know if it could be like this. If we’d ever be anything more than just work colleagues.”

The admission makes it seem like he’d thought about it quite extensively. Robbe swallows, doesn’t understand, feels something kick in his stomach again anyway. Their shoulders are pressed together now. “I like to at least consider us friends,” he says, even though the word burns up his throat and drips off his tongue like acid. In an attempt to sound lighter, he adds, “I only tell true friends my darkest secrets, after all.”

Sander huffs, turning his head to grin at him. Robbe’s breath leaves him in a rush. “I’d hardly call ‘Romeo and Juliet’ a darkest secret. It’s quite cute, if you ask me,” Sander says, grin gone teasing, and fuck, Robbe is so gone.

“Good thing no one did,” Robbe quips, pointedly, stamping out the flames once more. His attempts are rendered pointless in the face of Sander’s laughter, loud and husky, breath floating out in plumes with the force of it.

“I thought you’d be dancing around in there,” Robbe admits, doesn’t add with Lucas. “I thought I heard a Bowie track earlier.”

“Ah, been studying up have we?” Sander muses, eyes brightening. As if it’s not enough to have them reflecting the moon and the stars, the entire night sky held captive in him, and likely the entire universe by Robbe’s guess.

“A little. Bowie’s really good background music, surprisingly.”

Sander gasps and places his free hand over his heart, mock offended. “Bowie is so much more than background music.”

“Oh please,” Robbe scoffs. “Don’t try to tell me he isn’t the background soundtrack to your whole life.”

Sander laughs, again, and bumps Robbe’s shoulder with his own as he shakes his head. It feels so easy, too easy. It’s too much and Robbe can’t get enough of it.

A silence overtakes them, and he stares openly at Sander as Sander stares pensively at the ground. He watches as Sander flicks the cigarette again and then turns to face him. “I wanted to talk to you about something,” Sander says, at the same time Robbe blurts, “Do you want to get out of here?”

Sander blinks.

Robbe flushes. “I mean, uh, I thought you might want to go for a walk, or something,” he says sheepishly, voice an octave too high. “Instead of going back inside. Just, along the Scheldt, or something. But we can also go back in if you want. Or I mean I can just leave you to it. You came out here for a breather.”

“I think you’re the one who needs to breathe,” Sander points out, and his accompanying laugh is quiet and breathy. Robbe is already swooning, and then Sander smiles at him again. “A walk sounds good. You’re warm enough?”

Robbe nods, biting his lip as he feels his cheeks grow even warmer. He tilts his head back towards the bar. “Walk and talk, then?”

They slip back inside and through the throng, winding around small clusters of people to make their way to the front door. Robbe catches sight of Jens in the crowd, talking animatedly with Moyo, and breathes a small sigh of relief. He isn’t breaking their deal, because he isn’t leaving Jens alone with Lucas.

And, well, Jens didn’t say anything about actively instigating alone time. He’d just said he wouldn’t leave Robbe alone with Sander, but Robbe is leaving alone with Sander, which is different.

Right?

The air is chilly when they step outside again—Robbe had stopped noticing while he was so close to Sander. Now, though, walking down the street with the wind whipping at his cheeks, he understands why Sander had asked if he was warm enough. He isn’t anymore. But he’s not going to tell Sander that and risk sending them back, or worse, having to explain.

They’re silent on the short trek towards the Scheldt, where it’s even colder. Robbe curls his hands in his pockets and hugs his jacket tighter around himself. Sander slows as they walk along the water, unsure of what the plan is and letting Robbe take the lead. Robbe knows they’re aren’t many options beyond walking a little further and then turning around. Instead he goes and leans against the wall and smiles when Sander joins him, pressed shoulder to shoulder like before.

Robbe nods at the building across the water. “You know they had like a billboard sign of Jens up there when he first released his music?”

Sander raises his brows. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, it was fucking crazy. I mean you could make it out clearly from here. Not that easily, but still.”

Robbe still remembers it vividly, how gobsmacked Jens had been and how many jokes Moyo had cracked. He remembers people requesting photos with Jens with the billboard in the background. Sander seems to be picturing it, eyes flicking over the now-blank space. Then he turns to Robbe with a somewhat cheeky smile. “You should be on one of these buildings, too.”

Robbe snorts, surprised. “I don’t think I’ll ever have a billboard.”

Sander’s smile widens. “Nah, we could just tape you to it. You’ll hang there easily. Just set you up on a chair, get a few rolls of duct tape…” he trails off, raising his brows suggestively.

“I hate that you’ve seen those vlogs,” Robbe groans, covering his face with his hands as he laughs.

“It’s art, Robbe,” Sander mocks. “You can’t diss art.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Sander looks back at the building and hums, tilting his head. He turns to Robbe and holds up his hands, thumb and finger outstretched on each to make a frame in the air. “What about some of Antwerp’s famous graffiti for Antwerp’s famous gay…” He pauses, lost.

“Gay?” Robbe prompts.

“What rhymes with graffiti?”

Robbe laughs. “Shut up.”

“No, listen, I’m serious. Picture it,” Sander waves at the building. “A big mural, right there, in all these intense colours.”

“Rainbow colours.”

Sander snaps his fingers, though he’s biting back a laugh. “Rainbow colours!”

Robbe shakes his head and rolls his eyes slightly, and then they’re both letting out quiet laughs. Sander settles on the wall next to him again, and a warmth radiates all along his side where they’re closest. He resists the urge to press closer and lets them settle into a peaceful silence. He only breaks it when he remembers their conversation from before, and then he looks at Sander curiously. “So what did you want to talk about?”

“Oh.” Sander opens his mouth and then closes it again, hesitating. “It’s nothing.”

Robbe squints at him, skeptical. “You sure?” Sander bites his lip, glancing out over the Scheldt, and Robbe knocks their shoulders together. “Hey, whatever it is, you can talk to me about it.”

“No, it’s just,” Sander hesitates, seeming to struggle with finding the words. He looks at Robbe, and his gaze is intense and intent, and it gives Robbe no insight to what this is about. Sander eventually turns away again and simply shakes his head. “I’m just wondering what happens, after the album and everything comes out.”

“Oh.”

Sander hesitates again, shooting him a glance. “I mean, I don’t want to stop working with you guys. It’s been a lot of fun, you know? But I guess I’ll have served my purpose by then.”

“It’s not like we’re tired of you,” Robbe protests, smiling slightly, even as he desperately wracks his brain. He can’t voice his heart’s loud protests at the thought of Sander leaving. “Besides, Lucas still has all his stuff to do, and you’re not just going to head off without him, right?”

Sander’s shoulders tuck up to his ears, and his smile seems almost sad. “Right,” he agrees.

Robbe can tell that there’s something off. It’s obvious that something is being withheld, but he has no idea what it is. Sander doesn’t seem to want to say anything else, but the mood has certainly dropped. Robbe feels a frown take over even as he keeps his voice light. “We should probably get back.”

He almost thinks Sander is going to argue, but he simply smiles and nods. “Yeah. I hope Jens didn’t need any bodyguards.”

“I’m sure he’s fine.” At least, Robbe hopes he is. “And it was nice to talk, right?”

Sander’s smile turns a little more genuine. “Always.”

~^~

tag list: @allthewayornowayy @wedarkacademia @lockerfivethreefive @yellowballoon @gucciboner @nora-keinwitz @moonskam @painfully-oblivious @zoenneforever @akucecilia @hischbabe @evaksobbe @alittleemo @boring-side-effect @franboos @debussyatmidnight

part II

#wtfock #skam nl #sobbe #robbe x sander #van der stoffels #vds #fake making-it #don’t know if anyone actually did want me to post this but here we go i guess

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soulwillower · 4 years ago

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long way home • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader)

requested: please please please do a richie x reader about long way home by 5sos

warnings: nothing really, some mentions of canonic trauma but its really vague and underaged drinking

i was happy to write this bc it def got me out of my slump! lmk if yall want more fics

(also i loved 5sos so much back when the self titled album came out in like 2014. i was such a huge fan in middle school so this was so nostalgic to write!!)

[reader + losers are in their first year of college, set around early summer 1995.]

2.9k words

♡

"i don't really know what else to do. we have an hour and a half until we meet everyone." you say, breaking the momentary silence that had fallen upon the car after bev had climbed out the back. you hum, settling back against the passenger seat, head lulling to meet richie's gaze.

you can't help but smile. he's looking at you - just staring, fingers drumming against the steering wheel. he hums, too, turning his head, arm grabbing the shoulder of your seat as he backs up the car. "i have an idea. let's just go - what?" he asks, smiling with a chuckle as he catches you staring at him.

you blink as you flush, "i don't know. just really missed you." you say with a laugh, shaking your head as memories flood your mind. his face flickers for a second and he shakes his head, hair bouncing slightly in his flattery. "gee, i missed you too. it kinda sucks that we all went to opposite sides of the country."

you blow air from your lips gently in agreement as richie starts to drive somewhere east. "yeah. not seeing you for six months is, surprisingly, pretty shitty." you say, causing richie to snort. "you could barely handle it." he says, hand shifting gears as he stops at a stop sign.

you roll your eyes, but you don't tell him the truth: he's right. "let me tell you, when i got the bear last, i sure wanted to forget all about you." you say, kicking your feet up on his dash.

you and the other losers all split ways after graduation. of course, you all still kept in touch with phone calls, letters, and that of the sort. but you all had found a favorite way to all still feel close together: a toy canvas bear bev found that you all signed and drew on, shipping it around the country and letting it stay with each person for a week.

you'd all been printing photographs of the bear with yourselves at various places around all your campuses and sending them along with the bear as little post cards. the most recent from richie had the tattooed-bear propped next to him at a party, smirking with the bear in a vulgar position that had made you roll your eyes so hard you almost got a headache.

that was in april, and you spent the month and a half after that missing richie and your other dumbass friends so much it hurt.

richie smiles, "oh, yeah. that bear had some fun times with us up in the ol' N-Y-C." "-don't call it that." "-anyways, i did miss you guys, i wish you could meet my roommate, charlie, he's a hoot. i almost wanted to stay up there and have you come to me, y'know?" you nod, all too familiar with that feeling. "yeah, i wanted to do that too. there was some kind of-" you stop, frowning. do you really want to admit this to anyone? will they think it's weird? but then you remember it's richie. "-i don't know, some kind of dread i felt at having to come back here."

it's quiet for a second, and you think you said something wrong, but richie's knuckles tighten slightly and he nods, "me too. i have...bad feelings from this place. i didn't want to say anything, but- i don't know. i feel like something's..." but the thought seems to swim away from his voice, getting lost in the dredges of his brain.

and then as if on cue, the old car bumps its way over a speedbump and you cross past old neibolt street near the tracks.

a sick shiver runs down your spine as your eyes fall on the long road, fading away and extending as far as your eye can see...almost into a foggy dark haze, the train tracks running parallel making you feel desolate.

clouds suddenly move to cover the sun in the sky and you feel cold - you feel like something happened here, something important - but you have no idea. it makes you anxious, so you just swallow, saying nothing and instead looking ahead. richie does the same, and his knuckles are pale against the wheel.

"the only reason i came back was so i could see everyone." you say. it's quiet, but you know richie's agreeing with you.

the car rumbles on, eventually pulling past your old high school. you perk up, pointing to the glass and laughing. "wow, look at that shithole."

"swore we'd never go back there, didn't we? when we left?" richie says, amusement lacing his tone. you're clearly both relieved to have changed the subject, and you nod, chewing your lip. "yeah. you know, i know it was really terrible and stuff, but i have some pretty fond memories from that place."

humming, richie nods and slowly pulls into the parking lot. “remember those days?” he says, “kickin back in the ol’ schoolyard during lunch.”

you do remember those hot days, richie, bill and bev smoking cigs while you and eddie play a game of marbles or scramble to copy richie’s math homework. ben reading a book, mike eating stan’s sandwich. the heat barreling down on the eight of you...

he stops the car next to the football field and you snort slightly at its misery in the dying purple and blue of the summer twilight. "remember those bonfires that were always over in the woods right there?" he points a chipped nail towards the dense trees on the other side of the field, and you can see it.

the crackling of the wood, the orange glow reflecting the light strands of stan’s dark curls. there’s a sea of students from your class and the class above, everyone rowdy with drunken fun. there’s laughter drowned out by the boombox placed on the outskirts, blasting a salt-n-peppa song that has eddie bouncing around with some kids from track. over to the side, you can nearly see bev's lips curl around a note as richie strums on someone else's guitar, putting together some surprisingly pleasant chords while mike throws twigs into the fire, singing softly with richie and bev.

you can almost smell the smoky hot air from those nights and you remember the odd sensation of feeling invincible back in those days, when your greatest fear was nothing more than coming across your parents when you were too hungover to remember anything the next morning.

it’s almost melancholic, the realization that you’ll never have those years again. you’ll never have your friend group in the same way as you did in high school, and it was barely over a year ago. it hurts a bit, until you realize you’re here, in the car with richie.

but still, despite the feeling, you grin. “why did we think it was a good idea to party so close to the school?”

richie chuckles, “it was safer. for some reason.”

it makes you smile, "i wonder if those pabst cans are still hidden in all those hollow logs." you muse, a gentle smile splaying over your lips. richie huffs a small laugh at the memory of jorge garcia drunkenly stuffing the empty beer cans quickly into the log when the cops came.

a car pulls into the vacant lot behind you, and richie takes the liberty of driving away again, still not really sure where you're going.

the trees roll past, and soon you're passing through the downtown section of derry, causing the two of you to fall silent as your eyes flick up and down the nearly desloate streets. the aladdin passes by quickly and you remember going to see so many films with the others for less than five bucks a pop, richie slipping an arm around your shoulders and whispering in your ear about the weird worker who always gave you the eyes.

you smile lightly as your eyes fall to look ahead, passing the corner store. you remember how many times you and richie and stan stopped there after classes or during lunch to grab slushes while the workers weren’t looking. you remember the sticky fingers and bright blue tongues.

then as you stare more at the ugly front of the store, memories from middle school scratch the surface of your brain. "didn't the boys..." you say, perking up as you turn and watch it pass, richie looking at you attentively. "-eyes on the road, rich." you say absent-mindedly, "...didn't they... steal stuff from there? i can't remember why... it was for ben. tissues?" you ask, tilting your head. richie's brows furrow. "i had to stay outside with him, all i remember is bein' pissed i couldn't go in. dunno why, though." he mutters. you hum, sinking back in your seat.

"crazy, how quickly you forget your childhood." he says quietly.

the town slowly fades away before your eyes, and its just then that you realize you're going the opposite way from bill's. then it's plain grassland and marshes, dipping into the barrens. your lips twitch and the silence, while pleasant, makes you feel nervous.

you look to richie, all nervous slowly releasing from your body.

you feel stupid for thinking it, and you don't dare say it, but there's something really sweet about being in the middle of nowhere with him.

you feel like driving along this ugly, terrible road on the outskirts of a truly ugly and terrible town with someone as beautiful and captivating as richie is such an important moment; as if the roads along here are a place only you and richie share to yourselves.

"i kind of like taking the long way home with you." you let slip instead, instantly feeling hot and panicked as the words leave your mouth. "y-you know, because i just really didn't want to- er, i don't like being-"

as you stutter out some excuses, he leans forward towards the wheel, face turning to you with a smirk. "oh?" he asks. you feel flustered, your hands sweating and heart tingling as you stare at his handsome face.

"god, sorry." you say, feeling flushed, "i don't know why i keep rambling. it's so awkward."

"y/n, you could talk about anything." he says with a laugh, and you look at him, trying to ignore the sheer zoo of animals parading around in your stomach and instead escaping this moment with a sarcastic, "even dead squirrels?"

he rolls his eyes and shakes his head, his hair glinting in the light. "yeah, whatever baby. i just don't wanna be wasting my time alone when i could be here with you. that's what i'm trying to say."

and the stupid pet name almost makes you snort but you also get butterflies, the words that he's said making you smile so wide you're almost embarrassed. "yeah, well." you say bashfully, "i guess spending my time with you is, like... the best part of coming back home."

you avoid eye contact, staring out the window as you pass the house of your junior year bio partner. "hey," richie nudges your jaw and you almost jump at the feeling of his cold ring against the warmth of your skin. he speaks softly. "i'd never let you down, you know." he says, mischief in his eyes. you smile against his hand and look at him, his blue eyes warm and inviting and looking like home.

your eyes fall back towards the windshield and you see a sign up ahead. shifting, you look at richie again to find him still staring.

he's got such a terrible habit of watching you instead of the road (he has since high school), and that combined with his lead foot (also since high school - wentworth tozier was a menace on the streets) has you conditioned into reminding him of every obstacle that he may run into while driving.

"stop sign, richie." you mutter, knowing in his ramble he won't notice it (it happened way too many times as high schoolers). he seems to not really hear it, and you say again, "stop sign!"

just before it's too late, the car lurches as he slams the breaks and you just barely hit the white line, your hands bracing yourself against the dashboard. "oh my god." you hiss, shaking your head. richie's laughing.

"we've been hitting every red light. can't i just have one pass to not stop at one of these things?" richie says. you roll your eyes with a slight head shake. you can't believe him.

"you'll be the death of me, tozier." you mutter. richie's still laughing quietly and then he takes a big sigh, hand reaching out. you lean forward, hand reaching for the volume knob on the stereo just as richie does the same, and your hands brush by accident. you feel warm and instead of pulling away, his hand covers yours and he gently turns your hands, bringing up the volume of a green day song. it's seemingly just in the background as you watch your hand in richie's, then slowly turning your gaze up to his face.

he just stares at you as you stare back, wanting so badly to kiss him but wondering if he feels the same.

"hey." he whispers, quiet for the first time possibly ever. "hey." you respond softly, watching as he comes a bit closer. his hand is still in yours. "i am so happy to be home. with you." he says sincerely, his eyes wide and honest behind his glasses and his smile soft. your breath catches slightly and you smile, "me too. i always feel like this is the way it's supposed to be. u-us."

something in richie's eyes change, a light of sort, and then he's leaning into you and you're kissing.

his hand that isn't in yours falls to softly rub your thigh and you're taking a shuddering breath as your lips touch his. he tastes like mint chapstick and those stupid red-hots he was eating earlier, his lips slightly cold but his tongue warm as he slowly pulls you closer to him.

your mind almost falls blank as the world melts away, the only thing in your mind is how long you've missed out on this - richie is kind of unexpectedly a fantastic kisser. you pull him closer by his hair as his tongue grazes yours, his thumb tilting your jaw for a better angle.

but suddenly a horn honks loudly behind you and you both spring apart, your stomach panging with anxiety at the noise.

"shit." you hiss as you remember you're at a stop sign. richie snorts slightly, a smirk on his face despite the blush on his high cheekbones, feet going back to the gas pedal and clutch. his hand leaves your thigh as he drives forward and you clear your throat as the car turns behind you at the intersection, leaving you two back in the middle of nowhere with just you two.

it's tense for a few minutes, neither of you two really talking and you can tell the tension is going to kill richie, his hand twitching on the shift and his leg bouncing.

you break the silence after a couple more moments, "did you want to pull over-" "-yes." he says quickly, car almost swerving as he pulls off the road near the quarry. you laugh and grip the handle of the car as you slide to a stop and he laughs too, the feeling of glee unmatchable.

you both unclick your seatbelts after gaining a few breaths, and then you're leaning over the console to kiss richie hard enough on the lips that he falls back towards the window. he holds your face with his hands and he laughs a bit into the kiss, teeth grazing your bottom lip before tugging it. "goddamn, you're eager." he mutters into your mouth.

you smirk, pulling back. "fine, i don't have to kiss you. we have to be at bill's soon, anyways." you say, feigning a fake dismissive voice.

"wait, no, no. we've still got 20 minutes." richie defends after glancing at the stereo on the dash. his eyebrows raising in a plea. you giggle, leaning towards him and bringing your arm over. he's beaming as your face nears his and he moves to kiss you but you turn your head, instead letting his lips graze your neck as you lean to turn off the headlights.

"tease." richie mutters hotly against the skin of your neck before biting down softly, kissing over the skin. "i thought you said i was eager?" you say with a teasing smile. he hums, "y'know, it's pretty unfair to be teasin' me, toots. i've been eager to kiss you since we were seventeen." he says, and you can't help but smile, pulling him in to a kiss as his hands slide up your thighs and yours tangle in his messy curls.

you pull away slightly, "you want to get in the backseat?"

taglist: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier @sft-core @clownsloveyou @moon-shine-baby @trashedfortozier @daughter-of-the-stars11 @oceandog13 @chl0bee @kait16xo @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @screammin @leighjaenikhowell @cowbellies @deepestofwaters @five-motherfucking-hargreeves @sassy-uris @loverloserrr @hauntingkaspbrak @soph-ec @hockslutter

#richie tozier x reader #losers x reader #losers club x reader #bill denbrough x reader #stanley uris x reader #eddie kaspbrak x reader #beverly marsh x reader #mike hanlon x reader #ben hanscom x reader

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eponymiad · 4 years ago

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Rating: T Word Count: 4450

The first time Sophos asked the mountain queen to dance, it was his last night in Eddis. For formality’s sake, Eddis would not have declined, but it had taken him most of the night to work up the nerve.

Punctilious in her hospitality, Eddis had arranged a banquet in their honor. His uncle who was Sounis had finally negotiated their release, though Sophos wouldn’t exactly have called it a harrowing hostage situation. The magus, ever a teacher, had made their captivity instructive, and the Eddisian court had been exceptionally kind, if a bit distant.

Grasping for conversation as they danced, Sophos said, “I visited the god of thieves’ altar today. Those emeralds were even more impressive than you made them out to be.”

Eddis laughed, then pressed her lips together. “You can see why the duchess was livid,” she whispered, sounding amused and a little conspiratorial.

“Indeed. I’m surprised Gen made it out alive.”

Her grin faltered, and Sophos worried he had inadvertently insulted her or her court. The lowlanders often painted the Eddisians barbaric, but Sophos had not meant his joke literally. Before he could fumble an apology, however, Eddis’s easy smile returned.

She said, “Oh, Gen prevailed, he always does. Are you glad to be returning to Sounis?”

Sophos blushed. “I have enjoyed my time in Eddis.” He had grown immensely fond of Eddis — both queen and country.

The queen of Eddis was exceedingly kind. Sophos knew that another sovereign would not have been so welcoming of their prisoners. His uncle certainly would not have, and that Attolia had held them in a cell in her stronghold just weeks earlier was proof enough that she, too, thought prisoners belonged in a prison.

Eddis smiled, and Sophos blushed harder as he returned it. He was acutely aware of where his hand rested on her waist, grateful the dance was one he knew well. He thought his nerves might fail him.

“You must be excited to see your sisters again. From everything you’ve told me of them, they sound much like my more…rambunctious cousins.”

“They are troublemakers, if that’s what you mean. I am sure to find my hair filled with twigs and leaves by suppertime the day I return.” Sophos laughed. “I cannot wait to see them.”

Home also meant seeing his father, and explaining what had happened to Pol. The magus was sure to have sent word by now, but Sophos was dreading having to answer questions. The guilt was nearly too much to bear as it was.

Eddis seemed to guess what he was thinking. “I am sorry about your guard captain,” she said carefully.

“I will miss him very much. And I do not…look forward to having to explain what happened to him.”

“I cannot believe your father could blame you for this, Sophos,” she said, even more gently, guessing again at his thoughts.

“I see you have not met my father, your majesty,” he said wryly.

She smiled again, an intoxicatingly slow-spreading one that filled her entire face. “I have, actually.”

“Oh.” He was at a loss for what to say. It was not only his grief over Pol and Ambiades, still fresh and raw, but the concentrated power of her smile that rendered him temporarily speechless. The Queen of Eddis was perhaps the loveliest person he had ever met, and he’d discovered that her more brilliant smiles made it difficult for him to speak. A particular disappointment, as he was eager to talk to her as much as possible.

Sparing him from scrambling for intelligent thought, Eddis changed the subject.

“I hope we will have you back as a guest soon. I expect we will have a ceremony in the fall.”

“For your wedding?” Now that she had no cause to marry his uncle, Sophos had been wondering when she and Gen would marry.

She laughed. “No, I suspect we will have one more ceremony to honor Hamiathes’s gift, and we will of course invite our neighbors to attend.”

Sophos wondered if he might persuade his uncle who was Sounis to bring him. He repressed a shudder at the thought of prolonged interaction with his uncle, but perhaps the magus would make a case for it on Sophos’s behalf.

“I will hope to attend, then, and look forward to returning.” The music ended, and Sophos bowed. “Thank you for the dance, your majesty.”

She returned his smile, inclining her head briefly before turning to her next partner. Sophos returned to his seat, feeling light as air.

Sophos hadn’t realized he’d grown until he was standing in front of Helen, asking her to dance. He found he had to tilt his head now to look her in the eye.

As they danced, they chatted, but Sophos could tell she was weary behind the smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“How have you fared today?” he asked.

“Very well. It was an important ceremony and I am glad to have the company of our neighbors and allies from further away to share it with. Did you enjoy the day?” Her formulaic response left Sophos unconvinced. An expert himself in court niceties, Sophos knew they were easy to wield when more natural conversation was stilted.

He pressed again, as gently as possible. “I did, thank you. But I imagine it must have been a long day for you, especially.”

She hesitated, before letting out a quiet sigh. “Yes,” she said, conceding the point. Her face relaxed at the admission. “I am rather exhausted.”

He sympathized. “I find large events like this particularly draining myself, and I am not anyone nearly as important.”

“I think heir to the throne merits ‘nearly as important,’ Sophos. But yes, they are draining. Frankly…”

He waited, hoping she would speak, but she gave a small shake of her head as if letting the thought pass. He ventured a guess. “A lot of self-important, overly-dressed people?”

Helen’s mouth opened in surprise before she let out a laugh. “That is an…apt description.”

In the short time he had known her, Sophos had begun to suspect the queen of Eddis cared as little for frivolous courtiers as he did. He was delighted, both to have his suspicions confirmed and to have teased the admission out of her.

“Just a gaggle of masks,” he said.

She looked up at him, confused. “A gaggle of what?”

“Masks, from the story of the fox and the mask?” he said, but she shook her head. “Surely you know Aesop?”

“Of course I know Aesop, but I do not think I have heard that one. The only story I know about foxes is the fox and sour grapes. Tell me about the mask?”

Smirking, he told her, “The fox stumbles across a beautiful mask, wrought from gold and inlaid with stones, perfectly molded for a mortal face. Contemplating it, he says, ‘so full of beauty, so empty of brains!’”

“Oh!” She snorted, and slipped into a round of silent giggles. Sophos was unreasonably pleased to have made her laugh.

“Perhaps that one is popular in Sounis because of the invaders?” he said, wondering aloud. The Merchant Empire had been fond of their ornate masks, which were worn by okloi and patronoi alike during the festival months. “I did not realize there might be more stories. I wonder if I know all the Eddisian ones. What are some of your favorites?”

She thought for a moment. “The Astrologer Who Fell into a Well and The Boy and His Nettles are two that spring to mind.”

“Oh, I know the nettles. I have been made to remember that one often by my mother,” he said wryly.

Smiling, she said, “But not the astrologer?”

That one did not know, but the the music came to an end, and it was time for the queen to move on to her next partner. Sophos did not stop to think before he said, “Permit me one more dance and you can tell it to me?”

Helen smiled the smile that Sophos was rapidly discovering buoyed his soul. “Very well,” she said, as Sophos, beaming, led them into the steps for the next dance. “There was a stargazer who spent evenings with his face upturned to the stars, oblivious to all else — the way I’ve seen you do with a book,” she added. Sophos blushed and nodded in agreement. “One night, as he walked through a field, looking up, he fell in a well.” Sophos cringed. “His neighbor came running at the shouts and, seeing the astrologer said, ‘Now you see what happens when you worry over the skies instead of that which is right in front of you.’”

Sophos raised his eyebrows. “Is this an instructive tale about how I should worry less for the magus’s lessons on temple architecture, and more about hunting and sword fighting so that I might be a suitable heir?”

“No!” With the hand already holding his shoulder, she slapped his arm gently. “More a reminder to myself.”

The queen, as far as Sophos knew, did not have a particular interest in the sciences or any other academic subject.

“A reminder of what?”

“Not to make myself sick worrying about the plans of the gods and instead focus on the things I can control.”

Sophos was not religious, did not believe in gods or myths. Despite what Gen had told them as they had camped in the mountain country a few months earlier, the Eddisians were much more religious than Sounisians. That much, at least, had become clear during his two trips. Foreign rulers and emissaries might have attended for the formality of the ceremony, but Sophos had heard the way the Eddisians spoke of Hamiathes’s gift — Gen and Helen had certainly believed in its sanctity. But still, he could see the wisdom in her words.

“Ah. My cautionary tale is A Man with Two Sweethearts, though I rarely heed my own reminders,” he admitted. When her eyebrows shot up her head, he laughed and fumbled as he said, “The lesson is, those who seek to please everybody please nobody.”

“I’d never heard that one either, though the lesson itself is a good one. It might carry a different message to my Eddisians though,” she said cryptically. Changing the subject, she said, “I did not realize there were so many more fables.”

Sophos did not hesitate, did not even draw a breath before saying, “I have a large book of them that was given to me when I was learning to read. I could recopy some of my favorites and send them to you when I return to Sounis, if you’d like.”

“That would be lovely.”

And there it was, the chance he had been waiting for. Sophos had spent his faux-captivity over the summer in Eddis, and this much shorter trip, frantically searching for an opening to write to Helen. He had grown increasingly dismayed as the day wore on that he might not find a good reason. The excitement and nerves pounded against his rib cage in equal measure as they moved through the last steps and the song came to an end.

“Thank you for the dance.” Sophos bowed, knowing it would do little to cover up the blush spreading across his cheeks as he willed his mind away from the rapidly unfolding fantasy that she might respond to his letter, that they might strike up a real friendship, that that might… “It is always a privilege to to spend time in your company.”

She returned his smile with one of her own, the slow-spreading one that was, Sophos was certain, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. It made his heart sing.

“I will look forward to the Aesop stories.”

“I will get working on them as soon as I arrive home,” he promised.

They had danced nearly every night that he was in Attolia.

They were both a little clumsy in their dancing, both in different ways. Helen was stiff, her soldier’s march no less pronounced in the fluid steps of a dance. Sophos, for his part, had grown taller since regular balls in Sounis, and found it hard to adjust to the length of his gait. But as the days wore on, punctuated by walks in the gardens and, if he was lucky, meals together, they had found their rhythm. By now they moved almost as one.

Sophos had felt something shift, in the way she looked at him, the way she touched him, the way she moved her body in time with his. He may be cow-eyed, but he wasn’t oblivious. As he fspun out further and further, head sick with plans and worries about retaking his country, the sole thought buoying his hopes was that he might come back not to a political marriage but —

“What are you thinking about so hard?” Helen teased, smiling up at him. She smiled at him often, and it still caught him off guard, left him feeling both completely off kilter and as if everything was right in the world. His heart swelled.

“How very lucky I am that you dance with me.”

“Plenty of women dance with you.”

“But none nearly as beautiful as you.”

She flushed then, cheeks darkening, mouth half-open in surprise. “Flatterer,” she said when she recovered.

“Not at all. I am incapable of lying, as Gen has made sure to remind me several times a day.” She shook her head, still smiling. He asked, “Are you looking forward to returning home to Eddis?” He led her into a spin.

She spun back. “Immensely,” she admitted wearily. “I miss my mountains.”

Sophos did not fail to notice that as she had landed back into his arms, her body was a little closer than it had been. Sophos slid his hand around, from her waist to her back, and pulled her even closer.

The music changed and he cursed his luck as he and Helen broke apart. That move had taken all his nerve, and he did not know if he would risk it again.

But the next song was different, and with the drum came the trill of a mountain pipe. Helen glanced over her shoulder at Gen, who was looking at his wife with such a fondness that it warmed Sophos’s heart. It was the first time Sophos had heard a traditional Eddisian tune since he had been in Attolia. He suspected they were avoided since both hands were needed, but the Attolias seemed to be getting into position to dance. Helen looked back at Sophos.

“You know the square dances?”

“Helen,” he said dryly. “I am good for very little, but I do at least know Eddisian court dances. Have a little more faith in me than that.”

She rolled her eyes. “If I had so little faith in you, I would be more worried for the future of our little peninsula.”

“Point taken,” he said, grimacing. As he moved into position, Sophos faltered — he realized that he had not danced the Eddisan dances in years. “We’ll have to see how we fare with the height difference.”

She laughed. “Everyone is taller than me. I barely come up to Boagus’s sternum. It will be fine.”

The dance required partners to grab each other’s hands and Sophos, seizing the opportunity, laced his fingers between hers. That the dance was easier when performed with clasped hands was of little importance to him at the moment.

When it was time for her to spin, Sophos released Helen’s hands as she spun away and back to him, fingers sliding back into his when she returned, the skirts of her dress following suit.

“This dance is the only time I prefer a dress to trousers,” she said.

“I don’t remember this dance being so fun,” Sophos said, just barely holding onto his breath as the music sped up for the next cycle.

“Have you ever danced it with an Eddisian before?” He hadn’t. “It takes practice for it to really flow.”

It was certainly more fun than any of the continental dances at the Sounisian balls, or even the more out-of-fashion dances brought to the peninsula by the last invaders. There was a thrill in the way the pace picked up, quickened your heartbeat and chased the air from your lungs as you stepped faster and faster with your partner, until the only things you could focus on were the tapping of your own feet and your partner’s body, mirroring yours as you tried desperately to keep the pace.

Their fingers unwound only for the last spin, Helen’s hands small in his as he gripped them tight. And as they spun together, Sophos so much larger than her that he thought he might lift her off the ground with his force, their eyes held one another’s. In that moment, Sophos was sure there was no one else in the room, in the palace, in Attolia, and maybe not even the world.

The music ended and they came to a halt, both of them breathless and bubbling with mirth. Pulling one hand from hers, Sophos gently pushed back a curl that had flipped free of her crown, tucking the short strand behind her ear. His hand lingered there, and Helen held his gaze. Sophos was acutely aware of how close they stood. Close enough, he thought, that if he bent down, he could kiss her.

He considered it, his mind running away as he imagined, for an instant, tilting her head up at his and kissing her here, in front of everyone, propriety and the whole court of Attolia be damned.

But he was not so reckless — though he might have been had they been in the gardens alone — and slowly he lowered his hand from her face, their other hands still clasped tight. Never once did she take her eyes off his.

And as he lay in the dark later that night, restless over his journey and the hard, perhaps fatal plan that lay before him, he thought of Helen, of the dance, and of the look she’d given him he had touched her face.

This was not his imagination, he was sure. There was something between them.

Thinking of her, he drifted to sleep.

“Is the dress all right?” Gen asked as he and Helen stepped together. His tone was light, but Helen knew her cousin too well. His hook lay at her waist, blade carefully turned away to spare her dress — or her — any harm.

“It’s perfect, thank you, Gen. And thank you for sparing me from whatever awful gown Aunt Livia would have inevitably chosen.” She would have complied, her worry over the future of her country and the imminent threat of her barons making it easier to say yes than to argue for her own self-interests. Instead, Gen had insisted on handling it. The resulting wedding dress was beautiful, both as simple as Helen preferred and cut with a neckline to show off her tattoos, making clear to those watching that she was still Eddis. She was overwhelmed, as always, for his careful consideration and fierce loyalty. “And the wedding has been lovely. You are the consummate host. Maybe you are better as a frivolous trophy husband, planning parties and selecting gowns,” she teased.

“I told you all, I make a much better figurehead than king. I also told you that I thought you would marry him,” Gen added, gloating, as the dance continued.

She rolled her eyes, but could not stop her smile. “Do you never tire of being right?”

“No.” He grinned at her, and she was glad for it. Eugenides had not smiled much these last few days, not since her barons had arrived and their cousins had begun complaining about his ascension to Annux in earnest.

The last notes of the song faded, replaced with sounds of drums and a single mountain pipe. Before she had time to consider whether she was willing to risk a one-handed dance with Gen, her husband appeared at her side, tugging her by the hands into an empty space with him.

She and Sophos finished the dance with the last spin, as breathless as ever after a square dance, and the music master paused before the next song to allow people to compose themselves. Sophos grinned down at her. She reached up to touch his face, his head ducked to bring it closer to her.

“You look so handsome today.”

She watched his cheeks, already flushed from dancing, turn redder still, the color blooming dark across his face. His blushes were always easy, but he had glowed like the fires of the sacred mountain today, the joy radiating off of him mirroring the feeling threatening to burst out of her own chest.

Helen thought of the first time she’d danced a square dance with him. While he had been in Attolia, she had been so wracked with worry and guilt, over saving her country and manipulating Sophos, that she had not even noticed herself falling in love with him.

But, the night before he had returned to Sounis, they had danced one last time, and she had felt it then. Their bodies had drawn closer and closer like magnets as they’d danced, and when he had held her face, she’d been struck with the thought that she really might like to kiss him.

In hindsight, it was obvious that she was in love with him. But at the time, she had written it off as a reaction to the dancing. That happened sometimes with dance partners, the magic of the music and the movement of bodies against one another sparking a flame that flickered and died with the end of the song.

Well, she thought, as the flame inside her grew brighter and brighter, so much for that.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

“How very much I’d like to kiss you.”

He blushed more still, suddenly endearingly shy. “You could.”

They had kissed plenty by now. It had taken ten days from their engagement to assemble their barons in Attolia for the wedding. Sophos had not once slept in his own bed.

“Not when you’re all the way up there, I can’t.”

He stooped low so she could pull him close, and she kissed him, quick and sweet.

Sophos rested his forehead against hers and murmured, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He kissed her forehead and took one hand in his, his other resting lightly on her back. The music had picked up again, and they began the slower steps for one of the Continental dances.

Helen wiped the sweat from her brow. The fall had not yet arrived in Attolia, and it was hot in the packed courtyard. That her dress was stifling did not help. Gen had been careful in his selection, but there was only so plain wedding clothes could be. It might have been fine had they had the wedding in Eddis, but the layers were oppressive in the lowlands.

Fussing with the heavy cloth of her dress, she said, “I cannot wait to get out of this godsforsaken gown.”

“That’s the best idea you’ve had all day.”

She bit back her grin. “I meant because of the heat.”

“I didn’t,” he said, boyish grin consuming his face. She pressed her own face into his chest briefly to hide her blush.

They were both quiet for several moments. When she looked back up at his face, she could see worry lines on his forehead.

“What’s worrying you?” she asked.

“It’s nothing.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. Sighing, he said, “It seems your barons have been putting ideas in my barons’ heads.”

She closed her eyes briefly in frustration. “The bastards never miss an opportunity for drama,” she said, freely swearing away from prying ears. “I am sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. You did warn me they were contentious.”

“You do not know the half of it,” she said, thinking of the bloody and nearly-bloody history she had not yet revealed to him. She would have to tell him soon, of her failure to keep her barons in line, and of how their trip to steal Hamiathes’s gift had saved Gen more than it had saved her.

His frown lines deepened and he glanced around. “A conversation for later?”

“For later,” she agreed. Shaking her head, she said, “But there is not much to be done about them, except make sure they stay in line. It’s the epitome of The Lion, the Flies and the Hedgehog.”

“The what?” He looked bewildered.

“The Aesop story. It was one of the ones you sent me! The evil you know is better than the evil you don’t?”

“Oh,” he said, face and voice tinged with wonder. “You remember that?”

She smiled. “Of course I remember. I loved those stories. I hadn’t heard most of them.”

Helen was sure no one had ever looked at her with as much fondness as Sophos was in that very moment.

“I can’t believe you remember those. I was so nervous sending that letter. I had looked high and low for an excuse to write you. When you said you hadn’t heard some of them, I clung to it desperately.”

“I am glad you did.”

“Not nearly as glad as I am,” he said, beaming. “It feels like many lifetimes ago now.”

“Indeed.”

Not even in the beginning of her reign had Helen dared to hope for anything more than a peaceful political marriage. And later, when she had made her peace with marrying Sophos’s uncle, she had lost hope for even that. Her singular focus was saving her country; her wants and needs inevitably fell to the wayside. Such was the burden of being queen.

Then Sophos had reappeared, like something straight out of the Eponymiad, and beneath all the relief and fear and guilt that had twisted together inside her, Helen had felt the first glimmers of hope igniting, that her marriage might be something more than just tolerable. She would at least be marrying her friend, she had thought. Followed immediately by the crashing waves of dread that her manipulation of him to save Eddis would be the end of that too. It had kept her up at night.

But her imagination had not been big enough for the end result: a husband she loved as she loved Sophos. Even now, on her wedding day, it felt surreal that she could be so lucky.

Sophos smiled down at her. “Are you happy?”

“Beyond my wildest dreams.”

Sophos blushed bright red. Swaying in his arms, Helen relaxed.

Crossposted on AO3 here!

#queen's thief #the queen's thief #megan whalen turner #RotT spoilers #rott #I just REALLY love them okay?#and I wanted Sophos/Helen dancing scenes so I gave them to myself #my fic

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the-currian · 4 years ago

Text

Finally emptied my askbox!

Well, to be more accurate, I finished all my requests. The askbox ate the original ask, so shoutout to the anon who wanted Hisoka angst!

“I don’t know if I can trust you.”

Hisoka x Reader

It was insidious.

At first your curiosity was small. Harmless. When you heard the up-and-coming Mankai Company was having an act-off against the famed God Troupe, you knew that you had to catch both their performances. God Troupe’s performance was flashy and impactful as always, and while the leads of Mankai had a subtle flair of their own, it was one of their supporting cast members that truly caught your eye. You were captivated by his unique stage presence. He appeared confident and secure in his acting but underneath it all you could sense a hint of sadness that drew you in further.

To your shock and utter delight, he plays one of the leads in his sub-troupe’s next play.

“Hisoka…” you whisper to yourself as you trace the actor’s name on the flyer you received.

His gaze pierced straight through your heart, leading you to make an impulsive decision. Quickly scrounging up what leftover funds you had for the month, you resolve to attend all of their performances.

Watching Hisoka act night after night onstage makes your heart bleed for this man that you hadn’t even officially met. Again, you resonate with the melancholic aura that he gives off. It’s silly, really – the most interaction you’ve had with him was at the end of each play when the actors went to the lobby to personally thank and see their patrons off, yet there was just something so hauntingly beautiful about the man, and before you knew it you were drawn in deep.

You wanted to know more.

Days pass after the play’s closing night and you feel as if you’re in a drought – deprived of your favorite muse.

‘Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe I should just keep this admiration as a fan, after all.’

Trying to lift up your spirits, you visit a newly opened cat café. As you walk through the doors, a paw-shaped bell gently chimes and a smile blooms on your face. Immediately, you are comforted by the mellow atmosphere that the establishment exudes. While you take your time to observe the café, a white Japanese bobtail cat walks up to you and gently nuzzles your leg, trying to grab your attention. You slowly squat down to pet the feline and it purrs at your touch.

“Welcome.” a familiar voice greets you sleepily.

Looking up, you yelp in surprise and fall onto your bum at the realization that the worker in front of you is Hisoka. Unperturbed, the fluffy cat you were petting moves over to plop down into your lap.

“Marshmallow.” Hisoka chides lightly, picking up the fur ball and cradling it in his arms. “You’re not supposed to play with the customers until they’ve gotten a table.”

The cat mewls lowly in response, and your heartbeat quickens at the affectionate smile that spreads on Hisoka’s face.

“I’m surprised that Marshmallow has taken a liking to you so easily.” He mumbles, shooting you a curious glance. “Anyway, please follow me to sign a waiver for playing with the cats.”

You quickly read through the document and sign the paper without fuss. Hisoka looks over it and nods before leading you to a table low enough for you to interact with the cats but still kneel comfortably.

Somehow, amidst your internal freak-out, you manage to address Hisoka, “Do you have any recommendations?”

His eyes immediately light up and you find his giddiness to be infectious as he lists several suggestions. “The hot chocolate with marshmallow crème is good. So is the s’mores cupcake – they put a giant toasted marshmallow on top. Oh, but the chocolate marshmallow mousse is also one of our best-sellers…”

You stifle a laugh and scratch the ears of the fluffy white cat in your lap. “I take it that you’re the one that named Marshmallow, then?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I get carried away again? The manager says I need to work on that. Something about how not all people would want to eat marshmallows when they’re here, which is ridiculous.” Hisoka mutters the last sentence under his breath, but you still manage to catch what he says and find it quite endearing paired with the pout on his face.

“It’s fine. Those all sound amazing, and I’m going to be here awhile, so I’ll have those three that you mentioned.” You say with what you hope is a reassuring smile.

“Okay. I’ll be back with your marshmallows soon.” He quirks a shy smile before heading back to the kitchen with your order.

Once he’s out of sight you let out a huge sigh, grabbing at your chest, willing your heartbeat to slow down. As if sensing your distress, Marshmallow meows loudly and rubs his head against your hand.

“Alright, alright.” You murmur in a placating tone and obligingly scratch behind Marshmallow’s ears. He makes a satisfied chirping noise in response. Minutes pass by as you absentmindedly pet the cat while you take in the café’s ambience.

Hisoka returns with a serving tray full of marshmallow treats as promised, and your mouth waters as he sets them on the table. You turn your gaze away from the table to thank Hisoka but find that he is also transfixed on your food. A pout appears on his face and the gaze in his eyes as he regards the marshmallows is almost longing.

Mustering up your courage, you ask, “Um… would you like to join me? I kinda just realized that this is way too much for me to finish by myself…”

Hisoka’s gaze locks onto yours, his expression the liveliest you’ve ever seen off stage. “You sure?”

Brain short-circuiting over how adorable he looks, you only barely manage to nod back.

“Hold on.” Hisoka says, rushing off to the kitchen with an unnatural speed. Before you can really process the interaction, he’s already back at your table and kneeling opposite from you. “My manager said I can take a break for a short while since there’s not too many customers right now. Thanks for sharing your marshmallows…” he trails off. Realizing you forgot to introduce yourself, you immediately do so.

He softly smiles in return. “My name is Hisoka Mikage.”

“Ah, I have to confess that I already knew that.” You laugh nervously. His eyes narrow at you in suspicion, and you honestly don’t blame him. However, the dangerous aura he suddenly exudes has you recoiling a bit. “I, uh… I’ve seen you act before in the Mankai Company.”

His demeanor relaxes ever so slightly at your explanation, but you can tell he’s still on edge.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s just that I’m a big fan of your acting and I can’t really believe that I’m seeing you outside of your show runs.”

Still, Hisoka remains silent, staring at you coolly from across the table. Wordlessly, you slide over the chocolate marshmallow mousse to his side as a sort of placating gesture. Hisoka’s eyes narrow even further, squinting at the dessert as if it had personally offended him.

“Is this a bribe?

“…Is it working?”

Hisoka puts a spoonful of the mousse into his mouth and hums thoughtfully as he takes his time to savor the flavor. Seconds pass agonizingly slow before he simply nods at you.

“Apology accepted.”

You feel as if a huge weight is lifted off of your shoulders.

From that day forward you get to know more about Hisoka Mikage, rather than Hisoka the Winter Troupe member of Mankai Company who you so ardently idolized.

And so what if you still idolized him for that? It’s not like it took away from the real affection you had for him as a friend.

‘Only as a friend.’ You think to yourself glumly.

You were thankful for his friendship, really. After that day you two officially met, you frequented the café quite often. In return, Hisoka would set aside his break time for whenever you stopped by. Your relationship had gotten close enough that he felt comfortable resting his head in your lap. You always teased him for this, calling him a “cuddle monster that can only be satiated by naps and marshmallows”. Hisoka has no qualms with this and completely accepts his role.

However, despite the progress you’ve made, you could sense that there’s a barrier he always had up. You could tell that he was trying but there were times that Hisoka would get a faraway look in his eyes as the two of you lazed about. It was during these moments that you felt so close but still so far from him.

One day, he decides that the two of you should hang out at a beach – which is frankly quite ridiculous given the season. Within the first few minutes of arriving, Hisoka remains silent, so you decide to tell him as such.

“So… what’s the reason for taking to me to the beach on this cold winter day?” you joke, trying to lighten the heavy aura Hisoka exudes.

His eyes suddenly snap over to yours as if broken out of a reverie. Just as you’re about to let it be – Hisoka gets into these moods at times, after all – he replies.

“This beach is a place I’ve only shared with my troupe members; it’s a significant place to who I was – to who I am. You’ve become an…” he pauses, mulling over his words carefully. “…important person to me. I can’t explain it, but there’s something about you that makes me feel safe. But–“

Filled with a surge of affection at his words, you blurt out, “Would you like to maybe make this official?”

Hisoka stares at you incomprehensively.

‘Hell, I’ve gotten this far already.’ You think to yourself, thoroughly embarrassed, but determined. ‘I may as well let it all out.’

“I’m sorry if I’m coming on too strong, but this has been on my mind for a long while. Ever since we met at the café – maybe even long before that, when I first saw your acting,” You give him a watery smile. “I was so intrigued by you. I always felt like there was something that just drew me to you. You can’t believe how ecstatic I was that we were able to become friends. But lately, it just hasn’t been enough for me. I’m sorry. I’ve fallen for you.”

Your eyes squeeze shut, scared to see his reaction.

“I love you, Hisoka. If you’ll have me, I’d like the chance to make you happy as your friend, but even more so as your partner.”

Seconds tick by, your anxiety skyrocketing in the silence, when Hisoka’s words strike straight through your heart.

“I can’t.”

“…Oh.” Your voice cracks, tears welling up in your eyes at his rejection. “I see. I totally get it. Don’t worry, you don’t have to be obligated or anything because of my feelings. I’m sorry – “

“Wait.” Hisoka cuts you off then makes a frustrated noise. “It’s not you, I promise.” He grabs your arm causing you to freeze in place, preventing you from making your escape. “It’s not fair to you. I know it isn’t, but…”

“But?” you prompt.

“I don’t know if I can trust you.” Hisoka mumbles, head bowed low, unable to look you in the eye. “…and it kills me.”

He takes a deep breath before continuing.

“There are things that I’m still trying to figure out for myself – things I’m still trying to figure about myself. To drag you into it would be selfish of me. You don’t deserve that.”

“And if I said I didn’t care?” you sob. “What if I told you that I want to help you through it?”

Hisoka makes a pained expression at your words, letting go of your arm as if he was burned. He returns back to his shell that you so desperately tried to pull him out of. “I couldn’t ask you to do that. This is my burden to bear… I’m sorry.”

And just like that, he walks away.

The next day you go to the café where you first met. You pet Marshmallow when he comes over to you as you take a seat at your usual spot, but Hisoka never shows up.

#a3!#a3 #a3! fanfic #hisoka mikage #hisoka x reader #a3! hisoka #a3game #a3! scenarios #director make us queue

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raleighcarrera · 4 years ago

Text

this is the first of the kinktober/ns*w requests i received and is for miss @pixelsandkink, who asked for #41 for raleigh x mc ❤️

41. “how ‘bout you come and help me out, huh?”

50 NSFW starters

the apartment was eerily quiet when she stepped inside, making her immediately suspicious as soon as the elevator doors slid shut behind her.

clothes were sprawled across the floor of their living room -- a black jacket discarded next to a hastily dropped duffel bag, a pair of expensive looking shoes askew where they’d been kicked off.

so raleigh had made it home, then.

maybe it was so quiet because he was sleeping. that was typically the only time raleigh was ever silent, and it had probably been a long flight home, for him, from japan. tour always took a lot out of him.

when she moved into the kitchen to set down the bag of groceries she had, cadence saw that their bedroom door was closed, increasing the likelihood that raleigh was napping. she took care to be quiet as she put their things away -- staples she’d needed to stock up on with raleigh’s return in mind, like his favorite brand of bottled iced coffee and all his favorite snacks -- toeing off her own shoes to keep her footsteps light.

after six grueling months apart, spending the afternoon in bed with her boyfriend sounded like nothing short of paradise. with how busy she’d been preparing for his return, she could probably use a nap, too.

cadence slowly inched the door open, as quietly as she could manage. she was practically holding her breath as she tip-toed into the room, all in the interest of not waking up raleigh...

who was, predictably, sprawled in bed, the comforter kicked off to the floor and the sheet slung lazily around his waist, where one hand rested on his chest.

but he was awake, his eyes half-lidded with a self-satisfied grin stretched across his handsome face.

his other hand was moving slowly beneath the sheets, quite obviously wrapped around his cock.

she stilled, halfway in their bedroom, doorknob still clutched in her hand. cadence felt her face heat, and her eyes went wide as they took him in again.

“hey, beautiful,” raleigh said, the low, raspy tone of his voice confirming he had been asleep until only recently. “s’so good to see you again.”

“i thought you were asleep,” she answered stupidly, eyes fixated on the muscles flexing in his arm, the way his hand was moving under the sheets. her teeth dug into her bottom lip. “i mean -- hi, i missed you, but --”

“cadence...” raleigh paused, exhaling a long, slow sigh. his hips tilted, shifting the sheet on the bed. the way he was looking at her, eyes traveling down her chest to her legs and back up again filthily, made her feel like she was wearing something other than leggings and an old college t-shirt, sparking heat down her spine. “god, babe. you have no idea how many nights i did exactly this, wishing i was looking at you in person instead of a -- fucking photo.”

she pushed away from the door, taking a careful step closer. raleigh’s eyes tracked her movements intently, the expression on his face full of wanting.

six months of nothing but phone sex was sure to have been torture, for him. it hadn’t exactly been a picnic for her, either. her hands played with the hem of her shirt as she directed, “drop the sheet, raleigh.”

his grin returned, a lightness springing into his eyes, which were suddenly playful when they squinted happily at her. he lifted his hips, and the sheet fell away, and then cadence’s eyes were free to follow the line of tattoos down his forearm to his hand, which was as big and strong and captivating as ever -- more so, probably, with the way it was curled so tightly around his cock.

“your turn,” he directed, nodding back at her. she flashed him an answering smile, and pulled her shirt up and off over her head, gratified by the audible sound raleigh made as soon as her bare skin was revealed to him -- a groan of appreciation. “fuck, you’re so sexy.”

something about standing there, knowing that raleigh was touching himself to the sight of her -- that he had been touching himself to the sight of her -- was endlessly stimulating, making her shift back and forth restlessly on her feet. he was such a sight for sore eyes that she almost didn’t know where to look; raleigh’s impressively muscled chest and stomach shifted with each heavily inhaled breath. his strong arms and long fingers and infuriatingly handsome face could captivate her completely on any given day, even when it hadn’t been six months since they’d last been in bed together, and --

“hey -- babe?” raleigh’s voice was strained when it cut through her reverie, but that didn’t stop his obnoxious grin from spreading. “how ‘bout you come over here and help me out, huh?”

she was nodding before he even finished the question, hastily stripping out of her bra and each remaining piece of clothing, scrambling to get over to the bed as quickly as possible.

raleigh reached out for her with both hands as soon as she was on the mattress, welcoming her body on top of his with a moan. “christ, i missed you.”

his hands moved over the curve of her sides, dragging down the dip of her waist to her stomach and ass and back again almost reverently, his voice hushed and awed to match the way he was touching her. he, too, didn’t seem to know exactly where to look, and for a moment there was only the sound of their rough breaths as she settled over him, slotting their hips together.

then, raleigh swore, and finally reached for her chin, pulling her into a feverish kiss.

cadence melted against him immediately, falling against his lips with a groan. it’d been six months since she’d last gotten the chance to feel the soft pressure of his warm mouth on hers, six months where she’d thought of almost nothing else every night. six months of promises and aching and a deep, longing desire to do nothing but this until they were breathless and stupid with it, giggly when they rolled around on the mattress afterwards.

he bit her bottom lip sharply when he pulled away, his fingers digging into the backs of her thighs in an attempt to control the way she was grinding against him. “fuck, cadence,” raleigh muttered, yanking her in roughly. his cock slid through her wetness and, with a gasp, she pushed down to chase the friction, her own fingers twitching where they were braced on his chest. “a thirteen hour flight and i thought about your cunt the entire time. i almost had to rub one out on the plane, babe, i swear.”

“raleigh,” she whined, arching her back to tuck her face into the side of his neck in a futile attempt to hide her burning cheeks, “you have no idea how much i missed you.”

“yes i do.” the words were said lowly, almost under his breath. still, they bounced around in her brain until her stomach felt like it was doing happy backflips, warmth building inside her so steadily that she hardly realized she was rubbing faster against him until he said, “and if you keep that up, i’m going to lose my fucking mind.”

“then fuck me,” cadence gasped, hips stuttering when his fingers dipped between her legs, “fuck me, please, raleigh, now.”

he mumbled something she couldn’t quite catch, a filthy curse of her name following it as the hard line of his cock pressed insistently between her legs. cadence groaned loudly as soon as his hips bucked -- he gave her no time to adjust, pushing forward until his hips were seated fully against hers and her nails were digging into his biceps, scratching his skin.

“raleigh!” did it matter, how loud she could get, when they lived on the thirty-third floor? did she care, if the suite below them knew she was thrilled to have her boyfriend back home again?

no, cadence thought deliriously, as raleigh started to bounce his hips quickly, fucking her in short, hard thrusts, muttering, “that’s it, baby, say my name.” she didn’t fucking care at all.

his name became a mindless chant as the rhythm of his hips sent her rocketing to an edge. raleigh only grew more frantic with each repeated exhalation, until her volume was drowning out his own praise and everything had narrowed down to the point of focus where they were connected and the way his fingers finally came to rest on her clit, soaked through from the moment he touched her and sliding easily in quick, overwhelmingly blissful circles.

her body went taut all over, her thighs starting to shake. god, but she loved his fucking hands. “raleigh, i’m --”

“do it,” he commanded breathlessly, “come for me, baby, let me feel you. come on, cadence.”

his thumb pressed in against her and raleigh’s hips tilted to drive his cock in perfectly at just the right moment, sending her toppling over the edge into an almost unbelievable wave of pleasure; her mouth dropped open soundlessly as her hips continued to circle against his, and through the haze of her vision whiting out and everything feeling almost too good, she was distantly aware of raleigh following her with one last thrust and another pained moan of her name.

there was a long moment before she felt like she could breathe again. her eyes cracked open slowly, and as her eyelashes fluttered cadence was surprised to find that raleigh was already staring at her, that awed look of reverence back on his gorgeous face.

his hands rubbed soothing circles against her hips, sliding down to knead gently at her thighs, which were cramped and aching and grateful for his massage. she sighed.

“i know,” raleigh murmured, even though she hadn’t said anything, “come here.”

cadence dropped gently down onto his chest and let him gather her into his arms. his heartbeat thumped familiarly under her ear, pounding rapidly while he still worked to calm down. just the weight and shape of him underneath her, and the safety that came from resting in his grip, was enough to make her emotional -- her breath caught not from the physical activity of what they’d just done, but from how much she’d truly missed him.

“no more world tours,” cadence said, surprised to find that her voice was tight.

raleigh’s hands slipped gently down her back, rubbing between her shoulder blades. he pushed her hair out of her face and kissed her again: first her forehead, then her cheeks, and finally, her lips.

“never again,” he promised quietly, serious for only a moment before he let one broad palm drift down to squeeze her ass.

her laughter echoed out almost as loudly as her screams of his name, and then it was like no time had passed at all; it was just another saturday in their penthouse, and everything was perfect.

#ns*w #raleigh carrera #platinum #raleigh carrera x mc #cadence dorian #raleigh x cadence #raleigh x mc #myfic #long post #hope you like it queen !!#ty for sending i can't wait to read yours 😭

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feelingfredly · 4 years ago

Text

Sometimes Not Seeing Is Believing

Bam, bam, bam. The loft door rattled in its track.

“Come on, dude… open the door.” Stiles yelled; frustration lanced through the words, but Derek didn’t move.

“I know you’re home,” more rustling, Stiles's hands were full of something, “and if you wanted to pretend you weren’t home, you shouldn’t have left the Camaro out front. Now open the damn door or I’m going to drop all this shit and the place is going to stink of l’eau de wolfsbane for weeks.”

Derek listened as Stiles juggled things from hand to hand and sighed. Which was worse, Stiles or wolfsbane? Stiles or… Yeah, he’d take the wolfsbane. It would hurt less.

He waited, listening as the bags shifted again, and rolled his eyes when he heard keys clinking together as Stiles finally gave up on him and unlocked the door for himself. The very same door whose locks he had just changed for the fourth time. In six months. He wondered if there was a spell Stiles used to copy his keys. He was too much of a spaz to be such a successful pickpocket.

“I’m not in the mood, Stiles.”

Long limbs flailed their way across the living room until Stiles finally coasted to a stop at the table, dumping bags and boxes on the surface, the smell of Thai mixing with wolfsbane and cinnamon and lightning. It shouldn’t have been as appealing as it was, but this was Stiles and for some reason rules didn’t apply to Stiles.

“You’re never in the mood, Sourwolf,” he snarked, a pink lip curled up in a grin that was half-mocking half serious. “If I didn’t know Braedon better, I’d recommend you get the hardware checked out, but clearly it’s a software problem, or you wouldn’t be such an asshole about it all the time.”

Derek refused to get angry; it had stopped keeping the younger man away a long time ago, and it was exhausting. “You know a lot about assholes?”

Stiles gave him a carefully casual look, his eyes just a little bigger than usual, but Derek could hear the stutter in his heartbeat as he responded. “Assholes? If you mean the coffeeshop kind or the grocery store kind, then yeah, I run into them all the time. But, like real assholes? Hardware kinds of assholes? I know as much as the next sexually curious bi-guy, but if you’re looking for something deeper—Oh my God, I just said deeper about your asshole—shit. No.” He scrubbed a hand through the long mop of hair that insisted on flopping over his forehead. “Assholes, right. Because if you do have an actual hardware problem, I could probably track down one of Deaton’s contacts and we could get you…”

Derek watched as the chaos unfolded in front of him, the blush that tinged the tips of Stiles's ears, and the way his voice dropped and graveled out as he spoke.

“They say,” he said, a little louder than usual, “if you run into an asshole in the morning, you run into an asshole.” Derek’s tone cut straight through the babble, and Stiles stared at him, surprised and confused at the conversational hijacking.

“Dude, that’s like Tautology 101, right?”

Amber eyes fixed on him, now curious and waiting for what would come next, and Derek forced himself to hold the gaze.

“Right, right, but it’s the next part that’s important.”

Stiles leaned forward, his chest a little out over the edge of the counter, and Derek noticed the way his nipples pressed against the fabric of his thin shirt, how the stretched-out neck showed the shadow along his clavicle, how it framed the hummingbird beating of the pulse point at the base of his throat.

“Okay,” he said. “Go on.”

“So, if you run into an asshole in the morning, you run into an asshole. But if you run into assholes all day—like at the coffee shop or the grocery or my apartment—then then you’re the asshole.”

Derek could see the wheels turning and felt a burst of satisfaction when Stiles froze as the penny dropped.

“Oh my God, Dude. You’re such an asshole.” Amber eyes disappeared in crinkled laugh lines, shoulders shaking, and floppy hair… flopping, and Derek couldn’t help the tightness that squeezed his lungs, his breath short and his heart kicking up a beat.

“And there’s my point made.” Derek rested a hip on the edge of the table, forcing himself back to blasé, and looked at the mess. “What is all this?”

Stiles was still staring at him stunned, his jaw now slack, pink lips parted, and Derek fought the urge to reach over and snap it shut or thumb it further open. He wanted to thrust the callused pad of his finger against Stiles's tongue and teeth, to hold his mouth captive and revel in its wet heat. He wanted to… well, he just wanted.

A moment passed, and then another, and suddenly Stiles was back with him, laughter gone and the full force of his attention a heavy weight in the echoing space between them.

“Well this,” he indicated the plastic bags full of takeout, “is dinner from that new place over on 4th. Peter mentioned that you’d been there and liked it, so I figured it was a suitable bribe for the rest of it.”

Thanks Peter, Derek thought tiredly. Peter and Stiles had been spending time together since the nogitsune was killed. He’d wondered about it in the beginning, half-afraid that Stiles was going to try to commit suicide by werewolf, but it made a strange kind of sense. Peter knew what it was like to be helplessly trapped in his own body, and although neither of them liked to admit it, they were people who lived their lives hyperaware of the chessboard that stretched out around them. They spent their days evaluating other people for their strengths and weaknesses and cataloging the weaknesses for the next time someone needed to be taken out of the game. As the Hale Pack’s Left Hand, Peter had been trained to ruthlessness from childhood. He espoused the belief that everything was a weapon if you knew how to wield it, and then the fire had stripped away any of his remaining hesitance to wield those weapons to their greatest destruction; the nogitsune had burned away Stiles's. They were predators and they recognized themselves in each other, and instead of fear or awkwardness they found companionship.

The world should be terrified; Derek was. He was also more than a little jealous of their closeness, but that was an entirely different problem.

“The rest of it? Including whichever one of these things reeks of wolfsbane? I’m not sure Thai is enough of a bribe for me to let you poison me.”

Stiles gave him a lopsided grin. “I wouldn’t poison you, Der.” His grin turned sharp and sharklike. “At least not much. I just need to test it on you to make sure it will work on other weres.”

Derek snorted. “And you didn’t think Peter would be a better target for your experiments?”

That got him a shrugged shoulder. “He offered, but I didn’t think it was a good idea.”

Peter offered? To let Stiles poison him?

“Okay,” he looked at the younger man suspiciously, “you’ve got my attention. That requires an explanation. Or two. Uncle Peter—my Uncle Peter—offered to let you poison him? And you turned him down? I don’t follow.”

Stiles's grin softened a little, the shark-teeth disappearing behind pink lips, but the sharpness was still there in his smile. It was always there. Derek dreamed of that smile. Of those sharp eyes and teeth. “I know, I know. It seems too good to be true, but really, it isn’t a good idea.”

“And poisoning me is?” Derek poked the Gordian knot of Stiles's words harder. When Stiles danced around something like this it was never a good thing. Better to get it all out in the open and work backwards from no.

“Now don’t get your knickers in a knot, Grumpywolf. This isn’t like normally poisoning someone. I mean it is poisonous, but then so is water in the right situation. Or the wrong situation? You know, drowning, water intoxication, all that jazz?”

“No, Stiles,” Derek sighed. He sighed a lot these days. It was a bad habit he picked up from having been around too many teenagers over the past few years. “I don’t know what you mean by all that jazz. Enlighten me.”

Stiles nodded, and somehow having been given permission to spew data, instead his brain settled down and focused. “Poisoning is when any substance interferes with normal body functions after it is swallowed, inhaled, injected, or absorbed, lots of things can be poisons. Technically. So, I’ve managed to cobble together a combination of wolfsbane, kanima skin—don’t ask how I got it, you don’t want to know—and a few other wonders of the botanical and magical world and have created an incredibly potentially poisonous invisibility potion.”

Derek stiffened. “An invisibility potion?”

Stiles laughed a little shakily, waving his hands around, long fingers wiggling in his best abracadabra kind of motion. “I know right? Harry Potter eat your heart out. But really… it worked for me—mostly—but because it’s got a fairly massive amount of aconite in it, I’m worried about using it on any of our moon-affected family and friends. Plus, I don’t think Peter really needs the temptation of being able to turn invisible whenever he wants to. I mean, he’s hard enough to keep track of when I can see him. He doesn’t need any help creeping.”

An invisible Peter. Derek shuddered. Now that was a terrifying thought. Actually, an invisible Stiles was almost as terrifying. There was no telling what he’d get into and Derek wouldn’t be able to see him, to protect him, to… hang on a second. He said it worked for him. That meant that he--

“Are you insane?” Derek’s voice cracked under the strain of not yelling, the racing train of his thoughts running through all the ways that could’ve gone wrong, and he wouldn’t even have known that Stiles was in danger. His heart tried to beat its way out of his chest, and he felt his claws dig into the wooden tabletop. “Making something that dangerous without telling anyone?”

“Hey now, hold up, Sourwolf,” Stiles grabbed his hand, pulling Derek back to himself in a rush. “No need to get all growly. We’re in total agreement: no superpowers for Peter.”

Derek sucked in a breath, the heat of Stiles's hand on his drawing his focus, and he flashed his eyes angrily. “Kind of missing the point here, genius.” He forced himself to breathe. “I’m upset that you drank something poisonous. Superpowers for Peter would be better than you being dead.” His wolf howled in the back of his mind, protective and frustrated and helpless. So damn helpless when it came to Stiles. Didn’t the man have any sense of self-preservation? “So, before I call the Sheriff and start telling him things you would really rather he not know, you’d better start explaining. Now.”

He smelled the surprise rolling off the younger man, Derek’s reaction clearly unexpected, and he felt a stab of remorse. Over the years that Stiles ran with the pack his health and safety had often been an afterthought rather than a priority. He’d sacrificed his body time and again without appreciation or recognition. Derek was the first to admit that he had been a lousy Alpha to the human in the pack, and later, after he’d lost his Alpha spark, he’d abandoned Beacon Hills and everyone in it. Derek had wandered the world with Cora and Braedon finding himself, picking up the pieces of his own life, but he’d never been there to help pick up the pieces of Stiles's, never been there to help or hold or heal him, and now, for his sins, he couldn’t change the dynamic no matter how he ached to.

“Huh.” The hand resting on his pulled away finally and he watched it as Stiles pushed it shakily through his hair. “First off, I guess, I was never in any danger, so pulling the Dad card is totally unnecessary, dude. My, uh, my spark has gotten strong enough that I can pretty much burn out any poison in my system if I know what it is and that it’s there, so my testing the potion for its poison factor was a non-thing. Not a nothing, because the test was definitely a something, but it wasn’t a thing thing. Like a capital T thing. And as you can see, I didn’t turn into an ever-loving, blue-eyed Thing—although Peter’s eyes are blue and he’d probably love that comparison. He’d probably turn it into some sort of sex stamina reference and then we’d never hear the end of it.—the”

“Stiles.” Derek rubbed his eyes and sighed. Again. “Focus.”

Pink tinged Stiles's cheeks and he could hear the skip-skip-pause of his heart as the younger man wound down and refocused on the subject at hand.

“Yeah. Right. So, the point was there was no danger for the Stiles and no need to include the Sheriff—which is still a low blow, even if he does know about the monthly fur-and-fang-a-thon—but still superpowers for Peter would be a tick in the bad column, so I’m here with Thai and potentially poisonous potions for you to consume. If you’re willing.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think my having superpowers would be a bad thing?”

Stiles snorted. “Dude. You having superpowers would be awesome! You’d be like Thor to Peter’s Loki. Iron Man to his Ultron. Superman to his Lex Luthor.”

“Batman to his Ra’s al Ghul?”

Stiles cocked an eyebrow at him way too seriously. “All the points for knowing the pairing, but no. You’re never going to be Batman.”

Derek snorted. “Let me guess. Because you’re Batman?” Stiles shook his head.

“Wrong again, my wolfy friend.” Derek watched as long fingers pulled a bag across the table, rattling the vials and jars inside. “The Bat’s a loner that’s given up on relationships. He has like two people at a time that he lets in his world—that’s all he has room for, and all he wants. More than he wants, sometimes. No, you’re not Batman because even though someone killed your family, they didn’t kill your hope. The world may kick your ass over and over again, but you just keep getting back up and putting the Jenga-tower of your life back together, and every time it’s a little better, taller, stronger, sometimes with new pieces you find and adopt along the way. It ain’t pretty, but it’s pretty awesome.”

Stiles's eyes glowed a little around their amber irises and Derek didn’t hear a single hiccup in his heartbeat. The faith he had… it took his breath away. Was there anything he wouldn’t be willing to do for this man? Probably not. He just had to hope that no one figured that out—especially Stiles.

“Whatever,” Derek said, pushing away from the table and grabbing the bag of Thai with a forced eye roll, and moving it to the other counter. “But I’m not eating until afterwards. Throwing up when the potion goes wrong would suck.”

Stiles nodded and grabbed his things, settling on a stool at the table. “Sounds reasonable to me, which doesn’t mean much but hey! It’s better than sounding unreasonable, which is where most of our plans start.”

There was no point in arguing. It was true.

“So, this potion… I’m assuming that you have more of the wolfsbane you used in it to burn and dose me if it goes wrong.”

Stiles nodded as he pulled one of the jars from the bag and shook it before setting it out with the other assorting jars lined up in front of him. “I’ve actually already burned a couple of blooms and have them ready to go. I’m pretty positive that you won’t feel anything from the aconite—it should be completely neutralized now that it’s bonded with the other ingredients—but I’ve been absolutely positive about things that have gone sideways before, as Scott can attest.”

“Hell, I can attest to that.” Derek crossed his arms across his chest. “Remember the harpy repellant?”

Stiles opened his mouth to say something—probably to argue again that anyone that wasn’t an expert in medieval Latin could have mixed up the recipes for a repellant and an attractant, again—but the words faded as his gaze lingered on his biceps a little longer than usual. Derek’s wolf stretched and sniffed with interest at the faint spike of arousal that wove through the Spark’s scent, and he forced himself not to move, not to lean across the table and reel him in, not to cage him with the muscles that the younger man seemed to like so much. Once Derek crossed that line there would be no going back for him, and he wouldn’t let his wolf push him into grabbing something that would never satisfy.

He wanted all of Stiles or nothing, and he knew he’d probably never have all of him. Knowledge, though, did nothing to stop the yearning.

“Yes. Yes, you’re right. But you have to admit that once we knew what I’d actually made instead of what I thought I was making, that it worked like fuck. I mean we had harpies for days. It was like a Best of Runescape monster farming mission. I swear Isaac leveled up three times that week.”

Derek shook his head. “You have the strangest way of looking at things.”

Stiles raised a shoulder rose in an unusually graceful shrug. “Silver linings, dude. You should embrace them.”

Derek didn’t say that he embraced the silver lining of having Stiles in the pack every day, regardless of how it tormented his wolf.

“Werewolves and silver don’t mix.” Stiles rolled his eyes and Derek gave him a half-hearted glare. “And don’t call me dude.”

“It’s Beacon Hills, Sourwolf,” he said. “The silver lining is the only thing that keeps me going.”

There was a stutter in Stiles's heartbeat, and Derek cast a sidelong glance at the Spark. It made sense that there was something important that kept him going, but it was strange that he felt the need to hide it. Derek respected secrets, though. He had more than enough of his own.

“Whatever works.” He let the subject drop and turned his attention back to the pile of magical detritus on the table. “So, are we going to do this or not?”

Stiles let out a breathless laugh. “Masochist. Can’t even wait for me to poison you.”

“Not a masochist,” he said, spreading his hands expansively. “More of a control freak. Peter isn’t the only one who likes to be in control of things you know.”

“Yeeeaaaahhh.” The word sounded like it had been stretched on a rack until it was just a breathless hiss. “Not touching that one with a ten-foot pole.”

Derek let the corner of his mouth twitch, grabbing the opportunity to tease a little. “You can’t tell me you’ve never thought about it, Stiles. It’s like the boxers/briefs question you were obsessed with back in high school. The logical next step would be who’s a top and who’s,” he paused to let the words land between them, “not.”

The younger man shook his head, like the motion would dislodge the thoughts inside, and frowned. “Nope. Nope. Nope. Not playing that game with you, Sourwolf.”

The ‘wolf leaned in infinitesimally, enjoying watching the other man shift on his stool. “So, there’s another game you’d prefer to play. All you had to do was say something.”

The pink on Stiles's cheeks ripened to rose and the mottled edge of embarrassment spread beneath the collar of his shirt. The burnt cinnamon and ozone that was his constant scent deepened with musk and salt and the sticky iron scent of blood rushing close to the surface of moon-pale skin. Derek’s mouth watered, and he could feel the itch of his canines threatening to drop with his need to bite, to mark, to claim and keep.

Dark eyes, gleaming and liquid, fixed on him and he could feel the air thicken and slow around them, time bending around them, like a river passing over rocks.

“Keep that up and I’m not going to feel bad if this experiment goes badly.” Stiles's voice was rough, and Derek’s wolf howled with satisfaction knowing that he wasn’t the only one affected.

He considered teasing more, drawling something suggestive about experimentation or making sure Stiles never felt bad again, but he backed off instead. This was prey he couldn’t afford to spook.

“Well,” he said, rocking back on his heels to give the younger man breathing room, “I can’t have that. I am putting myself in your hands after all.”

It was more truth than he usually shared, but there was enough camouflage for it to look harmless.

Stiles stared, the heat of his blush still radiating even as the color faded, and Derek waited. His wolf wouldn’t let him drop his eyes, but he didn’t push beyond that challenge.

“Okay.” There was a world in the word, and he watched as the tightness slowly leached out of Stiles's shoulders as he sucked in a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s get this party started.”

Back in his safety zone, Stiles pushed the first of three vials across the table, keeping the larger jars of ash and herbs—and was that charcoal?—to the side, before tapping it with a long finger.

“This is the actual invisibility part of things. It doesn’t taste too bad, or at least it didn’t to my human taste buds. There’s no guarantee that you won’t smell or taste something I can’t, but it shouldn’t be too noxious. I measured the dose to give you about fifteen minutes of full activation. You’re bigger than I am, and this much lasted about twenty-five minutes for me.”

Derek picked up the vial. “Just drink it?”

“Yeah, dude, just knock it back like a bad wolfbane shot at one of the betas’ parties. It should have less aftertaste than the stuff they add to their liquor.”

“And instead of drunk I end up invisible.”

Stiles couldn’t hold back a little laugh. “That is the hope.”

Derek tilted the test tube and watched the silvery liquid run back and forth. “And the other ones?”

Stiles jerked a little, pulling his eyes away from where he’d been watching Derek’s hands, almost hypnotized. “Well, that’s the thing. For a human, making someone invisible is huge, but for weres there are other issues.”

Derek nodded. “Like heartbeat or scent.”

“Exactly.” Stiles held up a test tube of thick purple liquid. “This is my best attempt so far at something that will muffle the bio-sounds—breathing, heartbeat, joints popping, all that stuff. The other one,” he picked up the third, gently waving it, the shimmery rose gold liquid coating the glass, “masks scent. It’s going to be the hardest to test because scent isn’t a thing for me like it is for you, so I guess I could take it—”

“No.” Derek cut him off. The thought of not being able to smell Stiles's scent made him grit his teeth and fight back a growl. “It’d be better if we tested that with another were.”

“But I was thinking that as Alpha your senses are better than any of the betas, so if you can’t—”

“No, Stiles,” he refused. “I’ll try it later. We’re already pushing the parameters of a reasonable test with two senses.”

Stiles cocked an eyebrow at him, clearly ready to argue the points, but he backed down, probably realizing that he was lucky to be getting cooperation with as much as he was.

“I guess that’s okay,” he said, slipping the rose gold potion back into his bag, and Derek reached out and touched his hand.

“We’ll do it later. I would just be more comfortable doing this in stages.”

Something thoughtful moved behind Stiles's eyes and Derek watched as he came to some conclusion before he accepted everything.

“Sure, Sourwolf. It’s got to be a little weird for you, messing with the wolf senses and all. We’ll put the stealth potion back, too, for now.”

Derek wondered what Stiles would think if he knew just how much he messed with his wolf without the help of any potions, and how the wolf wanted more, not less.

“Probably a good idea. Isn’t like you’re the best judge of stealth either—I’ve seen twelve-year-olds on roller-skates sneak up on you.”

Long limbs flailed a little, like he could fend off the words that way.

“I was focused, Der. Focused.” Stiles huffed for a moment and then shrugged. “But to be fair, true enough. I should probably let you test those out against Peter. I’ve noticed that even though he doesn’t have the whole Alpha-upgrade anymore, he seems to be more aware of his surroundings than everyone else.”

Derek made a dismissive noise. His wolf didn’t like the careless praise of another’s skills. “Born not bitten. He’s had longer to get used to it; he doesn’t have to re-frame things when he notices them.”

He watched Stiles's face as the tumblers turned in the Spark’s head and could almost hear it when they clicked into place and another thought was unlocked.

“That actually makes a lot of sense. Kind of like learning a new language. In the beginning you’re doing that English to whatever translation in your head until one day it just sort of snaps into place and suddenly you’re thinking in Urdu.”

“Well, I’ve never studied Urdu…” He spread his fingers out on the tabletop and let the comment just hang, smothering a grin as he watched the man across the table’s eyes grow large in disbelief.

“Look who’s found his sense of humor finally!” The disbelief faded from Stiles's expression and was replaced by something that in the dark, when he was alone, Derek might call affection.

In that same dark, Derek might admit he wanted to see it again.

They sat there for a minute, the quiet stretching between them until it started to curl at the edges, and Derek knew he had to steer things away from the rocks just beneath the surface of his emotions.

He cleared his throat and uncorked the vial, the time for discussion past. He raised an eyebrow and Stiles raised one of his own in reply and that was it. He knocked back the few tablespoons of liquid, the scent of wolfsbane sharp but not overwhelming, and waited as the younger man watched him swallow.

Stiles's eyes followed the movement of his throat and when his forehead creased into a frown Derek thought the potion must have failed, but then a slow smile spread across the Spark’s face. He reached out, long fingers almost touching Derek’s hand on the table, but then pulled back at the last moment.

“Moonlight disappears down the hills, mountains vanish into fog, and Sourwolf vanishes not into poetry, but into thin air.” Stiles's voice was soft, almost somber. “Still with me, Der?”

Derek looked at his hands. He could still see them, so apparently the potion didn’t affect his view of himself, just how others perceived him. “Still here. Nothing actually looks different from my side of the equation.”

Stiles nodded. “That’s the way it’s supposed to work. No good being invisible if you misjudge your reach and knock shit over while you’re trying to be all sneaky. I know that’s probably more a me thing than a wolf thing, but still seemed like the better choice of action.”

Derek nodded and then realized how stupid that was. Stiles couldn’t see him. “I’m sure there are a few of the pack that would benefit from it as well. I know Isaac still doubts his senses sometimes.”

Amber eyes widened a little. “This is so freaky. I can hear you, but I can’t see you. Like, if I closed my eyes I could reach out and find you by touch, but just to look… you’re not there.”

Something about that image—Stiles reaching for him with his eyes closed—pleased Derek’s wolf. “Try it. See if you can find me with your eyes closed.”

He shifted his weight and moved a step to the left of where he’d been standing, but he left his hands trailing on the tabletop. Stiles tilted his head slightly and closed his eyes, listening, but Derek had been practicing stealth since he was a pup playing hide and seek in the Preserve.

A moment passed and he could almost hear Stiles's heartbeat in the silence. Another. And another. Suddenly a hand shot out and before he could move there were long fingers around his wrist, their grip tight and dry and slightly callused from wear.

“Caught you.”

The words were breathless and hoarse, and Derek froze at the sound. Then, he moved.

A twist and a quick levering of his arm had him free and he took two large steps to the side and then two forward, landing silently behind Stiles, ready to move again if he needed to.

“So,” the words, this time, came with a twist of a grin, “you want to play, hmm?”

Derek’s wolf pranced and pawed at the ground, wanting to nip and tug and pull and pin, but the man simply watched and waited as the Spark cocked his head to the side once more and listened.

He wasn’t sure what Stiles was listening to; he was holding his breath, and was standing stock still, no movement or sound of clothing to give him away, but somehow, he was fairly certain Stiles knew exactly where he was.

The Spark shifted his weight and pulled his hand closer to his body before spinning, his hand swinging out in an arc that ended with those damnable fingers wrapped around Derek’s arm just above his elbow.

“Caught you again, Sourwolf.”

His grin spread, taking over his face, and Derek found himself caught in the wild joy that gleamed in his eyes. Then, Stiles's face changed, the eyes focusing on him in a way they hadn’t, and he figured the potion had worn off.

“There you are!” The almost-fondness was back, and Derek couldn’t stop his answering smile.

“Here I am.” He looked down at the hand still gripping his arm. “I have to say, you’re a better hunter when you’re blind than I gave you credit for.”

Stiles let go slowly, fingers dragging over warm skin, until he’d pulled back completely, and all Derek could feel was the echo of his touch.

“It was strange. I couldn’t see you with my eyes, but I could feel where you were and could almost see where you were going to be.”

That was different. Stiles was a lot of things but tuned into his surroundings wasn’t one of them.

“Do you think you might have some connection to the potion because you made it? You could feel me through the magic?”

Stiles paused and looked at him, long and slow, and Derek realized he was looking at him with his spark and not with his eyes. He wondered what his wolf looked like.

“I suppose. Won’t know until we try it on someone else.”

There was a hesitance in his voice and Derek sighed. “Uncle Peter gets superpowers?”

Stiles grabbed the Thai and put it back on the table between them, dragging cartons and cutlery out before nodding reluctantly. “Looks that way, dude. At least this will give us a chance to test all the potions at once, now that we know that the potentially poisonous one isn’t actually, you know…” he waved his hand, “poisonous.”

Derek grabbed his Gka Prow Gai, frowning down into the carton thinking of all the ways this could go wrong. “Silver lining, I guess. And don’t call me dude.”

***

After five years you’d think he’d have lost the impulse to kill his uncle, but you’d be wrong. Very wrong.

“Darling,” Peter gushed, looking at the array of potion vials in his hand, “this is simply amazing. Let me take you away from here, Beacon Hills has nothing to offer you. We can go to Paris—I’m sure Chris would open the little pied-à-terre on the Rue de Ponthieu for us, and there’s a magick shop just down further along the Champs-Élysées that--”

Derek growled and Stiles rubbed a hand over his face. “No, Peter. We talked about this.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Yes, but that was before I truly grasped the depth and breadth of your talent. This,” he waved the invisibility potion back and forth dramatically, “this changes things.”

Stiles rolled his eyes hard enough that Derek could hear it. “Nothing has changed, Peter. Nothing. Back off. No means no. Consent is sexy. All those things. Write them on your hand if you need help remembering.”

“I’d be happy to help. I could carve them into the back of his hand with one of Chris’s wolfsbane blades,” Derek said, sotto voce. Peter, of course, heard him as if he’d shouted. Which was what he intended, so it all worked out.

“I just think that you’re undervaluing yourself, Stiles,” the older were said, ignoring Derek’s comment and lounging against the side of Stiles's jeep until he looked like an ad for one of those terrible smelling colognes that humans seemed to love. “With skills like these, you could take the world by storm.”

Stiles snorted. “You mean you could take the world by storm if you had constant and controlling access to skills like these, and I’ve told you before, I don’t need a manager, a gigolo, or an overgrown juvenile delinquent to help me prove my value.”

Derek smothered a grin. With his v-necks and his perfect tan Uncle Peter would make an excellent gigolo. Maybe they should set up a Craigslist ad for him. He’d have to suggest it to Stiles the next time Peter was being particularly annoying.

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” Peter shook his head, clearly dismayed at Stiles's short-sightedness. “Just promise me you’ll keep an open mind for when Beacon Hills finally loses its charm.”

The idea of Stiles wanting to leave made him itch, like his skin didn’t fit right. “I’m sure that Stiles could find a better offer if he decided that he didn’t want to be here anymore, Uncle Peter. He doesn’t have to settle for hauling his personal zombie plague around with him.”

He caught a flash of amber eyes, wide and surprised, and gritted his teeth. Stiles could have the world on a string. He should know Peter was never his best option.

“Be that as it may, nephew, Stiles isn’t foolish enough—”

“Can we get back to the testing?” Impatience, thy name is Stilinski. “I mean, all this back and forth about leaving is pointless because A) I’m not leaving Beacon Hills. I like it here. All my favorite people are here. And B) It isn’t like I’m going to take your advice anyway, Peter. The last time I did I ended up having to offer a favor to that skeevey ghoul guy that works for the FBI. Not something I want a repeat performance of, thanks.”

Derek jerked around and glared at his uncle. “You got him involved with a ghoul? Are you crazy?” He let out a huff of breath. “Don’t bother answering that. Of course, you’re crazy—we already knew that. Now we know that Stiles is crazy, too, because he’s definitely not stupid, and yet he lets you talk him into this crap.”

That got him an unrepentant grin. “It’s called plausible deniability, Sourwolf. Peter’s got broad shoulders—perfect for taking the blame for some of my less, ah, judicious decisions.”

Peter preened. “See Derek? Stiles needs me.”

It was going to take another five years to not want to kill him, at this rate. At least.

“What Stiles needs,” he said, trying not to think about Stiles's interest in his uncle’s shoulders, “is a guinea pig, and you are a pig. So, drink the damn potion, already. I’m going to sit over here and hope you get a rash from the wolfsbane. Who knows? The Universe might decide that today is my lucky day, and you’ll actually keel over from aconite poisoning.”

Stiles shifted his weight slightly, a chagrined look on his face. “Actually, Der, I was thinking about it, and I think that you should take the invisibility potion, and the other two this time, too, and Peter can do the whole Where’s Wolfie thing and see if he can sense you. It’s a better plan than you using your super-alpha senses to find him, because odds are good that we won’t be using this stuff to hide from alphas, just betas and omegas and puny little humans, so we need to see how a beta would fare against it.”

It made sense, but it still rankled. His wolf didn’t like allowing the older man to effectively hunt him. He wasn’t prey; he especially wasn’t Peter’s prey. It was what Stiles wanted, though, so he soothed the wolf with thoughts of satisfying his mate. It didn’t mean he wasn’t going to use all his advantages against the other wolf, though.

“That’s why I wanted to do this out here in the Preserve. Once the potions have kicked in, it should be a good road test for how it might be used in a fight situation.”

Peter stopped lounging. “So, you really have made this work? He was completely invisible?”

Stiles nodded. “Completely. There was some magical bleed through, I think. A vibration. I could almost feel where he was, but he hadn’t taken the sound dampener or the scent blocker, so those may solve the problem.”

Derek watched as the two of them discussed the finer points of the potions and he waited until they’d ironed out all the parameters for the experiment, and then braced himself for the terrible taste of wolfsbane and knocked back the three potions.

It was strange how similar Peter and Stiles's expressions were, until suddenly, they really, really weren’t the same at all. Peter’s eyes were wide and disbelieving, and Stiles's were bright, the amber lit with mischief and happiness as the invisibility kicked in.

“Told you, Zombiewolf. Now… you tell me what you can sense.” Stiles sounded smug, but honestly he deserved to be smug about this.

“Well,” Peter said, finally, “clearly I can’t see him. And I can’t hear his heartbeat or hear him breathing.”

Stiles nodded. “Good. Still just standing there, Der?”

A terrible, no good, very bad thought took root. He didn’t have to play along nicely, so he wasn’t going to. Screw Peter. He moved lightly to the side, circling a little towards the older wolf.

“Derek?” Stiles asked again, but Derek didn’t reply. The potion wasn’t supposed to block intentional communication, but he could play that off for a while.

“Huh, I wonder if the potion silenced his speech.”

Peter was scanning the area but still wasn’t focused on where he was standing. “It isn’t like we’d be missing much. My dear nephew isn’t exactly loquacious.”

“He talks when he needs to,” Stiles said, a slightly far-away look on his face as he turned and looked directly at where Derek was standing, “and when he does it’s worth listening to. Unlike a few others I can name.”

Peter cocked his head to one side and smirked. “Don’t let the bullies get you down, sweetheart. Your non-stop prattle is simply an idiosyncrasy of genius.”

“And yours is an idiosyncrasy of ego,” Derek muttered the words right next to Peter’s ear and raked his semi-sheathed claws down his uncle’s back before leaping away. Peter jumped in surprise and then crouched, facing the direction that the attack had come from, but he clearly still had no idea of where his attacker was.

Derek froze, trying not to let the grass under his feet rustle, and his uncle frowned. “Now that wasn’t very nice, nephew.” The words carried an edge and it pleased his wolf that the older man was flustered.

“Not nice, but still awesome,” Stiles crowed. “He totally snuck up on you.”

That praise pleased his wolf even more.

“I underestimated the efficacy of the muffling potions. I can’t hear him at all.” Peter scanned the area, panning back and forth over the clearing.

Derek didn’t move. He was fairly certain that Peter would quickly clue in on listening to the sounds his footsteps left behind, and he didn’t want to give himself away too soon. Hunting Peter was fun. Peter had never truly been prey, even when he killed him. Watching him, hackles raised and eyes tight, was very satisfying.

“And you can’t see him? Or feel him?” Stiles looked a little confused, but more curious than anything. He’d been watching Peter, but then, inexplicably, he twisted his head quickly and was staring straight at Derek—again.

“I can’t see him any more than you can, darling. I can’t smell him, either. It’s most… disconcerting.”

A minute passed and while Peter was facing the opposite direction, focused on a sound a little farther into the trees, Derek jumped away, landing as softly as he could, and Stiles's gaze never left him. It was as if he was completely visible to the Spark.

“Weird.” The word was quiet, but it got Peter’s attention.

“What’s weird, sweetheart?” He never stopped scanning the area, but he noticed that Stiles was staring at something. “Did you see something?”

A pause. “No, I can’t see anything. I just thought of something. Do you think emissary bonds might affect this?”

A gust of wind blew through and Derek took the opportunity to move again, the rustling of trees and grass giving him extra cover, but Stiles still tracked him.

“That would imply that you think your emissary bond might be affecting things, and that would further imply that you see something that I don’t.” Sometimes he hated it when Peter was smart, but there was no flaw in that logic. There was definitely something affecting the Spark.

“No,” Stiles denied frustratedly, “I can’t see anything, I can’t hear anything, and I certainly can’t smell anything, but... there’s just…”

Peter was careful about telegraphing his movements, but Derek could see when he’d triangulated on the position Stiles was staring at. He dodged before Peter pounced, but not fast enough to completely prevent contact.

“How interesting,” Peter practically purred the word, eyes fierce and bright as he shot a look back at Stiles. He tracked that amber gaze again and jumped faster than a cat, forcing Derek to give up on trying to minimize the sound of his feet in the grass.

Stiles realized what was happening and snapped his gaze to the older wolf, preventing him from being able to use him as a homing signal.

“Aw sweetheart, I almost caught him. Show me where he is again.” Fangs dropped and blue eyes flashed. “I owe him a pat on the back after all.”

Derek darted in and swiped a hand across Peter’s neck, just managing to avoid the temptation to actually rake his claws across the exposed stretch of skin, and then danced away again, growling. “And I owe you absolutely nothing, Uncle Peter. Don’t forget that.”

“I’m impressed, Derek.” A mean smile taunted him, even though Peter clearly still couldn’t track him without help. “This is the longest you’ve lasted in a fight against me in forever. Maybe I should cancel those remedial MMA lessons I bought you for Christmas—” He tutted and then sighed. “Oh, never mind. The invisibility isn’t permanent. Unfortunately.”

Derek’s wolf howled at the insubordination, his need to put the beta in his place thrumming through him, but this wasn’t the time or the place for that. Stiles wouldn’t approve, even though he’d probably understand if the thunderous look on his face meant anything.

“Alright Peter, that’s enough,” he said, all his playful snark gone. “I think the experiment has shown us everything it can at this point.”

Peter turned his ice blue gaze on the Spark. “Don’t stop us now. We were just starting to have fun.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “You were just starting to get your ass kicked, now shut up before Derek stops being a gentleman and finishes.”

“Oh, I don’t think it’s my ass he’s concerned with.” Derek wanted to knock the smarmy smirk from his uncle’s face. “But for your sake, Stiles, I’ll be big.”

Derek couldn’t smother a surprised laugh when Stiles muttered, “A big pain in the neck, and no I’m not making the mistake of saying you’re a pain in my ass again, either, jerkface, and yes I know you can hear me, but I don’t fucking care. I so don’t fucking care, Creeperwolf. Just…”

“Stiles,” Peter said with a laugh of his own, his earlier bloodlust fading, “calm down. Everything’s fine, and look, Derek has rejoined us, just in time for post-game analysis and commentary.”

Stiles settled his gaze on him, his mad muttering temporarily stopped, and gave Derek a half-hearted smile. “Welcome back, Der. Any side effects? Your senses still super-mega-alpha-awesome?”

Derek made a mental run through and found no problems. “Everything seems to be in working order. I didn’t lose anything while the potions were in effect either. Sound and smell stayed the same.”

That got him a satisfied nod. “Excellent. So, basically all the benefits with none of the drawbacks. I was afraid there at the beginning that it was muffling all your sounds, but you were just fucking with him, right?”

He let himself smirk, looking at Peter as he agreed. “Guilty as charged.”

Peter fumed for a moment—he hated being the butt of jokes, especially Derek’s jokes—but then refocused and stared at Stiles. “So, are you going to explain how you could track him when I couldn’t?”

Stiles just shook his head. “You have to have the most fragile ego I have ever seen. No, I don’t have any skills that you don’t, oh great shaggy hunter. It’s my spark, I guess. I made the potion so something about my magick clings to him and I can sense it. I can’t think of any other reason why I can track him, and you can’t. The next test will have to be another magick user trying to track him while he’s invisible. That will let us know if there’s a weakness that witches can exploit against us, or if it’s just something about me.”

Peter cocked his head to one side thoughtfully. “I suppose that’s another possibility…”

Stiles frowned. “What do you mean ‘another possibility’? You mean you think it’s being caused by something other than spark residue?”

There was something flickering behind Peter’s eyes that Derek didn’t like. He looked nervous, but he smelled almost… hurt? Disappointed?

The older wolf moved across the clearing to the spot where they’d dropped their gear and picked up Stiles's bag for him, ever the gentleman. “So, I suppose you’ll make another batch of the invisibility potion, and call someone—Maryam, maybe? She’s only a minor Spark, but her magick is similar enough to yours to be able to sense the residue if anyone could.”

Stiles took a minute to follow, still looking at Derek curiously, before finally heading over towards his uncle. “No, I’ve made enough that we don’t have to wait—thank the moon, that potion takes at least two lunar cycles—but Maryam might be a good idea… hey. Stay out of that! Peter!”

Derek watched as Peter reached into the bag and lunged for the older wolf as soon as he realized what was happening, but he was too far away to stop him before he’d managed to pull out another vial of silver liquid and swallow the contents faster than an underaged frat boy at his first party.

“Peter! You absolute fuckbucket,” Stiles snarled, staring at the space where his uncle had been standing. “I know you were miffed because you wanted to try it, but this is not the way to get me to cooperate. See what happens the next time you want some obscure tantric text translated. Your Sanskrit sucks, dude, and after that stunt I am so not feeling the love, so neither will you. Sneaky blue-eyed bastard.”

Derek crouched, waiting for an attack. “Where is he Stiles?” he asked around fangs that had already dropped. He scanned the clearing reflexively and then stopped, trying to focus on Peter’s heartbeat. It took him a moment to find it, but once he did, it was easy to track the other wolf. “Never mind,” he growled and then pounced, claws out.

Peter spun away, but Derek’s claws showed red when he pulled them back. “You shouldn’t take what doesn’t belong to you, Uncle Peter.” He paused, recentering himself on Peter’s heartbeat. “You’ve never appreciated the things you’re given. I told Stiles you’d fuck up. I just didn’t think you’d be this obvious about it.”

A rough laugh cut through the empty space. “I wouldn’t be this obvious, nephew. This was a calculated risk. Stiles?” Peter called to the Spark. “Can you track me through your magick, sweetheart? Can you sense where I am?”

There was something almost hopeful in the question, like he wanted Stiles to be able to track him.

“No,” Stiles's reply was soft and perplexed, his eyes large and liquid as his brain ran through all the possible reasons. “I can’t sense you at all.”

Peter sighed, and before Derek could take another swipe at him, he’d picked up Stiles's bag where he’d dropped it on the turf, letting the bag floating in mid-air clearly mark his location. “So, the connection between you and my lump of a nephew isn’t connected to your magick, or the potion, at all. I’d wager,” he sounded rueful, “that you’d be able to find him blindfolded as well.”

Stiles chewed on his lower lip, hesitance sitting awkwardly on his typically confident frame. “So, it is the emissary bond that’s allowing me to follow him?”

“No, dear boy,” Peter slipped the bag over Stiles's shoulder. Derek watched the flannel wrinkle where his uncle was resting his hand and he growled lowly, unhappy at the contact. “If it were an emissary bond, you’d still be able to track me as Derek’s second. No.” The wrinkles disappeared, and he could hear Peter’s retreating footsteps. “It’s something else. I’m sure you two can figure it out. But I think I’m going to take this opportunity to stretch my legs. My wolf and I could use a little time.”

Suddenly there was a pile of abandoned clothes on the ground, and Derek could hear Peter’s heartbeat fade as he ran towards the deepest part of the Preserve, apparently in wolf form.

“Well, that answers the question about whether the things on someone using the potion stay invisible if they come off.” Stiles mumbled, gathering the fabric up and looking a little bereft. It made something in his chest hurt.

“You okay?” His wolf was whining, and he strangled his instinct to rush over and put his hands on the smaller man, to physically check that there was nothing wrong, to comfort him however he was allowed. He wanted to bury his nose in the divot behind Stiles's ear where his scent pooled; he wanted to soothe his mate. “Peter’s fine. He smelled a little upset, but his chemosignals read more like when he’s pouting than when he’s getting ready to go on a killing spree.”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, his voice a little rough around the edges, “not so worried about the killing spree thing. Peter likes his life right now, more or less; he won’t jeopardize it over not getting something he wants.”

He wants you. The words spun through Derek’s head and he gritted his teeth against speaking them. “Good. I’d hate to have to kill him again. Repetition is so boring.”

Stiles gave him a half-hearted grin and hiked his bag higher on his shoulder. “I know how you hate to be bored.”

Derek shrugged. “We all have our crosses to bear.”

They turned and started walking towards where they’d left their cars. “You going to tell me what Peter was talking about back there?”

He had a suspicion. Lots of people misjudged Derek’s intelligence over the years, assuming that because he didn’t say much he didn’t think much, but he wasn’t stupid. Whatever was bothering Stiles was more than just the theft of a potion. If it were anyone else, he’d just let it ride, but this was Stiles.

Peter had emphasized that it wasn’t an emissary bond. There weren’t many bonds that affected wolves, and pack bonds and emissary bonds were the most common. There was an Alpha’s bond with their betas, and of course, there were mate bonds. Mates had a connection that no other could supersede; not even an Alpha could break it without stealing all the memories the couple shared. His wolf had decided that Stiles was his mate years ago. Derek knew his heartbeat and scent better than he knew his own. He could pick the younger man out of a crowd—yes, even blindfolded—but Peter was intimating that Stiles was connected to him, and that… well, that didn’t seem possible.

Stiles was stalking towards his Jeep muttering, cursing under his breath about stupid Peter and his big fucking mouth and never doing another favor for the fucking asshole since he can’t stay out of other peoples’ business, until Derek’s suspicions had started to choke him.

What if Peter was right?

He reached out and snagged the strap of Stiles's bag, spinning him until they were face to face with the open bag between them. Several more vials clanked in the depths and Derek reached in and grabbed a handful.

“You know,” he said, voice rough, “it isn’t fair that I’ve been the only one running around being chased all the time.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow at him. “What does that mean? I told you that I tested the stuff before I ever brought it over to you.”

Derek nodded, rolling the test tubes slowly between his fingers. “True. But I never got to see it. I mean, I believe you when you say it worked, but maybe we should test to see if my super-mega-alpha senses can track you.”

He stepped close and could hear the click in Stiles's throat as he swallowed. “You think that would make a difference? You couldn’t track Peter.”

“Peter said there was something else connecting us,” he lifted a shoulder in a careful shrug, “we should test it and see.”

Wheels within wheels were spinning. If it was a mate bond. If Stiles had chosen him for a mate without telling him. The bond wouldn’t be stopped by the potions. He’d still be able to find his mate.

Find. Keep. Mark. Mate.

He held the three potions out on his open palm. “I’ll even give you a head start.”

Stiles stared at him, whiskey-bright eyes wide, and he reached for the vials slowly, almost like he wasn’t in control of himself. At Derek’s last words, though, he jerked back to himself and snorted. “Yeah, no. I’m not running off into the Preserve with you chasing after me. I don’t care if I’m invisible to everything and everyone, I’d still manage to trip over a tree root and kill myself. If you’re that set on me trying it, I’ll play along, but I can pretty much promise that you won’t be able to sense me any more than you could Peter. Whatever theory he was contemplating, I think he was way off base.”

He opened the corks and downed the potions with a grace and economy of movement that seemed completely out of place on the flailing body Derek was familiar with, and then, just like with Peter, Stiles was gone.

It took a moment for the rest of the changes to register. The electricity and spice scent was gone, as was the hummingbird heartbeat, and for a gut-wrenching instant Derek grieved their loss, a hole in his world that seemed to echo with emptiness.

“You okay there, Sourwolf?” The empty air spoke, and his wolf stopped howling, clinging to the sound of Stiles's voice.

“Fine,” he said, and he would be. It might just take him a minute. “I’m assuming from where I heard your voice that you haven’t moved yet?”

A hum of agreement sounded. “It’s weird knowing you can’t see me.”

Derek smirked. “That doesn’t mean you should make faces at me or flip me off.”

Stiles squawked indignantly. “You sure you can’t see me?” He huffed. “It isn’t fair if you lie, you know.”

He smiled. “I don’t have to see you to know what you’re going to do, Stiles. I’ve known you long enough to predict things pretty well.”

As far as teasing went, it was pretty tame for them, but Stiles didn’t usually have this kind of protection to hide behind when they were playing around.

Derek stood very still and took a moment to block out the sounds of his own heart and breathing, focusing on the grass and the breeze, trying to see if he could hear Stiles shifting position, but there was something niggling at the edge of his awareness, a quiet little tug that was pulling his attention to the left.

There.

He didn’t see anything, or hear anything, but he knew as surely as he was breathing that Stiles was standing right there. He didn’t think, he didn’t wait—he pounced, wrapping his arms tightly around the Spark and grinning wildly.

“Caught you.”

Stiles wriggled in his arms, and Derek could feel the heat of his skin wherever they touched. “Not fair! You said you couldn’t see me!”

He released the squirming man and stepped back. “I can’t. You’re totally invisible.”

A huff hung in the air. “Then how did you catch me?”

Derek waited a few seconds before responding, feeling as Stiles shifted position again. He didn’t turn to look at where he knew the Spark was standing. “I could just tell.”

That got him a frustrated growl that was ridiculously appealing to his wolf. “Not fair. Invisibility should give me at least a hope of dodging your wolfitudinousness.”

He moved more quickly, trying to come up behind Derek, apparently looking to surprise him with an attack of his own, but that wasn’t happening. At the last second, Derek turned and grabbed the invisible man with both hands, pulling him into a full-body hold. “What is it they say?” he asked, a little breathlessly. “All’s fair in love and war?”

Stiles's face was pressed into the skin of his neck and he shivered at the angry little snap of teeth he felt ghosting over the tendon there. “Last I knew we weren’t at war, Der.”

Derek slid his hand up Stiles's back, pressing him more firmly into the cradle of his neck and shoulder, as he whispered. “Who said I meant war?”

And just like that he knew, just like Peter had known, there was only one reason he and Stiles could sense each other, only one reason they could find each other no matter how many potions they took or how many senses they sacrificed. They were mates; they would always find each other.

The body in his arms had stiffened as he spoke. “This isn’t a game, Sourwolf. Let me go.”

Derek sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy. “I’d rather not, if it’s all the same to you.”

The Spark made an angry sound deep in his throat as he thrashed around helplessly trying to get loose. “And I’d rather not be mocked, if it’s all the same to you!”

“I’m not mocking you, Stiles.” Derek tried not to sound angry, but his mate was doubting him, and it made him want to just sweep the Spark into his arms and carry him off to his den so he could keep him there until his mate was boneless and sated and convinced they belonged together forever. “I’m just saying that this isn’t a conversation I’m comfortable having with an invisible man that I’m halfway certain is going to run off into the woods the minute I let go instead of staying here and talking to me, calmly and rationally. At least if I hold on to you, I’m guaranteed I won’t just be talking to myself.”

Stiles stopped wriggling, and Derek couldn’t decide if he was happy or sad about it. “I’m assuming you’ve figured out what Peter was alluding to? About the bond?”

The Spark sounded so small and defeated; it made his heart hurt. “He meant a mate bond, didn’t he?”

Derek felt a hank of floppy hair rub against his cheek as Stiles nodded whispering like he was afraid of what would happen if he spoke the words too loudly, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for anything like this to happen. Honestly, I don’t know how it did happen, it’s not supposed to be something one person can trigger by themselves, but I’m sure I can find a way to control it. I’d never…” he swallowed thickly, hiding his face in Derek’s stubble. “I never intended to force anything on you. Never, Der. I swear. I’ll figure it out. I can fix this.”

And then, between one breath and the next, Stiles was visible there in the circle of his arms, whiskey-bright eyes wet with emotion. Derek raised a finger and gently traced the white-marble camber of his cheek, following an imaginary line connecting his moles in a dreamy dot-to-dot where the only picture brought into focus was how he wanted to touch that skin even more.

“There’s just one problem with that idea, Stiles,” he said, letting the smaller man step back from the cage of his arms, sensing that he needed the breathing room.

“Just one?” he asked. The question was accompanied by a wet laugh, self-deprecating snark back in full force, and Derek nodded. “Yes.”

There wasn’t much height difference between them anymore, but it felt like Stiles had folded in on himself in an attempt to hide somehow. He felt the smaller man brace himself against whatever emotional blow was coming next.

“What’s the problem, then?” He stood there, embattled and beautiful, wrapped in a wisp of defiance and refusing to meet Derek’s gaze. The wolf lifted his mate’s chin with a finger, forcing their eyes to meet, and shook his head slightly. “You can’t fix what isn’t broken.”

Stiles froze for an instant and then his eyes widened, the amber taken over by pupils shot wide in surprise, a deep breath sucked in reflexively against the suffocating panic. “It isn’t broken?”

Derek shook his head again. “Not unless I’ve been broken—my wolf’s been broken—for years now.”

The air between them shuddered with static electricity and Derek wondered wildly for a moment whether making love to the Spark would feel like being struck by lightning. He didn’t care if he burned, though. He’d burn happily if it meant Stiles was in his arms and in his bed and in his heart.

“So,” long fingers splayed over his heart and he knew that Stiles was wishing he could hear heartbeats, could hear lies, “you’ve felt this way? For years?”

It was time. “My wolf chose you as his mate before I chose you as my Emissary.” He wrapped his fingers around Stiles's. “You were an obnoxious kid, but even then, I knew you were smart and loyal. I respected that, even if you annoyed the crap out of me. My wolf paid attention to you, though. Then with the nogitsune, and Mexico, Boyd and Erica, and everyone leaving for school or parts unknown… We were both learning how to live. My wolf missed you terribly, and after a while I realized that so did I.”

Stiles struggled over a laugh. “That’s hard to believe. When I came back after working with Maryam and the other Sparks I was convinced you hated me.”

“Never!” The word came out more forcefully than he intended, but he didn’t apologize. “I didn’t know what to do with you. You’d… changed.”

Taller, broader, more confident, talented, powerful, and so, so sexy. He didn’t know how to explain without sounding like a stalker.

“You’d changed, too.” Stiles looked up at him. “After I came back, I mean. For the first time I felt like you weren’t staring constantly into the past. You’d decided that you were going to actually try to live. To try for a future. You’d let people in.”

Derek supposed that was true. He’d settled into his never-wanted but accidentally regained Alpha-dom and Peter and Cora had filled his need for Pack. Isaac had forgiven him for driving him away and had come back every few months to strengthen their connection. He’d taken a job at the library and spent his evenings writing his own stories, the outlet giving him a place to organize his thoughts without anyone judging him, and then Stiles showed back up, and he knew what he wanted for the first time in a very long time.

And now it looked like he was going to get it.

“I was jealous.” Stiles's voice was quiet, but strong. Derek heard no lie in the words. “I saw you one day at the library. A couple of kids, fresh out of high school and feeling their oats, were standing across the counter from you and you were laughing and teasing them, and you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, and I’ve seen Lydia Martin naked, so that’s saying something.”

“You’ve seen Lydia naked?” The words were out before he could stop them, but it was surprising. After all those years pining, if he’d gotten as far as having Lydia naked, it was hard to believe Stiles wouldn’t still be chasing the Banshee.

“Yes, we got to naked times, and yes, she’s beautiful, and yes I still think she’s amazing and I love her, but I realized a long time ago that there was something missing in the equation of Lydia plus Stiles equals forever, and it was never going to work.”

Derek wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking. “What? What was missing?”

Stiles rested his head against Derek’s shoulder, the soft warmth of his breath teasing along the bare skin. “Lydia, at her core, lives to break things down. She is control and dissection and understanding and death and destruction. She takes people apart so she can see how they work, and then puts them back together. She loves people, don’t get me wrong, but she loves them after she understands them. I needed someone who loved me even though they didn’t understand me. I’m a Spark. I’m not a genie with infinite cosmic power and an itty-bitty living space, but my magick is all about belief and circumventing the impossible. I need someone who believes in me, even when—maybe especially when—I don’t make sense.”

Derek rubbed their faces together, blatantly scenting everything he could reach, a rumble of pleasure rolling deep in his chest at finally having his mate so close. “I’ve never thought you made sense, but that never stopped me from believing in you.”

He expected a snort and a snarky answer, but Stiles never did the expected.

“Good,” he said, eyes dark and serious for once as they lingered on his wolf’s face, “because I never stopped believing in you, either.”

The distance between them was only inches but it felt like miles, and Derek couldn’t stand it. He wrapped his hand around Stiles's nape and pulled him up, angling his head so that their mouths met halfway. Derek groaned, finally tracing the pink lips that had taunted him for so long. They were soft and pliant under his tongue, opening with a slick wet sound that cut straight through him, and he cursed his need for breath because it meant he had to pull away for air.

“God, Der,” Stiles moaned against his mouth, sucking in a desperate breath of his own, his hands hot and greedy as they trailed up and down over Derek’s chest, “wanted you for so long. Can’t believe I get to have you. Finally get to have you.”

Derek took advantage of his gasp and slipped the tip of his tongue into Stiles's mouth, first teasingly shallow, tracing the inside of Stiles's pouting lower lip, and then deeper, searching the corners for all his secrets. He breathed in the spiced ozone of his scent, dizzy with everything. “Yours. Been yours forever. Believe it. Please, please believe it.”

Stiles laughed, a joyous bubble of a thing that set his wolf dancing, and cupped Derek’s face with his hands. He stood there, staring, the amber of his eyes glowing molten gold in the afternoon light and said, “I’ll never doubt it again. Never doubt us again.”

And he didn’t.

#sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #spark stiles #bamf stiles #magic stiles #poor peter #derek deserves nice things #stiles is a nice thing #HEA #tooth-rotting fluff #late to the party #don't know how this happened #teen wolf

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newobsessionweekly · 5 years ago

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Used to your absence 🌿

Anonymous said: hi there I saw you were taking request, I was wondering if you could do an Aron Piper imagine where him & the reader are broken up but one day they see each other at the club & someone tries to hurt her but then he goes over & becomes her knight & shinning armor which makes them spend more time together & eventually get back together. Love your writing 💛

a/n: Thank you for your kindness! There it is, I hope you like it! Thank you for your patience and I’m sorry it took me so long. Stay home and stay safe, everyone! Enjoy 🌿❤️ word count: 1.773

warnings: I don’t think there are any of them. Sorry for the eventual grammar errors, but it’s 4am :))).

Arón Piper x reader 🌿

The worst feeling is when you are having trouble breathing, with a huge weight pressing on your chest and the tremenduous need to cry, to scream, to get it off and move on. There are those thoughts haunting you again, in the middle of the day, in the middle of a overcrowded street, with too many people passing by and none of them realising how broken you are. One single day had changed everything, but you still don’t know how that happened.

You love summer, warm days and long walks while the sun kisses your skin softely, but some summer days there in Madrid can be too hot to be supportable. Danna is here only for a few days to celebrate her birthday and for her Mala Fama Tour. It’s always a pleasure to spend some time with her, she was the one you got along with the most and the one that was there for you after you and Arón broke up. She was only one call away despite the jet lag.

After an afternoon spent at your favourite coffee shop with Danna, she decided to celebrate her birthday at a disco in Center of Madrid that night. You weren’t sure if it’s a good idea, her and Arón are literally like a family and though she’s your best friend, you wanted to turn down the invitation. You lately felt this unbearable longing as you saw his face everywhere.

”So, you coming tonight?” she smiled at you and waited for an answear before she would get in the cab.

“Yeah, definitely.” you accepted anyway and kissed cheeks then she left for some Cosmopolitan shooting.

It’s been months since you’ve heard anything from Arón and it seemed you felt better, but knowing your anniversary is approaching, somehow messed up your mind. You found yourself admiring his Instagram profile a few nights ago and even opened the dms to ask him what was going on in his life, but you came across quickly. He had moved on and you could really use a drink right now.

--------

The night only began and you just stood at the table beside Danna’s friends, drinking and laughing with them. Arón wasn’t there, Miguel hugged you so tight, Itzan told you that he missed you, but Mina and Omar immediately kidnapped you after you hugged the others and asked for all the stuff that happened in your life lately. The conversation died sooner that they expected, you haven’t done much, your life without Arón was not that exciting. He was the one that lighted up your world with his smile, integrated sarcasm as if it was his native language and his love that once was destined to you.

Omar isn’t only the life of the party, he is also a very kind and warm person, with a big heart and armed with so much patience that you could even imagine. He always listened to you when Danna considered you were going nuts.

“But you broke up months ago.” he shakes his head.

“I know, I know. It’s harder than I thought to fall out of love, but it’s better now.” you smiled and he pat your shoulder.

You made your way to the dance floor and waved your body as the music dictates you. It’s already the third drink, but nothing too strong as you are not usually a drinker. You frizzed as your sight accidentally met Arón’s. He was there, beside your table, trying to focus on wishing properly a “happy birthday” to Danna, though seeing you made his heart feeling strange and a lump going up, stuck on his throat.

You shake your head and ignored that feeling in your stomach. You moved again to the sound of the music and let the inhibitions disappear. You wouldn’t usually wear a short dress, you wouldn’t let your body exposed and you wouldn’t let so many males stare at you. You always thought that a real man’s attention is caught due to the brain, the way of thinking and because of the way two people mentally resonate. Not only resonating in bed or being sexually attracted by someone.

As you stayed in the middle of so many people who moved lascivious on the music, you felt two strong arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer to some strange man. He danced behind your back, rubbing his body against yours until you found the strength to somehow stop him from moving.

“Let me go!” you tried to get his hands off of your body, but he only just moved one of them.

“Why, love? You look so sexy, let me enjoy this beautiful body.” his hand rested on your ass, moving up and down, creating a very unpleasant feeling.

The whole situation looked like a couple dancing and it didn’t raised any question marks, that’s what made you scared. He could lift you up any moment and take you God knows where, making it looks perfectly normal.

“Come on, let’s not complicate it. Let me go, please.” your voice is shaky as you felt his breathing against you neck. His big arms wouldn’t let you make any move and feeling him kissing your neck made you sick. You had tears running down your face and your body started trembling.

“She said to let her go, so let her go!” a thick voice heard behind you and made the strange man that had you captive in his arms turn to face the owner of the voice, but didn’t loose the grip.

You looked at Arón as he clenched his jaw. You know he shaved his head, you saw pictures but you couldn’t imagine he looks so good in real life. He is wearing his piercing and the ring you bought him for his birthday two years ago. Since then he never took it off for anything, but you thought he was wearing it because of you. Now, after months you hadn’t been together, he’s still wearing it. And now, after he saw that the man is not letting you go, he used his right hand along with the ring to make him back off.

He punched him in the jawline, careful not to hurt you too. As the man brutally let go of your waist and Arón going on top of him, you somehow managed to attenuate the fall. Arón was throwing punches towards the man, his face starting to bleed more and more.

You quickly grabbed Arón’s arm and tried to stop him, but the real help came from Miguel who had taken him away from the body laying down on the floor almost unconscious. His eyes were filled with anger, his fists painted with blood, but he softened when he caught your sight.

You rushed and hugged him tight and cried while he was holding you. You didn’t know how you are supposed to interpret his intervention or his tight embrace, but you stood there, “Thank you so much. I didn’t know what was going to happen if you weren’t there.”

“There so need to think like that, alright? I was there and I helped as I could.” he rubbed your back, slowly moving up and down.

He knows about how reserved you are with touching, especially with other people touching you. You didn’t like much that kind of interaction and he is the only one you always allowed to touch you, to feel your body entirely.

“So, uhm, I have some of your mail at the apartament.” he broke the silence. “Some letters came to that adress a few months in a row, they eventually stopped after a while, but I think you should have them.” you moved away from his touch.

“Alright.”

“So, are you free tomorrow afternoon? I mean, we could met at our-“ he stopped and swallowed the lump “-at the coffee shop to hand them to you, if you want to.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Tomorrow afternoon at the coffee shop.”

--------

He was waiting for you the next day at a table that used to be your favourite. From there you can see Madrid on its beauty and the people always walking made you detach for a moment and enjoy your own world you and Arón built together. There were also a perfect place for him because he could smoke without disturbing anyone and he always says that the light from that spot made you look literally like an angel.

“Hi!” you sat on the table facing him.

He extinguish the cigarette and smiled “Hi!”.

There was an awkward silence floating between you, filled with far too many unspoken words and regretted decisions.

“So, there are a few letters from your mom. I believe you told her your new address since after three months they stopped.” he broke the silence.

“I haven’t, actually. We had a pretty big fight so these letters are probably the payment amount.”

“Oh, shit. So this time you’ve been alone? I know that your mom is the only family you have.” he still remembers. He still knows you the best.

“Yeah, well that’s it. No big deal, really.” you half smiled.

“Do you remember why we agreed to split up?” he finally spoke his mind out. “You considered this thing we had being too much, and you being too much for me. I considered that I hadn’t enough time to show my love for you between the acting, photoshoots and all those crazy stuff going on in my life.”

“We spent some crazy, busy years together!” you laughed.

“But were the most beautiful years. I miss the ‘always on the run’ life. I miss you.”

“Yeah, I know what you’re saying. I miss you too, a lot. I thought I managed to fall out of love with you, but I guess I just got used to your absence.”

“Please don’t try to fall out of love. Because I tried to love you less and that remembered me why I love you in the first place. So all I could do was to love you more than before if that is possible.”

“Yeah, but it’s over, as both of us wished.” you shrug, taking a sip from the coffee you ordered.

“And now, knowing how it’s like to live after you, I wish to take it back. Do you think it’s possible?” his hand shyly touched yours.

“No, we can’t change the past. But we can build a future and if you want, we can have a second chance to fix things.” you accepted his hand and crossed your fingers with his.

“This is all I want.”

#aron piper fanfic #aron #aron piper #aron x reader #aron piper imagine #elite imagines #netflix #aron piper x reader #elite #aron imagine #miguel #danna #mina #omar #elite cast #elite cast imagine

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astoldbygingersnaps · 4 years ago

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#wip wednesday

since the latest chapter of star trek au continues to elude me (i swear to GOD i’ve been working on it; it’s about 2/3 of the way done and should hopefully be posted in a few weeks), i figured i’d go ahead and post a snippet of one my next projects, a fic i very briefly mentioned in my end of the year wrap-up post: the jurassic world au.

this is an idea i’ve always wanted to work on as a) a HUGE fan of the jurassic park franchise and b) a person who spent years as a dog trainer who was both puzzled and horrified by the raptor training in that movie. while this will probably be The Most Niche Fic of all my Very Niche Fics, i’m super happy with it so far and hope other people will be, too.

currently this project is sitting at about 18k and i’d like to have it completed, edited, and posted within the next few months. until then, enjoy this preview!

Itachi has never been the kind of person that believes in fate. As a boy his father had drilled the importance of hard work into his head, and it had been a lesson Itachi had carried with him long after he realized the man’s guidance wasn’t actually worth all that much. It wasn’t luck or good fortune that had led to Itachi many successes in life. Truthfully, fate had always seemed like a childish concept to him, an excuse for people to hang their hats on when things went wrong in their lives and they weren’t willing to take responsibility for their own actions.

That said, it’s hard for Itachi not to feel some sort of cosmic influence is manipulating his course in life when one day Uchiha Fugaku summons his eldest son into his office at the heart of Isla Nublar. Given his position as the puppetmaster of InGen, it isn’t often that his father actually finds himself on the humid and sandy shores of Jurassic World. But every time he does Itachi feels a familiar, childish pull of anxiety, a little voice in his head that drives himself to push himself to succeed, to please. It’s as if the last four years Itachi has spent almost single-handedly managing this glorified amusement park suddenly vanish in a puff as he meets his father’s judgemental black gaze.

“Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to meet with me,” Fugaku tells him, waving a hand to silently order Itachi to sit. And, as always, Itachi obeys his father’s commands.

“It’s no trouble, Father,” Itachi assures him as he settles into the immaculate white leather chair that no doubt costs half of his yearly salary. “Was there something you needed?”

“Yes and no,” Fugaku replies, which is fittingly ominous for the man. “I wanted to discuss a recent change that Hiruzen is implementing to the park.”

It takes an extraordinary amount of restraint on Itachi’s part to keep his comments regarding the CEO of Jurassic World and the sheer effort he spends weekly cleaning up the man’s air-headed messes to himself. For all the years he’s lived on the island--first as a boy while his father built his career, then as an intern after college, and finally as yet another cog in the Jurassic World machine--he’s regarded Sarutobi Hiruzen with an almost bleak sort of awe. It was shocking to Itachi that a man would possess such power and wealth, yet seem almost clueless when it came to maintaining that empire. Then again, he thinks dryly, perhaps all rich and influential men were nothing more than fools in the end.

Unaware of Itachi’s thoughts on the matter, Fugaku continues, “As I’m sure you’re aware, the board has been planning for sometime now to come up with a new attraction to boost both ticket and merchandise sales.” Of course Itachi is aware of it; it had been his idea in the first place. But, like most of his suggestions regarding Jurassic World, it had been thoroughly steamrolled until a man with more money and respect to his name could repackage it as his own brilliant, brand new invention. Which, as it were, is exactly what Hiruzen is planning to do. “The project has been in the works for a while now, but it’s going to be quite controversial. We thought it best to keep it under wraps until we were certain it was viable.”

“I take it you’re certain now?” Itachi asks, and Fugaku nods.

“We’ve had great success with the assets we’ve created so far, but as long as this park has been in construction there’s been one species that we’ve been unable to successfully replicate. Unfortunately, it’s also the one species that every dim-witted tourist that sets foot on this island is looking for.”

A chill works its way down Itachi’s spine as he guesses, “Velociraptors.”

It’s an idea that’s almost too macabre to even contemplate, let alone execute. For better or worse, the general public’s more than aware of the chaos and bloodshed that led to the destruction of the first park. It’s a shroud that lingers over Itachi’s everyday life, as no matter how hard he tries to maintain order and prioritize safety there will always be someone who looks at him as if he’s a capricious madman.

Because of Jurassic Park’s spectacular failure, the image of the velociraptor--a brilliant and ruthless predator stalking the shadows, picking men off one by one--has captivated the average person’s interest in a way that no other species has. So, ever since that original park, Jurassic World has been chasing the holy grail of a fully operational, successful, and controlled raptor exhibit--and, considering the way his father is currently speaking, Itachi’s sure the board has finally captured that elusive golden ticket.

“You’re correct,” Fugaku says, though at this point the admission isn’t necessary, and with careful muscular control Itachi holds back a frown. Perhaps this is the reason why no one decided to share this information with him despite the fact he’s the Operations Manager for this entire establishment; given the way he’s previously spoken about subjects such as animal welfare and reducing employee hazards, perhaps they sensed he wouldn’t exactly be on board with the wild idea of releasing one of the world’s most dangerous beasts onto the Earth again.

Either way, regardless of his own personal feelings on the decision, Itachi intends to oversee it with the same attention to detail he brings to any other project. “It’s a risky move, but it could prove to be quite lucrative if executed properly,” he eventually replies, evenly as he’s able. “I know in prior years other raptors were bred, but they were culled because they proved to be more trouble than they were worth. What’s changed since then?”

“According to our geneticists, the sequences on the upcoming crop will give them a reduced level of aggression and increased agreeability, though to be honest I’m not convinced that isn’t just smoke and mirrors.” Bleakly, Itachi’s inclined to agree; there was a world of difference between breeding a dog for temperament and trying to strip millions of years of prey drive from a wild--and previously extinct--animal. “Given that I’m not completely sold on their claims, it’s more a question of who has changed than what.”

As if on cue, a knock arrives at his father’s door, and in seconds the visitor’s face appears in the frame. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” the man says--at least, that’s what Itachi thinks the man says, because the sight of him alone causes Itachi’s brain to spontaneously stop functioning.

“Not at all,” Fugaku responds, completely unaware of his son’s inner turmoil. “As a matter of fact we were just discussing your contract with us.”

“Must have been why my ears were burning,” the man replies, his smile broadening into a full-on grin the moment he catches sight of Itachi positively dying in front of his father’s desk.

If there was a god in this world, He would open a hole in Fugaku’s freshly steam-cleaned carpet and let Itachi fall to his demise. But clearly there isn’t, as instead of time ceasing entirely it drags on and leads to Fugaku announcing, “Itachi, this is Uchiha Shisui. He’s an expert in the growing field of paleo-behavioral studies, which makes him the ideal candidate for rearing the velociraptors and readying them for the public.”

“We’ve met,” Itachi all but chokes out, clearing his throat to expel the sudden lump that’s formed in it. From the other side of the room he can see Shisui fighting a laugh, and in that moment he wishes Shisui would fall in a hole and die, too.

“Really?” his father asks curiously. “I didn’t know you two were acquainted. How do you know each other?”

While his positions at Jurassic World and in life have allowed Itachi to conquer a variety of challenges, there’s not a single skill or experience that has prepared him for this moment. Because Itachi has no idea how to explain to his father that the reason he knows this man is that he slept with him four years ago and never returned a single one of his calls or texts.

“It’s a long story.”

#my fic #shiita #like i said before: this fic is essentially just a 90s romcom and i'm loving every second of writing it #alexa already has some Very Good art on the backburner for this au that i can't wait for her to drop #so stay tuned for that too

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to-boldly-nope · 4 years ago

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Dreams and Disasters

Pairing: TOS Bones x Reader

Words: 2453

Plot: Taking place after the events of “The Empath”, the reader keeps on having nightmares about what happened. She can’t sleep and Bones does everything to make her better.

Warning: Just uh really bad writing ig, too many words, Bones being an absolute sweetheart...

I’ll be posting imagines I have already written about our favorite southern doctor while I work on your fic @emily-strange but I hope you like it

You woke up crying. It was the fourth time this month and the same nightmare from a past experience where some alien held you and Bones captive and did experiments on the both of you. The bed was empty and cold beside you and you feared that it wasn't a dream. You slipped on one of his medical scrubs and went to Sickbay. If he wasn't there or on the bridge, then it wasn't a nightmare.

There were only a few people in the hallways of the Enterprise. Most of them were sleeping peacefully in their cabins. It must be nice for them. The doors to Sickbay opened and you looked inside. Nobody on the biobeds. Nobody almost dying from a weird space disease. You turned around and went into the office, where you let out a sigh and tears of relief.

"(Y/N), what are you doin' up?" Bones asked while standing up from his chair.

"I noticed that the bed was empty," you whispered.

"If you wanted to know why the bed was empty, then why are you crying? You're not gonna bug me, darlin', you can tell me."

"Remember what happened a month ago? With the alien and the experiment?"

"It's about that, huh? Come 'ere."

You slowly made your way to him. You were scared that he would disappear as soon as you touched him. You were scared that this was the actual nightmare.

"Darlin', you don't have to be afraid."

And that sent you over the edge, you ran to him and he hugged you. "Make them go away, please," you cried, "please, Len."

"I'll try everything I can. Why don't we return to my cabin so you can sleep? I'll go with you if that's what you want."

You nodded into his shoulder and he placed his hands near your elbows. "Come on now."

You nodded again and stepped away from him. You wiped your tears off with your arm. "I'm being overdramatic," you sniffed before laughing.

"No, you're just being emotional over some old country doctor."

You laughed again as he took your hand and lead you back to his cabin.

"You know, blue suits you quite well, dear," Bones said softly as you both walked down the corridor.

You suddenly remembered that you were wearing his scrub and blushed. "I forgot I put this on, sorry, Bones."

He let out a small laugh as the door to his room came open. It was different from what you heard a month ago, his laugh was light, soft, happy.

"I want you to go lie down, I'll be there in a moment."

"Ok," you told him as he brought your knuckles up to his lips and planting a soft kiss there. You stayed there for a moment, feeling the warmth of his hand and the ghost of his kiss.

"I'm not going to leave you again. I just had to do some last-minute paperwork."

You nodded as you took your hand back and crept your way to the bed.

"You should probably take some time off," Bones told you as he went behind the barrier between the bed and the next room over.

"I'll be fine."

"As the man courting you, I want you to take time off, as your chief medical officer and doctor, I want you to take some time off. It's the fourth time this month. Your file says that your performance level has dropped since everything has started."

"I can't argue with my superior officer, can I?" You sighed as you stared at the wall where a painting of a vase with flowers was hanging.

"It's not recommended, but hell, that never stopped anyone on this ship. I think you're the first person who hasn't argued with me when I told them that they needed rest," he said while laying next to you.

You laughed and looked at him and he looked at you with those beautiful blue eyes.

"I'll send a report to Jim early tomorrow for some time off duty. I don't want to see you in sickbay unless I ask or you're dying."

"Aw, Bones," you whined.

"No, you need rest."

You sighed again, "You're right. A few days to sleep won't be too bad."

"No, actually, it wouldn't."

"Will you be here if something happens again?" You asked.

"Of course," he reassured softly, "Either go to sickbay or call me and I'll be there."

"You have such pretty eyes," you sighed.

"Now you're just trying to sweet-talk me," he muttered.

"Why would I do that?" You asked innocently.

Bones only shook his head. "Goodnight, darlin."

"Goodnight."

You woke up again, the nightmare wasn't as bad, but it was there. Bones was still asleep next to you, snoring softly. You got out of bed and went to the observation lounge. Nobody was roaming the ship by this point. You walked into the room and went to open the panel over the window. You pressed yourself against the window, watching the stars fly past the window.

"I thought you would be here," Kirk said, making you turn around.

"I plan on returning before Bones finds out I was here. I already worried him tonight. He already told me that he wants me to take a few days rest."

"I'll be getting a report in the morning then," he chuckled.

Silence fell between the two of you.

"Captain, what happened a month ago, I wish it never happened."

"We all do, Lieutenant."

He was now standing next to you, also looking out the window. "I'm just glad that we were able to save McCoy."

"I'm glad also, Captain, now I have an old southern doctor by my side constantly," you laughed.

"Go back to your cabin, I feel like he's looking for you by now."

Kirk then left and you stayed there, your eyes slowly closing as you passed through another system. You felt a blanket drop on your shoulders and you snapped out of it. "If I knew this was a game of hide-and-go-seek, then I may as well microchipped you."

His voice was deep and tired. You felt bad for him because you didn't mean to wake him up. Hell, he even looked tired.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lead you on a wild goose chase, I couldn't sleep."

"I could give you a hypo to knock you out for a few hours," Bones smiled as he stood beside you, his shoulder pressed against the glass. "Or a few days."

"I'll get better with some time," you told him while you hugged the blanket tightly.

"If I knew better, I would've thought that you fell asleep standing up."

You chuckled, "You're a very funny man, Doc."

"Oh god, you've gone insane, you called me doc."

You sighed and continued to look out the window at the millions of stars and other space objects. "It's funny how we're here. It's not the same as we're on earth, we're experiencing things nobody will believe. I just wanted to know that we're not alone in the universe, and I learned that we're not. I just wished that it wasn't the way it was."

"But I'm sure you had some good times, too."

"I did. I'm on the best ship in the federation, I haven't died yet, I have some really good friends."

"Is that all?"

"Of course not, I'm sure there are more good things to come. I'm not optimistic, but I got to be hopeful, right?"

"I couldn't have said it better myself."

"How long until your shift?"

"A few hours, at least. You slept for quite a while."

You now looked at him. "You being serious about that hypo?"

"Oh god no," he chuckled, "Maybe for a few hours, not a few days."

"I hate the fact that I still remember everything that happened. Emotional trauma at it's finest, is it not? Sometimes I get scared that this is the nightmare and you'll disappear as soon as I touch you. I still remember the captain carrying you into sickbay and Nurse Chapel and Doctor M'Benga doing everything to stop you from dying. I requested leave from my shift for a few days as you got better and I spent every minute in sickbay. Nurse Chapel had to tell me to leave every day, she was concerned that I would be affecting your recovery."

"Did you leave?"

"I did for a few hours, then I snuck back inside. She wasn't happy."

"She means well."

"Aren't the stars pretty," you sighed as you looked out the window.

"I guess they are."

"You guess?" You laughed in disbelief.

"We've been in space for two years now. Everything looks the same."

"But there's always something different. You might not see it at first but you'll find it eventually."

"I think I already have," he whispered.

You looked at him again and realized that he wasn't looking at the stars. No, he was too distracted by someone else.

He took his finger and placed it under your chin. He noticed how you saw the reflection of the stars in the corner of his eye.

"Bones?"

"Yeah?"

"Whatcha doing?"

"This," he said softly while leaning in. He planted a kiss on your lips, the first one you ever had.

You closed your eyes and placed your hands on his chest.

"I'm sorry," Bones apologized while cupping your face.

"No, don't be, it was the perfect setting," you reassured him before yawning.

"And it's the perfect setting for you to return to my cabin. Come on get to bed, maybe I can shorten your rest days if you get better."

"I'll only get better with time Leonard. We can only decide then."

"Are you sure you're not a doctor of some kind?" He asked as you two walked into the hallway, your arms were linked together.

"No," you laughed tiredly, "Just a security girl who's in love with a doctor and only has some basic medical knowledge."

"Like what?"

"Um, the skull is called the cranium, duh."

"You have basic anatomy knowledge, that's good to know." He laughed as you got into the turbolift. "I have to go to the bridge and drop off something to Jim."

The turbolift heard the word bridge and it started to move.

"I'm really sorry about leading you on a chase earlier. I just had a feeling to go to the observation deck."

"Did you have another nightmare?"

"Yeah, but it wasn't as bad. It was one of those ones where you're falling forever."

"I may have to do a brain scan. Maybe some neurological stuff, you know, the usual," he joked while slightly bouncing.

"I think I just need the constant reassurance that you're not dead or dying."

"I'm not going to die in space, heaven forbid I do."

You threw your head back and laughed, covering your mouth in the process. The turbolift opened and you both stepped onto the bridge.

"(Y/N), I see that Bones found you," Kirk said while turning his head to look at you two.

"I forgot to drop some reports off. I have them right here," Bones said while giving Jim a chip.

"Ah, thank you, Bones. I'll see the two of you tomorrow."

"Good night, Captain," you said while you and Bones went into the turbolift.

"You know, I can't wait to sleep for like three days straight."

"Neither can I, no offense, but you-"

"Look like trash, yeah, I know. No feelings were hurt."

"Just trying to be a southern gentleman."

The turbolift stopped and you looked at Bones, who stopped it. "I need to tell you something," he spoke softly.

"Yes? What is it?"

He stopped and looked at the floor. He acted the same way he did a month ago, he couldn't get what he wanted to say out. He continued to look at the floor, blinking a few times while pursing his lips. He sightly bounced again. "I want you to take care of yourself."

You smiled a caring smile at him. It was his way of saying that he loves you. He never actually said those three words but he found other ways to mean the same thing. He would say "Take care of yourself" or "Be careful" or he'll tell you to eat when you've forgotten or he'll try to help you sleep when you couldn't. It all meant one meaning to you.

And when he said something like that you would always smile at him and say, "I love you too, Bones."

He smiled lightly and opened the door and stepped out, you followed behind.

"Sleeping for three days, here I come!" You cheered while running past him and into his quarters.

You jumped on the bed and it bounced and you removed the blanket from your shoulders and covered yourself up with it.

Bones came in after you and saw you already in bed. He had four hours until his shift so he decided to stay awake, but instead, he laid next to you.

"Goodnight, Bones," you told him cutely, "See you in three days."

"Three days without you would be hell, darlin," Bones told you before he kissed your forehead softly, "Goodnight."

{Extended ending but in bullet points}

• Bones came in every two hours

• He sat on the edge of the bed for a few minutes, happy that you were still asleep

• He would hold your hand until he had to leave

• Just Leonard being a caring doctor boyfriend ™ like he is

• He would only wake you up when he thought that you needed to eat

• Bones would come in with a tray from the cafeteria and set it down on the counter before waking you up

• His ways to wake you up is as follows: shaking your shoulder, trying to talk you into waking up, then kissing you. In that order.

• "Well good mornin', darlin'. I brought you lunch because you're the only one who hasn't eaten yet."

• You would sit in bed and eat and talk to Bones

• "Any nightmares?"

• "The opposite. I've been having good dreams."

• "What about?"

• "The two of us. In the observation deck, when you kissed me. How shameless of me being this romantic."

• He would sometimes come in and see you reading a book or sketching something

• When he kissed you awake you would complain and tell him that you're not Sleeping Beauty

• He kinda pouts and tells you that you are a princess and then kisses you again because he be like that all the time

• After a few days, he finally lets you return to work :)

#bones mccoy #bones mccoy tos #deforest kelley #star trek #bones x reader #leonard mccoy #star trek imagines #to boldly no imagines

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goodwriterwithbadhabits · 4 years ago

Text

Love Songs

As requested by @dyingforkpop I hope you enjoy!

(Also this is super poetic cause I was listening to Spoken Word when I started writing it.)

Master List

The glow emitted by the strands of Christmas lights is dim, giving you only enough light to see, but accompanied by the neon Rose hanging behind his black couch, and the piercing gaze of his computer, your world is illuminated perfectly. This studio is not your world, you are only its welcome guest, but the boy sitting beside you, he is another story entirely.

Kim Woosung was beautiful, even in this low lighting. He invited you here, to his world, to teach you its ways, to bring you closer, to understand his love of music, but you find yourself too busy memorizing his features at this moment to listen. His face is a maze of shadows, harsh angles thrown against his tanned skin from the myriad of light sources surrounding you both. His lips, no the way they move to form the words your brain is too preoccupied to understand, have you utterly entranced. Even his hair, which had become a tornado of gravity-defying locks from all the times he had run his fingers through them, was mesmerizing. He was too captivating, how could one person be so beautiful, and handsome, and intelligent and funny, while still being so genuine and kind, while somehow also being dense as a brick wall.

Couldn’t he just kiss you already?

“Kim Woosung, I am going to be honest with you, I haven’t been listening.” Your confession is given with a sigh, and your body listing away from him in the swivel chair.

“I know, I started talking about an apple pie I had in California like five minutes ago.” You spin back to face him, shock blatant on your face, and the studio fills with the peals of your laughter mere seconds later.

“I’m sorry, I really did want to learn from you.” Your apology is accompanied by the softest smile you can muster and met with one of his own as he shakes his head.

“It’s fine, I was boring myself, it's no wonder you zoned out.”

“You weren’t boring me, I promise.” You assure him. His grin expands, eyebrow rising slightly, and you have to clench your fist tightly to stop yourself from lunging forward and kissing the look off his face.

“So what has you so distracted then?”

“Your stupidly handsome face.” His face flushes at your bold words, and you offer them with a teasing tone to perhaps make them more palatable.

“Why do you always flirt with me?” He whines, hiding his face in his hands.

“Cause I like you, and you haven’t told me to stop.” His brown eyes shine when they peek from between his fingers, and for a moment you worry that perhaps you’ve gone too far. “I will if you want me to, but I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to be around you if I can’t flirt with you.”

“You don’t have to stop.” His mumbles barely reach your ears, but you can’t stop yourself from teasing him anyway. Just wanting to draw it out, hear him say it again, as though it was a confession and not simply a kind gesture.

“I’m sorry, say that again?”

“You don’t have to stop.” He’s barely louder, and you wonder how many more times he will say it before you’re satisfied.

“Still so quiet, I can’t hear you.” His back straightens this time, and again, you worry you have gone too far, but his words that erupt from his lips have you speechless instead.

“I said you don’t have to stop.” His eyes, the darkness illuminated by the lights enveloping you, bore into yours, stopping your heart for a brief instant as you figure your next move.

“Oh?” It becomes a challenge to discover what is too much to tell him, “So you don’t mind if I tell you I think you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. That you’re hotter than any boyfriend I’ve ever had. That your voice melts my heart and my panties.”

“Oh my god, stop.” His laughter brings a smile to your face, even as the shade of red staining his cheeks deepens. As he smiles at you, you realize, this is the perfect time, to be honest, and tell him what your heart really needs him to know.

“That I’ve been in love with you since I met you four years ago.” You watch his eyes as you speak, abandoning the teasing tones you had carefully hidden behind as you instead blurt your feelings into the room. “That every time you cry I feel my own heart breaking. That loving you has been the only thing that gets me out of bed some days.” Every word lifts pressure from your chest, letting you breathe properly for the first time in what feels like forever. His face remains unreadable, and you fear you’ve been wrong in saying anything. “And I’m sorry to lay this all on you, I’m just really tired of holding it in.” The final words have only hung in the air for a few seconds, but your entire body is gripped with fear. As though struck by lightning, you jump from your seat, hands already gripping your coat as you run from his rejection.

You didn’t even make it three steps from your chair before the creak of his resounded in the room and his warm hand was snaked around your wrist, begging you to stay without saying a word.

“Four years, three months, and 6 days.” You turn back at his words, finding his eyes searching your face. “That’s how long we’ve known each other.” He tugs you toward him, pulling your jacket from your clenched fingers to lace his own into them. “All this time I thought you were joking.” His gaze shifts down, watching his own thumb as he tries to soothe your strained hand. “But I’ve been hoping this whole time that you meant it, or that you’d hear the songs and know they were about you.” Your heartbeat echoes in your own ears, and you’re sure he can hear it. You must be hallucinating, it was the only way this was happening. “What I’m trying to say is,” He finally drags his eyes back up to your own, the galaxy itself trapped within them. “I’ve been in love with you since the moment I heard you speak, I knew you were the only person I could ever spend my life with, I knew I needed you in my life, in whatever way I could get.”

Your hands shake as you pull them from his grip, the tremors subsiding as you bring them up to cup his cheeks, the skin warm under your palms.

“Can I kiss you?” Your voice is barely audible in the silent room, and for a split second, you wonder how far your delusion will go.

When his lips press to yours, you’re finally sure this is real. In all the fantasies you had imagined, you were never sure what his lips felt like, but as you kiss back, you’re sure this is what heaven feels like. Your bodies move on their own, your hands moving down to the sides of his neck, and his wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. One kiss becomes two, and then three, and time fades into a haze until you’re finally having to pull away to breathe.

“Go out with me? On a real date.” You haven’t moved from each other’s grip, heaving chests still pressed against one another and heads only the distance from one another it takes to allow the eyes to focus.

“Of course.”

“Does that mean you’ll stay here?” His smile is mirrored on your lips, voice only a whisper. “At least for a little while?”

“You still have to teach me how to write music.” You remind him, “Or just play me your songs.”

“I can do that, and know I know how to get your attention.” Your question is answered before you can ask, as he presses his lips to yours again, and you realize, there is a love song hanging in his silent studio.

#kim woosung imagines #kim woosung imagine #kim woosung #sammy imagines #sammy imagine #the rose #the rose imagines #the rose imagine #black roses

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spidercakes · 5 years ago

Note

ABO prompt if you will - Tony is an alpha but Peter is a beta. They can’t be together as laws prevent alphas from mating with betas so they pine in silence. Peter gets kidnapped by Ross who is trying to figure out how Peter got his Spider-Man powers and one experiment changes Peter into an omega. When he is rescued, he is in heat and throws Tony into rut and the alpha claims his omega.

This prompt: implies smut

Me: ok, angst.

I mean, its still technically what you asked for minus the smut but also there’s like many angst.

Its not, Tony has decided, that they don’t want to. Its more like they can’t, not really, not without a level of backlash at every level that would make a relationship impossible. Its not exactly reasonable to start a relationship with someone full well knowing that everyone, including the damn government, will do their damndest just to tear you apart. Tony has no idea why there are laws preventing alphas and betas from being together, there’s no reasonable explanation for it. Omegas might be more fertile and have an easier time with alphas reproducing but its not like betas are infertile. And also he and Peter wouldn’t be a reproductive couple anyway.

Beyond that the reasons get even more senseless given that betas are just as capable of dealing with heats as alphas, and its not like alphas can’t survive without omegas in heat- they make it through most of their lives without that. That particular set of laws are, Tony has gathered, little more than forcing people to fit into the hegemonic mold of acceptability and he’s never been fond of that, but he’s also not stupid. Generally speaking any alphas and betas who test that shit see betas in jail for an extended period of time, not alphas. And he can’t do that to Peter. If either of them should end up in jail its him- first of all he’s actually broken like a stupid amount of laws in his lifetime and Peter hasn’t, and also he’s the older one. He’d miss out on less in prison, but the laws are designed to punish betas for not falling in line, not alphas or omegas.

So he gets stuck watching Peter from afar, working with him in the lab, and trying his best to avoid him blowing up in the field. “You know we wouldn’t say anything, right?” Bruce asks softly, disrupting his line of thought. Across the lab Peter is trying and failing to teach Dummy to fetch.

“Wouldn’t need you to. Since when have I been known to do anything subtly?”

Bruce sighs because they both know he makes a point. Its not like he hasn’t thought of that either, and Peter absolutely has. Came to him a couple months ago insisting they could manage it and Peter he’s sure could. But Tony has never been known for his ability to keep secrets or keep anything from the public eye. He literally decided to throw out Pepper’s cue cards and proclaim himself Iron Man because that felt less difficult than playing like he wasn’t. There’s no way Peter wouldn’t end up in jail over his stupidity.

When Peter goes missing it takes them a day to notice. Its not entirely unusual for him to disappear from the public eye for a day or two thanks to school and its exam season so Tony hadn’t thought much of it until May showed up at his door. “So you haven’t talked to him either?” she asks, clearly on the edge of panic.

Tony is too but he’s also not totally stupid- Peter isn’t exactly easy to contain with his abilities and hurting someone with super healing permanently is difficult. He once tested out a few theories on Steve and the guy is next to immortal. He can be killed, Tony is sure, but not through any normal means and that includes aging. Peter’s genes share a lot in common with Steve’s now, so he suspects he has a lot of the same resistances not that he’d ever dream of testing that out on him.

“May, I once watched someone drop an entire building on him and he mostly crawled out pissed off. I’m sure he’s fine, we just need to figure out where he is.”

“Is that actually supposed to make me feel better?” she asks and Tony sighs.

“My point is that he’s durable, exceedingly so. Causing genuine, permanent damage is nearly impossible. Its why we tend to send him out with Steve and Bruce- the three of them are stupid strong, hard to kill, and their collective intelligence makes them hard to deal with strategically too. Trust me May, wherever he is it might not be pleasant, but he’ll more than likely be fine when we pick him up.” Psychologically? Probably not, but he doesn’t want to freak her out and they’ve all, in some way or another, been held captive and tortured. At this point its like an Avengers rite of passage. That’s at least half their hero origin stories.

“How are you going to find him?” May asks and Tony sighs.

“His suit has tracking in it partially to keep tabs on him but also to keep tabs on the suit itself- that kind of technology wouldn’t exactly be put to any good use in the wrong hands. If we’re lucky no one has turned the tracking off. If we aren’t we’ll see where it went before he disappeared and go from there.” There’s also the added benefit of seeing where Peter ends up the most, where all of them do. It tracks villain patterns well so Tony will cross reference the rest of their tracking against Peter’s too, see if any data points stick out.

Bruce looks at the screen in front of him while Tony paces. Bruce is more than capable of tracking a wayward spider suit, a literal child could do it if need be, but Tony is stressed. “Ping is coming back,” Bruce tells him. “In uh… Florida? He have anything going on there?” he asks.

Tony walks over to the computer and pulls up where, specifically, he is. “No. We’ve all heard him refer to Florida as the smelly armpit of America so I don’t see why he’d go there on his own either,” he points out.

Bruce sighs, “I maintain that the smelly armpit is Texas, but you make a point. The suit shows a pretty much direct travel path too, which is unusual. How the hell would someone manage to get someone with his abilities that far in a straight path? It doesn’t even look like Peter fought back.”

No, it doesn’t. He went from one spot to the other, no zipping around in between to indicate a sign of struggle. He pulls up Peter’s vitals around the time he went missing and frowns. “What the fuck?”

Bruce leans in and frowns too. “Stasis?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re telling me you think he was instantly frozen?” Tony asks, eyebrows drawing together.

“Not instantly, looks like he reacted but not in time. And the information is from his web shooters, not his suit. Don’t think he would have been in it at the time. Isn’t it pretty much frozen proof anyway?”

Not exactly, but for the purposes of this conversation yes so Tony nods. “Okay. Given the time of day he was probably about to patrol but why the fuck would anyone freeze him? Why the hell would that be a solution to how to kidnap Spiderman?” Seems kind of stupid, convoluted too. Yes he would be exceedingly difficult to get a hold of given that he’s flexible, strong, and not exactly lacking in intelligence and fighting ability but freezing him? That could go wrong in so many ways. The fact that it didn’t is probably a weird fluke.

Bruce frowns, looking over the information again before pulling up his location. “Tony. I could be wrong, and I’m probably not, but I’m pretty sure that’s one of Ross’ beach houses.”

Tony squints, “who the hell is stupid enough to take their victim to their house? Can’t be Ross.”

“The freezing would make sense if it was Ross,” Bruce says. Tony raises an eyebrow, unsure how Bruce figures that. “He has most of out data on our genes, he’s already tried to experiment on me like five times, and Steve was at his least dangerous when he was frozen. And he’d have enough information on Peter to know they work in really similar ways. Freezing makes sense if its Ross otherwise what kind of idiot would decide to try and freeze a super person with no guarantee that it would work? If not for the information that being frozen essentially stuck Steve in a suspended state of animation, which would make it a lot easier to run a few tests on him, then that makes no sense.”

He says that like villains make any sense at all. The last couple Tony has personally dealt with rode his ass because his father was a dick and because he was kind of mean and didn’t talk to the guy on a roof. Villains are people too, and people make no god damn sense. But he does make a point about the freezing thing, with knowledge of Steve’s suspended animation it would make sense to try and recreate those conditions and hope for the best. It might be common knowledge that he was found frozen in the ice and lived, but its not common knowledge how that happened. There are whole fan theories about it that proper everything from the correct assumption that the serum made him able to withstand extreme cold with a lowered heart rate and slowed brain activity to conserve energy to aliens. And clearly whoever took Peter wanted him alive otherwise what kind of dipshit tries to freeze their victim to death, then panics and takes them to Florida? Though, Tony supposes, that does seem like a Florida man thing to do.

“Do you really think Ross is that bad at strategy? What if it failed? What if Peter didn’t react to freezing the same way Steve had? What if he chose a different route that day for patrol? Ross might be a dumbass, but is he really that stupid?”

Bruce laughs a little. “Sometimes I forget how often you and Steve run every available option through your heads before you do something. Ross isn’t stupid by any means, but he has Peter’s patrol schedule and around this time of year he doesn’t break pattern, can’t because of exams. Strategically its a good time to move on a plan that requires him to be in a certain spot when you know he’s far less likely to deviate from his normal plans. And Peter might be super, but he’s not going to not have a reaction to being flash frozen. If Ross’ goal is to experiment on him if he managed to escape the freezing he still learned something. Its unethical science, but its not exactly bad science.”

Yeah, he’ll agree to disagree there. Tony knows a thing or two about winging it when it comes to experiments and it never goes well. Okay, it never goes well for him. Everyone else seems to not have problems with it but he’s got bad luck. Still makes him weary of that kind of thing and also Bruce has a vested interest in pointing the finger at Ross. Tony doesn’t think he’d do something like that on purpose on account of unlike Ross he’s not a shitty person but still. its worth it to verify Bruce’s suspicions. He runs the address and turns back to Bruce, “you seriously think Ross would be dumb enough to drag Peter’s ass back to his house? Come on, even Ross can’t be that stupid.”

“Its under his mother’s name, I think. Its still not smart, but its close to a secret army base in the area. Peter might be there, not the house.”

“But they left his suit in the house?”

“Ross might not be dumb enough to do that but a tactical team might be,” Bruce points out.

Yeah, alright. Address results return and sure shit Bruce isn’t wrong, including the bit about the house being under Ross’ mother’s name. Except the woman is dead so it shouldn’t be but that’s a whole other bag of shit Tony doesn’t give a damn about.

“Is he really this stupid?” he asks Bruce.

He shrugs, “he tried to shoot me with a gun he knew wouldn’t work given that I’d survived being bombed at that point so yes, I think he’s that stupid.”

Tony sighs. “I guess I should be grateful for it but something about this feels too easy.” Nothing these days is ever this easy for him, usually its Steve that gets all the luck so something is going to go wrong, he knows it.

Steve lets Bruce take the lead because he knows Ross the best but it doesn’t work well when he keeps deferring to Tony. Probably because he knows Peter’s suit’s information best, and the information they got from the web shooters, but still. That and he probably has the most vested interest in getting Peter back. But Bruce’s suspicions are right in that he’s not in the house- his suit was, and one of his web shooters, but Peter was nowhere to be found.

“Are you sure your scans are accurate?” Steve asks him and he knows he can’t see his face in the suit but he glares at him anyway. Steve’s cheeks turn a little red. “For a mask that thing has a surprising amount of judgement on it,” he mumbles.

“We’ve found him,” Natasha says over the comms. “Bruce was right about that army base- Clint, don’t you dare piss on- oh my god, someone get here and deal with this,” she mumbles.

Steve frowns and Bruce sighs, concentrating for a moment before he turns green and gets considerably larger. Tony’s mostly glad that the pants he made to accommodate worked and no one has to risk being exposed to Hulk dick ever again. And if Natasha isn’t concerned he assumes Peter is okay, if likely shaken. Or still in stasis. That’s probably the most preferable option, all things considered.

“He’s loopy,” Natasha tells him, leaning against the door frame and Tony frowns.

“Can you smell that?” he asks Steve, who looks red enough for Tony to assume that’s a yes.

“Smell what?” Nat asks, looking between the two of them and Steve sighs.

“Shit. Neither her or Clint have a strong sense of smell. Budapest,” he says in way of explanation not that Tony believes it. They say that to everything and fuck sakes he knows, he knows that’s Peter.

He pushes past Nat into the room they’ve found Peter in and his brain is already fuzzy but he forces himself to focus through the smell and attraction. Peter has bigger shit to worry about than Tony’s biology to react to his. Shit. Peter notices him fast too, perking up as he sees him and when Tony gets to him he reaches out, circling his arms around Tony and pressing his face into his neck. Tony swears for a moment he sees white and he doesn’t mean to let out a small, strangled moan in response but its almost impossible not to all things considered.

“Hey, Tony,” Peter murmurs, voice at his ear and Tony counts to ten to try and refocus.

“Hey, baby. Lets get you out of here, hmm?” He pulls away, or tries to, but Peter pulls him back fast.

“No, don’t go. Please,” he asks, voice small and eyes wide.

Jesus Christ.

Bruce looks over at Tony, who looks half lost himself let alone Peter, who is happily curled into his lap, face at his neck smiling away deliriously. Every time he sees some poor omega in heat he’s a little happier he’s a beta because it looks awful. “Do… do you think you can reverse that?” Steve asks.

His self control is remarkable, Bruce will give him that. His senses have to be going haywire at the moment and Tony is having a hell of a time holding back. Granted out of the two of them Bruce supposes he expects Steve to have the better self control anyway. He looks over at Peter though and winces. “I… don’t think I can,” he says not because he can’t, he’s sure he could figure it out eventually. But after so long of watching him and Tony dance around each other it seems cruel to pull them apart when they can actually be together now.

“How the hell does that happen?” Steve murmurs.

Bruce shrugs, “no idea. Presumably some type of gene therapy but it looks like the rest of his biology is the same, including the altered bits. I don’t see why Ross would want to turn a beta into an omega, there’s no real use for that.” And of all the eugenicist ideas that have stuck around the idea that betas are useless and should be either eliminated or turned into omegas or alphas isn’t one of them. Now the assumption is mostly that they should just stick to being with each other because omegas and alphas belong together and betas don’t fit into that binary at all. There’s no real reason Ross would have done this except by accident and that’s one hell of an accident. The Nazis spent years on it and they never figured that out either, and god knows his own experiments went terribly.

“What did he want with him to begin with?” Steve asks.

Good question but they don’t have all the answers at the moment. Right now there’s like five different police agencies crawling all over that army base looking for motive and evidence. “As far as we were able to tell he wanted to know how Peter’s powers worked, and yours. But I suspect he chose to capture Peter because he’s the easier target. You’re well versed in military strategy and Peter is a stressed twenty two year old- he’d be my choice too.”

“And off the record?” Steve asks, correctly assuming that Bruce has his own theories.

He sighs, “off the record I assume he picked up my research where it left off. We found one of those spiders Oscorp had, the one that turned Peter into what he is. It looked different from the one Peter drew out for us.”

Steve snorts, “are you sure that’s not because Peter isn’t exactly a good artist?”

Bruce smiles too, looking over to Peter, who’s still curled up in Tony’s lap looking content. Tony looks like he’s given into his urges to actually react to Peter and he’s got his arms curled tightly around him, face tucked into his hair as he gently runs his fingers up and down one of Peter’s arms. “Could be that, but I doubt he got the colors wrong. They look cute together.”

He looks over at Tony and Peter but something looks off in his expression. “Yeah, I guess they do,” he murmurs.

Tony knows he should leave Peter be, stick him in a warm bath to cool his skin some and leave him alone but he can’t. Peter doesn’t want him to either and its hard to say no to him when he’s wanted him for so long. Peter has had an interest in him for longer, probably since before they met given that he wasn’t exactly unknown to Peter before then. He’d been so gangly and adorable and green, but full of promise and someone had to get the damn kid out of crime fighting pajamas. May might have lost her shit when she found out but Peter was Spiderman before Tony and he’d be Spiderman without him though he suspects Peter would have grown a brain cell or two and made himself a suit.

And then he got better, seemed to learn from everyone else’s mistakes and he grew up too. He stopped being so gangly and filled out, and his voice started to sound more like an actual person’s and not a squeak toy and he’s smart. He’s always had a thing for intelligence but with Peter its different than the way he usually is. Normally he likes the showy types, not unlike himself though usually they don’t present that showiness in the same way. Pepper was brilliant and had no problem showing off, but she never actually stated that’s what she was doing. She’d just do something better than everyone else and give them a look. Rhodey was the same way, except he had no problem rubbing someone’s nose in it if he felt like they didn’t get the point enough. Even Christine Everhart fell into that given that she’s tenacious and kind of an asshole, but genuinely better at reporting than most.

Then there’s Peter, who’s so quiet about his intelligence, who mostly just uses it to help people and make other people’s lives easier. Its a soft show of the way his mind works but its just… hard for him to get out of his head, the way Peter consistently manages to find easier and faster ways to evacuate people out of cities, or respond to whatever calls for their help they get, or new features for his suit that help him do his job better. People like to think of Steve as the golden boy but the truth is that he’s jaded and stubborn and sometimes that makes him mean and hard to work with. Peter is the one everyone should look toward but he’d never say so himself, even if Tony is sure he knows its true.

“Missed you,” Peter murmurs, curled right into his side, one leg thrown over Tony’s hip and his arms curled tightly around him. Every time Tony moves a little Peter clings harder and that’s adorable even if he’s sure that’ll leave bruises in the morning.

“I missed you too,” he says, running his hand up and down Peter’s back. Poor thing starts to get fussy if Tony stops, irritated that he’s no longer being scented. “Are you okay?” he asks. Its the first time he’s gotten the opportunity to ask and he can feel Peter smile.

“I can finally be with you, so yeah.” Fuck, doesn’t that just break his heart. He curls his arms tighter around Peter, earning a soft noise of happiness for it and Tony feels his heart squeeze. He’s wanted this for so long and he can finally have it so he huffs out a laugh and releases Peter from his grip. He gets a dirty look for it but Tony quickly tilts Peter’s head up and kisses him to remove the frown. Peter lets out a surprised noise and presses himself into Tony, shifting fast so he’s straddling him and Tony has no idea how they ever managed to go this long without doing this anyway.

When he wakes up Peter isn’t there and something doesn’t smell right. He frowns, wrinkling his nose and getting up. He feels hungover, which he knows is stupid but taking care of omegas in heat takes a lot out of someone and more out of the omega, so he has no idea where Peter has gotten off to. Can’t be far but he’s not in the bathroom so Tony decides to check the kitchen only to find him absent of that space too. He does find Steve though and he looks weirdly guilty.

“What’s up with you?” Tony asks, somewhat irritable.

Steve looks away for a moment and sighs, “whatever… whatever Ross did didn’t stick,” he murmurs and no. No. This can’t possibly- he just got Peter, he can’t give him up now.

He turns and walks out of the room fast, hoping he’ll manage to find Peter in the lab.

Bruce looks pained and Peter doesn’t have the patience for it because he felt his fucking heart break this morning and he has no time for Bruce’s pain too. “Please, you have to be able to do something,” he says, voice cracking.

He shakes his head though, taking a small step back. “Peter, the last time I did anything like this I turned into, as Tony not so delicately put it, a giant green rage monster. Do you seriously want to take that risk?”

Peter throws his hands up, “well I might as well!” he yells. “Because I’m tired of living like this, always skirting around my feelings because I’m a beta and I can’t date anyone who isn’t! Its bullshit Bruce and you should know that!” He’s the only other beta in the Avengers, he figures if anyone can relate is has to be Bruce. No one else has to deal with all the stupid weird laws that they have to follow to properly fulfill their role in never shaking up the alpha/omega binary that people think makes some type or equilibrium or something- he doesn’t fucking know. But he does know its all a bunch of garbage and all because people don’t like betas dating alphas or omegas, there’s no other reason to act like that.

“Peter,” a soft voice says from behind him and he turns to find Tony there. He turns back around immediately and squeezes his eyes shut because he can’t deal with this right now. “Hey,” Tony murmurs and Peter can feel his arms circle around him. He wants so badly to hug him back but he won’t, not when he knows Tony will just leave him and he can’t do it, he can’t deal with that. “Peter,” Tony says, “baby, I love you.”

He feels his breathing slow a little as he sinks into Tony’s arms but he doesn’t turn, doesn’t respond. He can’t because Tony is telling him that to make him feel better, not because he’s actually going to stick around in their barely even was a relationship. Bruce, on the other hand, looks uncomfortable and Peter wants him to leave as much as he wants him to stay.

“You’re just going to go,” he tells Tony, “so do it.”

Tony’s arms tighten around him some and he hears Tony let out a shaky breath. “I should,” Tony says, voice cracking a little, “because you’ll be the one punished for this if anyone found out but-” his words cut out for a moment and he takes another deep breath. “But I can’t, I can’t leave you.”

#tony stark x peter parker #starker #fanfiction #alternate universe #abo fanfic #omg lmao this is so not what you wanted im so sorry

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