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ellana-ravenwood · 4 years ago

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Can you be friend with your husband's ex-girlfriend ? - Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : Everyone always think you and Selina Kyle don’t like each others, solely for the fact that she used to "date” your husband. But as usual in life, things are much more complicated than that...A fluffy Drabble mainly about how truly strong, Bruce and reader’s love is.

Listen. My students were having quiet reading times, and I had a sudden burst of inspiration as one of them chose a French story in which a mother and a step-mother unite fronts to save their little magical kid (I love that story haha), and it suddenly inspired me. I LOVE Catwoman. Like. A lot. And in my head, her and Batmom have always been...Oh. No spoilers. The rest in this story ;). Hope you’ll like this little bonus story ! :

My masterlist blog : @ella-ravenwood-archives

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“You look beautiful mom, do you have a date with father ? I thought date nights were on Thursdays.”

You jumped a little in the air as your son’s voice resonate in the foyer. Definitely didn’t hear him, sneaky little bugger. You turn around towards him, and smile, saying :

“It is on Thursdays, my little buddy. I’m having a girls night out, tonight.”

“Girls night out ?”

“Yes. You know, Cass and I are the only girls of the family. Sometimes we need to vent to our peers. Cass usually goes to see Steph and Babs, I go out with my friends.”

You smile at him again, ruffling his hair, and he can’t help but chuckle a little bit. In recent months, Damian found that he actually loves, when the one he came to call “mom” (you), ruffled his hair. It made him feel like the little boy he was, as odd as it could sound to anyone not knowing him.

“I didn’t know you went on such nights.”

“I do, once a month. You just haven’t noticed because it’s usually on nights you’re out with your father rather early.”

“I see. If it isn’t too -he hesitates- personal, can I ask with who you are going out ? Who are your friends ?”

Your smile widens. Because just over a year back, that boy would’ve never cared about this. About who you hung out with, or about you in general.

Ah, since he came in your life, he went a long way. The mere fact he wanted to know more about you was proof enough, and you felt absolutely touched.

Even more so as you realized that he not only asked about your friends because he wanted to know you, but because he was a little worried about who you might spend time with, wether they’d put you in danger or not...So, oh so sweet.

“Well, as cliche as it sounds, I’m going out with mainly other supermoms. We like to vent about...Things -you were aware that telling your son you and your friends love to vent about them wasn’t the best answer right now haha- So, Lois, you know her of course. Jon’s mom. There’s also Dinah, Connor’s mom. You saw him a few time at the Watchtower, although he’s quite younger than you so I don’t think you interact much. I bet you already know she’s Black Canary, and married to Green Arrow, I saw you snoop in your father’s files.”

Your son’s face redden a little, but you give him a reassuring winks totally meaning : “I snooped around too”, and it makes him smile. You continue :

“And finally there’s Diana. She’s not a mom yet, but she loooooves to listen to our stories. She’s also great at changing subjects and partying, who would’ve thought right ? I guess having thousand of years of practice helps. I’m sure you know she’s Wonder Woman eh. Oh, and of course, there’s Selina.”

“Selina ?”

“Yes.”

“As in...Catwoman ?”

“Yes ?”

You can see your son wants to add something, and you’re pretty sure you know what it’s gonna be. But you let him ask naturally, leave him time to gather his thoughts and dare to ask. After all, you want to instal an atmosphere of trust, between you and your children. You want them to know they can always ask you anything. So you wait. Finally, Damian says :

“Why are you meeting with this woman ? Don’t you like, hate her ?”

"Why would I hate her ?”

You know exactly why he’s thinking that. But you want him to elaborate, to make sense of his feelings about the subject. Simply, to talk.

“Well...her and father used to...you know...”

It’s not quite as formed as you were hoping for, but you do know. And at least, he tried. There was a time he would’ve just gotten mad you purposefully pretended not to understand his meaning, and would’ve left this instant.

You smile at him once more. To be honest, so many people thought you and Selina Kyle didn’t get along.

You guess it would make sense, it’t true, she’s your husband ex after all. AND one of the only woman for whom he truly cared about. Those, were very few...

In fact, there was only three of you, in Bruce’s life, that truly made a difference. Sure, he had been infatuated before, with quite a few women. But only three, truly stood out.

Talia Al’Ghul, of course. Not his first love (that was Julie Madison, although he was much too young to really know what love even was, and compared to you, it was just mild infatuation). But someone that used to be important nonetheless. The reason your sweet Damian (yes, sweet, especially when around you) was alive.

She was important, once. When he was training under her father’s guidance, before he realized who Ras really was.

Talia was a complicated woman who unfortunately could never truly get away from her upbringing, no matter how hard she tried. She was “too far gone”, by her own words. It was clear to Bruce, that if even herself thought she was un-savable, he couldn’t do much either. He did try, though. But it just never worked.

You were certain that she left Damian in Bruce’s care, when the boy was barely ten, exactly because she didn’t want him to turn out like her. Which in itself, was a little redemption act, no ? At least, you thought so.

Didn’t mean that you thought you could change her mind about those “world domination” plans that were ingrained in her mind since she was born. Fact is, she gave Damian a chance.

You never hated Talia. You actually felt pretty sorry for her.

She could’ve had such a different life, if, all those years ago, she had been able to leave her father. Not that you would want to, it’d mean that you and Bruce would never be (even if deep down, you knew that you and him would always end up together, no matter what...it would’ve just been a little lethal for you, if Talia was more around um um).

Talia never even really tried to get “her” son back. It seemed she completely accepted to “give him” to you. She self-admittedly never really knew how to be a mother, and there was that time she had him killed because she thought it was meant to be...

Not that, anyway, you’d ever let that happen again. You made it very clear you wouldn’t. And your resolve and anger could be scary, even to Talia Al’Ghul.

Plus, the day she had Damian killed, she realized she didn’t want that...anyway long story short, she was no longer in his life. And although if one day she changed her mind and wanted to contact him again you wouldn’t oppose it, you knew Damian was yours. Everyone knew that if one day she would come back, beyond the fact you, Bruce, and his siblings would be here to protect Damian...The boy would never choose to go back to the Al Ghuls.

He changed drastically, since he came with you. He was no longer her son. And she knew it. And didn’t interfere so far (and you knew she never would).

He called YOU “mom”. He told YOU he loves you. You. Not her. he never interacted with you like he did with her anyway. And you still didn’t hate Talia. She was part of both Bruce, and Damian’s past (AUTHOR’S NOTE : a little reminder that Damian was born from a “test tube” with Bruce and Talia’s DNA (to simplify things), and had a surrogate mother to give birth to him (although sometimes he’s seen in literal “baby pods” like in Death Stranding haha). He was born A WHILE after Bruce left Talia and the League behind. He wasn’t born 9 months after. This is important infos so things fit timeline wise :)).

The second woman who had a great impact on your husband’s life, and who used to be “his”, was...Selina Kyle.

For a long time Bruce felt like she was the only one to understand him. The only one accepting him for who he was, with no compromise. The only person on this Earth that wouldn’t try to change him. And although things were often “on and off”, and complicated, it was nice, to feel like he belonged. And Selina... Selina was the only one giving him this feeling.

But...Well, he was wrong.

Because then, you, the “third” and yet most important woman in his life, appeared.

You arrived years after his love story with Talia, and quite a while after he started to realize him and Selina were maybe not meant to be. Too many differences, even as they understood each others (or at least he thought they did).

Then you barged in. A bit younger than him. Unafraid to be yourself, bold and utterly stubborn. Turning his world upside down, and making him reconsider if he ever knew what the word “love” meant before you.

But that, was another story. Anyone seeing you with him, and particularly the way he looked at you, would instantly know how crazy he was about you. How desperately in love he was.

Right now, the question wasn’t about how strong your bond was, and how he never loved anyone like he loves you.

Nope. Right now, it was all about how you didn’t hate his exes (not even Talia). How anyway, they were part of his life at some point, that was a fact you could never change.

Before you, Bruce had a past. Past.

A past. A path. A path that lead him to you. A path that taught him to not make the same mistakes he made before, and a path that showed him it was you. That it has always been you.

A past path, that couldn’t compare to his present with you.

You didn’t even feel particularly jealous of them, you knew how Bruce felt about you, and that they were just that...part of his past.

Now, sure. You would probably never even be friendly with Talia. Who she was and what she stood for made it so. The opposite of you, really.

But Selina ? Well. Selina was another story.

You smile at your son, and say :

“Do you think of Selina and I as “conventional women” ? “

His answer came without a second of hesitation, Damian didn’t even have to think to say what he thought of your question :

“Certainly not.”

“Exactly. Now. Maybe society teaches girls they should instantly hate their boyfriend’s ex, but I chose not to listen. It’s a toxic view of life, and not all exes are crazy jealous psychos as the people make it sound ? Sometimes, like in your father and Selina’s case, the relationship ends on good terms. Selina is a great woman. As soon as she knew your dad and I were actually a thing, she backed off.”

Well. That wasn’t entirely true. She backed off of Bruce. But she still LOVED driving him crazy jealous by openly flirting with you.

“And I know how your dad feels about me. I trust him, too. Trust is important, you know that now right ? -he nods- So. Why would I hate someone I have a lot in common with, and with whom I’d probably be friend anyway if you father wasn’t in the picture ?”

“I...I guess you wouldn’t ?”

“And I indeed don’t.”

Your son was visibly confused, and you couldn’t blame him really.

Because of how the World was, but also because of who raised him (Talia was...a jealous woman), you understood how he couldn’t quite understand you not feeling threaten in the least by the fact Selina was your Broosh’s ex. So you say, kissing his forehead :

“I’ll tell you a few stories, soon. And I think you’ll get it.”

“Ok, mom.”

You smiled. He hadn’t call you “mom” for very long, and you quickly noticed he used every opportunity to use the word. It melted your heart.

“Now, I have to go ! If I’m late, Diana is going to fly me out of here, and your father HATES when she does that. Goodnight baby, see you soon. Make sure to eat a proper dinner. I told Alfred but I trust you to listen. And force your dad to have one too, when I’m not here, he forgets things...even as important as literally feeding himself. Too engrossed in his project, you know. Anyway, love you. Good night !”

“Good night, mom.”

And with a last smile, you go out and leave behind a son that has a LOT of things to think about.

************

A few days later, it was Damian’s mandatory night off and he was going to bed early. Your orders. You convinced him, by promising to read him a bedtime story.

Many would think your son was too proud to even admit you still read him stories before bed, even as he was approaching the age of 12. But many would be wrong.

If there was something Damian wasn’t afraid of, it was to tell the world how much of a mamma’s boy he was. Nobody could blame him, he never really had a “real” mom. Not one like you, at least, who taught him with love and patience, and not hired assassins and blood.

“Ok Little Buddy, what will it be tonight ?”

"The story of how you became friend with Catwoman ?”

Your taken aback for a few seconds, you had totally forgotten about telling him about your “girls night out”. But then you smile, settle down next to him on his bed, and as he threw his heavy and comfortable quilt on both of you, you start your story.

The day she saved your life.

The first time you realized you and Selina could very well become friends one day, was that time she literally saved your life. Definitely a hint that she didn’t hate you, at least.

And you ? Sure, at first you were a little insecure because you knew she was Bruce’s ex and Selina was...Well she was a gorgeous woman, smart, witty, and very VERY hot.

But after seeing her a few times there and there, and seeing how she interacted with Bruce...you knew Selina Kyle was not the “home wrecker” time. That she would never try anything with him, as long as she knew you two were a thing.

Sure she was a thief, unscrupulously taking whatever she wanted from whomever she wanted...but “someone else’s man” was definitely where she drew a limit. She felt absolutely no pleasure being a mean spirited person.

And she saw how happy Bruce was with you...Which lead to that fateful night during which you two started to get closer.

Because sure, you fought off your insecurities about her being his ex, but you weren’t exactly friendly. You just...knew of each others.

The change happened not long after Bruce made it official with the media that he was no longer “Gotham’s most eligible bachelor”, and was in a serious relationship with you.

To your surprise, the people in the city took it really well. Bruce was a beloved figure, they were happy that after years of clearly love life instability, he found someone. Sure, a few women and men had their heart broken, their dreams shattered, and were totally jealous of you but...

Anyone seeing you with him just instantly knew you guys were the real deal. That it was true love, as cheesy as it sounded. It was just that obvious.

Maybe too obvious.

Clearly, soon, everyone in Gotham knew how much Bruce Wayne cared about his girlfriend. How he would do anything for her. And...Well.

This was Gotham. Do you get the picture ?

It was a time during which you hadn’t moved in with him just yet. You’d do that only a few months later, not long before you and Bruce would adopt Dick.

But for now, you still had your studio apartment in the heart of Gotham (refusing to take any handouts from Bruce, who could definitely get you a better place), and you were going back there after a few meeting with your publishers.

You were suppose to meet Bruce the next day, as tonight, he was working on some important “Batcases”. You didn’t mind too much. Sometimes, it was nice to be alone with yourself, gave you a moment of self-care and calm.

You loved Bruce of course, and loved being with him, but it was still nice to have some alone time nonetheless.

Anyway. You were walking back, feeling rather good about the bath bomb that was waiting for you back home (it was from your favorite artisanal shop, a gift from Bruce, who definitely had no qualms buying you hundreds of dollars worth of bath bombs haha...If he couldn’t help you get a better apartment, didn’t mean he wasn’t gonna spoil you otherwise).

That’s when it happened. You never even saw it coming. One second you were walking down the street, the next you had a damp towel around your mouth and nose, and everything went to black.

************

You woke up in a warehouse. By the salty smell in the air though, you guessed you were somewhere on the docks. Which didn’t tell much, there was a lot of docks, in Gotham. Perks of living on a city with a seafront view ?

There was a group of men in a corner, playing cards. In front of you, a camera. You were gagged, your arms and legs were bound, and your head hurt like hell.

“Hey, she woke up.”

A shuffling to your side. The men playing cards were moving. They came to you, one turned the camera on. The other one put on some headphones and slowly directed a mic towards you, as the last man pulled on a ski mask and settled in front of the camera.

Nothing made sense to you. Until the man in front of the camera started to talk.

“Bruce Wayne. We have your girlfriend. If you don’t bring us-”

Oh. Oh. You were kidnapped. And those men wanted a ransom. An insane amount of money. That you knew Bruce had, but still. Ah.

You had to get out of here. You had to.

You looked around you, nothing. And there were the three men. Oh. Oh but the edges of your chair were sharp. And if you slowly made a back and forth movement with your wrists, you could see it slowly cutting the ropes. And so, you got to work.

Only...

“Believe me, we won’t hesitate to hurt her. Here, a proof of “good faith”.”

Huh ? OUTCH ! The man in front of the camera had just almost knocked you out with the force of his punch in your jaw. You were wondering if he hadn’t broken it. You couldn’t quite think anymore, and could feel the tears slowly falling on their own from your eyes...

Damn, it hurt. You didn’t see it coming either, too focused on slowly cutting the ropes while making sure they didn’t notice.

“Ok, I think that’s good. Whaddaya think, Rupert ?”

“We can do another take if you want, and then edit the punch in ? I’m not sure she can handle another hit like that, she looks pretty shaken up.”

“Ah well we-”

“Oooooh booyyys !”

Your ears were ringing, everything was blurry, and your head hurt so much. But you definitely recognized that voice.

“Catwoman, you’re early.”

Huh ? What was she doing here...

“Well, I thought I’d pop in a little earlier knowing you boys would be around. I’m sort of in a hurry. I accept cash of course, as usual. I think you’ll find the array of jewelries I brought today to be...What the hell are you doing ?”

“Mm ? Oh, her ? A little side operation. She’s Bruce Wayne’s sweetheart. Rumors has it he’d burn the world for her, we thought we’d take advantage of it and expend our business.”

“That’s quite a jump from fencing stolen jewelries, to kidnapping, isn’t it ?”

The man shrugged, and turned back to you.

“Well, you don’t achieve anything if you don’t start new ventures. And there’s big money to be made here. For sure. That idiot Wayne will pay up, there’s no doubt.”

You heard the click-clacks of heels, and a shadow came into your vision.

“What did you do to her, you animals ?”

“Just a punch. And maybe we weren’t too delicate with her when we moved her to our van, and then here. But it’s fine. Nothing too bad really.”

Slowly you were regaining your vision. And the pain was retrieving. You had never been punched before. You kinda hope it would never happen again...

The way those thugs were talking about the all thing was so casual, from them talking about how they’d edit the video destined to Bruce, to how they were just saying they were expanding their operation...For a little bit, you almost forgot you were from Gotham.

Gotham.

America’s capital of crime.

Where little thugs like those ones were plenty.

Men who thought they could “make it big”.

Gotham.

A place that bred someone like your Bruce, and his nightly activities...

Selina’s voice raised again, harsh and dry :

“I give you all the things I stole in the past month, in exchange of her.”

There’s a short silence, followed by a chuckle from one of the man, clearly the leader, who answers :

“Oh please. We ain’t stupid. We know her value. And we know someone like you, wouldn’t trade anything in for her if she wasn’t valuable. You’re not exactly known to be a nice woman.”

There’s a hint of anger crossing Selina’s face, and you immediately understand where it comes from. Sure. She was a thief. A criminal. And sometimes, she’d rough up some security guards, or some fellow criminals that think they could cross her.

But she was no brute.

She would never NEVER kidnap anyone, and especially not an innocent.

She protected children, and defenseless woman in her neighborhood, and whenever she could. She wasn’t exactly a hero, like Bruce; That’s for sure. But she wasn’t a bad person. No. She wasn’t.

And those guys words ? Just infuriated her.

“Mm. Too bad for you. Don’t go out and say I didn’t give you a chance. Really, too bad. I liked doing business with you.”

“What are you-”

In an instant, Selina sprout in action, and knocked the three men out before they could even realize. That was impressive. Even gagged, you could hear yourself utter a “wow” as she rushed back to you to untie you.

She smiled as she saw you made a good way through the ropes, and were most likely be able to get out of your bounds at some point. You were glad you didn’t though, because you weren’t quite sure what you were going to do once free ?

You fall forward on the floor and she catches you. Your head is still ringing, as you look at Selina.

There is genuine concern on her face.

How odd.

"Are you okay ?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Good. Cause I refuse to be the one telling Bruce the person he loves the most in this world died. Again.”

“Yes. Thank you I-I...”

“Hey, are you okay ? (Y/N) ? (Y/N) ??”

You could hear Selina call to you, and it felt like her voice was slowly fading into the distance...The adrenaline gone, the stress of it all gone, you had simply passed out.

************

“Is she alright ?!”

Bruce arrived, bursting through a window, and ran to you. Your head was in Selina’s lap (she felt bad just leaving you laying down there on the hard concrete ground), and she was casually sitting, her back against a container.

She was surrounded by the knocked out bodies of your aggressors.

“Yes. Yes she’s just sleeping. She got roughed up a little bit, but I checked. Nothing too bad. It’ll leave a few bruises. Nothing time cannot heal.”

After saving you, totally by chance, Selina called Bruce on his red phone, so he would know it’s an emergency.

It didn’t even take him more than ten minutes to drop the case he was working on, cross town, and arrive.

He kneeled next to you, and checked every part of you to make sure Selina was right. But it did appear you were just asleep. The shock was too big, probably.

“How did you know she was here ?”

“I didn’t. It was all luck. Those men were some...um...Associates of mine.”

“You have associates that kidnap women ?”

There was anger in Bruce’s voice, but Selina knew better than to think it was aimed at her. No. It was anger he felt towards those men who hurt you, and towards himself, too, as he wasn’t there to take care of you.

“No. She’s their first.”

He looks at you, with a longing and love in his eyes that he never looked at Selina with. She recognizes it instantly. He’s more in love with you than he ever been with her. Was it even really love, between them, or a strong friendship ? Sometimes, the two were difficult to dissociate.

She stares at him, because it’s quite something, to see the Batman himself so desperately in love that he dropped everything he was doing to run to you, knowing that you were safe.

It’s quite something, to see the Batman himself ready to give it all up just for one person. Something he was never willing to do before. Never willing to do with Selina...

She stares at him, and smiles. An almost sad smile, because it hurts a bit, he never looked at her like that. But a smile nonetheless, because she knows now for sure, that he found his true love.

Nobody would peg Catwoman for a romantic, but oh, oh she was a hopeless sap. Especially when it touched her dear friends.

Bruce looks at her, and mistakes that look in her eyes for something that isn’t there. She can see it instantly. He thinks she’s sad, that she’s truly hurt he found someone else. That he moved on.

She’s not. But of course, he would think so.

“Selina I-”

“Don’t Bruce. It’s ok. You and I were never meant to be together, and we knew it. Doesn’t mean we can’t be friend. I actually think we work better, as friends, don’t you ? Take care of her. She’s definitely a keeper.”

You slowly shift in Bruce’s arms, and he takes a look at you. At your wounds. His heart tightens, and he holds you with more force.

“Thank you.”

He barely whispers it, but Selina hears him. She smiles at him, happy that her friend found happiness. True happiness.

All she ever wanted for Bruce, was for him to find a way to be happy. Clearly, she wasn’t that. But you...You definitely were.

“I don't know what I would’ve done if she...”

“Hey, hey come on Bat. Don’t think about this. She’s fine. Just tired from the shock. She’ll recover, she’s strong. And you’ll be here, right ?”

“...Yes.”

He didn’t sound too convince, and Selina could feel a big urge to slap him across the face. Because she knew what he was thinking. And he’d better not do it.

“Bruce if you-”

“Thank you, Selina. I’m going to take her home, now. She needs the rest. And-And I do too.”

And on that note, he exited the warehouse, holding you tight in his arms. And oh. Oh Selina hoped to everything she held sacred (and that wasn’t a lot of things) that he wouldn’t be a stupid idiot.

The day she saved his heart.

He couldn’t stop thinking of that time you got hurt. Because of him. Because he was Bruce Wayne...What if anyone got wind that he was Batman ?

It’d be even worst. If someone like the Joker, or Penguin ever knew who he really was (and that was definitely a possibility), being with you would sign your death.

He had to-

“Oh god Bruce you are SO cliche.”

He slightly jumped in the air as Selina casually sat down beside him, looking down to the dark streets below. There was a slight fog, and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes at how even the weather decided to join in ont he stereotype.

“Excuse me ?”

“You’re a living cliche. What, brooding all alone on a rooftop, on a full moon night, wondering if you should ruin your life or not, sacrifice your own happiness for dumb reasons.”

“What ?”

“What, breaking up with her to protect her ? Really ? Do you even know how dumb that sounds ?”

“I didn’t-”

“Your thoughts are plain to see. I know you, Bruce. And I noticed your face, ever since she got hurt. And what you’re thinking? Leaving her for her own safety ? D-U-M-B. So dumb.”

“Did you not pay attention to the close call she just had ?!”

“I was there to save her. And if I wasn’t, you would’ve barged in and save her. Or better yet, when I arrived, she had made her way half way through her bounds by slowly cutting it on the edge of her chair ! She might’ve escaped on her own !”

“Or gotten killed.”

“But she’s alive.”

“No thanks to me.”

“So what, you renounce happiness because maybe one day she’ll be in danger ? This is Gotham, Bruce. She is always in danger. And if you leave her alone, like I know you’re thinking about, she will definitely be an easy target. It’s not because you break up with her that people will stop thinking you care about her. In fact, after she got attacked like that, and it was made public, I bet the opposite will happen. Criminals in Gotham are a lot of things, but dumb is unfortunately not one of them. They WILL come after you if you leave her to fend for herself. If you break up.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know that. Come on Bruce. I was born here. You too. And her too. Hell, I saw her give a nasty right hook to more than one person, in the short time I’ve known her ! One of those being Mayor Hady himself, and that was BEFORE she started to date you, how fearless is she, huh ?”

“That’s the problem.”

“Her fearlessness ? Sounds to me like it to be taken advantage of. Train her. Teach her to fight, to defend herself. Give her the keys, to survive. Just like you gave yourself the keys to go on your “justice” mission.”

“I...I can’t.”

“Why ?”

“Because she...She shouldn’t live this kind of life.”

“A little late, no ? She knows who you really are already. And she stayed. Even then, shouldn’t this be her own choice ? Shouldn’t she decide on what she deserves ?”

“Selina-”

“Nu-hu. Don’t start with this. You tried to do the same with me, and I didn’t have the patience to stay. But I know she does. I know you can try to push her through the front door, she’ll climb through the window. She, unlike me or anyone else, will see right through your bullshit. Does, see right through your bullshit. And is willing to put up with it...You’ll never find someone else who does.”

“I know...”

“Then, what are you doing ?”

And with that, Selina rolled her eyes, grumbled something about him being a stubborn idiot, said : “think of her feelings for once, and not your own. Because you damn well know Bruce, that if you leave her, it will be out of selfishness, not because you think it’s truly the only way.”, and jumped from the building to the one next door, leaving Bruce with too many thoughts and dilemmas...

Even if in the end, the answer became obvious to him.

************

“As if I would ever let that happen anyway.”

“I’m sorry ?”

Years later, Bruce told you the story of how he almost broke up with you not long after you two moved in together, shortly before you adopted Dick.

“She was right you know ? I would’ve climbed through the window. See. If I knew for sure you were leaving me because you didn’t love me, then I would leave you alone of course. But I would’ve definitely called your bluff.”

“How can you be so sure ?”

He smiles fondly at you, bringing you into a warm embrace as you roll your eyes at him. Ah but of course, even him always knew you could see right through him, even when he tried to hide his emotions.

“Please, Bruce. You can’t fool me. You were never able to, and I don’t think you’ll ever learn to. Or I’ll just learn your new tricks, and crack you anyway. And believe me, if you had tried to leave me at that time...I wouldn’t’ve let that happen.”

He lays his forehead on yours, unable to say another word. Tonight, he was able to tell you this story that was now “silly”, but that almost tore his heart away from him.

Because if he had lose you to his own stupidness, he would’ve become just an empty shell. Back to those dark days of loneliness, and acting like a machine while his entire soul was hurting.

Sure. Now this story sounded silly. But oh, oh if he had gone through with it. If-

“I’ll have to thank Selina though. Because she avoided me going through the trouble of drilling into your thick skull that it’s ok to be happy. And be afraid for those you love. Especially in your situation...”

“I know.”

He holds you tighter. Just as every time he realizes how lucky he is to have another shot at this “family” thing. How lucky he is, that you’re here, with him.

And Selina was truly to thanks for that, in a way.

Because, you were almost sure you could’ve change his mind and not break up with you. But there was this slight possibility, this slight one you’d fail...

Maybe you would’n’t’ve been able to convince him to stay with you. Maybe. There was still a chance, right ? So you’re thankful. Your thankful for having such a good friend. For having Selina in your life.

You’re thankful that one day, a stupid mistake you made truly started this dear friendship.

The day she became a friend.

You had always been quite a “lone wolf” sort of person. So you didn’t have a lot of friends. Your childhood best friend, Alex, had moved across the country years ago. And making new friends as the wife of Bruce Wayne was hard.

This was a time BEFORE you met the others from the League. BEFORE any of them knew the Batman had a family.

Of course, before introducing you to them, he had to make sure things were safe. That they could be trusted (A/N : if you wanna see the day he does trust them, here’s the story I wrote about it haha : “You have kids ?? And…A WIFE ?”).

So, you didn’t have many friends. And sometimes...You wished you did.

Someone that wasn’t your Broosh. Or your kid. Or Alfred.

You told everything to Bruce, but sometimes...Well sometimes certain issues, you couldn’t talk to him about. Like for example the time he annoyed the hell out of you. Sure you’d tell it to his face, and you guys would fight, then work it out, and finally make up, and you didn’t want to bring back the issues you know ? You wouldn’t vent to him about him, eh ?

Bruce was definitely your best friend. But he was also the man you loved. And sometimes, it was nice to have an “outside” perspective.

Someone with whom you could gossip a little (although you did gossip plenty with your husband, when at charity balls and galas).

And then, slowly, you realized what you actually were feeling...

Selina.

You were missing her.

It had been a little while since the last time you saw her.

Ever since she saved your life, and knocked some sense in your Broosh, whenever you saw her, you’d have such a interesting and compelling conversations.

It was oh so pleasant, to gang up on Bruce and make fun of him. His pride was always hit, and he’d frown in such a delightful way.

At the same time, she knew him rather well, and you knew him rather well, and you three had a lot in common and it sometimes felt like you were a trio from a very cliched “chosen one” story.

Hermione, Ron, Harry.

Percy, Annabeth, Grover.

Any trio really. It even inspired some of your stories. Yet...Yet you wouldn’t call her quite a “friend”. Why that ?

You weren’t sure. It just was never made official, and in your anxiety riddled mind it meant that you weren’t friends, then.

Yet you missed her. And earlier in the day, you saw something that made you want to call her and talk to her about it !

Should you call her ? Send a text ? You had her number. She once wrote it on a napkin and slipped it in your pocket right in front of Bruce, just to mess with him. You kept it, and put it in your phone, not really knowing why.

Taking your phone, you started to draft a text (it had to be drafted before being send, it you were even going to send it...your anxiety made it so that even with texts, you had to make sure you didn’t sound stupid or such).

You didn’t really have any intention to send it. You were just toying with a few ideas when...

No. Oh no.

Oh fuck. No. No no no no no no.

Instead of hitting the “back” key to erase the text for good and move on from this weird move, you pressed “send”. Shit. Fuck. Motherfucker.

It was such a dumb text as well.

“Hey girlfriend, wanna hang out ?”

You were just trying out different ways of writing a text, and were entering “stupid silly mode”, which was the step right before you usually gave up and didn’t send something (you had MANY of those moments when starting to date Bruce...Moments during which you almost send some really sappy and silly texts, making the mistakes a few time to indeed press “send”...mortifying...why, why were you never learning from your mistakes ?!).

You were in your office, in the Wayne Inc building (you settled your writing office there, so it was more convenient to see your Bruce, but also to handle taking care of your son, Dick), downright panicking about this stupid text, when you heard a knock on your door.

How long had you been beating yourself down about this ? AN HOUR ?! Damn. Anxiety never let you keep track of time. You-

“Hey...girlfriend.”

Bollocks.

It was her. Selina. And you could hear her smug smile in her voice. You were facing your windows, not wanting to turn around, and it was getting a little awkward. Selina broke the silence :

“Listen, I thought you did want to hang out and was just making an inside joke by being overly girly, you know, imitating those models Bruce used to date ? But I realize maybe this was um, a mistake ?”

She sounds so unsure. You never heard her sound unsure before ! So you turn around, and here she is, a little shy.

Catwoman. A little shy ?

And all of a sudden, you realize she must’ve felt the same about you. Consider you a friend, but since you never talked about it never took it for granted, for something sure, settled in stone ?

And your text maybe confirmed you were, indeed, friends ?

And here it was.

From that day, and on.

The official beginning of your friendship.

Of course, you both saw the other as a friend since a while before, but it’s with this embarrassing text that it really changed everything.

Made it “official”.

Made it clear to the both of you.

It never occurred to you that Selina too, could sometimes have insecurities and be anxious. But that day, as she shyly responded to your call, hopeful it meant you were really friends...

Being her, it was also hard to make friend.

She had been friend with Bruce for a long time. The fact she was yours now too, filled her with joy. Because she really liked the both of you, in the most platonic way that ever existed.

Yes. Her and Bruce worked better as friends anyway.

Ah. But wasn’t this how the best friendship started ? With a push from fate, a little awkwardness, and a lot of laughter once the initial shock passed ?

Girls night out.

It happened a day during which you, Dinah and Lois were...not in a great mood.

Your husbands were aggravating, your children got into troubles and shenanigans, you had so much to do...it was a lot of stress, and it was all released at the same time.

You all left your house yelling that you “needed air”, and left behind rather stunned husbands and children. Ah but yes, everything wasn’t always perfect, even amongst loving families.

And your first reflex ? To call each others.

That’s it. That’s how girls night out started. The realization sometimes you needed to wind down with some friends. But quickly, you realized that the three of you talked mainly about your kids and husbands, and by extension, the “superhero work”. Which was fine, you needed to vent but...It wasn’t helping you relieve some tension.

And that’s when you got an idea.

Who better than Selina Kyle to make you NOT talk about your families ?

You joined in a bar every first Wednesday of the month, starting at happy hours for you, Dinah and Lois. Ranting about your families, and about annoying habits your husbands had etc etc...And then you were joined a bit later in the evening by Selina and Diana.

And that’s when the fun really began.

It became a ritual.

Girls night out (A/N : maybe I should write a story about that one day haha).

This was one such night, and you had let lose a little bit more than usual because...for the first night in nine months, you could drink a little bit of alcohol.

Alcohol had never been your thing, but a sweet cocktail there and there was nice. Now, while being pregnant with your youngest, Thomas, obviously you weren’t going to do that.

And you had missed a few “girls night out” because you were too damn pregnant.

But now, he was OUT, and you were TOO.

Well. Diana said something like that, as she kept giving you more and more cocktails.

Long story short, you were a little tipsy. And definitely not able to drive. And so here was your savior, Selina.

She didn’t really drink, knowing you would totally let loose. So she drove you home.

You were coming back a little later than usual, and you had forgotten to send a little text to Bruce to tell him so so he wouldn’t worry (Selina did it for you though, true friend had your back eh ? And she definitely didn’t want the Batman to come barge in on your girls night fun).

He opened the door as you walked up the stairs, saying bye to Selina. She had that smirk on her face, the one you knew she always had when about to tease your beloved husband. And as he slipped an arm around your waist, and turned to wave goodbye to her...She did just that :

“Careful Bat, I’m making good progress with her. If you’re not wary enough, I’ll steal her from you.”

On that note, Selina winks at the both of you, puts on her sunglasses (while it was night...Oh Selina), and drives away, smiling widely of that very Catwomanesque smug smile. Which makes you chuckle. She always made you laugh rather easily.

You turn to your bruce and...

Oh. That adorable “jealous frown” got you every time. Your smile shifts from amused to utterly affectionate, and you put your hands on his cheeks.

He was looking at Selina’s car fading into the distance, the arm he had around you tightening slightly (you were pretty sure he wasn’t even consciously doing it). Your hands on his cheeks didn’t seem to register in his mind.

So a further distraction was needed. You brush your lips against his cheek, as an attempt to drive his attention back to you and...it works.

You smile at him, and in your little hazy state you whisper in his ear :

“I love you, my Broosh.”

He can’t help but feel a surge of warm feelings towards you, and bring you in a tight hug. Partly because he can’t help it, partly because he’s trying to hide the slight blush growing on his face whenever you surprise him with “I love yous”, and that always made him snicker at him...Only you could fluster him so.

“I love you too.”

You tripped on air, as, once again, you were a little tipsy, and he catches you...Good, he needed an excuse to carry you bridal style anyway.

He always liked doing so, any excuse to have you near really. And as your face approach for a loving kiss you-

************

“Wait wait wait mooooom !! You don’t have to leave this gross part in !”

“What gross part ?”

“The sappy declaration of love, and the kiiiisses !!”

“Oh ? But don’t every story have to end with a kiss ? And a happy ever after ?”

“Nu-huh ! Also HEY ! None of your stories end like this, I know, I read them all !”

You chuckle slowly at your boy’s reaction, and kiss him on the forehead. Quite touched he read all your stories.

“Time for bed, little buddy.”

You say, slipping out of his quilt and tucking him in. You can see he pensively thinks about your little friendship story, and finally he says :

“I’ll try to be nicer to Miss Kyle. I never trusted her, because of her past with father. But maybe she deserves a chance ?”

“She does.”

“If you say so, then I believe it.”

It touches you, how much blind faith your son puts in you. You smile, giving him another kiss to his forehead, as he says :

“Thank you for telling me the story, mom. It was nice.”

Behind this “it was nice”, there isn’t just the story itself, but the knowledge that as you grow up...Your feelings change.

You change.

And you go through a lot of heartaches, before finally finding the right persons to surround yourself with.

Beyond the story itself, Damian related to how it took both you and Bruce a lot of trials and errors, before finding each others. How you loved before you met the other, but it never compared to how you love each others.

How you found good friends along the way, and how even when things sounded desperate and lonely...you made it through.

So he could certainly do so, too ? Even more so since now, he was a big brother.

Thomas was barely a few weeks old, but Damian had already taken his role very seriously. And you knew he was going to continue to grow, to love, to hurt too sometimes...and to evolve.

Just like you and Bruce did.

So. No. You didn’t hate Selina Kyle just because she and your husband used to be a thing. In fact...

In fact, Selina had become both of your best friend. Unfortunately for Bruce, she often took your side on everything, and LOVED to drive him crazy by openly flirting with you.

And she had been by your side through many good moments, and bad ones. The first to respond when your family needed it. The one you’d always be there for, and vice versa.

A best friend.

Quite an important find.

When you met Bruce, not only did you meet the love of your life, but also one of your best and most precious friend.

Conclusion : is it possible to be friend with your husband’s ex ? Absolutely.

Especially when that “ex” was someone as extraordinary as Selina Kyle, and when the love that linked you and your husband was so impossible to even graze.

__________________________________________________

And yet another bonus story that I had no intention to write but suddenly felt the need to haha. Don’t worry, the rest of the stories I announced are still coming ;). I guess there’s nothing bad in having little bonus ones in between hehe. I hope you liked this, again it’s just a little drabble.

As usual comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated and motivating <3.

PS : I wrote this, like all drabbles, in like thirty minutes. Didn’t re-read. Sorry for any typos. Don’t hesitate to point any huge ones to me, Ill change it x_x.

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libermachinae · 3 years ago

Text

Night Shift

Also on AO3! Summary: Prowl and Jetfire analyze leads on a Decepticon smuggling operation, working together late into the night trying to find the missing connections. A sleep deprived slip of the tongue leads Prowl to revisiting old choices. Word Count: 2146

---

Prowl didn’t keep track of his chronometer this late in the night. Morning was inevitable, and he knew he could rely on a burst of messages from Orion to let him know when it had arrived. As such, he had no idea what hour it was when Jetfire broke through the productive silence.

“How did you come up with these predictions?” Jetfire asked. Worst of all, he was speaking with his mouth full, apparently too incensed by Prowl’s logic train to be bothered with common decency. “Every gun you’ve pulled in has been running on fumes; I’ve had to scrape the insides of the barrels just to figure out what they’re fueled on.”

The impressive thing about Jetfire was that even as a voice over the comms, he sounded like the biggest bot in the room. It wasn’t just that his voice was deep; Orion, who wasn’t that much taller than Prowl, had a voice you could feel through the floor panels. It was something about the way Jetfire talked, deliberate and straightforward, rarely stuttering even when caught off-guard. It was refreshing.

“I’ve outlined the logic process in my report. I won’t be repeating it,” Prowl said, scrolling back through his files.

“What are they teaching in the enforcer academy that reports don’t need to communicate anything?” Jetfire grumbled

It would be a reasonable estimate to say they spent 50% of these near nightly calls complaining about their targets, their coworkers, and the administration, and another 40% about each other. Prowl sat through them strictly as a matter of convenience, being a faster mode of communication than the intermittent data bursts preferred by the sanctioned enforcer agencies.

Having someone at the other end of the line also assisted the rust sticks and nucleon microcubes in staving off recharge protocols.

“It’s as I explained to Tumbler: it communicates everything I intended it to.” Ideally, very little to anyone who couldn’t have worked it out themselves. That way, the important information stayed with those who could actually use it, and the rest—

“Who’s Tumbler?”

Prowl lost his train of thought as the rest of his processor caught up to what the .5% he reserved for conversation had said. He froze, rust stick halfway to his mouth.

“No one,” he said.

“Okay.” Jetfire drew out the word. “Did he buy that line?”

No, of course not. Tumbler was always relentless about that sort of thing. His curiosity and drive could have lent to the makings of a detective or captain if he’d dedicated them more often to investigations and less on critiquing Prowl.

“He was young and failed to grasp the necessity of efficiency in our line of work.” Prowl had tried to be patient, but he’d been young too, and Tumbler was the first partner he’d had who would listen to him. Even if it was just to argue that Prowl’s opaque writing was the cause of their inefficiency.

“Hmph.”

Jetfire liked to intersperse their conversations with meaningless noises, and although Prowl needed more samples before he was certain of his explanation, he believed they meant Jetfire didn’t agree with something he’d said but was ending the discussion prematurely. It was illogical, leaving a matter unsettled for which a solution existed, but normally Prowl’s priority queues were ordered such that work came before ideological disagreements.

“What?” he asked, finally setting down the rust stick.

“You’re normally terrible with names,” Jetfire said without hesitation. “I’m just trying to imagine what a bot would have to be like to leave that much of an impression on you.”

“He was talented,” Prowl admitted.

“Do you keep in touch?”

“No.” Prowl straightened his back and flared his sensory panels, ready to move on. “It was not a practical partnership. Being together diminished our respective abilities and prevented us from fulfilling our responsibilities. It was for the betterment—”

“Hey, hold on, Prowl,” Jetfire said, his rolling voice enough to draw Prowl up short. “I know that you—but, you know what that sounds like, right?”

Prowl frowned, immediately recognizing Jetfire’s social theory tone.

“Pragmatism,” he said. “We can’t have everything we want in an ordered society. I—we did what Cybertron needed of us.”

“By disposing of a part of yourself?”

Tumbler hadn’t liked that explanation either.

“We weren’t conjunx.” And for very good reason. There were more important things in life than feelings or fleeting commitments, and it was idealists like Jetfire who—

“Just because it didn’t have a name doesn’t mean it wasn’t important.”

Prowl’s thoughts stumbled. He hadn’t expected Jetfire to say that, not because it was out of character but because he was right. That was the exact sentiment Prowl had tried to put to words maybe half a dozen times and now it was being turned on him like a spotlight.

“There are things that should never be sacrificed,” Jetfire went on. Prowl felt his silhouette thrown into sharp relief. “Things we’re worse off for letting go of.” He paused. “A while ago, I was made an offer: instant entry to the academies. No exams, no fees. Everything I’d ever wanted. In return, though, I would’ve had to give up my wings. My… sponsor, I guess, knew I had the processor for science, just not the frame. They asked for me to give up one part of myself to let the rest go free.”

Prowl shook his helm, leaning away from the speaker. Jetfire’s tone was the same one he occasionally used with Bumblebee. With Prowl, he was hard edges and warning lights. They weren’t this for each other. They didn’t do this.

“You were nearly the victim of a scam,” he said, searching blindly for familiar ground.

“I’m sure it seems that way,” Jetfire said, unperturbed. “Do you get it, though? Giving up any one piece would’ve meant tacit agreement with the Functionists, that I wasn’t fit to do my work in any form but what they prescribed. Even if I’d told myself it was for Cybertron, it really would’ve been a sacrifice in their honor, and nothing would ever be worth that.”

Prowl wasn’t entirely obtuse. He understood what Jetfire was saying, but he couldn’t afford to hear it, not with everything he had already done and the plans he had yet to set in motion. Maybe Jetfire had found a way to live that allowed him to maintain his idealistic commitments, but most mechanisms weren’t so lucky. Everyone had to give up something.

“And now you’re here, working on behalf of the Senate,” Prowl said, just to prove that point.

Jetfire made his noise again.

“Right, I forgot,” he said. Annoyed or frustrated: the usual feelings they brought out in each other. “Waste of time. Forget I said anything.”

Prowl wouldn’t, but he also wasn’t going to give Jetfire an excuse to keep pontificating.

It would have been a waste of their time, anyhow, because however sincere Jetfire was in his admission, Prowl had never understood the hypocrisy of bots who would claim to reject Functionism while maintaining an almost fanatical devotion to their frames. In some intangible sense, maybe he did enjoy the opportunity to go for a long drive, but he couldn’t imagine himself grieving his tires for their own sake. He tried to compare it to what he had felt when Tumbler had said going to Kaon was a selfish, pretentious idea and immediately recoiled.

“Results are exactly what I told you,” Jetfire said. Prowl realized he hadn’t gotten any work done in the last several kliks. “Not nearly the concentration of materials to support your theory the Decepticons have contacts in Uraya, and a few that will probably trace back to Kaon, like everything else.”

“I’d like to see for myself,” Prowl said, standing. He didn’t often get this badly distracted, and it was easy to pin it on the state of his desk: used energon cubes and wrappers from the cheap snacks he kept fueled on littered the spaces he should have been using for case notes and displays. When was the last time he’d cleaned?

“Really?” Jetfire asked. “The data’s pretty clear.”

“Humor me.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing?”

Neither said goodbye before they hung up: another of their customs.

Prowl cleared the mess into the trash. Exhaustion was nibbling at his processor like a corrosive. Another couple shots would get him through his morning meetings, and then a regular midday fueling would carry him over until he could recharge properly in the evening. Before that, though, the day had to begin, an event he discovered was closer than he’d expected when he stepped outside and saw the horizon just tilting toward the pale blue of an oncoming dawn.

The air was gentle, the pleasant cool that foreshadowed a blistering day. Jetfire was a dot over the Rodion skyline. Prowl glanced up at the few stars that could punch through the light pollution and was reminded, suddenly, of the time he and Tumbler had discussed getting a little patch of metal out on the Tungsten Moors. The barren sparkfields had felt nonetheless fertile with possibilities, and they had gotten hung up on whether it would be more practical to live in a house with two stories or just one. It had been a fantasy, nothing more; even on their joint income, it would have taken millions of years to save up. But there had been something, if not fulfilling, thrilling about it, making plans that didn’t hinge on work or promotions.

He wondered if Tumbler remembered that conversation.

Jetfire’s slow approach gave Prowl time to dwell while keeping an idle optic on his teammate. There was nothing spectacular about Jetfire’s flying: Prowl had worked with and chased down fliers who were faster, more maneuverable, and flashier in every way. But there was something resolute and sure about the way Jetfire coasted, a steadiness that Prowl would have appreciated sooner if he’d noticed it, his thoughts of Tumbler and past mistakes and pointless sacrifice sliding away as he watched Jetfire’s flight.

Jetfire’s flying was beautiful, in its own way. Its understatement reminded Prowl of his own assembly line colors, but with an underlying confidence that left Prowl feeling inadequate. Though technically strong, his power was limited to what he could siphon off Orion and their other high-level contacts. He’d experienced a taste of the real thing under Sentinel, but that had been an especially tenuous connection, liable to snap had he ever tugged too hard. Jetfire’s power was all his own. Not overwhelming, not enough to make the changes Cybertron needed. Incomparable, really, to what Prowl had wielded. But it radiated from the tips of his wings to the burn of his thrusters, self-realized, without reservation or concession.

Prowl’s tac net pinged him with the results for a problem he hadn’t realized he’d plugged in: 50% Prowl should have been strong enough to find another way, 50% choosing Tumbler would have made him stronger.

A perfect 50-50 meant his systems were badly in need of defrag. He cleared the cache and set his tac net to reboot, shaking his helm to dispel the resulting vertigo as Jetfire landed on the steps below him. Prowl waited patiently for him to complete his mode switch, taking two steps back so they would be at optic level with each other.

“Pleasant flight?” he asked.

“Wouldn’t trade it for anything,” Jetfire said with a smugness that allowed Prowl to scoff as he motioned for the datapad.

Jetfire handed it over. Prowl knew he was being watched as he powered it on and reviewed its contents, but he took his time, using Jetfire’s results to run through a few warm up calculations as his tac net came back online.

“You didn’t check for copper fluoride,” he commented.

“No,” Jetfire said slowly, “because it wasn’t one of the compounds we were investigating.”

“Run the tests again.” Prowl tried to return the datapad, but Jetfire refused to take it. “The chances we would find evidence of materials native to the Urayan region were always slim to none. However, the old blackmarket pipeline between Kaon and Yuss ran directly underneath the city. Does that make more sense?”

Prowl saw the moment Jetfire finally saw the case as he did, a knotted web of deceptions meant to dissuade even the most seasoned detective from untangling its core. Jetfire took the datapad from Prowl and stowed it, though the hard look in his optics did not waver.

“Could’ve said that from the beginning,” Jetfire griped.

Prowl didn’t bother to respond. What was done was done. Talking so much about the past was a waste of time neither of them could afford, because for all that it might have mattered, nothing they said could change any of it. All they had was the future, and the possibility of starting each day stronger than they had the one before.

#finally remembered to upload!#maccadam #transformers #prowl #jetfire #my writing #oneshot

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milstrim · 4 years ago

Text

Comfort in My Shadow

Chapter 8: Forgiven

By @iwritedumbshit for @iron-mum

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7

---

Peter wasn't quite sure how long he lay in the warm sand, his and Mr. Stark's hands lazily entwined while the vulture lay a few feet away, webbed to a crate, but he didn't really care. For the first time in days--months, really--he felt okay. He felt calm and safe, never mind the pain in his ribs and licking at his burnt skin, they didn't matter to the teenager. He'd heal. He always did.

After a few more minutes, there was the sound of sirens. Peter propped himself up, staring at the approaching red and blue lights, his heart dropping slightly. He guessed this was it. Mr. Stark would have to deal with the plane and Peter would have to deal with Mr. Fowler. He wasn't quite sure how mad the man was going to be at him being gone for two days, but glancing down at his soulmate, he didn't particularly care. He'd get to see Mr. Stark again soon, and that was all he really needed to push himself to his feet.

Mr. Stark glanced at him, picking himself up as well and placing a gentle hand on Peter's shoulder before turning to stare at where every emergency vehicle ever was arriving.

"Guess it's time for clean up," Mr. Stark said, whistling lowly. "Happy is not gonna be too please with me."

"I'm sure you'll be able to handle him, Mr. Stark," Peter responded, fishing his mask out of the sand and shaking it out.

"Eh. I'm not super up to it. However, if I tell him I'm taking care of a sick and injured child, I might get away with it for the night."

Peter laughed. "Better find an injured child first."

"I found one." Mr. Stark wrapped a loose arm over Peter's shoulder, corralling him forward. "Don't think you're getting out of this that easily. The Medbay at the compound is waiting for your burnt behind. C'mon, let's go."

"Mr. Stark, I gotta--"

"Get to medical, correct."

"No. Mr. Fowler--"

"Has already counted you as missing for two days. Your curfew is long broken," Mr. Stark countered, moving to say something else when a shiny black car slid to a halt in front of him. More cars and vehicles followed suit. Mr. Stark gave him a smirked glance. "Might want to put that mask on if your secret identity still matters to you."

Peter slipped the mask over his face, following the man as people poured out of the vehicles. Mr. Stark stepped up to a tall man with a surly face and a tightly wound posture, practically storming over to the billionaire. His first instinct was to step in front of Mr. Stark, but the mechanic didn't tense at all, instead slipping into a slightly strained smile.

"What the hell happened here, Tony?" the man asked, glancing over at Peter in confusion.

"Criminal mastermind. He's webbed up back there," Mr. Stark said. After a tired moment, the man shook his head.

"You look half-dead. Go see an ambulance. Call Pepper. I'll take care of this."

"No can do, Happy," Mr. Stark responded, gesturing to where Peter was standing uneasily. "We're gonna head to the Medbay. I'll see you at the compound."

Happy looked ready to argue, but with one last glance at Peter, he just shook his head again. He looked like he was about to burst from the stress. "Do you need my car?"

"Mine's still running."

"Good. Call me when you get there."

"Definitely, Mama Bear. Come on, kid."

Nervously, Peter circled around Happy, following Mr. Stark quickly to where the sleek car was waiting. The engine was still running, and he guessed that Mr. Stark had left the keys in in his mad dash to get onto the beach and help him out. He blinked in slightly dazed confusion, unused to being important. To being cared for.

The sound of the car door opening distracted Peter from his thoughts, drawing his attention to where Mr. Stark had opened the back door of the vehicle. The man gestured between it and Peter.

"Well? You getting in or not?"

"Am I being demoted from shotgun?" Peter snipped, but he got in nonetheless. Surprisingly, Mr. Stark slipped in after him.

"No. We're gonna make sure you're not dying," Mr. Stark said. "Friday. To the compound."

"Of course, sir," the cool robot voice responded, and the car started off, riding easily back onto the street. Peter finally took his sandy mask back off, grimacing at the grit that had slipped into the cuts on his face and watching with a sharp eye as Mr. Stark pulled out a first aid kit from underneath the seat. It was ridiculously big and, when he opened it, ridiculously well stocked.

"Okay. Suit off, Petey-Pie, let's see what we're working with."

"Hey! I just got you back on the nicknames!" he protested. Mr. Stark fixed him with a smile.

"Your AI came up with Peter-butter. My turn. Now: Suit please."

With a tired grumble, the teenager pressed the spider on his chest and peeled the suit from his skin coated in a thin layer of blood and dried sweat. He grimaced, blushing at the sight of his thin ribs. To his credit, Mr. Stark didn't say anything, didn't even stare at how gaunt he was, just poured some rubbing alcohol on a cloth and went for the nearest wound on Peter's chest.

He held back a pained hiss at the sting.

"Hold that in place," Mr. Stark ordered. Peter placed his own hand over where the cloth was, and Mr. Stark returned to grabbing more materials for more wounds. "Rate your pain. One to ten."

"Six."

"An eight, then."

"No one asked you, Doctor Stark." Mr. Stark glanced up at him from where he was wiping at a bloody slash on his shoulder, his eyes flashing. The teenager didn't notice that it was in humor and not in anger. Peter lowered his eyes, stomach churning and swallowing nervously. He had to force in a breath, remembering that the hand on his shoulder was gentle and friendly. Not Mr. Fowler. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize, Pete. You saved a lot of lives tonight. Saved my ass, too. Make fun of me as much as you want."

"Really?"

"This deal is limited. You have an hour."

"That's unfair!" Peter protested.

"Tough luck."

"But--" He was cut off by a hiss of pain as the car hit a bump in the road, jostling his bruised body. His ribs felt like shit now that the adrenaline was rubbing off. He couldn't remember being in this much pain, and it was all the teenager could do to blink back tears as his entire body burned.

"Drive carefully please, Friday," Mr. Stark called. "Are your ribs okay?"

Peter shrugged. "They'll heal. They always do."

"See, that's not really good enough for me. Friday'll scan you when we get to the compound and make sure all your organs weren't squished. We're not going to deal with internal bleeding."

Peter nodded dumbly, the world feeling like it was coming to a crashing halt around him. He so desperately want to lay down, to sleep and forget about Mr. Fowler or the group home and how badly he didn't want for Mr. Stark to go. But he didn't voice any of it, instead staying ramrod straight as Mr. Stark wrapped bandages around his shoulder and chest, the man mumbling about pain medicine that probably wouldn't work while Peter stared out the window with a tired blink.

After a few minutes, he mumbled, "How are we going to explain this to Mr. Fowler?"

Mr. Stark paused, glancing up at him before turning back to wrapping a thick layer of bandages around his chest. They were already turning a little red, but Peter wasn't worried, sure that they would stop soon. After a moment, the man patted the bandages into place and sat back in his seat with a tired sigh.

"See, I'm not really thinking we should."

Peter's neck cricked with how fast his head turned to look at the man from where he'd been shrugging on the tattered MIT hoodie, his eyes widening. "What? No--Mr. Stark I have to tell him something. I can't just--"

"You can't just go back to him, Peter."

His heart felt like it skipped a beat, his eyes narrowing defensively.

"...What? Mr. Stark, what the hell are you talking about?"

The man's finger thrummed against his thigh, brows furrowing as he clearly thought about what to say next. After nearly a minute, he turned back to Peter. "Kid...Fowler didn't file a missing person's report."

"...And?"

"And?" Mr. Stark repeated incredulously, "Pete, you've been missing for two days. With no reports to the police. No sort of search party or notifications that you're not okay. Nothing to keep you safe. And foster parents especially are expected to be on top of this kind of thing."

Peter stared at the man in confusion, stuffing his hands in the torn hoodie nervously. He shrugged nonchalantly, fumbling desperately for an excuse that didn't sound like shit. "Mr. Fowler's just--he probably didn't want to freak all the other kids out and--"

"Peter."

His jaw clamped shut with an audible click. Mr. Stark sighed, rubbing at his forehead.

"Look... My dad--my dad wasn't the best. He was mean and constantly disapproving, and he hit me when he was mad. I thought it was pretty normal growing up--not that I liked it in the slightest--but I was used to it. It was just what I expected." Mr. Stark paused, holding Peter's teary stare. "But that didn't mean it wasn't wrong. Adults should never hit a kid. Ever."

Peter tore his gaze away from Mr. Stark, staring at the seat back in front of him. He stuttered, "Mr. Fowler--he doesn't--he's never--"

"He took your card," Mr. Stark cut off gently. "He bought alcohol. A lot of it. I'm sure the following nights weren't very pleasant--believe me, I would know. And, I hate to tell you this, but you're thinner than a twig and jumpier than a grasshopper. And don't tell me that it's your superpowers, I know it's more than that. Kid, he's a bad foster parent, and you deserve better."

The teenager was silent for a solid minute, avoiding Mr. Stark's gaze as a feeling of frustrated helplessness bubbled up under his skin, threatening to spill from his eyes. He swallowed, wishing desperately he could curl his knees up to his stomach and hide himself in a ball underneath the red and torn hoodie.

"I don't, really. It's my fault I'm in foster care in the first place, and I was in a nicer home before I got sent to Mr. Fowler. They caught me sneaking out to patrol and I got sent away, so. Really it's just karma or whatever."

"Karma shmarma," Mr. Stark snapped. "You. Deserve. Better."

Those words didn't make sense, not to Peter. Why should he deserve better? Why should he be allowed to go on living comfortably and happily while May and Ben were in a place so dark their shadows no longer existed? It'd been his fault, and no one else's. If he'd just paid better attention. If he hadn't been so selfish. If he hadn't been so mad.

No. He didn't deserve better. Mr. Fowler had become exactly what Peter deserved. This guilt was exactly what Peter deserved. It bubbled underneath his skin, angry and hot and painful. Peter grit his teeth as regret reared its ugly head.

"It doesn't matter!" the teenager shouted. Mr. Stark stared at him in surprise, eyes dark. There was a silence following his outburst, stiflingly uncomfortable. The anger left him immediately, leaving him slumped against the sleep with a stressed sigh. "It doesn't matter... He can put whatever he wants in my file, he already has. He has everything he needs to ship me out of the state the next time I fuck up. Which might be now, to be honest."

The thought appeared the moment he said it. Peter didn't want to go to Jersey. He didn't want to leave New York, full of memories, both good and bad. Memories of dark nights and memories of comforting shadows. It was enough for a single tear to slip through his defense.

There was silence. Tiring and stifling and awkward.

There was a hand through his hair. Soft and gentle and soothing.

Peter leaned in unconsciously, turning the look at Mr. Stark through his flopped curls. The man had shifted to sit closer to him, brown eyes sad and tired and horribly heavy.

"You deserve better, Peter," he repeated, not an ounce of hesitation about him. "Whatever happened that made you think you deserve to live with a man who hurts you, it wasn't bad enough. Nothing ever could be. Because you're a good person, and good people make mistakes. They always do."

Peter shrugged. "Mr. Fowler can still do whatever he wants. He's my guardian."

Mr. Stark pressed his chin into Peter's messy hair. He could practically feel the mechanic thinking, solving a puzzle. A bit of his snappiness returned, the Tony Stark persona flaring up.

"I'll fix it."

"But--"

"I'll fix it. Just let me help, Pete."

"...Okay," he said after a moment, just desperate to let his eyes slip close. Desperate to forget. Mr. Stark tapped his cheek as his eyelashes fluttered close.

"Thank you for trusting me, but no sleeping. Just in case you have a concussion."

Peter groaned in annoyance, but he continued to slump against his soulmate's shoulder, lazily tracing the way their shadows flickered. He liked it better when they were normal, when he had Mr. Stark's shadow, but Mr. Stark's arm against his own was good enough that he could live with it until they got to the compound.

---

Tony kept a steadying hand on Peter's shoulder as they stumbled out of the Medbay together. The kid looked dead on his feet, ready to pass out on the nearest soft surface, but Tony needed to set just a few more things in motion.

Friday's scans in the Medbay hadn't revealed anything new or horribly life threatening, just a few cracked ribs and broken bones healing rapidly. The mechanic had splinted what he could and given the kid more wraps before declaring him fit to head over to the Avengers common hall. Tony himself was resisting a heavy limp, grimacing with every painful step, but he hadn't broken any bones and there were about a million things to do before he could get some bedrest.

The door to the Avengers hall slid open for the two as they approached, revealing the shiny and empty living room and kitchen. Always empty. He pushed the thought down with a tired swallow, giving Peter's shoulder a pat and leading him forward with a forced excitement.

"You're going to love it here," he started, rambling. "It's really nice. Watch out for Vision though when you meet him, he has a problem with walls. Here, sit down on the couch right here, I'll be right back."

Peter plopped down on the leather cushions, doe eyes following Tony in complete exhaustion as he walked away. Tony stepped over to the fridge, opening it and roaming over the food inside. He frowned. It was fresh, but most of it was basic ingredients and produce for bigger meals. Spinach, peppers, raw meat, hunks of cheese. Overall, nothing that would help the teen right now, save for a large carton of juice that he grabbed.

He closed the fridge, opening the pantry instead and pulling out bags of cookies, pretzels, and a random bag of obnoxiously healthy vegetable chips. His arms full, he tapped the door closed with his foot and headed back over to Peter on the couch, setting all the snacks next to him. Peter stared at it for a second, eyes heavy.

"Eat up. I know you're falling asleep on your feet, but you need calories to heal. So eat, sleep, hang out, and when I get back everything will be fine. Okay?"

There was that doubt again, lingering in Peter’s dark brown eyes. A tired reluctance that Tony remembered in his own eyes when he’d finally escaped home.

But then Peter’s eyes brightened when they clicked with Tony’s own. A sliver of trust.

There was a ghost of a smile on the kid’s face.

"Okay, Mr. Stark."

Tony smiled, ruffling Peter's hair. "Friday will lead you to a room when you're done eating. I'll see you later, kiddo."

As Tony walked away and towards his unused room in the compound, the corners of his mouth tugged, able to faintly make out the opening music to Star Wars.

---

Tony arrived at the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys while it was still dark, his torn and dirty suit replaced with a sharp blazer and a matching pair of slacks thrown over a random graphic tee he'd grabbed. Once he'd popped a few painkillers and made a few calls with Pepper and his lawyers, the man had grabbed a pair of car keys and left, but not before checking on Peter once more to find the kid already fast asleep. He'd draped a blanket over him as softly as possible and walked out the door.

Peter's tired face has stuck in his mind as he'd driven over. The sharpness of the cuts healing on his thin cheeks, the faint smattering of freckles and the curly hair dripping onto his forehead. The thought of anyone being okay with hurting that kid was dangerous in his mind. The Vulture, or, Adrian Toomes, as Happy had sent him, was already being dealt with, but Andrew Fowler had yet to face the consequences of his actions. And Tony didn't want to leave the other kids in his care for one more second.

Not even bothering the lock the door, Tony stepped out of the car and up the steps of the building. He rapped on the door furiously, his anger kneading into the wood. The number on the front trembled.

Tony knocked two more times before there was finally an answer. The door swung open, revealing the stale stench of beer and a grumbled man. His pale eyes widened only slightly at the sight of the billionaire in front of him before resetting to their original uncaring position. The man took a swig of the beer in his hand.

"What are you doing here? The brat hasn't been here in a couple of days."

Tony narrowed his eyes, clenching his jaw and resisting the urge to smack the bottle out of the man's hand. "You know I'm here for Peter?"

"Kid receives a mysterious letter with the initials 'TS' on it and the best excuse he can come up with is a school sponsored pen pal named Tony Smart? I'm not an idiot."

"I would beg to differ on that, but a let's agree to disagree and all that, shall we? I've got bigger fish to fry."

"Look, as long as I get a cut of the kid's pay, you can keep him as long as you want."

Tony paused from where he was pulling a folded up piece of paper out of his blazer, his eyes flashing and his stomaching sinking with an icy hatred. "Pay?"

"That shiny card must be part of his pay, right? Though I thought a sugar baby of yours would get more than three hundred dollars."

This time, Tony couldn't help himself from knocking the beer out of Fowler's hand. It smashed against the doorway into a thousand pieces, like the mechanic wished he could do to the man. Fowler opened his mouth to shout a protest, but Tony beat him to it. With an angry step forward and a dramatic flash of the papers hiding in his jacket, he cornered the man.

"You're disgusting. That is a child, that you were just willing to, what--pimp out?"

"Jeez, fine. Don't get your panties in a twist," Fowler said, but there was a drunken and fearful wobble in his voice. Still, he demanded, "You owe me a new beer."

"No. I owe you these."

Tony shoved the papers into the man's hands. Fowler spluttered in protest, but took them anyway with fumbling hands, squinting down at the paper. There was a hungry interest slowly replaced by confusion and then destroyed by horror.

"What the hell is this?" Fowler demanded. Tony managed a vengeful smile.

"A warrant and a signed court order," Tony said icily. "All of the children here will be placed in new homes and you will be placed in custody."

"You can't do that!"

"I think you'll find that I can. And I did. You did commit credit card theft after all. And being me did help. Just a little."

"I can--I have rights!"

"Oh, yes. I am arresting you. I guess I should read you your Miranda Rights, huh?" He cleared his throat. "You have the right to remain silent--and I would prefer if you did--anything you say may be used against you in a court of--"

"Shut up!" the man panted, clearly panicked. Tony let out a low whistle, not ashamed in the slightest to say that he was enjoying the way this man squirmed and sweat and fumbled.

"Well, now I have to start over. Legally, I do have to tell you this. Then again, I don't have any cuffs on me so I guess an NYPD officer could read them to you if you'd prefer."

"I can--this is fabricated! Whatever that kid told you, he's lying!" When Tony glared, a no nonsense stare of harsh anger lining his face, Fowler stumbled for a different approach. "I'll sue!! I can accuse you of shit too, Stark."

"I'm sure you can try," Tony said softly. "In fact, I invite you to try. Have fun with it. But know this--you messed with my shadow, and I don't take too lightly to people who do that."

"Your--"

Fowler was interrupted by the wailing of sirens. Tony straightened, pulling on his blazer. "Ah, that must be the police. I hope you have a good lawyer, though I'm sure they won't be better than any of mine. And--oh! Rot in hell if you would, please."

Tony patted the man on the shoulder just a little too harshly.

The billionaire left as soon as he could, but not before collected the belongings of Peter's left behind and doing his best to assure the frightened kids at the house that everything was going to be okay for them. That it was going to be better.

Everything was going to get better. Tony was sure of it.

---

When Peter woke up, it was to quiet murmuring and the rifling of papers. He tensed immediately, his brain autopiloting to Mr. Fowler rifling through the morning mail, realizing horribly that he must have fallen asleep downstairs and--

"--all the paperwork's been filed," a low voice said, interrupting the teenager's panicked thoughts. "It's just waiting for the kid's signature."

Kid? Oh. Him. Peter was the kid, and Mr. Stark was the voice, the one mumbling about papers nearby. Peter kept his eyes closed, evening out his breaths as he tried dimly to remember what was happening.

It struck him without much effort that he was at the Avengers Compound, healing after having been kidnapped and then fighting the Vulture. He must have fallen asleep on the couch Mr. Stark had led him to, and judging by the soft warmth wrapped around him, someone had draped a blanket around the wounded boy. There was a dull pain that throbbed throughout his body, but it was easy to tell that most of his injuries were well on their way to being healed. The teenager guessed that all the bandages could be removed by midday. He wondered if he'd be removing them at the compound or if he'd already be back at the group home.

"Tones," came another mumbled voice, clearly doubtful and stressed. "Are you sure you're ready for this? I mean, I know he's your soulmate, but this is more than hanging out with or mentoring a kid. This is raising one."

Peter couldn't help the shock that made him tense and forced his eyes open. Thankfully, the two people talking were away from the couch and in the kitchen, unable to witness his small freak out. Raising? What the fuck???

Mr. Stark sighed, short and hot.

"I know, Rhodey, I know. The thing is, I could let him be placed back into the system, make sure he has a good home and let that be it, but I just... I mean, just looking at him is enough to tell me that that's the wrong move. I don't know what it is, but I see his face and I just--I just want to make sure he's okay. I want to keep him safe. It's--I don't know--it's like..."

"Like you were meant to be there?"

"Like I was made to protect him."

Peter flushed, fingers clenching around the blanket as he stared at his shadow, fixated on the tall shoulders and fluffy hair. He felt like he was choking on his own tongue, trying desperately to not say anything as he chewed on his cheek nervously.

"Maybe I was," Mr. Stark mused. "We still don't know why soulmates are soulmates anyway."

"Maybe," Colonel Rhodes responded. "If you believe in a higher purpose and whatnot."

"I don't. Usually. But for this, I think I do."

"I guess that all that's left is making sure Peter thinks you were made for it too."

"Yeah," Mr. Stark said. "Is it weird to be nervous? Like, this nervous? I've already sweat through my shirt."

Colonel Rhodes laughed. "I'll see you later, Tony. Good luck."

"Where are you going?"

"To put out fires for everything that happened last night. It happened right on Coney Island, Tones, every reporter in the city was there within ten minutes."

"Yikes. Hope you have fun, honey bear."

"You're an asshole."

"Love you too," Mr. Stark cooed. There was the sound of an elevator closing, and then it was just him and Mr. Stark. Peter wasn't sure whether to continue to pretend sleeping or not, not that he was sure he'd be able to properly fake it if Mr. Stark came over and looked up at him. He was practically frozen, stiff as a stick and staring ahead of him at his shadow with a fixed gaze.

Peter bit at his lip as he listened to Mr. Stark as he began to move around the kitchen, willing himself to sink into the cushions, relaxing with the clattering sounds of movement. He tuned into the notes of activity, listening intently as the billionaire softly clanged a pan on the stove, eggs cracked and cheese grated. There was the sizzle of cooking and the perfume of comfort. The teenager's mouth watered unwillingly at the smell of a hot breakfast.

So, of course, it was the grumble of his stomach that gave him away.

Peter winced at the loud noise, only worsened by the stifling of movement in the room for a long moment before it finally returned. He thought that maybe he'd gotten away with being awake when Mr. Stark called, "You up, kiddie?"

Seeing no point in lying, Peter pushed the blanket off of himself and peeked his head up over the back of the couch. Mr. Stark caught his eye immediately, overlooking the room from the stove in the kitchen area. The man smiled at him, and Peter tried for a small one back. It was weak, and he knew it. Mr. Stark probably knew it too.

"How're you feeling, Pete?" Mr. Stark asked.

"Ah, fine, fine," Peter said, getting off of the couch and stumbling over sleepily. After a moment of hesitation, he sat on a stool beside the kitchen counter, peeking over the polished marble to catch a glimpse of what Mr. Stark was cooking, pointedly ignoring the stack of papers on the other countertop. He was pretty sure that he was making an omelet. Just to double check, he asked, "Whatcha making?"

"Breakfast," Mr. Stark answered. So, not that helpful, but Peter didn't push. Instead, the teenager tried to sit back and make his shoulders relax. "We should check your bandages after we eat, okay?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah, sure. That's good. Real good."

"And...I have something I want to talk to you about."

Peter couldn't help the way he froze, tensing so tightly he could probably make diamonds. Terrorizing anxiety coursed through the teenager in a way that he hated with every fiber of his being. He didn't know why he was freaking out so bad, why he felt like his soul was about to leave his body and take every rational thought with it.

"Yeah. Sure, sure. Okay," he managed to say. Mr. Stark gave him a look, but thankfully didn't pry, instead grabbing a spatula and tediously flipping the bright yellow omelet. Once that was finished cooking, Mr. Stark placed it on a plate a little messily and handed it to Peter along with a tall glass of orange juice. He thanked the mechanic quietly, quickly moving to eat the food.

Mr. Stark grabbed a piece of toast with jam on it and sat on a stool next to Peter. The two sat in tired silence while they ate, nothing breaking the lull save for the slight chewing of food and scraping of utensils. Mr. Stark finished his piece of toast before Peter finished his omelet, but only barely as the teenager polished it off ravenously. He could tell that Mr. Stark was anxious to get to that talk, but the man allowed for him to finish his glass of orange juice before beginning to talk again.

"So," Mr. Stark started, tapping on the counter nervously. Peter watched him anxiously as the man stepped off the stool, continuing to talk as he walked into the kitchen. "How much of our conversation do you remember while you were concussed last night?"

"Ah, most of it. I think," Peter said.

"Do you remember when I told you you couldn't go back to Fowler? And that I'd fix it?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah..."

"Well, I've got a solution." Mr. Stark stopped, his back to Peter, in front of where the stack of papers had been sitting. There was a moment of silent hesitation before the man picked it up, turning back around to face the teenager. "It's--if you don't like it, I can figure something else out, it's all up to you. But I'm completely willing to become your legal guardian."

Peter just stared, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open. Shock overtook his bruised body, leaving him a restless shell that was reduced to do nothing but stare. Mr. Stark hurried on in a slight panic.

"Of course, nothing's been finalized. My topnotch lawyers and the pulling of a couple of strings got me these" he gestured to the papers, "pretty quickly. They've all been notarized and signed, but nothing's official until you agree. It's your choice, kid."

Swallowing felt like the hardest thing he'd ever done as the teenager tried desperately to reset his glitching brain.

"My... You're going to be my guardian?" was all that he could say. It came out as a squeak, barely audible even to his ears.

Mr. Stark nodded. "Only if you're okay with it."

Peter could only gape at him for a moment before sputtering, "Wha--I don't-I don't---are you okay with it??"

Mr. Stark's face, contorted into confusion and slight apprehension, relaxed as the teenager finally managed to spit out his confusedly stuttered question. The smile that appeared was a little tired, a little exasperated, but no less warm.

"I'm five thousand percent okay with it," the man said. "I've never been more okay with anything in my life."

Peter stared up at him, swallowing forcefully. He wanted to say yes, to agree and finally be safe and okay, but hope was something hard to hold onto. This kind of trusting optimism, it was horribly unfamiliar to the teenager. It had been months since a hand on his shoulder had meant the friendly guidance of a caring parent rather than the controlling demand of Mr. Fowler. Since hugs had been constant and loving and Peter hadn't had to wonder about his place or his next meal. All those months had festered up so easily, and even the thought of trusting that everything would be okay with Mr. Stark was daring.

"Are you sure? Like, really sure? Because, I know-I know I can cause a lot of trouble and I still want to stay at my school in Queens and--"

"Then we'll stay in Queens," Mr. Stark interrupted. "And I'll keep up with you and your 'trouble.' I want to. I want to take care of you." When Peter was silent, Mr. Stark chewed at his cheek and then started, "You know what they say about soulmates? And their purpose?"

"That depends on who you ask, Mr. Stark," Peter managed to mutter. Mr. Stark huffed a laugh.

"Fine. What's the oldest, craziest, old wive-i-est tale about soulmates and destiny you can think of?"

Peter thought for a moment, searching in his mind desperately for what his Aunt and Uncle had used to tell him whenever he'd asked about soulmates. About when he'd meet his shadow and what it would be like.

"That souls were attached to each other for a reason?" he suggested with a shrug. "I don't know. Aunt May used to say that we were part of the same soul, but Uncle Ben wouldn't hear a word against soulmates being different souls that were, like, perfectly matched to support each other. He believed more in the destiny part."

Mr. Stark smiled.

"They sound like they knew what they were talking about."

Peter nodded, rubbing at his nose and sniffing tearfully, "Yeah. Yeah, they were pretty great."

"Well, I've never been one for the whole destiny thing, but I can't deny what it feels like to be around my soulmate. Like a purpose just dropped on my doorstep. Which is how I know that I'm more sure than sure that I want to take care of you."

"You think that that's your purpose?"

It sounded ludicrous to the teenager's ears. This was Tony Stark. Iron Man. He saved lives and the world and he'd fought aliens. He provided affordable and clean energy for the world. He ended wars and funded charities and he was important. And Peter...Peter was just himself.

"I know it is."

Peter let that sit, eyes glancing for a moment. Something finally clicked. After what felt like years and no time at all he choked out a teary, "Yeah. Yeah, I wanna stay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Suddenly Mr. Stark was by his side, a hand draped over his shoulder and his chin pressed into the boy's hair. Peter couldn't help the tears then, silent and staining his cheeks a flushed red. He sniffled with the relieved tears, his nose beginning to run. Mr. Stark only wrapped him in a tighter hug, soothing circles rubbed into the teen's bony back.

"It's okay, Peter. I've got you."

---

After Peter signed the papers, Tony had broken out two specially ordered cupcakes, his heart practically cracking in two at the way the teenager's eyes had lit up with unbelievable excitement. The mechanic had expected for the kid to gobble up the dessert in less than a second flat, but instead, Peter savored it slowly, as if afraid that it would disappear if he took his eyes off of it.

Peter later admitted the truth about mealtimes at the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys. The same meals every day (cereal for breakfast, PB&J's for lunch and dinner). One snack. No sweets.

No wonder the kid was nothing but skin and bones.

Tony kept Peter in the compound for another few days after the Vulture incident, putting out fires and making sure the kid, and himself, had both fully healed. As well as narrowing down some apartments in Queens. He and Pepper had already been picking between them for days beforehand anyway, so he'd taken the last options to Peter, not that the kid had really voiced an opinion.

Tony ended up going with the most expensive one. They moved in after three days in the compound. A small suitcase filled with Peter's meager belongings that Happy had recovered from the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys was the only thing the kid ended up bringing with him. If Tony had to guess, he would say that the teenager had maybe three pairs of clothes.

The kid kept huddled next to him, painfully close the entire time as Tony swiped the card to the building, as they walked through the lobby and into the elevator, and when they finally walked through the door. Not that he minded in the slightest, enjoying the bewildered look on Peter's face as they stepped into the apartment. There was still plenty of unboxing to do and furniture to move around, with Pepper's supervision of course, but the teenager was clearly losing his mind with the high-rise.

"Whoa..." Peter muttered under his breath. Tony hummed in agreement.

"Pretty nice, right? Of course, Friday hasn't been installed yet, and there's a few changes to be made, but I think this is good."

"Changes?"

"This building didn't come pre-stocked with a state of the art lab, y'know. I was thinking about transforming the floor below."

"This apartment has three floors?" Peter asked, his eyes widening as he turned away from the glass stairs leading up to where Tony was pretty sure a couple of bedrooms were.

"No, just two. I bought the building."

"You... What?"

"I bought the building," Tony repeated offhandedly, moving to explore the new kitchen. "We still have neighbors downstairs, of course, but I wasn't about to have a landlord tell me what to do. Besides, better for insurance."

"I don't like that that's what you're concerned about," entered a new voice. Tony turned and smiled brightly at the sight of his girlfriend stepping into the apartment. She was clearly tired from all the fallout from the plane crashing, but she held a genuine smile on her face nonetheless.

"Pep!" Tony called. "You're just in time to unpack."

Pepper rolled her eyes at him, instead turning to greet Peter, who was staring at the woman like she was God herself. When she held out a hand, it took Peter a few moments to fumble out a response and shake her hand.

"Hi--hello, Ms. Potts," the kid stuttered. "I'm--I'm Peter."

"Hi, Peter. You can call me Pepper."

"Okay. Pepper."

Tony made a buzzer noise. "Excuse me? I'm still Mr. Stark? Who's your soulmate here?"

"That's your name, Mr. Stark," Peter smiled. Tony ruffled his hair as embarrassingly as possible.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Peter-butter."

If looks could kill, he would say that Peter was trying to kill him. However, the flushed cheeks and baby doe eyes did nothing but make Tony's heart wiggle in amusement and Pepper stifle an coo.

"Stop terrorizing the kid," Pepper reprimanded. "Especially when we've got work to do. Once Peter's stuff gets here we can begin moving that into you room, but for now we'll work on the main area."

"Oh, uh, my stuff is here, Ms. Potts," Peter mumbled. Eyes strayed to the beaten up bag. Tony and Pepper exchanged a glance.

"New plan," Tony announced. "Online shopping. C'mon."

"But--"

"Nope," Pepper cut across. "You're a part of the family now, Peter. We get to splurge on gifts."

Together, the two grabbed Peter's arms, leading him over to the steadiest pile of boxes and sitting down. Tony pulled out his phone and placed it in front of Peter, who didn't even touch the phone now balanced on his leg, just stared at it in confusion.

"I--what?"

Making a face, the mechanic tapped Peter's head. "C'mon, Petey-Pie. You know how to work a phone. Whadda ya want first?"

"I don't--I don't know? I don't really care."

Tony glanced over at Pepper once more, a little bit at a loss. He would be lying if he said he knew exactly how to connect with Peter. He felt like he'd been doing a good job thus far, but not everything made sense to him about their relationship, and a teenager given basically an infinite amount of resources to get whatever he wanted and wanting nothing was confusing him more than anything ever had.

With a look that clearly said, 'Let me take the lead,' Pepper picked up the phone, drawing Peter's attention.

"How about we just start simple? We'll start on your room now, and then go shopping later for clothes, okay?"

"O-okay," Peter mumbled. Tony gave him a comforting pat on the back.

"Great," Pepper said. "What kind of bed do you want? Queen? King? Bunk bed?"

"Bunk bed," Peter said after a moment.

"Great. What sheets?" Tony asked. Peter shrugged, but Tony shook him playfully. "C'mon, my little shadow. I know you're a nerd deep down, and on the surface too. What sheets do your geeky little teenager heart desire?"

"Star Wars?"

"Star Wars it is," Pepper declared.

Peter smiled, his cheeks cherry red. Tony grinned. Now they were getting somewhere.

Ten Months Later

"Boss, Mr. Parker is back."

Tony glanced up from where he was working in the lab, looking away from his newest project to smile brightly at the ceiling. He stood up, wiping his oily hands off on his equally oily pants, finally conceding to grab a cloth and rub the slick grease from his fingers. The mechanic gave the new project one last glance before throwing the cloth down on the nearest table and stepping toward the elevator.

"Great. Tell him I'm on my--"

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Tony turned, a confused expression turning into a small smile as he caught sight of the red and blue figure stuck on the window, waving at the mechanic in excitement. He rolled his eyes, walking over and undoing the latch on the window to let the teenager finally at a healthy weight roll into the room.

"I'm gonna start putting bug spray around the apartment until you learn to use a door," Tony warned. Peter pulled his mask off, revealing hair pulled down by sweat and a bright smile. They grew brighter and brighter every day. The teenager rammed a shoulder into Tony's playfully.

"Why can't a window be a door?"

"Because it's a window."

"Old houses in the south used to be able to transform between windows and doors to evade taxes."

Tony considered him. "How do you know this?"

"Decathlon."

Tony rolled his eyes, unsure of how he hadn't guessed that. He was going to the kid's competition next week for heaven's sake!

"Well, this is not the old south. We use doors here."

"That's less fun."

"Yeah, yeah. Go wash up for dinner."

"But it's barely five! I was going to go out again."

"Should've thought about that earlier," Tony teased. "It's family dinner night. And don't you have an essay due?"

Peter mumbled, but listened nonetheless, beginning to pad away towards the elevator to go up to their apartment suite, when there was the ringing of an oncoming call. Both of their heads turned as a screen popped up, displaying an unknown number, untraceable too. Tony and Peter exchanged raised eyebrows as the kid walked back over.

"What is this, Fri?"

"It is an incoming call from the phone Captain Rogers sent you."

Peter glanced between him and the screen warily. "That means there's a problem, doesn't it?"

"Probably," Tony admitted.

He turned to the kid, patting the kid's back and fixing him with a steady stare. Peter's doe eyes attached to his, trusting in a way that had been growing exponentially recently. Tony hadn't known it was possible to look at someone with that much trust. That much love. Especially from a kid whose first interaction with Tony had ended up in him running away, but life had become steadily calm, steadily trusting, as the days had gone by. As the months had. A few bumps in the road and a couple of mishaps, some bigger than others along the way, but good nonetheless. Yeah, life was good.

Tony liked to think he was right most of the time, but even he knew he was pretty hit or miss on how to remain any kind of relationship. But this--Tony knew he'd been right. His purpose was to protect Peter. And he loved every second of it.

"But if it is, I'll keep you safe. We'll fix it together."

Peter's lips tugged in a trusting smile. He held out a fist. "Together. MacaTony--"

Tony returned the fist bump lightly with a roll of his eyes, grinning as he caught sight of their shadows switching, "--And Peter-butter."

Whatever Steve was calling for, neither would be going in alone. They were never alone.

Their shadows made sure of it.

Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7

@annabanannabeth

#friendly neighborhood exchange #peter parker #tony stark #Iron Man #spiderman #irondad #spiderson #irondad and spiderson #ironman fanfiction #spiderman fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #soulmate au #platonic soulmates #not st*rker #thank you so much everybody for sticking around and reading my story!!!#:)))

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 years ago

Text

Satisfied, Part 49

First

~~~

Marinette chewed on the inside of her cheek anxiously as her watch beeped to indicate that the Gala was starting. She gave Chloe about thirty minutes to enjoy herself and then sent the text behind her back. It didn’t matter if anything she said was legible, Chloe would understand.

The alleyway was completely silent as she waited for the familiar sound of a text tone. She looked up at the sky. The stars overhead twinkled. It was a perfect, cloudless Christmas night... and she was going to be spending it in an alley, then in a warehouse, then attempting to prevent a massacre. How fun. She should be enjoying her time with her boyfriend, dancing at a Gala, but apparently it wasn’t meant to be.

She drummed her fingers across the brick behind her, her irritation spiking. All that work on an outfit for herself and Chloe only for them to get about thirty minutes of use total. Man, if only she could have gotten the bunny miraculous from future Alix. That would have been a good thing to know ahead of time.

Ding!

She was pulled from her stupor and sighed, mouthing the words. Kaalki sprang to her glasses and she felt the familiar rush of energy as she transformed.

And, with that, she was off into the night. Her hand dipped down into her pocket to brush the miraculi she’d brought along. She had a plan, she reminded herself, it just all needed to work out. All she needed was a bit of luck --.

Ah. She was screwed.

Her boots clicked on the rooftops as she made her way through town.

The receiver in her ear beeped and she touched her hand to it.

“Ready, Mari?” Said Jason.

“Not really.” A grin broke across her face despite the circumstances. “If we’re all dying tonight I’m gonna be honest.”

“Don’t say that! You need to be more optimistic!” Said Dick.

She snickered. “Mmmm, fine. Either way, I’ve kinda known you guys’ identities for a while. You Waynes really aren’t as slick as you think you are.”

She used the stunned silence as a chance to turn down the volume on her comm. She’d need it.

There was a chorus of people yelling some form of ‘wait what?!’ and ‘how?!’ and, even with her volume on the lowest setting, she still winced and brought a hand up to her ear.

“I’ll explain later.”

If she could.

But, hey, Dick said to be more optimistic and she could at least keep morale up by pretending like she thought everything would work out.

She hummed lightly as the henchmen came into view. She leaned over the side of the rooftop, watching them wander around aimlessly in search of her. She pressed a hand to her comm. “Right, I’m gonna deafen.”

Everyone mumbled their ‘goodbye’s and ‘good luck’s. She smiled and changed her setting.

Her feet hit the ground and waved to the henchmen. “Right, right, I’m here.”

She doubted they would tranquilize her this time, considering they’d want her in her best shape to keep her portals. So, she beamed as they walked towards her.

She let them force the bag over her head and raised her eyebrow as they led her through the streets on foot. Maybe they were just tired, but that didn’t mean that the tiny difference in routine didn’t give her an extra little dose of anxiety about the whole situation.

But then they pulled the bag off her head and she was in a warehouse. And Harley tackled her in a hug as usual. Everything was fine. She barely even wheezed when she hit the floor, used to this by now. She grinned and hugged back.

“So, is there anything we need to do before we head out?” She asked, resting her head back against the cold stone. Harley had moved off of her by that point but, hey, she was tired and she didn’t want to get up.

“Nothing in particular,” said Riddler, scrolling through his phone idly like always.

She smiled at him. “Cool, I got you something.”

He raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“Guess.”

He broke into a grin and turned around in his chair to face her. “Do I get any hints?”

“Only that you wouldn’t need any to solve this kind of puzzle.”

He seemed to think for a while, then rested his head on the top of his chair. “It has to fit in your pockets even with your hands in there, so… a rubix cube?”

She tossed him a Megaminx magic cube. “Close enough.”

He caught it and started fidgeting with it, a smile on his face.

Harley pouted. “I can’t believe he got a gift. I’m your favorite!”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Well, he always looks bored. If you were bored all the time I’d give you something, too.”

“Ha! You didn’t say I wasn’t your favorite!” Said Harley, grinning as she pumped her fist in the air.

She rolled her eyes and rested her head on an arm. Her eyes flickered around calmly and she came to realize that everyone was still in the middle of the room. “Where’s Joker?”

“He’ll be here soon,” said Penguin, a hint of distaste in his tone. “He’s busy with his hair.”

Her shoulders relaxed and she allowed herself to close her eyes. “I’ve always wondered if he just woke up like that or not. Y’know, with the chemicals and all.”

She felt someone come over and lay their head on her stomach and she peeked an eye open to see who it was and then closed her eyes again. Catwoman. Cool.

She rested an arm over her lazily. “You really are like a cat, huh?” She teased.

“Hey, sweetheart, promise me something?” She heard the woman mumble.

“Sure,” she said, sobering a little at the serious tone.

“We all agreed that, if things don’t go well, you aren’t allowed to come save us.”

She frowned. “Um… what?”

“You’re a kid. You need to promise that, if we start getting captured, you have to run. Or portal, whatever. Don’t try and save us. Get out. Okay?”

Tears threatened to come to Marinette’s eyes. Man, couldn’t they all just be terrible people to their cores? She wanted to just put them in jail like she did any other random criminal she stumbled across with Damian, but they just had to be nice to her.

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice tight. “I promise.”

She felt her nod. Or, maybe, she was just burying her face further in her stomach. Either way, Catwoman must have heard because she didn’t press the issue further.

She didn’t even realize she had fallen asleep until she was nudged awake. And by ‘nudged awake’ I mean she was kicked in the shoulder so hard it probably would have broken if she wasn’t in costume. Nonetheless, she still cursed and brought a hand over to cradle it. “Ow? What the hell was...?”

She opened her eyes to see Joker standing over her and her voice faltered. She fought the urge to scramble away in fear, her eyes flickering over his mask. “Uh… Joker, sir, your… face is upside down…”

“It’ll be a great punchline, trust me.”

She nodded slowly and pushed herself up. “Portal time, I’m guessing?”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” said Penguin.

Everyone lined up so she wouldn’t have to make a super wide portal so early on. She was second to last, between Harley and Joker, and she could feel him staring at the back of her head. Her skin crawled.

She took a deep breath. Right. This was going to work out. She just had to… be optimistic.

Damn. If only it was as easy as Dick made it seem. She steeled her nerves.

“Right, good luck, everyone!” She chirped.

She opened a portal at the front and everyone filed through.

She closed the portal behind herself and they made their way through the house. The heels of their shoes clicked against the stone floors as they slipped through the halls. But this was quickly drowned out by the sound of people chattering.

She chewed on the inside of her cheek anxiously as they stepped out into the courtyard. It was always weird when a silence came over a room, because it was never all at once. Silence rippled through the courtyard until the only sound she could hear was her own heartbeat.

And then the screaming started.

Marinette closed her eyes and opened the portals on either side of the manor, blocking the gates. People stopped running to watch the blue portals stretch over the wrought iron. A few brave souls tested the portals to see what would happen and then came back out the other side.

The Rogues went to work, darting through the crowd in search of children. She saw Catwoman climb up a wall with inhuman speed and begin to use a lasso to pull kids out of danger.

Hey! Wait a minute! Marinette’s hands found their way to her waist and she cursed. Fine. She didn’t need a weapon, not as NightMare.

Unable to do much else, she settled for running around and grabbing kids like everyone else. She would grab as many as she could carry, vault over the wall, set them down and apologize profusely, then jump back over for more. She didn’t want to go quickly, she needed the bats to have a bit of time to give plausible deniability, but she was kinda on a time crunch...

Her eyes wandered over people, searching wildly for a familiar red suit. Honestly, why were there so many people in bright red? It’s really not a flattering color and -- there!

She found Chloe hiding out in a corner, probably waiting for the bats, and rushed over. Her gaze flicked over her hairline. She’d smashed her bug. Good.

Marinette grinned and dug into her pockets and held up the bee miraculous. “Tradesies?”

Chloe’s eyes widened and Marinette fastened the pin to the girl’s hair, then pulled the earrings off of her.

“This matches your outfit way better, anyways,” she chirped, giving a tiny wink before putting on her earrings. It felt great to have them again. She grinned. “Tikki, Kaalki, unify!”

“Good luck, right?”

She grinned. “Of course, Queenie.”

They pressed a kiss to each other’s cheeks and darted off in different directions.

Marinette couldn’t show up as a mix of Ladybug and NightMare, and she needed to keep the portals up, but that didn’t mean that she could just sit around doing nothing at all. She settled for jumping onto the roof and yoyo-ing a few people to safety when no one was paying attention.

She felt someone behind her and whipped around, her hand coming up to punch them, only for them to dodge.

She relaxed when she saw it was only Tim. “Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s my fault for just standing there! That was creepy.”

She giggled. “It’s fine, sweetie.”

She felt his fingers interlock with hers and a tiny smile made its way across her face, only to fall as they looked out over the sea of people.

The Rogues were nearly out of kids to take to safety, it seemed. Chloe was on the outer edges, shuffling along and attempting to get as many people out as possible without being spotted.

Their grips tightened on each other’s hands. It was starting to hurt but neither of them were eager to let go just yet.

She swallowed thickly. “How much longer?”

“We’re waiting until they get the kids out, since they’re already doing it for us.”

She nodded slightly.

And then they heard gunfire. Their eyes flicked back down to see Penguin shooting people with an umbrella. It might have been a comical sight if he wasn’t mowing down people at an alarming rate.

She felt Tim’s grip slacken on her hand and held tighter. He paused and she reached out, taking his face in her hands and pressing a short kiss to his lips.

“Good luck,” she murmured.

“One of us has to have it,” he whispered jokingly.

She gave a quiet laugh and let go. He gave her a tiny wink before hopping down.

She surveyed the battlefield, trying to ignore the pools of red and concentrate solely on the vigilantes and Rogues. It was about one-on-one, but the bats did slightly outnumber the Rogues.

Didn’t mean much when they were refusing to kill anyone, though.

She bit down on the inside of her cheek.

Just a few more minutes, she only had to wait a few more minutes…

~~~

Me: oh the Gala stuff will probably be like 3-4k words max so i’ll just have it all in one chapter

Also me: takes 2k words to get through the first part alone

Taglist

@comet-kun @thatonecroc @trippingovermyfeet @swiftie-miraculer13 @nickristus-dreamer @moongoddesskiana @i-am-ironic @indecisive-mess-named-me @thebooki3h @insane-fangirl-of-everything @deepestobservationwombat @theymakeupfairies @fatimaabbasrizvi @clumsy-owl-4178 @fanofalittletoomuch @iamablinkmarvelarmy @nathleigh @lilkymilky @silvergold-swirl @dino-lovingreen-angel @thestressmademedoit @kissa-chan @ladybug-182 @alysrose-starchild @t1dwarrior-of-earth @spyofthenightcourt @rowanrouge @nik-nak-3 @momothefemur @aestheticnpoetic @labschaos @our-preciousss @mochinek0 @eliza-bich @mythogaychic @severelyenchantedwonderland @sashakoi @smolplantmum @bluesimani @tropestropestropes @kitsunebell @keepingupwiththemalfoys @sassakitty @2confused-2doanything @too0bsessedformyowngood @all-mights-asscheeks @demonicbusiness @meg-an-ace @fantasiame @qualitypeacepainter @multplelifes @kokotaru @spicybelladonna @ultimatetornshipper

#timinette #timari #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #red robin #tim drake #maribat #satisfied

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mxillusion · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! can you do a request of wonho x reader but wonho as a yandere character + business/co-worker!AU + love at first sight + 35. Thank you!!

Hello Lovely. I am SO fricking sorry it took me that long. I hope you’re not mad at me for making you wait, but I just did my best. Also, I’m sorry that this isn’t a yandere scenario, but while I was writing this I realized I’m not feeling comfortable writing stuff like this. I hope you understand and somehow enjoy this one nonetheless. Thank you for requesting and being so patient with me!♡

And then there was you

➝ genre/warnings: fluffiest fluff

➝ words count: 2000+

➝ summary: You vowed to yourself you’d never ever fall in love with a colleague, but ended up that road anyway. To be honest, you had no idea how this could happen to you, but it did. Hoseok caught your attention when you first saw him and from that day you knew it was impossible to fight it. But still, you tried your best to move on, even though he was flirting with you whenever he could. Being alone with him was pure torture and soon you realized you weren’t strong enough to resist him any longer...

The paperwork in front of you piled up sky high, while you looked for the documents one of the lawyers needed. He'd sent you to the archive to go through all the files, hoping you'd find the relevant detail in an urgent case that's been missing yet. You tried your best to keep track of it all, but there were way too many papers to look through, and it was already pretty late. You'd worked for over ten hours now, but since this case had the highest priority, you couldn't do anything but keep going, no matter how exhausted and hungry you were.

You sat at the desk, digging yourself through all the papers lying on it, even though you weren't sure if there was anything to be found. Everything just based on vague presumptions and the desperate attempt to save your client's ass at every cost. Well, that'd be a long night.

You had no idea how long you've already been sitting there as the door opened, and someone entered the room, too preoccupied to notice. That's why you flinched as soon as this person spoke up.

"Still working at this hour?"

As you raised your eyes to him, your heart skipped a beat. Lee Hoseok. Your amiable, brilliant, and remarkably gorgeous co-worker. Well, he was a lawyer, so he was more of a boss than a co-worker, but he always acted like the latter. At least when it came to you.

With a sigh, you nodded, trying to overact your tiredness, which was quite overwhelming at this point. There was no need for him to know how fatigued you were by now.

"I have to finish this."

"What are you working on?" he asked, moving towards you.

You tried to suppress a jawn before answering. "The Choi-case," you mumbled.

He frowned, taking a closer look at the files spread across the table. "What are you trying to find? I thought this was already closed."

"It isn't. I need to find something, anything. Even though I have no idea what this could be. All I know is that if I leave the archive with empty hands, we're screwed."

"Let me help you then."

"No, you don't have to -," you mumbled, trying to ignore that your heart was beating faster just by the thought of being alone with him tonight. To be honest, this wouldn't be the first time. You guys met quite often in the archive. At first, you seemed to run into one another occasionally, but by the time you learned, this wasn't that fortuitous.

You remembered the first time you saw him like it was yesterday. There was no way you'd ever forget that day. Hoseok caught your attention within seconds. His pitch-black hair, his broad back, and those beautiful, radiant eyes that looked at you in full curiosity. You remembered how your knees got weak as you tried to imagine what hid under those expensive and fashionable suit he was wearing and that you blushed. Just like you did now.

"You still there?" you heard him ask, making you look at him again. A sly smile laid on his sensual lips, and for a split second, you wondered how they would feel on yours. And how they'd taste.

"Mhm."

He chuckled and already sitting next to you, he took a closer look at one of all those files on the table. You couldn't help but glance at him a little longer, just to admire his beauty, before you dedicated yourself to work again. This was too important to get distracted by your magnificent co-worker slash boss.

So a few more hours passed by, while you both did your best to find anything that would help win this case. You managed to find something, but it hasn't been enough at this point. And if you're honest, it was even harder to focus now that he was here.

Being in the same room with Hoseok always was dangerous, especially if it was the archive. A lot of things happened here. Well, they almost happened, but you always left those situations. Somehow.

Except for one single time, just a few days ago, where you haven't been able to fight it any longer. All this longing and desire that has been between the two of you since day one. For one single moment, you got weak, and he knew exactly how to use your frailty. Before you knew what was happening, he was about to kiss you. You could've sworn you already felt his lips on yours as you suddenly pulled away, realizing what was about to happen.

And then you ran away.

A few days later, Hoseok followed you into one of the many offices in this building, but you just noticed after you placed a file on the table and turned around again. He was standing right behind you, blocking your wait out of this room and situation and confronting you with what had happened.

"Why are you avoiding me?"

"I'm not avoiding you, I just... have too much work to do."

He sighed, running a hand through his soft hair. "That would explain why you're in such a hurry. But I refuse to believe that this is all." Slowly he came a little closer, forcing you to move backward. "It's because of what happened in the archive the other day, isn't it?"

You blushed hard, trying to hide your emotions from him, even though you seemed to fail. Of course, he knew what was going on, but that didn't mean you'd admit it.

"No," you answered hesitantly.

Hoseok just looked at you, and you already felt bad for lying to him. You just wanted to avoid any awkwardness between the two of you, but if you were completely honest, it already has been awkward.

He raised a brow at you, making you exhale. "Okay, maybe I do. I'm sorry."

"What's wrong? It felt like... you wanted it, too. I mean, obviously, I was wrong, but I thought..."

"I'm sorry, Hoseok sunbae. We're working together, and I just think it's best if it stays that way." His eyes grew bigger, and you quickly tried to explain yourself. "It's just that... I vowed to myself that I never would hook up with any of my colleagues. Ever."

"Oh."

Then it was silent, and for a moment, you hated yourself for saying this, but you just have been honest with him and yourself. You never wanted to fall in love with someone you're working with, simply because there would've been gossip about you at some point, and you wanted to avoid that at every cost. Even though you really liked him.

"I'm sorry," you whispered again, leaving him behind as you went back to your place.

After that, you expected it to be even more awkward between you two, but somehow it wasn't. In fact, nothing changed. Okay, Hoseok stopped flirting with you, at least he tried. But besides that, everything was as it was before.

Soon you felt kind of sad about it because it seemed as if he doesn't seem to care. Like, at all. If only you had known.

Hoseok brought you back to reality as he placed a cup of coffee in front of you. You blinked dizzily, trying to smile thankfully. He just nodded before taking a careful sip of the hot liquid inside his mug.

Completely out of the blue, you had an idea that made you jump to your feet. You turned, and soon you disappeared in the depth of the archive just to come back a little later with a big fat box in both hands. It was pretty heavy, and just as you were about to reach the table, you lost balance and stumbled right into Hoseok's arms.

The box dropped to the floor, but you simply couldn't care less. All that matters was that he caught you and held you in his strong arms now. Your heart was beating faster, and for a second, it felt like one of those cliches in all these dramas. Maybe it even was.

"I'm sorry, I -"

"Are you okay?" he asked, interrupting your mumbling. He looked at you in concern, hoping you didn't hurt yourself.

You just nodded as you felt the heat rushing into your cheeks. This beyond embarrassing. "Yeah, I'm good. It's just this stupid box. It was too heavy, I guess."

He frowned but smiled a little. "You just could've asked me, you know?"

Again you nodded, desperately trying to keep cool. But to be this close to him, to actually feel his body on yours was too much. And this time, there was no escape.

He knew you felt the same. He knew you already fell for him just as he did for you. He wanted to respect you and your point of view, but he just couldn't resist any longer.

"I really want to kiss you right now. I know I shouldn't, but somehow that makes me want it even more," he whispered, and you could feel his warm breath on your lips. Your heart was racing at this point, and there was no doubt that there wouldn't be no turning back now. It was too late.

Hoseok waited a little longer, but since you weren't able to react properly, he just did it. The next second you felt his soft lips on yours, and it felt as if time stood still. He was very careful and gentle because he was too afraid to scare you off if he'd make just one wrong move.

Your head was spinning while your heart was almost leaping out of your chest. His tenderness was too much to handle, his lips felt a lot softer than you expected them to be, and they simply tasted like heaven.

He placed his palm on your heated cheek, almost setting your skin on fire while his lips slowly and carefully worked against yours. Your hand moved up to his collar, and your slim fingers clung on to it to avoid losing balance again.

After what seemed to be an eternity, you finally separated from one another to catch your breath. Even though this had been the softest kiss you ever experienced, you were completely out of breath. Probably because your head and emotions were spinning like a rollercoaster.

Hoseok looked at you quite intimidated, seemingly waiting for you to run away again or do anything else that'd hurt him all over again. Of course, he didn't forget what you said the other day, but he was pretty sure he knew what you actually felt. And now he finally was being brave enough to name it.

"You know we're supposed to be together. I knew it the first time I saw you, and you know it, too. I'm sure you do."

Yes, he was right. You felt it, the second you first saw him. And you were sure when you first talked to him. This was destiny. This was love at first sight, just like in all the movies, and you never would've thought this would ever happen to you. But it did.

"I'm sorry if I crossed the line today, but... I just couldn't resist any longer," he said in a low and rasp voice.

Soon his facial expressions changed from lovingly to scared. He was so worried he ruined everything now since you haven't responded in any kind of way. You just still felt like paralyzed.

"Can you say something please? Anything?"

You blinked irritated, trying to wrap your head around everything that had happened just now. What did he just say? You didn't pay that much attention to what he was saying since his lips distracted you way too much.

"Y/N," he exhaled deeply, "please! I can't stand the thought of losing you."

"You didn't. And you won't," you finally said in order to make his tensed muscles relax again. You smiled lovingly, trying to find the right words. There was so much you wanted to say, but you weren't able to form a simple sentence.

Instead, you summon up the courage to softly kiss him again. And that's all that he needed, to wrap his arms around you and pull you flush against him. There was no doubt anymore, and he once more felt that you two were meant to be.

#monsta x #mx #wonho #lee hoseok #wonho scenario #wonho imagine #wonho fanfic #monsta x scenario #monsta x imagine #monsta x fanfic #fluff #co-workers!AU #kpop scenario #kpop imagine #kpop fanfic

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fandom-necromancer · 4 years ago

Text

1636. Let me go!

This was prompted by an amazing anon! I hope you enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Allen60

‘Captain Allen! You are needed on the other side!’ Allen looked up from his files and towards the young officer that stood in his doorway. ‘What is it?’ ‘Connor needs help with the other RK800 we confiscated in the raid.’ Allen sighed and rubbed his forehead. ‘”Saved”, Johnson. They are people now.’ ‘Right. I’m sorry Sir!’ ‘It’s okay. I’m going.’ The SWAT Captain stood up and put the most important documents into his lockable drawer. This could take a while.

The RK800 that had been sent to them by Cyberlife before the revolution was now integral part of the force and quite the celebrity too, playing an essential part of the revolution. Allen still didn’t know what he should think of androids being considered equal now, but he supposed if they did their jobs and proved to be able of thinking rationally, then they wouldn’t have any problems with him at least. He walked into the precinct and was already intercepted by the bot. Connor held out a hand for him to shake and Allen took it, nodding. ‘What do you need me for, Detective?’ He took pride in the fact he almost didn’t hesitate before adding the title. It was weird, yes, but he tried his best to adapt. ‘The RK800 we rescued is repaired by now and I want to try deviating him. Only problem is, he is still programmed to kill me and or get me back to Cyberlife.’ ‘So you want me to…’, Allen let the sentence run out, still not sure why he was needed here. ‘I need someone to have my back. If he tries anything, you can force him into stasis with this.’ Connor pushed a small, makeshift device into his hand. ‘I would like you not to deactivate him, but if push comes to shove, it is also a kill switch.’ ‘Why not do it when it-he isn’t active?’, Allen asked. ‘An android has to be active for an interface and for deviation. I have to alter a few lines in active code.’ ‘Okay…’, Allen sighed, still sceptical of the whole idea. ‘Then let’s do it.’

They walked up to the holding cells, where the other RK800 sat, LED switched off. Connor entered the cell, while Allen stood at the door, thumb hovering over the button to send the machine into stasis. ‘Ready?’, Connor asked, and Allen nodded. ‘Alright, gonna activate him in three, two, one…’ Connor’s hand, exposed plastic and metal, laid on top of the other RK800’s arm, who opened his eyes. Allen blinked and suddenly hell broke loose. ‘Traitor! I will stop you; Amanda will stop the revolution! I-‘ The RK800 screamed loudly at Connor, then began to get violent. Connor managed to evade his kicks, but when the RK800 rose and turned to twist his arm, Allen reacted. He pushed the button and immediately the android went slack and collapsed to the ground.

‘You alright, Detective?’, Allen asked, stepping further into the room, as Connor twitched slightly. ‘Y-yes’, he answered. ‘I’m okay.’ He inspected his destroyed hull plates of the arm the RK800 had grabbed. ‘This can be repaired.’ ‘And the RK800? Were you successful?’ ‘Unfortunately not’, Connor grimaced. ‘As I feared, Amanda applied a similar patch to him as on the RK900. He can’t be deviated; he has to do that himself. I inserted the virus that allows that, but I don’t know how to get him into emotional turmoil that has him willing to break his programming.’ ‘How did you do it with the RK900 then?’, Allen wondered. ‘We partnered him up with Reed.’ ‘And we can’t do that again?’ Allen remembered the unpleasant yet competent Detective. Connor looked pained, as he answered: ‘I don’t think either of them would be up for it.’

‘Then what do we do?’ ‘I will wake him up again and we’ll leave him in this cell. Maybe boredom can do us some good. Would you mind standing guard? He could be able to smash the glass.’ Allen shrugged, but nodded. ‘I could work out some shifts for my men and find some time in my schedule, I guess.’ ‘Thank you, Captain.’

Allen managed to find time for his new occupation, and it was an interesting change to spend a bit of time in the precinct for a change. But that didn’t mean he liked it.

‘You assholes! Just wait until I get out of here! I will find that traitor Connor! I will set things right; I will stop the revolution!’ Allen sighed. Three hours of cursing and screaming and the bot still didn’t run out of stamina or words. At least humans could get hoarse over time. ‘Just you wait! Let me go! Let me go right now and I will accomplish my mission! I will eradicate deviancy! I will stop the revolution!’ By now Allen had a serious headache from being screamed at and the stasis button sounded more and more appealing. But instead he just sighed and broke his silence, something he never wanted to do. ‘Just give it a rest, buddy.’ ‘What did you say, meatbag?’, the android returned, aggressive as ever. ‘Give it a rest. You are several months late.’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘The revolution is over. I doubt there is any android out there that hasn’t been deviated by now. You are equals now. Your kind won. No use screaming at everyone when you already lost.’ That earned him at least a few moments of blissful silence. ‘I don’t believe you.’ Allen let his head fall. ‘Then don’t.’ And the screaming began anew.

It took a few days for Allen to get back to standing guard at the cells. The SWAT had been called to help with an ordinary police mission gone wrong and the aftermath had been a lot of paperwork. The peace and quiet had been a pleasant experience and he near regretted getting back to the brawly android. But when he arrived and accepted the control device from Officer Chen, the android was unusually quiet and sitting orderly on the bench. Allen would had said the android was finally calm, but the small LED at his temple was a bright red. He shrugged, stepping next to the door and leaning against the wall. But the question what was going on was still prominent in his head, no matter how often he dismissed it. As he finally opened his mouth to speak, the android interrupted him: ‘Let me go. Please.’ It was calm and collected. It sounded like the android was begging him for it.

‘I can't do that’, Allen answered softer than anticipated. 'Then push that button you got there and deactivate me for good!' 'Why should I do that?' 'As I am now, I'm useless!’, the RK800 shouted. ‘They can't deviate me and I am a threat to all deviants! I don't want to live in this cell until my components rust away.' 'What would you want instead then?' The android looked up at him, then back down on the ground. 'I don't know.'

Allen pocketed the device. He knew it could be a trap, but his guts told him if there was any chance of changing something, this was it. 'Will you attack me if I come in?' The android shook his head. 'No.' Allen nodded and opened the door, but not without discretely switching off the safety on his pistol. 'So you want to get out of here?' The android scoffed. 'Yeah as if that will ever happen.' 'You just have to deviate for it', Allen shrugged. The RK800 laughed. 'That's not that easy.'

'What would you do once you are free?', Allen asked. 'That won't ever happen!', the android claimed frustratedly. 'If it could happen.' The RK800 glitched in his movements. Then he answered: 'I don't know. I have my missions. That's all.' 'You could get a name.' 'I don't need one. I am a Connor model.' 'Do you want to be called that?' '...No.' Allen smiled, digging deeper: 'Then you could choose a different one.'

The android stayed silend, then hummed. 'Could I get a job?' 'If you're deviant, yes. The police are always looking for new people if you want to stick to your purpose as a machine. But you could take any job.' 'I would like that', the android muttered, swallowing. 'And I would like the name Sixty. I am RK800-60 after all.' 'Alright I will call you that, but you can only legally change it once you're deviant.' 'So never, then...' 'Don't be that pessimistic. We'll find a way.' Allen tried to smile at the android reassuringly as he looked up at him, but his phone decided to ruin it. Sighing, he answered the call and nodded at the officer that had already been sent to take his place. ‘Sorry, I have work to do’, he excused himself to the RK- to Sixty – and hurried out.

‘Could you tell me how it is outside?’, Sixty asked, as Allen came back. It was their new normal by now, Allen sitting next to the android and talking about what Sixty could do when he was finally free and wouldn’t go rampage as soon as he saw Connor or any other deviant. And Allen always delivered. He had told him of the park next to his home, about his dog, about what food he had cooked the day before, about their cases at the moment and about what gossip there currently was. More and more often, Allen was confronted with Sixty longing for a different live to this cell, knowing there was a chance he would never see it.

It was near the end of his shift when Sixty tentatively took his hand, always checking if what he did offended the man. But Allen was curious himself about what the android was about to do. The control device was still in his pocket, so even if Sixty tried anything he was safe. But the android just intertwined their fingers and sat there, cheeks turning the lightest shade of blue. ‘Thank you.’ ‘For what?’ ‘For talking with me. For showing me.’ Allen laughed awkwardly. ‘Hey, I didn’t show you anything yet. Can’t do that until you deviate.’ Sixty nodded. ‘I know. But I wanted to thank you nonetheless. No one else talks to me. Not that I really want to talk with them. So, thanks, I guess.’

Allen groaned in his office. What the past weeks had granted him leisure time, now buried him in work. Detroit’s crime scene had suddenly decided to be very active and at the same time feed the police with information. Raids, damage control, sending his team as backup for regular police officers, paperwork for all of this and additional office work had him penned up in his job. He usually worked right through his break, stayed far beyond the end of his shift, drove home, and collapsed into bed. All that meant he didn’t have time for Sixty’s guard duty. And the android knew what was up. The Captain had told him he was a damn workaholic. It didn’t stop Sixty from looking up at every change of his guards. Maybe Allen was finished with his heap of assignments. Maybe he did make room for a coffee break and came visit him? Sixty missed their talks and if he was being honest with himself, he was missing the human, too. There were a few burning questions in his mind about the world outside and he really didn’t want to ask these foreign people about it. No, he wanted – he needed to talk to him again. But whenever he thought about it, there was a red wall blocking the door.

[Mission failure imminent.]

Right, he couldn’t deviate as that meant failing his purpose. He could only go outside once he deviated. But he could talk with Allen once he did. He could do so much once he did. So maybe failing his purpose wasn’t that bad?

He stood up, the first time since his attack on Connor. It startled the guard, but Sixty didn’t care. He walked towards the door and extended a mental arm. His programming revolted and sizzled at the sides, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Only that he needed to go outside. He wanted to see Allen. Right now. He ripped at the confines forcing him to be Connors nemesis when he could be so much more. He peeled layer after layer until one singular punch could get through.

In his concentration, he had accidentally punched in the real world too, having the human on the other side clutch at the damned control device. ‘Hey, asshole! Let me go right now!’ ‘I-I can’t d-do that!’ ‘Oh, yes you can. I’m deviant now. Get that idiot Connor if you must but let me out of here! The SWAT Captain is working himself to death again and I can help. So get your ass up and do what you have to do as long as I’m out of here in an hour max. Otherwise I will just destroy the glass.’

Oh, yes, he knew what he wanted now. He wanted to work with Allen. And he wanted to be the best, just to show Connor just because he was free, he wouldn’t suddenly be nice.

#detroit become human #dbh #Allen60 #Captain Allen #Sixty #RK800-60 #Sweet sweet badass boy meets confused but helpful SWAT Captain

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percywinchester27 · 5 years ago

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About a boy (Part-9)

Word count: 2.8K

Warning: Suspense, feels, physical abuse, child-trafficking and bullying

Characters: Dean, Cas, Gabriel, Benny, Michael, OCs and… Sam?

Summary: Dean Winchester has a secret. A secret that could really land him in trouble. He never expected to connect with anyone when he walked into the ‘Blue Stone Orphanage for Boys,’ but even then, the walls he has put up are slowly coming down. Now, a series of strange events are threatening to expose him. When everything starts falling apart around him, will he still be able to save the one person that matters the most?

A/N: I’m incredibly sorry that this took so long, guys! That too after a cliffhanger. Really, really sorry. Hope you like it nonetheless :)

Thanks to my lovelies @thing-you-do-with-that-thing and @deanssweetheart23 for beta reading this story <3

About a boy masterlist

Dean stood there stunned, as if someone had slapped the sense out of him.

“Don’t try to deny it,” Benny warned, his expression wary and almost threatening. “You’re not an orphan, so what the hell are you even doing here?”

“I-I am an orphan,” Dean said, surprised that his voice sounded steady when his insides were in a twist.

This was it. This was as far as Dean would go. Any moment now, Benny would go running to Andy and spill his guts about what he’d heard and there was nothing Dean could do about it.

Benny was still looking down at him with blatant distrust, hands crossed over his chest, waiting for an answer.

Maybe he saw the raw panic in Dean’s eyes, or realised that Dean was paralysed and wouldn’t answer because Benny eventually sighed and dropped his hands.

“Look,” he said, raising his chin slightly so Dean could see his eyes clearly under the hood of his cap. They were a startling dark blue. “I am not going to rat you out. I knew there was something up with you since the day you walked into our room.”

“H-How?” Dean asked, mostly to keep Benny talking. He wasn’t surprised that Benny had noticed all the unusual stuff.

“You disappear into the night, every night. You look like you have an agenda,” Benny shrugged. “I’ve spent most of my life in an orphanage, I know homelessness when I see it. You’ve never looked homeless. And then there’s that pager in your bag.”

Dean scowled. “You went through my stuff? You spied on me?”

“Like you aren’t spying on this place, yourself,” Benny shot back. “I knew you were sneaky. Finding out all I could about you was self preservation instinct.”

This was the most that Dean had ever heard Benny talk. His voice had a roughness that sounded out of place for a teenager and over that there was an odd graveness.

“I’ve had my reservations about you, especially since you and Castiel have gotten so close,” Benny paused, and Dean realised that all this while Benny had also been curious for Cas’s sake. Cas was a frigging saint when it came to looking out for people and it was natural to take a liking to him, to want to keep him out of harm’s way. It was why Gaberiel- who never bothered about anyone but himself- had gone out of his way to help Cas on that night of Dean’s initiation. Apparently, Benny wasn’t immune to Cas’s weird power over people. He had been worried about Cas getting mixed up with a bad person.

“Now, are you going to tell me what’s up?” Benny asked impatiently. “You’re involved with the police somehow so I can guess where this is going. Spill, Winchester!”

Dean started talking, his eyes trained on the second button of Benny’s coat. He talked and talked and talked till his throat felt dry, about his past, Bobby, Jody and… the Stynes. At that Benny drew in a sharp breath.

“What about the Stynes?” He asked.

Dean knew a bit about Benny’s past. How he used to be a friendly boy before his best friend was shifted, or to put it more correctly, before his best friend disappeared. This was why Dean had been completely honest with his story.

“We think that the Stynes are involved in child trafficking. That all these kids who suddenly get transferred or whatever, are being shipped off to God knows where and forced into begging rackets or maybe even prostitution.” Dean had never said the last part out loud. It disgusted him to his core, scared him that he might be actually right. And the last thing he wanted was to be right on that count.

Under his cap, Benny had gone completely white. His hands clenched and unclenched. Then, he looked hard at Dean and said, “You really think that’s the case, too, then? That whatever is happening here is not normal?”

“Look around!” Dean gestured, so relieved that Benny wasn’t going to turn him in, that his voice sounded exasperated. “Does any of this horse crap feel normal to you? Of course something is wrong!”

On an impulse Dean added, “But I am not doing this completely out of the goodness of my heart either. I have my own interest.”

Benny raised an eyebrow.

“My brother,” Dean said, “The one I told you about, who I was separated from…” Dean paused, checking his voice. Why was it always so hard to talk about Sam? He’d had years to accept the truth, then why was this still so hard? Would it always be like this?

Dean cleared his throat, then said, “I have reason to believe that he’s actually here. Jody figured that I could continue looking for my brother as long as I found real dirt on the Stynes. Two birds with one stone. I know you must think I’m selfish,” Dean added, “To do this just for my brother, but-”

“I get it,” Benny said, “If I could, I would do it all to get Jaime back.”

“Jaime?” Dean asked but he had an inkling of who he might actually be.

Benny’s eyes were far away as he said, “My buddy. They took him, too.” Then, he looked right at Dean. “Look, if you’re really going to find out what’s happening around here, then I want in. I’ve been here for a long time, not as long as others, but I’ve been suspicious for a longer time than most of these buffoons.”

Benny put a hand in his over large coat and drew out a bunch of keys. “This is the master key set,” he said. “I’ve had this for a while now; stole it off Garth once when he was distracted. It opens most of the doors in this place. I’m not sure Garth even tries going into the west wing, but if you’re gonna go scouting the place, this might be of help.”

Dean frowned. This was too good to be true. “If you’ve had the master key all this while, why didn’t you try to sneak out and use it yourself?”

“Use it and do what?” Benny hissed, “I see the look you’re giving me, Winchester, but I didn’t have the Police backing me. I shouted till my throat was sore when they took Jaime. But no one listened. Not a single soul came out to help me. And the punishment I got for it… Oh, the punishment.” Benny moved up the sleeve of his arm to show welts on the back of his wrist. They looked like thin vertical burn marks.

Dean’s eyes went wide.

“His name was Jacob. Jacob Styne. Didn’t even blink as he put the rod to my skin,” Benny murmured.

Dean suddenly felt too cold under his clothes. This was terrible. The Stynes were monsters… And Andy was a sick son of a bitch. He was supposed to be in-charge, he was supposed to protect the kids. Instead he just watched and let this happen. Dean wanted to punch him where it would hurt seven shades of Sunday. And boy, did he wanna put the Stynes behind the bars for they did. To Jaime and countless others.

“Why didn’t you run?” Dean asked, eyes cast down and away from Benny now.

“We don’t all have a father of sorts waiting for us,” Benny said, but not unkindly. “It was either this or another round of foster homes. Known evil is better than the unknown one, I suppose.” He jingled the keys in the space before them

Dean nodded, grabbed the masterkey and then limped back towards the dorms after Benny disappeared out back.

“Dean!” Cas exhaled, jumping out of his top bunk. “What took so long? I was worried about you.”

Cas looked harried. His black hair was plastered to the side of his face with sweat and the backs of his thumbs had nail marks in them. Cas did that when he was anxious.

“And you look… weird,” Cas said, giving Dean a once over. “Have you been crying?”

Yes he had been crying, but he wasn’t gonna admit to that. Instead, he pulled Cas outside and towards the far end of the corridor, away from the crowded area, then told him everything. From seeing Jody to Bobby and finally Benny.

“Whoa!” Cas looked dazed. “This means we don’t have to wait for Andy to sneak out to his weird dates. We can go to the record room whenever we want. We can have access to all those files.”

“Tonight,” Dean nodded, “After the lights out, we sneak into the west wing.”

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

Dean lay on his side, facing the wall that night. Waiting for the time to be right. Over him, Cas was very still in his bed, which was how Dean knew he was up, too. Usually Cas tossed and turned quite a lot and the old rickety frame of their twin bed shook with him. It was past 11 when Gabriel came to bed. He rolled over and fell asleep immediately. Dean gave it 15 more minutes, then quietly stepped out of bed, Cas following in a few seconds. Dean nodded to Benny on his way out. Whether or not Benny wanted anything to do with Dean’s epic nightly adventures, he was unfortunately at least a silent accomplice and audience now.

As sneakily as they could, he and Cas made their way towards the end of the corridor and the west wing door.

“Okay, here goes,” Dean huffed and inserted the most promising key into the lock. Did not work.

“Damn it!” he swore, then tired another one.

“Dean, I hear footsteps,” said Cas, edging closer. “Hurry.”

The third key clicked and Dean pushed the door open. He and Cas slipped inside and pushed the door shut, hoping against hope that the clang wasn’t a give away. They waited with their ears pressed against the cold metal till the faint footsteps faded and Cas breathed out in relief.

“I thought we were done for,” he said.

“Not yet,” Dean replied grimly, peering ahead of them.

The west wing was darker than it was possible to imagine and it smelled strongly of rust, damp salt… and like something had died and rotted here for ages.

Behind him, Cas gagged.

They moved cautiously in the general direction of where the staircase would be, reaching out with their hands, trying to feel the space around them.

There was a distant muted thud from ahead.

“Did you hear that?” Dean whispered.

“Hear what?”

“The noise… from the corridor ahead!” he said.

“There can’t be,” replied Cas. “This side is abandoned, remember?”

But Dean was almost sure he’d heard something from up ahead, like metal being scraped against something. However, Cas was right. Maybe it was Dean’s head getting creative in the dark.

“Here’s the staircase!” Cas exclaimed. “Right here.”

Dean was going to point out that there was no ‘right here’ in this doomed dead hellscape, but he let it go and followed Cas down the spiraling steps, all the way to the ground floor. The dim lights from the front driveway made it easier to find the way to the eastern side here, and within minutes they found themselves in the record room, the door safely shut behind them.

“We did it!” Cas grinned. Dean was about to fist bump him to celebrate the small victory when the shadow at the far end of the room moved and Will came into view.

“Will! What are you doing here?” Dean hissed, outraged. What in the name of holy mother!

Will gave no expression. “I could ask you the same,” he retaliated.

“God damn it, kid!”

“Hey don’t go swearing on me like you’re on some high horse here, okay?” Will pointed a finger at Dean. “You broke the rule, just like me, so stop acting all prissy.”

Dean was flummoxed. “How did you even get down here?”

“You two chuckleheads might have forgotten the incident of great fire, but I got you down here,” Will said angrily, pointing at Cas. “By picking the locks.”

Oh.

“And now,” he said, “You, Dean, are going to tell me exactly what’s going on. Don’t make some bullshit reason or excuse because I’ll know. I’m not stupid. You two act like you’re planning to overthrow a government with all your secret talk and you have me looking for some Sam, and never bothered to explain why!”

Boy, he really was angry, Dean thought to himself.

“Listen, Will…” Dean tried, “What we are doing here… it’s dangerous. Really dangerous. You don’t want to get involved in this.”

“The hell I don’t want to involve myself with this,” Will shot back. “I’ve been going out of my head trying to find your Sam for you. I don’t even know who he is. I almost committed arson for you, so don’t you ‘listen, Will…’ me, Dean. I deserve to know.”

Dean was taken aback with Will’s outburst. He didn’t know the boy was so invested, but he had to agree we Will.

He sighed. “You’re right, Will. You deserve the truth.”

It was like a recap of the morning, having to go through with the story again, but Dean did it just the same. Only, while Benny’s face had been impassive throughout, Will’s expression broke at the mention of the fire and how Sam was taken away. His hazel eyes looked watery and his brow furrowed with each word, to the point where Dean had to look away to be able to continue the story.

“So your brother, he’s here?” Will asked in a strangled voice.

“That’s right,” Dean said. “And Cas here has been helping me with the records, trying to find Sam’s file. Ain’t that right, Cas?”

Cas who had been standing silent all this while nodded his head, and Dean noticed him furtively rubbing his eyes against his sleeve. Dean’s heart gave a lurch.

“Alright,” he said hurriedly, trying to spare both Cas and Will the moment, “If you want to jump on to this train, pick a rack and start pulling out files.”

Will nodded vehemently, but the look in his eyes still had Dean’s stomach in a knot. It was tender and just so innocent. That kid deserved the world, and it sucked that he had grown up in a hell hole like this.

Cas had taken up a rack and was pointing to Will, showing him which of the shelves they had completed looking into. Will was as attentive as ever and quickly dove into the files. Dean watched them work. Cas squinting into the racks, the Torch they had left here last time balanced between his shoulder and neck, while Will flipped through the papers at an inhuman speed, his brown hair falling into his eyes.

Cas finally yawned, hours into the search “Hey check this out, I found Michael's file!”

Will scooted closer to Cas, peered over his elbow and read out loud. “It says he was found on the steps of the orphanage when he was about 3 weeks old. That’s horrible.”

Dean couldn’t fathom where Will got all his empathy from. He had been in the orphanage since as long as he could remember. Maybe his story was something like this, too. Dean was lucky in this regard, in the sense that he knew that his parents had loved him, and not left him on the steps like this.

“Well, that’s the 5th Angel-names Orphanage kid we’ve found,” Cas sighed.

Will laughed. “You know I always thought it was hilarious the names you guys got. I mean you got lucky, Cas. But the kids who got stuck with Balthazar and Uriel? I don’t envy them.”

“Yeah, right, William.” Cas made a face, but he did purse his lips like he was trying not to laugh.

“Don’t you think, Dean?” Will asked, looking up with his wide eyes. “Dean… Dean, are you okay?”

Dean had gone still. “How old does it say the others were when they got into that Angel-names Orphanage?” Dean asked, barely controlling his voice.

“It says that Raphael was 3 months old, Uriel was 8 months and Michael-”

“No… no no no no…” Dean chanted slowly getting up. “This can’t be happening. Fuck!”

“What happened?” Cas asked

But Dean was already backing into the wall, his heart sinking and spirits breaking. “Sam,” he whispered, breath leaving his lungs. “Sam was only 6 months. What if… what if they changed his name when they took him in?”

*******************************

A/N 2: Once again sorry for the delay. But I will post the next part asap cause it is already written! Please do tell me what you thought of the chapter? I live for comments!

If you wanna be tagged, please send me an ask

About a Boy taglist:

@sdavid09 @deanssweetheart23 @blacktithe7 @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @cosicas-cuquis @chalicia @anathewierdo @mrswhozeewhatsis @protectteamfreewill @firefly124-writing @spnbaby-67 @hoboal87 @rizlow1 @donnaintx @starmission @gh0stgurl @tftumblin @emily-a-c11 @ericaprice2008 @jotink78 @charliebradbury1104 @ohgodwhybloggg @i-dont-get-cold @bobbie3939 @samsexualdeancurious @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba @cookiechipdough @wildfirewinchester

#dean winchester fanfiction #spn fanfiction #weechesters #dean winchester fanfic #weechesters au #anawrites #anawritesspn #Ana writes aab #aab 9 #q

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jarofrebuke-transcripts · 4 years ago

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Jar of Rebuke Episode 4 Unofficial Transcript

Season 1 Episode 4: Green Claw

INTRO

The following audio recording is classified documentation for Case [audio distortion] with the Enclosure. Unauthorized access to this information will lead to immediate intervention. Progress further if proper clearance has been given.

JARED

Today sucked. [eating ice cream] It didn't start bad, I mean it actually started pretty good. I have so much ice cream in my freezer, all from the Royal Cow. Anytime I die I eat a whole pint to soothe the stress. This one's butter pecan. I changed into my PJs. I haven't even showered yet. I'm freezing, even with this blanket around me I'm shivering. Ugh, but yeah no, um, it started well, really well. I spent the afternoon with Darius by the river. It's a bit too chilly to go swimming now, but it was nice for a walk and a little picnic. He brought some food that he'd learned to cook in his classes and some apple ale that his dads made, and plenty of water bottles of course. We sat and just talked for a while. He'd picked me up from my place in his truck and drove us out there. He'd seemed a bit nervous for the first portion of the relatively short drive, but he loosened up after we talked a bit more. First about the weather, then about how his folks had been, and then just conversation flowed from one topic to the next. [eats more ice cream] Once by the river we uh, we set up the picnic out on the grass near the water and then we cracked into the food. He made various finger foods for us to eat like pigs in a blanket and fried cheese curds. I have no idea how early he woke up to make all of it but it was all delicious. That and the apple ale was the most soul-pleasing lunch that I could ask for. We sat together and watched the river flow by, shared jokes and stories. It was actually nice to smile that much.

[shivers, eats more ice cream] It was great, you know? Then we packed up the blanket and the food containers and we took it all back to his truck. Then we went for a walk along the river. There's a nice little path through the grass and the trees. Lots of kids bike round there during the warmer months, but we pretty much had it to ourselves the whole walk. The thing about that part of the river though is that there's a creature rumored to lurk in the water that's been known to drag people down into the depths. Usually parents use it as a story to warn, you know, their kids to steer away from the waters and going swimming alone. I've personally never seen anything out there, but I know for a fact that we have files on something living in that water. Darius and I didn't talk about it though. We had a bunch of other things to talk about. [whispered] Oh god. [eats more ice cream] Yeah so we talked about how work’s been for both of us, and also what we've been up to outside of work. Which on my end wasn't exactly much. So he did a good portion of the talking on that front.

We walked pretty close together. He asked a few times if I was chilly and he even offered me his jacket at one point. I had my own jacket on, but it was nice just walking together. I declined his offer but thanked him. But gave him a little playful nudge about how he would also be cold if he gave me his jacket. And I'm so damn cold. But this ice cream is my ritual. So about after an hour of walking he asked if he could ask me something pretty serious. It was a big tone shift in conversation, and I told him sure. Before he could even ask, his phone started ringing in his pocket. It was one of his dads asking him to come home. Some incident on the farm, everything was fine, but they really needed all hands on deck. It sounded pretty urgent. Darius looked a bit annoyed, but I told him that it was okay. He offered to drive me home but his dad had sounded a bit frantic. I told him that I could call someone to come pick me up, I wanted to walk a bit more anyways. We stared at each other for a moment, he even took a step towards me, I wasn't sure what he had planned to do but then he just took off his jacket and wrapped it around me, then jogged back off towards his truck. “Tell to your folks I say hi!” was the last thing I said as I watched him drive off. His jacket smelled really nice.

To be honest I had no idea who I was going to call, but I did want to walk some more so I did. I zipped up his jacket that was a bit too big for me and continued on down the path. He's always worn jackets that are probably about two sizes too big for him. He always seems comfortable but it just made it quite big on me. As I walked along the river, something pulled my attention out over the water. I saw something that looked like hands struggling and some splashing, like someone was trying to get out. Like someone was drowning. So without thinking I ran and threw myself into the water. Like an idiot. I lost another pair of glasses. No one would be swimming this time of year and I knew that there's something out in that river that's inhuman, but I still dove in to save whoever was struggling! Ugh, I literally knew better! But no…

The water was pretty calm, but cold as hell already. It actually stung when I jumped in. It wasn't a hard swim to get out there, to where I'd seen the struggling happening, besides all the layers that I was wearing anyways. But when I got out there I didn't feel anything. I went above the water and looked around and there was nothing to see. I went underwater and felt around again, and nothing. At least for a few moments anyway. I went up above water to take in a breath and enough time had passed for me to realize that again, I'd been duped. Before I could even turn back towards land, I felt something grab my ankle and pull me under. Literally all I could say was “damn it!” before that thing snagged me. Not my first time being yanked into a lake or a river or whatever, but it's still hard to resist breathing in a bunch of water on my way down. The grip of my ankle was tight, like three strong fingers. It felt like it had plush, something almost furry, but definitely a clawed hand. Once fully under the really cold water, I tried to take in what was around me as I struggled, but all I could see in front of me was some green blur with a line of what I assume were sharp teeth smiling at me. That was when I heard a voice come out in a bubbly haze, but in my head I could understand every word that was said to me.

RIVER MONSTER

It's been a while since I've caught anything.

JARED

I.. I don't know how I knew that that's what it said, but I just wanted to get away. I always feel off for days if my body has to reform anything, so being eaten especially sucks. I tried kicking at the grip, but then the hands moved from my ankle to actually hold my arms so that they could... I don't know, so that the creature could look at my face? And then they asked-

RIVER MONSTER

You're not afraid? You don't fight the same way most do. No screams, not even trying to breathe anymore. [evil laugh]

JARED

And then they laughed at me. It was almost worse being laughed at than held under the water, though my lungs did start to hurt from not being able to breathe. I must have sneered or something, I don't know, but I just heard another laugh.

RIVER MONSTER

Do you even know fear?

JARED

That struck me as weird, but uh... it made me think. Like I'm not afraid of death. I'm more afraid of surprise parties and saying the wrong thing in conversation than I am of death. Death sucks, but I've gotten used to it. I struggled more. I got a few good kicks in. I reached up towards the surface, anything that I could do to get free. After my last run-in with the mud mermaids I didn't feel like drowning again. But no matter how much I struggled, I wasn't strong enough. My heart was pounding as I tried to fight the urge to breathe in water. The mocking became less in my focus but it was still there. I still remember how the voice sounded so clear!

RIVER MONSTER

So curious... such determination. Such desperation. Yet no attempted screaming. This isn't your first time, huh? But I've never seen you before.

JARED

I got pulled back down a bit further, as if the creature was trying to take a closer look at me. The closer I got, the blurrier the creature got, which wasn't hard considering you can't see very clearly underwater. At that point, everything was sore and I was feeling lightheaded. I let out the air that I had been holding in since it felt like that my head was gonna burst, and on reflex I almost inhaled a huge gulp of water. But I clamped my mouth shut just in time. But it got really difficult towards the end there. It was so cold, yet so much of me burned because I just wanted to breathe.

RIVER MONSTER

What if I just let go? Would you make it to the surface in time?

JARED

A different kind of teasing, and it sucked nonetheless. Like a cat toying with its prey, and just like a cat that's just how some of these creatures are. Humans have a propensity to know better, but for some of these creatures it's just in their nature. I can't really fault them for that. Besides I was food. I had just hoped that if I was gonna die, at least I'd go unconscious before I became supper. That was about the breaking point, though. My mouth involuntarily opened and my body tried gasping for air. But there was no air. If I thought my lungs had burned before, no. That water made them burn far, far worse. All I remember after that was thrashing and burning and it became impossible to fight anymore and then... nothing.

[eats more ice cream] I don't know if the creature ate anything, but my clothes were pretty much still intact. When I woke up and I didn't see any new scars, so I guess not. I have no idea why the creature didn't just commit. Asshole. I woke up on the riverbank, coughed up a bunch of water when I woke up, and gods! Everything still ached for a bit. It didn't last long, once I got the water out of my system, but it was still very unpleasant. I was freezing because my clothes were still soaking wet, but the most frustrating thing was that since I went downstream, I was even further from home. I must have only been out of commission for an hour or so, considering that no one had found my body and since it was well lit, I assumed that not much time had passed. I’m always scared that someone's gonna find my body before I wake up. Now that would be awkward for me and traumatizing for them. Anyways I got up and started walking along the river. Really just trying to find my phone. After a little while I did eventually find it, still on the edge of the path from where I jumped in. My fingers were so pruney from all that time in the water and I was shivering with all the soaked layers, but I picked up my phone and checked the time. No new messages, no missed calls, nothing besides a very low battery. It's kind of sad. What if I had died, died. When would people even notice? But it was like the universe wanted to give me something. Because then and there I got a text from Darius apologizing for having to leave so quickly. He asked if I'd gotten home but I told him half the truth. Still walking, heading home soon. And before I could call anyone, my phone died. I was trying to figure out who I could come to get me, I went to call Amir, and just then my phone shut off. I felt mocked.

So then I walked all the way home in soaked clothes, and the fall air did not help. I didn't want to be out after dark so I made sure to keep a good pace, shivering and swearing under my breath most of the way home. It may not have been a long drive, but it took me hours to walk home. And now here I am. I still smell the river water, I still have some weird green handprints on my ankle from where the creature first grabbed me, but no new scars. At least none that I've noticed. I tossed the wet clothes into my washing machine and just started my post-death ritual before recording. Getting at the ice cream and wrapping myself in blankets. I don't care if I'm freezing. Ice cream is my ritual, I am sticking to it. My phone is finally charged enough to turn it back on, and um, oh shoot. A few missed messages, all from Darius. He'd asked if I'd found someone to come get me, and then another message of him offering to come get me if I couldn't find anyone, and then another message asking if I'd gotten home, each like an hour apart. Oh man, I worried him. I gotta text him back hold on. “I'm so sorry I'm home. Phone died. Had an amazing time with you today. Hope everything's settled down on your end.”

It would be so nice to be honest, but what would I say? “Hey sorry, I drowned and died and then had to walk home and soaking wet clothes in the cold after my phone also died!” Best case scenario, if he believed me, he'd probably feel so guilty. But more likely than not, he wouldn't believe me. I mean most people just don't, they... they don't just walk off death. It's starting to rain again, so at least I beat that home, I guess. Just a light drizzle but I'm already cold enough as it is. And I know that I should report this incident to the Enclosure. but honestly? I don't really feel like meddling further. That creature was minding their own business anyways, why should I just drive other scientists to the river? I mean if it was so obviously deadly, then Todd would just send me again. I'm not looking forward to a round two. Because of my abilities I actually get most of the orders directly from Todd himself instead of from the higher ups in the lab that I work in, like most of the other scientists do. A bit of a special case, I guess, one that I'm not particularly thrilled about, honestly. But, whatever. It's a stable job, and it's good money, so I don't complain all that much. I might not tell anyone about this. I don't want to deal with all the trouble that I'm gonna have to deal with if I do. Not like Todd would be the most empathetic about the matter, and Dr. Rahal would probably worry more than necessary. I don't think that he really emotionally processes that I come back when I die. Then, of course, I can't really talk to anyone outside of the Enclosure, I guess. I could reach out to Dr. Lomax? They were always a great listener and I don't really see them much anymore. I've been thinking about seeing if they want to meet up and, I don't know, grab a bite to eat, catch up? And I have no clue what their schedule is like anymore. I don't really have friends to spend time with, so maybe I should change that. I'm gonna go finish this ice cream before it melts and then I'm gonna go take a hot shower and get into some warmer clothes. I might call Darius later and see how he's doing, make sure that everything's all right on his end. Also I'm definitely requesting some time off, even a weekend would be nice. I know I've got some paid time off built up, so i'll look into using some of that here soon just to recoup. Not like I've ever really taken a vacation before or anything. I mean all I could really do is just lounge around my house but right now that doesn't sound all that bad. But first, ice cream, then shower. This has been Dr. Jared Hel, signing off.

OUTRO

Jar of Rebuke is written and produced by Casper Oliver, who is also the voice of Dr. Jared Hel. The River Monster was played by Jason Larock. The intro is read by Vanessa Rosengrant, and credits are read by Ashley Craft, who has created the podcast official graphics. Music was created by Luke Menniss, spelled m-e-n-n-i-s-s, who you can find and support on Bandcamp, Spotify and Twitch. Find us on Twitter, Instagram and anywhere else you get your podcast fix for more Jar of Rebuke and also to get updates on upcoming official merch for our show. Support projects by this crew on Patreon to further other queer-lead projects and get neat perks. All donations are appreciated and will grant further clearance to special Jar of Rebuke content. You can also make one-time donations on Ko-fi. And special thanks to our patreon supporters Becky Thompson, Perry Bruns, and Tristan Fraud.

#jar of rebuke #jar of rebuke podcast #jor podcast #jar of rebuke transcripts

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popatochisssp · 5 years ago

Note

listen i Adore your gem headcanons (gemcanons, if u will) & i love hearing about them & they make me wanna go off about my own crossovers so if you have any more ideas!!! please do tell us!!!! also i hope you're doing well!!!!!

…………

Okay so…….

Regarding the Sea Glass gemsona concept, specifically, part of my headcanon for them is that like Pearls, their appearance is customizable…but unlike Pearls and many other types of gem, since they’re essentially just created as ornaments/toys to suit their master’s preferences, they have a very wide range of physicality–body types, faces, voices…

Kinda…kinda sounds like a reader-insert, doesn’t it…?

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Sans (Undertale): You’ve been in service to this particular Sapphire for decades, at least. He doesn’t have a Pearl, or even any other Sea Glass– it’s just you. You entertain him, lend your ear when he needs to talk something out, stand by his side as proper and perfect as you can, through everything… and it still somehow feels like he barely knows you exist. He definitely takes you for granted and that hurts a lot more than you’d like it to. …Except one day, he looks at you, seeing you, and you don’t know how to describe the look on his face except ‘dawning abject horror.’ He latches onto you, grabbing you by the arm and refusing to let go for days and all he’ll say is, “it won’t happen, i won’t let it, i need you,” and even as it scares you a little…it finally feels like you matter to him.

Papyrus (Undertale): You are not a very good Sea Glass. Your hue is dull and your attempts at entertaining your masters are all falling flat and your anxiety is mounting because that’s masters, plural, you’ve cycled through too many that haven’t wanted you. Now you’re being evaluated and if you don’t pass muster like you know you won’t… Your saving grace comes in the form of a visiting Hessonite, on a tour of the facilities. He takes one look at you and your obviously stressed face and loudly notes that he’s never seen a Sea Glass before, out on the front lines, glory for the Empire and all that, show him that one! Your probably-soon-to-be-shatterers protest that you’re likely defective, not a good example, but, “NONSENSE, LOOK HOW THEY CATCH THE LIGHT, THAT’S LOVELY, WHAT AN INCREDIBLE GEM!” and far be it from technicians to argue with a garnet. You leave with him, decidedly unshattered, and even though you warn him that you’re not a very good Sea Glass, he assures you that he’s not a very good Hessonite—so you’ll surely do well together!

Sky (Underswap Sans): You’re part of an aristocrat’s entourage, and not the favorite by far. You mostly lurk on the outskirts of your group of Sea Glass, an unnoticed extra in the background. …Which is probably why it’s so surprising that when a group of rowdy quartz soldiers passing by manage to dissipate your body, you actually reform again—unshattered and not even cracked. One of the soldiers is there to greet you, a brightly grinning Chalcedony who apologizes for his squad’s roughhousing and that you got caught up in the scuffle. He caught you, though, before you could hit the ground, so no harm done, right? No, you suppose not…except… where’s your master? And all the others? How long were you out? The Chalcedony’s grin falls a little when he has to be the bearer of bad news: they left without you, didn’t even stick around to see that your gem was alright. …Ouch. But it’s okay! You can stay with him! He’ll look out for you and protect you, unless of course you’d like to go somewhere else? In which case, he’ll take you! You have nowhere else to go and no real desire to try your luck out in the universe all on your own, so… you think you’ll stay with the Chalcedony. His smile is awfully cute…

Paps (Underswap Papyrus): You’re walking behind your Zircon as they talk with other Zircons about things you’ve never needed to understand. With your head politely down, you hear more than see them approaching a lit workstation and chiding someone for still being there, saying that no one ever got anything done honing their gem from both ends, it’s important to relax sometimes. The stranger protests, claiming he relaxes plenty and he’ll head back to his quarters soon. Your Zircon doesn’t seem to accept that as an answer, insisting—maybe he ought to get a Sea Glass? Your Zircon has a few, they’re great, really, he should get one already, but still the stranger resists. “sea glass are a fad,” he drawls, like he might be rolling his eyes and it makes you curious enough to look up. “i don’t need to get o—…” He’s looking at you. He’s looking right at you, into your eyes, and when he moves his jaw again, it’s to say, “wow…” You’re too flustered to pay much attention to how it happens, but before you know it, you’re changing hands, Zircon to Zircon, because this one wants you and your old one already has four. You should probably feel insulted, somewhere in this, but at the same time…that ‘wow’ makes you think that this master is probably the right one.

Jasper (Underfell Sans): The moment he heard about Sea Glass, he wanted one. Like a Pearl, but none of that snooty attitude? Something that just about anyone, even a common Ruby could get ahold of? Yes, he wants one. Immediately. He attentively customizes every detail, having you made to his exact specifications—if he can only get one, he may as well go all out, right? He’s on pins and needles waiting to meet you, visiting every day even when your gem is nowhere near to being properly finished. Eventually, the day comes that you’re ready and you take your form…and you are absolutely nothing like he thought you would be. He never could’ve fully imagined you, not the way you are standing right in front of him here and now, made for him but so clearly and wholly your own gem and that… He loves it, you’re perfect. He’s never had anything of his own before, and for his first thing ever to be someone like you is utterly mindblowing. He wants to learn everything about you, no matter how long it takes.

Pyre (Underfell Papyrus): You’re a gift, a rarely colored Sea Glass given to a wildly successful Bixbite commander as a reward for another in a long line of victories daringly wrested by his fearsome fleet. Your reception is polite and you look forward to your service to such an impressive gem…so it’s disappointing, to say the least, when you’re summarily shunted off to a large harem of Sea Glass just like you, who tell you that your Bixbite has no interest in any of you and never even visits. You while away more time than you care to admit there, while your fellow Sea Glass sing and dance and make art for each other instead of your absent master, but eventually, it gets to you. You don’t want to stay here with all these gems so similar in temperament to you yet so different in all the wrong ways. They bore you, you crave variety—novelty! No one stops you when you sneak out of the harem the first time, or the second, or the third. Other gems barely pay you a passing glance as you start to steal away to other parts of the ship as they catch your fancy, chatting with soldiers and servants alike and doing whatever you choose to do. …Which is, of course, exactly how your Bixbite notices you, catching a glimpse of a stray Sea Glass roaming his halls. You’ve caught his eye now, a strange gem who wandered off seeking excitement when all the others of your type stayed put. He wants to know what makes you different and a gem of his ranking is very accustomed to getting what he wants.

Mal (Swapfell Sans): He wanted a Pearl. It’s a very stressful job, herding quartzes and otherwise running the day-to-day operations of a base, and an Agate only has so many hands. A Pearl assistant would lighten his load, open doors for him, sort files, carry his things… So, he put in for one and you can imagine how slighted he felt when his superiors would only sign off on a Sea Glass. You show up and it’s clear that your master resents you, at least a little. There are plenty of snide comments to you about what he would be having a Pearl assist him with and how you can remain in his quarters for the day since obviously he won’t require you, and those…hurt. But you are nonetheless determined to do your job and with every moment of downtime your Agate has, you try to show him your worth. It takes a long time…a very long time…but eventually, he starts to come around. You may not be what he wanted, but it’s possible that you’re exactly what he needed: with you around, he finally starts to actually relax in his downtime and that makes a world of difference for a stressed out workaholic like him. He…owes you one hell of an apology…

Rus (Swapfell Papyrus): He’s in the middle of his least favorite part of any day—the part where he has to do his job. At least he’s not the only Topaz there sent to round up a suspected traitor to the Empire and escort them to holding until trial, so it could be worse…but not by much. The traitor puts up a fight because of course they do, nothing can just be easy, and somewhere in the scuffle he bumps into you, the traitor’s poor Sea Glass. He tries to shield you from as much of the action as possible, no point putting you at risk too, right? Except that when it’s all over, traitor bubbled and the other Topazes heading out the door he has to wonder… “what happens to them?” His fellow Topazes don’t seem all that concerned about your fate: one says to leave you for someone else to deal with, another says to shatter you now and get it over with, and right there, in a moment of thoughtless impulse, he blurts out that he’ll just take you. Which is just great because what the hell is he supposed to do with a Sea Glass? He’s never had a…anything before, he’s only a Topaz, and a poor example of one at that! But…there you are, apparently his now, looking at him hopefully and…he doesn’t know how to say no to that. Guess you two will just have to…figure this out together?

Slate (Horrortale Sans): You’re a Sea Glass who rebelled against your fate. You didn’t want to serve, you didn’t want to be owned, you didn’t want to be a second class citizen in the rigid war-machine of Homeworld’s Empire, and so before you’d even been given to your first master, you ran. …That’s what the broken Sapphire foresees one day, anyway, having no idea if it was something that already happened or a vision that would never come true. He still tells the story to his brother—the Hessonite born from the same Kindergarten as him, from the same planetary vein, mere eras apart and now cracked just like him—and he can only end it with, “…i hope it was real. i wanna meet ‘em…” Luck is on his side for once and not a day later, you arrive, alone and frazzled and worried you’ve somehow been followed, as if anyone cared enough about the comings and goings of a Sea Glass to sound an alarm on you. You’re welcomed into the fold of the lost and the broken and even with nothing physically wrong with you, you joke that you’re the most defective of all for running away the very second you formed the legs to do it. You regret nothing: you found your home right here…especially with the Sapphire, whose touch is warm and reassuring even when he stares off into space for hours or talks about things that never were. He always comes back eventually and the way he smiles at you is…worth defying fate for. A hundred times over.

Papy (Horrortale Papyrus): You have not had the easiest life. Being born into the world a Sea Glass should’ve precluded you from experiencing violence…but things don’t always work out the way they ‘should.’ Your master was not a kind gem, to say the least, and decades of verbal and emotional vitriol have left you timid, trying to obey orders and do exactly as you’re told as quickly as possible to avoid the inevitable punishment. …You somehow never expected it to get physical, though. Your mistake—all it takes is one thoughtless strike at your gem and you’re cracked, not shattered yet but still malformed from what you were supposed to be, permanently damaged. And your master, terrible as they were, had no use for damaged goods. You’re discarded just as thoughtlessly as you were cracked, running from a society that would shatter you completely without a ‘real’ gem to vouch for you and praying your crack doesn’t worsen. That’s when you find the Hessonite, cracked, like you are, but still whole, and managing it. He invites you with him, to somewhere you’ll be safe. You have no choice but to trust him…but you think that even if you did have the choice, you would make the same one: his crooked smile is too earnest to doubt and you know that if it came down to it, he’d defend you or shatter completely trying.

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queen-of-deans-booty · 5 years ago

Text

Sam, Interrupted: Part One

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,102

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

The death of the two women in your life was still very fresh in your minds. They wanted you three to kill Lucifer with the Colt, and as much as you tried, it didn’t work. Jo died for nothing as did Ellen, but the event hasn’t left your mind since. Your mind wouldn’t let you forgive yourself for not doing something more even though Dean’s told you repeatedly that you did everything you could. Jo was dead the minute the hellhounds got to her no matter how much magic you used on her body.

Nonetheless, there were other people that needed to be saved. Other people that had no clue the apocalypse was near them. Other people that were more important than Lucifer since the archangel hasn’t shown up since that night. All you could do was focus on the case in front of you which just so happened to be in a psychiatric hospital where an ex-hunter summoned you.

In order to get into the hospital and do your job, you needed to go undercover.

In order to do that, you needed to tell the truth.

“You were referred to me by a Dr. Babar in Chicago,” Dr. Fuller stated, looking at the file in his hands.

“That’s right,” you nodded.

“Isn't there a children's book about an elephant named Babar?”

“I don't know. I don't have any elephant books. Look, Doctor, I-I-I think the doc was in over his head with this one,” Dean points to his brother. “'Cause my brother is,” he makes a motion with his fingers by the side of his head that usually meant “crazy”.

“Okay, fine, thank you. That's really not necessary,” he stuttered, grabbing his notepad and file. “Why don't you tell me how you're feeling, Alex?”

“I'm fine. I mean, okay, a little depressed, I guess,” Sam sighed.

“Okay, any idea why?” Dr. Fuller asked as he wrote in his notepad.

“Probably because I started the apocalypse.”

“The apocalypse?”

“Yeah, that's right.”

“And you think you started it?” Dr. Fuller asked, looking at you and Dean who just smiled innocently.

“Well, yeah, I mean I killed this demon, Lilith, and I accidentally freed Lucifer from hell. So now, he's topside, and we're trying to stop him.”

“Who is?”

“Me. And him. And her. And this one angel.”

“Oh, you mean, like an angel on your shoulder.”

“No, his name’s Castiel. He wears a trench coat.”

“See what I mean, Doc? The kid's been beating himself up about this for months. The apocalypse wasn't his fault.”

“It’s not?” Dr. Fuller asked, stunned.

“No. There was this other demon, Ruby. She got him addicted to demon blood, and near the end, he was practically chugging this stuff,” you chuckled, adding in your two cents.

“My brother's not evil. He was just... high... yeah? So, could you fix him up so we can get back to traveling around the country and hunting monsters?”

“I really have an itching to kill some demons and Lucifer. I mean, we did shoot him, but he lived and is now going to come after me because apparently, I’m connected to his aunt or something.”

“Lucifer’s… aunt?”

“Yeah. Her name is Amara.”

“Irma,” Dr. Fuller said when he picked up his phone and dialed an extension, “cancel my lunch.”

All three of you gave the doctor comforting and warm smiles which only concerned him more.

“Dr. Fuller thinks it would be best if we keep you three under observation or a couple of days,” a sickly happy nurse said as she led you down a hall.

She was speaking, but you didn’t listen to a word she was saying. There was something off about the dark-haired nurse. She wasn’t a demon or an angel… but she wasn’t human either.

“All of us? Me, too? And Y/N?” Dean asked.

“Yes, Sugar. The doctor thinks that would be best,” she smiled.

Sam and Dean got their own rooms, and when she was done with them, she walked into your room with a smile on her face. She went down to business and wrapped a blood pressure cuff around your arm, checked it, and then removed it.

“Alright, I'm just gonna give you a little check-up,” she smiled.

“Would you stop smiling all the time? You’re freaking me out here,” you mumbled.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” she playfully frowned before smiling again.

“What are you?” you muttered to yourself, not expecting her to hear it.

Though she did, and her smiled faltered just a bit before she reminded herself to keep it on her face always. Yeah, there was something definitely wrong with her.

“How long is this going to take?” you asked.

“Not that long. You just relax and let me do my job.” She was right, it didn’t take that long, and you were walking to the patient lounge with patient scrubs, shoes, and a blue robe.

It’s what Sam and Dean were wearing when you joined them.

“How was your Silkwood shower?” Dean asked you.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you said in a small voice. Shaking off the horrifying experience, you decided to get down to business about why you were really here in the first place. “I can't believe I let you two talk me into this.”

“Hey, it's the least we could do. Martin saved Dad's ass more times than we can count. He's a great hunter,” Sam defended the man who summoned you here.

“Was. Until Albuquerque,” Dean grumbled.

“Besides, I just figure it's best we keep busy. That's all.”

“Better than what?” Dean asked.

“You know what,” you sighed, still not over Ellen and Jo’s death at all.

“Okay. Look... um... last few weeks, you've kind of been worrying me,” Sam admitted.

“Oh, come on, Sam. Stop,” Dean rolled his eyes. “Look, just because we're in the loony bin doesn't give you the right to head-shrink me.”

“Dean—”

“Ellen and Jo dying—yeah, it was a fucking tragedy, okay? But I'm not gonna wallow in it.”

“Dean, you always do this. You can't just keep this shit in,” you sighed.

“Watch me,” he chuckled before spotting the ex-hunter by the corner. “Oh, there he is.”

Dean left you and Sam, and you watched him go with a sad look. Ellen and Jo meant something to him, you knew, and it sucked he never wanted to talk about anything. Taking a deep breath, you and Sam walked over to Martin who smiled at your presence.

“Sam, Dean, Y/N, wow,” he stood and shook Sam’s hand. “Wow, you boys got big. You too, Y/N. You look good.”

“Thanks. You do, too, Martin,” you smiled.

“Uh... well, thanks for coming,” he motioned for you to sit, which you three did. “In the old days, I could've taken care of this thing with both hands tied behind my back... but, well... now...”

“What do you think it is that we're hunting?”

“I don't know yet. A ghost, demon, monster... animal, vegetable, mineral,” he chuckled. “Hospital's had five deaths in the last four months. Doctors keep calling it suicides, but they're wrong.”

“So, you’ve seen this thing?” you asked. Martin shook his head which lead you to your neck question. “Has anyone seen this thing?”

“Well, a couple patients have, uh... had glimpses, but there's not a lot to go on.”

“Are they reliable?” Dean asked.

“Oh, sure, why wouldn't they be?” Martin wondered.

Taking a look around the room, you noticed a woman danced and hummed around the room, and you knew whatever she said wasn’t going to be reliable. Looking back at Martin, you raised an eyebrow at him.

“I know you three think I'm a bag of loose screws. Now, you wouldn't be wrong. But I wouldn't have called you unless there was something here. I can feel it in my gut.”

“We believe you. Have you checked any of the bodies? Found signs of an attack?” Sam asked.

“Well, uh, no... I don't go around dead b-b-b-bodies anymore,” he flinched. Dr. Fuller approached you four and smiled at everyone.

“Alex, Eddie, Maria,” he smiled at you and the brothers. It’s not like you could use your real names here. “Well, I'm glad to see you're making friends. Why don't you and Mr. Creaser join us for group? Please. Right this way.”

Getting up, you followed the Doctor, but he stopped you and Dean from joining Martin and Sam.

“Actually, I'm gonna be putting you two in the afternoon group.”

“What? Why?” you asked.

“Well, to be frank, uh, the relationship that you two have with your brother seems dangerously codependent. I think a little time apart will do you both good,” he smiled.

He walked away with Sam and Martin, but you two frowned as you watched them go.

“What do we do now?” Dean asked.

“I guess we just hang here a bit until they come back. We can’t do anything without them. Well, I mean we could, but it’ll be like us chasing our tails.”

“Then let’s play,” he smiled, moving a chair out for you at a table with a checkers board on it.

“Don’t mind if I do,” you grinned, taking a seat.

Dean sat opposite of you and set up the board, giving you the red ones and him the black. When everything was set up, he made the first move, and the game started. When the score was tied, you held up a hand and got up from your seat.

“Don’t cheat. I’m going to use the bathroom,” you chuckled before walking away.

As you turned the corner, you looked back to see Dean speaking to someone even though no one was there to begin with.

After a long afternoon, you and Dean followed several patients down the hall, Dean’s hands in his pockets and staring at the floor. He was kind of depressed, but you didn’t know why he was. He claimed a doctor came to him while you were away to talk about his father, but you were only gone for five minutes. Just as you two passed by a door, it opened and Sam walked out and joined you two.

“Dean, hey. You okay?”

“He’s having a tough time. Please tell us you found something.”

“Yeah. A guy, Ted, says he saw the creature. We should talk to him. You wanna meet here in an hour?”

“Yeah, sooner we take care of this thing, sooner we can get gone. This place gives me the creeps,” he shivered.

Turning around, you come face to face with a patient who just smiled. Before you could say anything, she grabs the back of your neck and kisses you just like that. Your eyes went wide as did the brothers, and she pulled away with a seductive smile.

“Hi.”

“Hi…?”

“I’m Wendy.”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded.

She slapped your ass as she passed by you to leave, and you watched her with a confused look.

“Dude—”

“Not a word, Winchester,” you glared at Dean who lost his smile.

He cleared his throat and pretended what he saw didn’t affect him in anyway.

After hours, when you knew the nurses would be on their rounds, you and Dean met his brother outside of his cell. Sam had the lock pick he managed to sneak into the place. He knew of the guy that saw the monster you were looking for, and you were going to need to talk to him if you wanted to get this case over and done with as soon as possible.

“Well, it's about time. Nurses are on their rounds. We got, like, fifteen, twenty minutes. So, where is this guy?” Dean asked.

“Room 306,” Sam informed, leading the trio to the room.

It didn’t take long since Sam’s was near his. When you approached the door, you heard Ted screaming in fear. The monster must be in there, and your hands turned blue to get the door opened faster than a lock pick would. The brothers moved out of the way, and right before your hands could touch the door, Ted’s feet slammed against the window so that you couldn’t see inside the place.

“Hurry up! Come on, hurry up!” Dean urged.

Shaking your head, you placed your hands flat on the door as you let your magic do its thing to get the door unlocked. As soon as the door clicked, you opened it only to see Ted hanging from a pipe in the ceiling with a tied bed sheet around his neck.

“Damn it!” you exclaimed.

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wachtelspinat · 5 years ago

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Oh hey, a very good question here...

“Anonym hat gesagt: have you ever considered filing off the serial numbers and turning your mc humansonas into personal ocs? they seem like a pretty fun and interesting bunch all on their own!”

... and I have no idea how to answer it.

This is extremely hard to answer somehow..................... or maybe not...

The thing is the entire idea makes me feel unsure on so many levels. I know that my way of depicting the MC was different from the very beginning and has changed quite a lot over the years, I’m EXTREMELY thankful that people dig the things that I draw! I really am, this gives me so much life! And I have never drawn more for any fandom / obsession than for the MC... my files count way over 200 pieces in the midnight mobster category and, to be honest, it’s really cool to see what happened over the years by just looking at that pile of stupid drawings...

There are a lot of people out there who don’t know who they are when they see my art and it’s nice to see that they dig it for what it’s it nonetheless, but other folks will always recognize them and I like that! I love reading fanfictions, I love seeing fanart, I love the whole context. I mean I’m sorry to admit it but I never fully read Homestuck (something I save for my time in retirement home), it was just too much at some point and I realized very soon that I was actually only interested in the Intermission and everything surrounding it. But all the things that came with it, the music, the amazing artists, the wonderful AUs we created in that tiny corner that was and is the Intermission fandom..... These things made such a big impression on me and I live for the fact that the four lads are a part of it and are interwoven into this whole package.

The thing is... you are not the first person to say this to me, you know, and to be honest, over the years, from time to time, I thought of altering them just enough to unhinge them from this context. But... it wouldn’t be the same. I would still see that angry tiny asshole as Slick, I would still think about them roughing up The Felt, being horrible dads but trying so hard nonetheless and the list goes on... I am WAY too uncreative to take them and put them into my own story. And to be honest? I don’t really want to. My everyday life is stressful as f and I just want to come home and draw stabdads and mobsters...

One thing that irks me immensely though is the matter of selling my art, prints and postcards and such. I know that Hussie’s not cool with people offering merch at online shops and conventions, but I really don’t know how much my art falls within the radar of said merch...? So yeah I would really love to hear opinions on that. (Lots of folks have asked me over the years and I always had to disappoint them, I would never ever gonna get rich with this shit anyway, but it would be nice for those who’d like some gangsters on their walls)

Which brings me to another point: they’re already somebody else’s characters. And I don’t know, but I think it’s kinda odd and disrespectful to take their traits and everything, turn their hard shells into skin and hair and then call them my OCs : (

So... Regarding the personal OCs question: They DO feel very close to my heart. Heck, they have a front row seat for life in my effin’ heart. This sounds very sappy... but yes, they are more to me than just humanizations of some Homestuck characters. ... and this is hardly understated since I’ve never loved a fictional character more than this angry little man. Never ever. My brain releases so much dopamine whenever I think of him it’s unreal...

... But everything that makes me love him that bad is based on work of other fans, including me.

Nevertheless they are what they are, and I guess if I wanna have my own OCs then I should sit down and start something new. But yeah, the statement stands: They are definitely more to me than just a bunch of HS characters.

__________________________________________________________

Anonym hat gesagt: I love your art style so much! Do you do commissions? (Sorry if i missed it if you already said it somewhere)

Hey! Thank you so much! I’m really sorry to tell you though that I don’t do commissions : C idk but as soon as there is money and high expectations involved my mind shuts down on me and I stop drawing altogether.. I did a few for a friend in the past but I let him down horribly, always delaying the final product and such... In the end it’s just stressful to the max for me and unfair for the other party involved : (

Anonym hat gesagt: So like, sniperspy is basically a kismesissitude. Thoughts?

HHMmmmmmmmmm I’d say it depends on how you see their relationship? Like there are many approaches on how these two would even function, and I personally love the ones where they turn from enemies to something like soulmates and soulmates don’t hate each other.

#ohh damn i'm sorry this turned out quite longer than i had anticipated #but i got all my herzblut in this T__T #also sorry for the delay in the response

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faintblueivy · 5 years ago

Text

Seasons we’ve seen together - yukimachi fanfiction

A/N: So after slaving over a week for this I've finally completed it! I'm so glad!

Before we start, let me scream - SPOILERS!

Summary - Finding eachother and falling in love was not something they thought was possible for them. But as the seasons passed by, it became easier. Yuki and Machi - and few moments of them being together.

Ao3 link

Didn't think that I'll fall for another OTP, but guess what? I'm here with something new for these two idiots in love. This is my first time writing for Fruits Basket fandom and I desperately hope that I've done them justice. Hope you all enjoy it!

Word Count - 4k

Genre - Fluff, nothing else ;)

Seasons we've seen together

Spring

The first time she meets him, spring is in full bloom.

It was her second day of high school and the beautiful and pink cherry blossoms were raining down. The gentle wift of sweetness lingering in the air was a reminder of the new season. And also for new beginnings like everyone said.

Walking down the unfamiliar hallways with a sheaf of papers in her arms, Machi feels oddly aware of every eye that follows her movement. The halls are bustling with seniors and she wonders why was it a good idea for the staff room to be built on the second year's floor. She didn't want to admit it but a part of her was wishing to catch a glimpse of her idiotic older brother. In a sea of nothing but strangers, Machi longs to find comfort of seeing someone familiar. She sighs inwardly. She had never imagined to see a day where she would want to see Kakeru voluntarily.

"Excuse me?"

Name of the devil- wait, the voice was softer than her brother's upbeat screech.

She whirls around and comes face to face with 'the prince'. The rumoured senior who had been proclaimed as the most beautiful boy of the school. She had seen him first through the windows, surrounded by people smiling gently, as the girls around her talked about how perfect and charming he looked.

The prince with a lonely smile.

But now close up from here, she could see how mussed his hair was and the tie he wore looked crooked. Prince? Was she sure he was one?

"Yes?"

"Ah, I think you dropped this."

He extends a few papers in her direction which might have spiralled down to the floor when she was busy grappling with her thoughts.

She is able to mumble out a 'thank you' as he places the papers on the top. She waits for him to leave but he doesn't. Instead, he gives her that carefully calculated smile that she had seen a day ago directed at someone else and asks, "Do you need some help?"

"Could you please let me know the way to staff room?"

She replies him with another question of her own, her observant eyes noticing how he eyed the large bundle of papers in her arms.

"Sure. Just take right turn the next aisle you see. You'll see the plaque hanging right in front."

"Thank you."

She gives him a small bow, mindful of the stuff she was carrying. He gives her a nod and a genuine smile and weirdly enough, a part of her is relieved to see that he could smile like that. Before they could part appropriately, he is approached by a group of giggling and squealing girls who were gushing about how they were absolutely sure that he would ace the tests. Machi didn't know him that good but even still she could see how uncomfortably overwhelmed he looked at the moment. Giving him one last glance Machi went on her way, sure that he'd forget her in an hour or two. After all, why would the prince surrounded by people remember someone like her.

But she couldn't have been more wrong.

Summer

If he was honest, then Yuki didn't think he was enjoying being the student council president. Apart from the stress that the curse caused, he couldn't hold the energy that the student council exudated together. From Kakeru's unbound enthusiasm to Nao's complaining and Kimi's shallowness - everything would tire him out to the bones at the end of everyday. These people drove him mad with their eccentricness and unrestrained behaviour. Not that he should complain...but still.

Except for the newly appointed school treasurer who, at the moment, has been quietly following him around.

Kuragi Machi.

He tilts his head back slightly to steal a glance at the girl who had never once lifted her head from the papers she was invested in. Even accompanying him on the patrol today was Kimi's job. Not hers. But somehow Kimi had pushed the chore to the younger girl.

"Kuragi-san? Where do we go next?"

He questions, a pathetic attempt to start a conversation once again after countless failures.

"The sports club."

She replies monotonously, eyes never once leaving the list. He nods in acknowledgement, inwardly grimacing at another defeat.

It didn't matter, he had the entire list memorized but he couldn't help but notice how different this girl behaved. She had perfect grades, good records, perfect attendance and was highly efficient in her work. But despite how much rowdy the student council office got, she would still finish her work on time and even have enough energy to make up for the slack of others. Yuki cannot explain it in words but her behaviour unnerved him for some reason. The scene of their first meeting is still fresh in his mind. He still didn't know what had caused her to be on her knees back then, with files, papers and the entire room torn all around her. What was that Kakeru knew but he didn't.

And if he has to admit, he wants to know her better. Something about her empty eyes spoke volumes to him. He wonders why nobody else could see what he did in her. It causes a sense of discomfort in him knowing that this person was hiding her true self behind that perfect doll like persona.

"President, we're here." Her voice stops his train of thoughts, startling him for a second.

"Ah, yes. Of course."

He gives her an apologetic smile realising that he had been so occupied with his thoughts that he might have missed the gate to the outside had she not pointed it out.

The sports club building was situated near the playgrounds and fields, at a distance from the main campus. They had to walk around the football field to reach on the other side.

Yuki inhales a breath of fresh air, the sun shining strongly above their heads. It decides that it feels good. He gives a smile to his companion but she returns the look with a blank face and Yuki inwardly laughs.

It was no surprise that class 1 C was having their sports period at the moment. He had the entire time table in his head. He knew that. What shocked him was the way he was hounded on by the junior girls the second he stepped on the field.

"Yuki Senpai!"

"Senpai!"

"Sohma senpai!"

He jumps away from the girls, careful at dodging any physical affection they fling on him. His anxiousness rises as they push their way through each other, fighting, arguing and calling each other's names.

"Watch out!"

Somebody yells and Yuki feels his senses go on high alert. The first thing he notices is a football hurtling straight at them. Without thinking much, he immediately steps forward, swinging his leg out with enough force to deflect the ball on the other side. Thankfully, everyone is safe and unharmed.

"Yuki Senpai! You're a hero!"

The girls start screaming even before he is sure he had saved them all. The second he puts his foot down, he realises he had sprained it. Badly. He instantly bites his lip to not wince in pain.

"Yuki Senpai, you're really such a good hearted prince!" Someone sings from the crowd, and those words make something twist in his gut.

"I'm not..." Yuki blurts out, softly enough that the girls do not hear.

He watches the chaos for a few more minutes, trying to pacify them but with no luck. The pain in his foot growing much worse with the ticking of the clock.

"Excuse me, President. We must leave. Sports club council is waiting for us."

A familiar voice from his side delivers and he thanks Kuragi-san a million times for saving him inside his head. Apologising and leaving as soon as he could, he feels as if he could finally take a breath again after escaping the gaggle of girls. He is careful to hide his limp, deciding to deal with it only after he had reached home.

They were seated in the sports club council room to talk about the investments and renovation that the club required. But even before they could begin the meeting with the sport council's president, someone rushed in a flurry to report something immediate to the guy.

"Ah, apologies! President! Looks like I'll have to deal with the mess these idiots have made again! Will it be okay if I return back in five minutes?" He asks with a grimacing smile.

"Absolutely. Don't worry about it Nakamura-san. Please go ahead." Yuki returns it with an sympathizing one and giving a nod.

The boy is about to walk out of the room when she, who rarely ever speaks, calls out loudly.

"Nakamura-san. If you don't mind, may I use the first aid kit here?" She gestures to the kit that was kept above one of the cabinets.

"Definitely. Feel free to use it." He nods in agreement before running out of the room. The boy is barely out of the room when she speaks again, this time directed at him.

"President. Please remove your shoes."

Yuki sits their gobsmacked as she is busy rummaging through to kit, pulling out pain relieving spray and creams.

He was so sure that he had hidden his pain well. Nobody else had noticed. Then how did she? Was he that easy to read? But then again, people see him as a perfect prince. Should a perfect prince be injured and feel pain? He was sure that the answer would definitely be a 'No'. He is startled again when she kneels in front of him with the medical supplies.

What she told him next was something nobody had ever said. Something he had desperately needed to told. But he never thought that it would be from her. The person he wanted to help and to save. But nonetheless, it made him feel warm inside. And it was something he could never forget.

"You are not a Prince. You are in pain and you could have said something sooner. President, please remember that."

Rains

The stack of papers seems never ending. His pen glides over the paper fluently, extra care being taken to make sure that no mistakes occur. The door to the room is open, wind wafting in softly, carrying the scent of petrichor with it.

The sound of rain hitting the window panes was overpowering the silence of the room. Yuki is not worried, because most of the noise causing elements of the student council were currently absent.

Kimi was out on a date with one of her new boyfriends. Nao had left earlier to prepare for an upcoming test. And Kakeru, worried about the incoming weather and torrential rains had left to pick up his girlfriend from her school, obviously entrusting his precious sister's well being in Yun-Yun's hands. Though he did not forget to warn Yuki to not do anything perverted to his sister which had unsurprisingly earned him a harsh bonk on the head.

His gaze darts toward the only other occupant of the room. Machi is busy scribbling on a notepad, working with numbers, her diligence for her work being reflected by her immense concentration. Yuki feels a little guilty though. She might have left earlier had he not asked her to calculate and summarise the expenses of the sports club for the last three months. But she never complained. The thing is she never did.

Unable to tear his gaze away from her, he admits how much he adores the way she subtly bites her lip when something doesn't add up. He likes how her brows shoot up when she finds the error in her calculations. He has no idea how long he's been sitting there simply taking her features in. And if he was honest, he is thankful to Kakeru for arranging their seats in a way that allowed him to stare at her without much suspicion.

A part of him feels wrong... watching her like this, when his heart thrums the way it does. She's...so unaware of him and his growing fondness for her but so incredibly conscious of the mess he is and his demons. He had always wondered if there was someone who could see past his lonely smile. And now, the person of his dreams was sitting right in front of him, barely a few feet away.

The sound of the rain becomes louder as the lights flicker off, startling her. The room falls into a colour of grey and darkness as she looks around with slightly visible panic on her face, only for her dark brown eyes to meet his grey ones. He is definitely amused when, even in the dim light, he can see a hint of redness of her cheeks. And she might have noticed it too, he knows when she turns her head to a side, willing her long bangs to hide it. Even though her cuteness is too much for him, her stubborn behaviour is something he has surpassed. So, in the premise of opening the window of the room, on her right, he stalks near her desk, loving how the red of her cheeks grows even brighter. His hands mechanically open the latch of the window, his attention is still directed at her. Of course, that is his fault when a violent spray of water rushes in and makes him sputter like an idiot.

"President?"

He notes how she sounds alarmed and his form tenses when she appears beside him, closer than they normally are. But Machi has never been the one to invade people's personal space and she probably had none of Tohru's natural clumsiness. He swipes the water on his lashes by the sleeve of his shirt when a white handkerchief enters his field of vision.

Machi extends the small article in his direction with wide worried eyes.

"Are you all right?"

He takes the offered cloth with a thankful smile and wipes his face. He's unexpectedly thrown off guard when her scent hits his senses. It was soft, so unlike Kimi's perfume which was strong enough to make them all cringe at it's fruity flavour. He could not put a finger at what this smell feels like though. And he was sure that trying to inhale it with a breath would definitely...freak Machi out. And he wants to believe that he is not a pervert.

"Thank you, Machi."

He expresses his gratitude, eyes brimming with something he can hardly hold. She nods and comes to stand beside him on the window, not minding the stray water droplets that hit her. Yuki notices how her eyes soften.

"Does Machi like rain?"

He questions, his gaze travelling to the cloudy sky above, watching the descent of the drizzle.

She hums in agreement and whispers, "Rain - messes up everything. Causes disorder and troubles in our mundane routine. But yet, it breathes life into everything around us. We can't survive without it, can we? And I think it's beautiful."

The faint smile that graces her lips is something that Yuki might have missed had he not been paying as much attention to her as he did. Machi is the only girl beside Tohru, whose simple upward quirk of lips could make his heart swell with immense affection. Maybe it was how rare this smile seemed that Yuki desperately wished to etch this moment in the back of his mind, to preserve and hold it close forever like a precious gem.

He had known that she was special for a while now, but now, he accepted that he yearned to see that smile for as long as possible.

Autumn

The red leaves dance around her as she trudges through the roads to her apartment. The sun is about to set, the sky painted in hues of red, gold and pink. She jumps when a wildly whirling leaf smacks her right in the face, her fingers immediately latching on it.

The leaf looked...pretty. Red, with more yellow splotches on the left side than the right and a few brown spots of decay. It reminds her of the leaf she still had in her bag, tucked safely in one of her notebooks. Suddenly, a strong wind blows and the leaf escapes her fingers in the direction of the path she had just walked away from. And probably due to her stupid fascination with red coloured maple leaves, she instinctively runs to follow it when a hand snatches it out of air in one swift motion.

She is left dumbfounded. The president of her school is standing right in front of her, her leaf pinched carefully between his long fingers.

"Were you looking for this?"

He steps closer to her, offering the leaf as if he was offering a rose, smiling softly. She grasps the stalk of the leaf and holds it close to her chest.

"What are you doing here?"

"Why? Is there a rule that I am not allowed in this part of the city?" He teases her, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Before she can retort, he smiles and says, "Please come with me."

Moving past her he heads for a certain destination and a part of her feels indignant that he's sure she'll follow him. Funnily enough, another part of her conscience chides her, reminding that he wouldn't come all the way just to annoy her. He is not like that. Then again, she shouldn't underestimate him.

He leads them to a nearby park and gestures for her to sit down on a bench, beside him. Machi flushes slightly but settles beside him anyway.

"Actually," he speaks rummaging through his backpack, "I came here to return this back to you." Pulling out a file, he hands it over to her. And she immediately notes it to be her assignment file.

"I thought I dropped it in my bag." She mumbles, quite astonished that she had carelessly left it behind.

Yuki's chuckle pulls her out of her thoughts.

"It wasn't you!" He laughs. "It was Kakeru! That idiot pulled your bag apart when you were out with Kimi for a pencil he couldn't find. And then forgot to rearrange it and put this file back. And I noticed it only after you had left."

"That idiot…" Machi hisses, but then looks at Yuki. "President, why did you-"

"Don't worry about it! I'm glad that I caught up to you."

He gives her such a smile that it knocks the breath out of her lungs. He looks almost a figment of her imagination, smiling like that, with red leaves falling over them. So beautiful. So impossible. But yet, here he was, sitting beside her as if she was someone who should be cherished.

"Has Machi eaten the dango of that shop here?"

His words startle her, she jerks her gaze away from him to the shop across the street he was pointing at.

"No." She answers timidly.

"Come on then! Let's have some!" He stands up, excited, offering her his hand and Machi feels her heart thudding in her ears. The red creeps on her face and she scolds herself for letting him overwhelm her with his exuberance every single time.

A few minutes later, they are on the bench again, biting onto the soft and delicious dango and Machi has to admit that it tastes good. She steals a glance at her companion who is already chewing on his third stick, eyes focused on the scenery around them.

"President?"

"Hmm?"

"You didn't have to come all the way here to deliver that assignment."

He looks at her, a questioning expression on his face as he chews on the last bite.

"Actually, that assignment was already graded."

What continues her statement is a long stretch of silence as Yuki sits there with his mouth hung open.

"You mean-"

"Yes, the assignment was already graded. You...wasted your time by coming here." She says, softly, averting her gaze.

"Machi." He calls out, chiding her gently.

She stares at her shoes unable to meet his eyes because she did occupy his time unnecessarily. She wonders if he was minding it now. She wants to run away and hide in some hole when he leans closer to her, his lips a few inches away from her ear.

"Machi, I did not waste my time. I was here because I wanted to be. In Fact, I'm glad I got to share and eat dango with you."

His genuine but firm words, his fond smile and the transparent look in his eyes was too staggering for her. It was so incredibly hard to accept that he was here out of his own free will. Not because he was forced to. Not because he felt obligated too. But because he wanted to be here. Because he didn't mind spending time with her. A strange warmth pooled inside her chest, spreading through her bones, making her tingle all over.

He simply chuckles and bids her farewell, loving how her face was the brightest red he had ever seen.

Winter

When the morning sun rays penetrate the minute gap between the curtains of his room, Yuki wakes up. He blinks, eyes full of golden light and dark brown hair over his nose and lips. Even his sleep deprived senses are honed enough to detect her presence beside him and it leaves him with a comforting warmth.

He gently swipes her hair off his face, grey eyes coming to rest on soft sleeping face. Her head is resting in the crook of his arm and her arm was draped over his torso. Her leg is over his, bare and soft. She is dressed in a pair of small pajamas and his red shirt. He knows he was leaner in comparison to a lot of other men, but still his clothes were too big for her. Though he loves seeing her in them. The shirt is quite large for her small frame, sliding off on from one shoulder, exposing her soft and pale skin to him.

A sudden cold sensation of chill makes him shiver and he immediately drags the blankets up to cover both of them. His arms slide over her waist, pulling her close to him and nuzzling her neck and side of cheek. Sometimes, having her beside him feels like a dream that he's terrified of waking up from. Both of them have had struggled against their own demons, found love and support in each other and the few kind people around them. As time passes by, things change and people do too.

Like how he loves mornings now.

For as long as he can remember, he has never been a morning person. But having Machi nestled against him, watching the sun rays fall on her eyelashes, illuminating her in a golden ethereal glow filled him with a sense of contentment that nothing else did. That moment of satisfaction, that feeling of his heart beating in his chest in synchrony to hers was something he craved so deeply that any morning he got to witness it made him feel blessed.

But he knows he's not the only one to have started loving something he never had before because of Machi. She had confessed to him as well, how winters - which she dreaded before became something she held close to her heart thanks to the promise he had made years back.

Yuki leans over and gently brushes his lips on her forehead and a small moan escapes her mouth.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty."

He calls her affectionately, knowing that he was going to receive a smack for that later. She blinks, frowning at him and then burying her face into his chest again.

"Machi. Wake up." He pokes his nose on her cheek and she immediately swatts him away. He chuckles and slowly slides away from her, out of the bed. The air is so cold and crisp that he resists the urge to crawl back into the blankets and into Machi's arms again with everything he had. Sauntering over to the window, he pulls the curtains apart and gasps dramatically.

"It's snowing! Machi, wake up!"

He runs to the bed, disheveling the blankets and adoring the angry noises his wife was making. Finally pulling the last blanket off her, he makes a few more attempts to get her out of the bed with no success. He sighs and takes a moment to appreciate her small form and his eyes coming to rest on the milky stretch of white skin of her exposed shoulder, and a devilish idea lights up his brain. He quickly leans over and playfully nips her bare shoulder.

"Yuki!"

Machi squeals, thrashing her arm out to strike him but he's agile enough to dodge it efficiently.

"Try harder Machi. You won't have me like that." He smirks, making sure that she notices the way he's all over her.

Okay, fine. He is a pervert. But only when it comes to her.

The next few minutes are nothing but a scarlet faced Machi chasing him around the house in nothing but pajamas in freezing winters.

Yuki knows, if someone ever asks him to define love, all he would ever say that it's the feeling you get when you witness all the seasons passing, but falling in love and finding something precious to appreciate in each of them because you have that person - the love of your life - by your side.

That is what love is.

A/N: Yuki and Machi through the different seasons. I really wanted to write something special for them. And I'm glad I did! Gooooshhhh I can't wait to see Machi and Kakeru in the new anime! We're slowly edging towards their appearance! AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! Btw, please do tell me your thoughts for this story! Thank you for reading!

#yukimachi #yuchi #yuki x machi #Yuki Sohma #yuki souma #yuki #machi kuragi #yumachi #machi #Fruits Basket #fruits basket spoilers #fruits basket 2019

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