#so i feel even more guilty that i am attending this funeral | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nickineuw · 1 year ago

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Hey everyone!! Work has kept me extremely busy lately, plus I had major surgery in the beginning of May so I haven’t had time for much. But….I decided to finally started writing a multi-chapter Rivamika fanfic. I’ve had this idea in my head for a while, and I think I’m finally somewhat happy with Chapter 1. I need to join AO3 so I can share it there, but for now here it is. I might modify it slightly before I share on AO3.

Brief summary….first of all, it’s an AU. the idea is that Levi, a successful and wealthy New York lawyer, and Mikasa, an up and coming fashion photographer also from NY, end up staying *very* close to each other while vacationing in a small town in Maryland.

Also, keep in mind I am a scientist. I enjoy writing and reading, but I am not a skilled creative writer like some fanfic authors are. I try!

Title: A Week in Oxford

Chapter 1: Much Needed Break

Levi - Lower Manhattan, New York

Exhausted but finally feeling at ease, Levi began to pack his documents from the trial into his sleek, black leather briefcase. After a long and extensive jury trial, his client, Dimo Reeves, was found not guilty for the crimes of securities fraud and embezzlement, but was found guilty of the misdemeanor of obstruction of justice. The client was more than pleased with the outcome, since the obstruction of justice charge was fairly minor and resulted in simply year one of supervised probation. The evidence against his client for the other two charges was overwhelming, but Mr. Reeves, a prominent Wall Street trader, hired Levi as his lawyer due to Levi’s impressive track record and tenacity for casting doubt on minute aspects of the crime and evidence. The prosecutors were pushing for 10-15 years of incarceration if he were to be found guilty by the jury. But, Levi had won, yet again. He was able to discover small details in the evidence and slight loopholes in the wording of the law to cast just enough doubt in the juror’s minds, and so they found Mr. Reeve’s not guilty. This is where Levi excelled. Over the last decade, he had proven himself to be a highly sought after attorney throughout New York. He had a mind that could easily find these small inconsistencies in both the evidence and the laws, and his skills in arguing and persuasion were second to no one. For all he lacked in stature, he made up for in his tenacity and cutthroat methods in the courtroom, willing to push the comfort level of the judge but knowing when to stop. To put it simply, in the courtroom Levi Ackerman was an imposing threat to the prosecutors that worked against him. This track record skyrocketed Levi as one of the partners of a now top legal group in New York, Smith and Ackerman. His partner and long time best friend, Erwin, glanced at Levi with a wicked smile on his face.

“What? I know that look. It’s usually never good.”

“Am I not allowed to smile? I am well aware of your amazing career history, but even I am impressed with how you managed this case, Levi. Two years and too many sleepless nights for you, my friend. This decision today was solely based on your impressive mind and work ethic. Choosing you as my partner four years ago is a gamble that has paid off well.”

“Tsk, what gamble? You act as if you haven’t been my closest friend for the last 12 years.”

“Even if you were my enemy, I would have chosen you. No one else can command a courtroom the way you can, Levi,” Erwin replied with a smirk. “Now that this case is finally over, I do believe you owe me a promise.”

Levi rolled his eyes, knowing that Erwin would not be one to easily let this go.

“Erwin, I’m fine. I don’t need to go on a shitty break to a shitty small town. Work keeps my mind occupied and you know how much I hate leaving the city.”

“Levi, you can’t continue to live like this. Trust me, your work ethic is above and beyond anything I could have imagined. But, you haven’t taken a day off of work in four years… and that was only because you had to attend your uncle's funeral. I’m convinced if I don’t force this, you would work everyday until you die a crippled, elderly man in a sterile apartment with nothing but career accomplishments to your name. You need a break. You need to interact with people, make friends and connections other than myself or Hange. It’s healthy to take a break and meet people. And you and I both know how much a change of atmosphere might help with your ongoing sleep problems -“

“What sleep problems? I sleep like a baby.”

Rolling his eyes, Erwin knew better. “ Hange says she has to know by this evening. Apparently someone has expressed an interest in renting the cottage during the same week as you.”

“Fine. I’ll think about it while I drive home and give Hange a call either way.”

Knowing that was as good as he was going to get from his cranky, small friend….Erwin nodded.

“Thank you.. Now, I need to get home and take a shower. This courtroom is stifling and I’m fairly certain it hasn’t been dusted properly in over a week.”

Erwin simply chuckled at his friend's quirks, knowing virtually all there was to know about the man who could intimidate an entire courtroom with just his glare, but who was equally as petrified of dust and dirt.

“Levi, as much as I would love to return home myself, there is a rather large crowd of members of the press waiting to speak to us. But, I know your distaste for them, so I will take the lead. The only thing I ask of you is to please behave and mind your temper.”

With another roll of his eyes, Levi began to walk toward the exit of the courtroom. He knew they meant well, but Erwin and Hange could be, well, imposing. They constantly nagged Levi about his workaholic tendencies and urged him to “get out there and meet people.” They asked about Levi’s sleep habits, knowing he suffered from insomnia, although Levi himself has never disclosed to his two closest friends the exact reasons why. The three of them met while attending Cornell University, although Levi was a freshman during the time Erwin and Hange were already juniors despite being the same age. Regardless, sharing an off-campus apartment together brought them close, and the three of them have remained friends since. While Erwin and Levi both attended law school and passed the New York State Bar exam, Hange received her phD in microbiology and works at New York-Presbyterian Hospital as a microbiologist.

Levi felt somewhat refreshed by the cool October air that encompassed him as he stepped outside of the courtroom, with Erwin and Mr. Reeves’s not far behind him. However, it didn’t take long for the hordes of journalists and cameras to force their way into his personal space, immediately agitating Levi and putting him on edge. He didn’t even do well with people he liked invading his space, let alone complete strangers. .

“Mr. Ackerman, how does it feel to be one of the top bachelor’s in New York City?”

“Mr. Ackerman, can you give us a statement on the jury’s decision today? What are your feelings right now?”

While Levi hated the press and attention, he knew this was part of his job. However, Erwin was much more cordial and well spoken, which made him better equipped to handle the PR aspects of their position, so Levi usually left this part to him. Levi’s temper flared though, when one particularly sleezy duo of journalist and cameraman would not relent, and asked Levi a question that went too far.

“Mr. Ackerman, do you feel guilty for willingly representing someone who scammed his clients out of millions? Especially given your own personal history of criminal acts?”

As soon as Erwin heard the question, he tensed. Before he could even react further, Levi had grabbed the camera from the man and slammed it toward the ground, smashing it into pieces. The crowd silenced, and Levi immediately felt every eye on him.

Without missing a beat, and with a broad smile reaching across his photogenic face, Erwin began, “Well then, with that I am glad to take any questions you have for my partner and I regarding the court’s decision in our case today.”

As Levi started to walk away, head down, he thought to himself perhaps he did need a break.

Mikasa - Murray Hill, New York

Mikasa was browsing through the results of her photo shoot today in Murray Hill. Graduating from Columbia University four years ago with a degree in photography, she quickly made a name for herself as a sought after fashion photographer in the city. Not only is it impressive that she was accepted into Columbia, with only a 4% acceptance rate, she was also offered a full scholarship. Of course, being named as the Valedictorian of her graduating high school class helped quite a bit. Mikasa had always been naturally smart, but when paired with her outstanding work ethic and participation in a variety of extracurriculars, she was a perfect candidate for selection for the highly prestigious scholarship Columbia offered her.

After chatting with her client for a bit letting them know when they would be receiving an email of edited proofs, Mikasa packed up her laptop and made the short walk from the studio to the parking garage. Unlike most New Yorkers, Mikasa insisted on bringing her car when she moved into her one-bedroom apartment in the neighborhood of Hell's Kitchen, New York. There was just too much to explore; too much to see. She usually spent weekends taking long drives outside of the city in search of any and everything she could photograph. Sure, she paid a pretty penny for the parking spot in her neighborhood, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. Besides, her monthly rent of $2,500 was actually quite a steal for the modern, light-filled apartment that she always kept clean and organized. It had all of the necessities….a nice sized bedroom with surprisingly large closet space, a small but full kitchen, even a washer and dryer combo. The money she was making as a fashion photographer certainly didn’t make her rich, but she was more comfortable than she anticipated being at only 25. Plus, she was happy…at least as far as her career was concerned.

It was the middle of October, and the cool breeze and vibrant shades of leaves on the small trees dotting the sidewalks indicated fall had finally arrived. Mikasa loved this time of year, and it reminded her of growing up with the Yeager family in a suburb about an hour outside of the city. Although she suffered from an unimaginable loss as a young child, her years with the Yeager family were filled with love and support. Her second set of parents enrolled her in photography classes, supported her when she felt overwhelmed from her studies and duties as class president, and never missed a single one of her high school soccer games.

Her adoptive brother, Eren, was like a real brother to her in many ways, and she always found herself watching out for him due to his reckless ways. They were the same age, same year in school, and even went to college close to each other. Eren majored in software development and was now working in Philadelphia as a video game designer. He was never as studious as Mikasa was in high school, but he seemed to blossom in his college classes and seemed very happy with his career choice. Their close childhood friend Armin, who graduated as salutatorian right behind Mikasa, also attended Columbia and received his MBA. He also worked in Philadelphia and he and Eren were currently sharing a two bedroom apartment together as roommates.

The relationship between Mikasa and Eren wasn’t always healthy though, and she fears that her co-dependency on him has made it difficult for her to form bonds and friendships with others. One of the reasons Eren repeatedly pushed her away is her tendency to mother those she holds close. Even Armin had mentioned it from time to time. She was well aware of this, but why should she change who she is to please others? So what if she cared too much for people she felt close to? It was a part of who she was, and she didn’t see any need to change that fact.

Aside from Eren, Armin, and her college best friend Sasha, Mikasa didn’t really have anyone else she would consider as more than an acquaintance. Sasha often urged her to meet people and do things other than solitary drives to take photographs. At first, Mikasa dismissed those thoughts. Lately though, she has found herself feeling somewhat lonely, and aching for a connection and companionship. Part of her decision to work in New York and not follow Eren and Armin to Philadelphia was so she could give herself physical distance from the unhealthy relationship that developed between her and Eren over the years. Mikasa knew it was better for her to move on, to find someone who would dedicate their entire self to her and not just lure her in when it was convenient for them. Mikasa truly did want a companion and love, but with such a busy schedule and a small handful of friends, she had no idea how to go about meeting anyone. Plus, she craved for someone who accepted her, flaws and all.

About halfway through her drive home, her phone rang. She pressed the button on her vehicle’s control center to answer via Bluetooth.

“Hey Mikasa! Just wanted to call to check in, see how things went with your big photoshoot this week.”

“Oh hey Sasha! It went really well, the photos turned out amazing… I think the clients are going to be very happy with the finished product.”

“Mika that’s so great! I’m so proud of you! Wanna head out tonight to celebrate? There’s this new restaurant I’ve been dying to try, plus I hear the drinks are amazing too!”

“Actually, I decided I need to get away for a bit. I know it’s last minute, but I think I’m gonna book that AirBnB I was checking out in Maryland the other day.”’

“Seriously Mika? Wow that’s so awesome….damn I wish I could take off a few days and go with! You have to let me know how all of the yummy seafood is down there!!!”

Rolling her eyes, yet smiling, because Mikasa knew how food obsessed her best friend was, she replied, “You know I will Sasha…I always take pics for you too.”

“Yay! Mikasa I’m so happy for you. And who knows? Maybe you’ll meet someone while you’re there,” Sasha said with a wink.

“Sasha….the town has a population of 600 people. I highly doubt there would be someone there I could meet.”

“You never know Mikasa! Okay be safe, love ya!”

With a smile, Mikasa replied “You know it. Love you too.”

The cottage was located in a town called Oxford, which had a population of only 600 people. Being a photographer, she was immediately impressed by the contrast of the red park bench which sat just in front of the grey cottage with its dark green shutters. Near the winding brick sidewalk, tulips bloomed in reds, yellows, and whites. She longed to take more photographs of it, and could only imagine how beautiful the entire town must be as well. The cottage had an open floor plan with only one bed and one couch, but this was more than adequate for her needs. Last week, Mikasa had sent a brief email to the host, someone by the name of Hange, and Mikasa was pleased to see that the cottage was available during the week she had in mind. However, due to work demands, Mikasa never had a chance to follow up on the email.

Upon entering her apartment, she decided to open her laptop and view the cottage again, as well as do some research on the surrounding area. She was excited to see that the small town of Oxford and surrounding area provided numerous opportunities for her photography hobby. Sitting along the shores of the Chesapeake Bay, the area offered opportunities for her to photograph not only the nature of the area, but also take photos of the hard working local people, known as waterman, who made their living fishing and crabbing on the Chesapeake Bay. There were gorgeous Civil-War era estates to explore, state parks to hike, rivers to kayak, and top-rated seafood restaurants to indulge in. Nearby towns like Easton and St. Michael’s offered boutiques, coffee shops, and local artisan crafts.

Upon checking the website calendar, Mikasa saw that the week she wanted, which started the next day, was still available. Without thinking it over too much, Mikasa clicked on the tab to book her one week stay at the small cottage. Within minutes of making her payment, she received an automatic email from the host. She quickly opened her email app and read that the key would be left under the doormat, and it also provided the exact address. Under the doormat? Didn’t these rentals usually have lockboxes with access codes? Then again, she was going to a very rural place. Maybe things there were just done differently than they were in the city? She pulled her suitcase from her closet and began to pack, excited for her last minute decision to make something happen in her life. The next morning, she would make the drive from New York to the town of Oxford, Maryland.

While Mikasa was excited for the chance to relax and explore a new area, she knew better than to get her hopes up about meeting new people. The town she was traveling to had such a small population, and even the surrounding area was mostly rural. However, the possibility still existed, right? Surely there was someone for her out there, somewhere. Someone who accepted her for who she was….someone who wanted all of her. Maybe she would meet someone special on this trip?

Levi - That evening, Tribeca

Levi pulled his sleek, black Audi into the parking garage under his apartment building. He knew he had royally messed up today, and he knew a lecture from Erwin was forthcoming. But, for now; all he desired was some calming music, a soothing cup of tea, and the view and ambience of his 20th floor apartment. He entered the elevator, hit the floor for 20, and exhaled loudly as he leaned back against the elevator wall. The elevator door opened, and he made the short walk to his door. He immediately felt a sense of calm wash over him when he entered his home. The sleek, grey and black modern furniture he selected contrasted beautifully with the exposed brick walls left after renovations. His kitchen had top of the line, chef grade appliances he loved using while creating new culinary dishes. He had a vast collection of various, rare tea leaves stored in metal tins in a cabinet which took up nearly an entire wall. Windows reaching from floor to ceiling provided a gorgeous view of the city skyline from the 20th floor. Levi wasn’t always fortunate enough to live this way, and while he did appreciate the finer things that his new life could afford, he never forgot his roots and where he came from. Perhaps that’s why he holds himself to such high standards in every aspect of his life now. He knows what it feels like to have nothing, and the fear of people seeing beyond the mask he has created for himself was always lurking. Even that sleezy journalist from earlier today took a low jab at Levi’s past, reminding him that he could never truly escape from who he once was.

While the material things were nice, Levi knew they didn’t make him truly happy. Sure, he had a successful career. He had two close friends. He was well known throughout the city as a tenacious lawyer. He had a gorgeous apartment, a shiny new car, and money to spare. But he wasn’t happy. Not the kind of happy he longed for….a romantic companion. Maybe even love. But, he knew he had a pretty shitty personality, and it was nearly impossible for him to open up to new people. He had no clue how he could find something as elusive as love when he could barely tolerate most people. Still, deep down, Levi craved the feeling of someone who he could call his. Someone who supported him, wasn’t after his money, and who loved him for him. Erwin and Hange were good to Levi, he knew that. He appreciated their friendship. But Levi had never truly experienced love before, in any capacity. Not any he could remember at least. Maybe that’s why he craved for it so badly? Levi didn’t even know where to start though. Hell, he had never even been in a real relationship. His experiences with women were limited to one-night stands and flings, and even those ended years ago as his career began to take up more and more of his time. He knew he had impossibly high standards, and he always seemed to find something wrong with women who were interested in him. Erwin and Hange encouraged him to try to have a more open mind, but when it came to something as important as a relationship, Levi didn’t want to settle. But, Levi was nearly 37 years old. It was high time he took steps to make this happen. Someone was out there, someone made just for him. Someone who wasn’t perfect, but who was perfect for him. Someone like that had to exist? Right?

For now, Levi thought he would start with baby steps. Getting away for a week seemed like a good place to start. His friend, Hange, inherited a cottage in a small town on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. She had been begging him incessantly to take her up on the offer to stay there for a week, knowing how badly her friend needed time to relax and decompress from his career. He didn’t even know much about the area, only that it was about a 5 hour drive away and was quite rural. As he pondered, Levi thought this was a healthy first step toward exiting his comfort zone, which was basically staying exclusively in the city, and addicting himself with work. Without thinking about it too much, Levi grabbed his cell and hit the contact button for Hange. She answered nearly immediately.

“Levi! To what do I owe the pleasure? Also, I saw that slight mishap on the news earlier….don’t worry, I think he totally deserved it!”

Grumbling, Levi decided that maybe calling Hange was a bad idea after all. The last thing he needed right now was to be reminded of his poor decision making skills earlier in the day. Hange never was one who fully understood boundaries, though. He decided to look past it for now.

“While I appreciate the sentiment, I’m actually calling to see if your offer to stay in the cottage is still good for the week..”

“What? Is this my friend Levi? Levi Ackerman? Willingly asking about taking a week off of work? Are you being held at gunpoint? Is there someone coercing you right now?”

“I’m serious, four-eyes. After today, I decided maybe I really do need this break. I know it’s last minute, but can I stay there or what?”

Without even checking her app, Hange excitedly exclaimed “Of course you can! Well, I did have someone ask about it last week for the same time slot, but I never heard back from her so it’s definitely available. And you know you don’t need to book through the website….this is on me!”

“Hange, I’m only taking you up on this if you accept payment. We’ve been over this before. And for the love of God, I’m only staying there if someone other than you has been cleaning it. Oh…and make sure you mark it as booked on the Airbnb site….last thing I need is some random showing up because you forgot to update the calendar.”

“Of course I’ll update it, I. I’m not an idiot. Yes, my friend Nanaba lives in the area and she cleans and maintains it for me. Well, the key for the cottage is under the doormat. I’ll send you the address. Bye!”

Under the doormat? Didn’t most people have lockboxes with access codes for these rentals? Levi thought his strange friend was a little too trusting at times, but he dismissed it. All he knew is he would be leaving the next morning, to make the drive from New York to the small town of Oxford, Maryland. Levi pulled his suitcases from his closet and started the process of meticulously packing his things.

Little did Levi know that his friend Hange went to sleep peacefully that night, never once updating the Airbnb calendar, never checking her email or app, and not noticing whatsoever how royally she herself had fucked up.

#rivamika fanfic #rivamika #levimika #levimikasa #mikasa x levi #levi and mikasa

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alarrylarrie · 3 days ago

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Hey!

I don't know where to start our what to say. I don't even know what 'this' is. This is me rambling. I feel like I should talk about this to someone. I can't talk to anyone else apart from people in the fandom. Also i don't have many friends here. But i feel like Tumblr understands me.

Lately i have been taking a break from the fandom. More precisely speaking from October 29. I don't know what's going on the fandom or how we are talking about things. I don't want to trigger anyone. I'm not sure if i should put a tw warning. But I'm doing it anyways.

TW: death

It's been weeks since the day i woke up to the news. To this day i haven't accepted it. It doesn't feel real. Everyone was saying goodbye. I want to say too. But i couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to say goodbye to him. It feels so final. It feels like if i say goodbye he'll be really gone. I am feeling guilty for not saying a proper goodbye.

Ever since i heard the news i haven't really used "rip" next to his name. It feels so wrong. Still does. Ik I'm avoiding his name, but i feel like it i didn't say aloud it won't be real. Ik it's not true but...

I'm coming from a place where memorials for him weren't there. So when I found an online one in was comforted and planned to attend it. But when the day came i refused to even open Tumblr. It was on October 29. From that day i haven't open Tumblr.

My personal life is nothing but shit at present. I always used fandom to escape my real life problems. Their music helped me to build a safe place where I could be me and be happy without caring about anything. But since that Thursday morning, it hasn't been the same.

Today my friend informed me it was funeral. My first place to come was to Tumblr. But i couldn't be in Tumblr because of this guilt. The guilt of not saying goodbye to him. I still haven't said. But i wanted to talk to someone about all of this. Someone who will not judge me.

Even though i don't have many friends in fandom, i never felt alone or lonely. A feeling i have been experiencing a lot in my personal life.

I'm sorry if I'm bothering you. Kindly ignore me if it's being a bother.

Love you xxx take care xxx

A x

Hi A, my love.

I understand this? I really really do. We all have different instincts and responses to something monumental, and the sudden death of someone we cherished and adored, even from a distance, is absolutely monumental. Let me first say, as gently and with as much love as I can- please try not to feel so guilty, okay? It sounds like you have a lot of plates spinning. This one can fall. Okay? You don’t owe anything to Liam. You didn’t in his life, and you don’t now in his death. The guilt sounds like it’s eating you alive my dear. It’s okay if you didn’t/don’t mourn him in the way you expected? Or maybe even the way you want to. You’ll get there, friend. Personally, I’m not a big fan of “rip Liam.” It’s not my thing. And that’s okay. So you won’t really see it on my blog anywhere. We all make choices. This avoidance of these emotions is just a choice. Your brain is doing its best job to keep you safe. Maybe the grief, the loss of him feels too heavy and too much for you right now. That’s okay. It really is. Please be gentler with yourself if you can, alright? You’ll get there. You’re not on a schedule. There is no “right” timeline here. You’ll say goodbye when you’re ready. You’ll use his name again, when you’re ready. You will. I promise. And it might not be tomorrow. It might not be three weeks from now. But eventually, you will. For now- just know. It’s okay to not say goodbye yet. Okay? I hope your personal life gets easier, my darling. I hope things get gentler and kinder for you. Give yourself a hug from you to me, okay? I love you very much.

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jhrutvija · 4 months ago

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People often ask me what it's like being me. They think I have some sort of superpowers and maybe I do but the weight of responsibility that comes with it is so heavy it weighs me down to the point I can feel my neck crushing. I will let u in on my secret I forget things little things ,sad things, happy things, major shit trauma things, I don't know its a curse or a blessing some say it's blessing because even after going through the most gut wrenching ,heart numbing situations I don't remember them at all ,just little bits and parts of it but I like to think it's curse because I want to remember exaxtly how I felt over who made me feel that way ,I want to keep record of every emotion I go through because trust me when u feel the most powerful sensation of lost and hurt its a punch in the gut when u only remember the feeling of hurt not the words that were responsible. So curse it is and this curse has been with me since I was child every time I felt inadequate or stupid or if some kid bullied me and I cried for hours I only remember how I felt in that moment not what the kid said or what his words were which made me cry or who made me feel inadequate or stupid. I don't remember those words only the sensations I'd gone through when it happened and then people assume I wasn't hurt with their words and when they ask which one the things they said did the hurting that is when I can't name them because I lost the memory or don't have any recollection of those exact specific words which hurt me so much I wanted to self harm for forgetting it.

Everyday is a struggle People think I am lazy for not doing my daily chores or if I forget tiny little details which a normal person wouldn't, now tell me how do I explain to u that it's all up in my brain chemistry that of I get signals over there to remember I'll remember every shit u tell me but if I get signals over to skip some details then I won't, it's not in my hand ,if it was I would live a normal life like every single one of u where there isn't a constant voice in my head telling me how it's the world that hates me and I should just die and free the world of my stupidity

So you people need to know it's something beyond my capacity to explain how it's like being me in short terms you'd die or kill yourself if you were me for just an hour but here I am still very much alive and very much breathing but barely but everything I am doing is happening on its own and I am trying to cope up with it but then if one day my brain shuts off and it decides it's all too much for me to handle and I give up ,don't come over my grave and whisper how it all happened when there were signs right in front of you but you just ignored them because I was too much to handle or it was a waste of time and energy trying ti explain every shit to me or how it's hard to constantly reassure how me being different is something you'd change rather than accept and love me for me the way I was born, don't go up to my parents on my funeral asking what was the reason, when those reasons were screaming at you asking for help and you just neglected them right in front of my face, don't go over to my brother asking if there is something you can do because you didn't do shit when it was needed the most, you were just too busy in your own stuff that u looked over my misery and probably laughed behind my back don't go over my grave where my lifeless body lies and say I wish you were still here ,when in reality I was right there with you trying to understand your troubles, helping you and so much in love with you that you ignored that I was struggling too I wanted to give up too but you were so engrossed in your own self that u didn't even care to ask me that if I needed some help because I did I needed so much help but I was too ashamed to ask too guilty because I loved u so much and didn't feel like adding more of my dumb shit over the real ones of yours but guess whose was the real and deep one that it made u attend my funeral not over after living a long happy life like you'd promised me once but in the young youthful time where people discover themselves whilst living their life at, that I took my life just because there wasn't anyone here to listen how loud it had gotten in my head that I'd gone deaf and still could hear it over and over , the only way I'd find some peace was in my grave where it was cold I'd always loved cold It's the heat i hated and finally I'd had something I'd loved to accompany me in that box where I'll lie down in peace ,so I guess in the end it all turned out good, you got rid of the girl who loved you like it was breathing who was too much for you to handle .I'd finally get to sleep in a sumber with no noise screeching in my head instead feeling chill cold and peace…………………

~ hrutvija

~hrutvija

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phoebenpiperx · 2 years ago

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Third Second Time's a Charm

a 9-1-1 Lone Star Tarlos fanfic -- read on ao3

...

“So you’re asking me to be your best man?”

“Yes.”

Carlos nodded, even though he knew Iris couldn’t see him over the phone. He would’ve explained more, but he was eager to get her answer so he could stop thinking about it, stop dwelling on the fact that his father would no longer be filling that particular role at the wedding.

Unfortunately, Iris once again answered his inquiry with another question.

“And you’re asking me to be your best man NOW, only days before your wedding?”

“Um...yes?”

Carlos knew it wasn’t ideal, but having canceled their wedding immediately after his father’s funeral, they had very little time to put it all back together again, so everything was extremely last minute.

Though apparently that wasn’t what Iris was taking issue with.

“And you’re asking me to be your best man after replacing me as your best man with your dad only a week ago?”

Carlos gulped uncomfortably, feeling it again: that lump in his throat, that emptiness in his heart, that painful sense of loss. He was still finding it hard to accept that his father—his best man—would no longer be attending the wedding.

But Carlos knew that marrying TK now was the right thing to do.

Even if his dad wouldn’t be there.

Even if his mother would have to attend the ceremony alone.

Even if he was now forced to have this awkward conversation with his ex.

“Iris, I’m sorry that—“

“No, I totally get it,” she casually cut him off. “You felt guilty about calling him out about the Rangers, and asking him to be your best man was the obvious olive branch.”

Carlos started to interrupt, but Iris went on, “It totally made sense to me. After all, I know—possibly more than anyone—how fucked up your relationship with your dad is...or, I guess, was.”

Carlos felt his breath catch. It was the first time since the funeral that he’d heard his father referred to in the past tense, and the grief started to overwhelm him once again. It was one thing to think about his dad not attending the wedding, but it was quite another to fully accept that his father was truly gone, that he no longer existed on this planet. Carlos didn’t even bother to blink away the tears—after all, that’s why he’d opted to call instead of Facetime.

Not that Iris would have minded seeing him cry; she’d seen him do so often enough in the past.

On their own wedding night, in fact.

But that had been years ago.

Before Iris’s schizophrenia.

Before TK.

Before Carlos had fully embraced the man he was today.

A man who had finally gained his father’s acceptance, only to—

“And of course I’ll be your best man.”

Iris’s statement seemed to bring Carlos back to the present.

She continued, “Though I’m not going to give you the same acceptance speech I gave you last time, about what an honor it would be to serve as your best man, about how my standing up there with you will prove to everyone that you’re no longer ashamed of yourself OR your misbegotten past, about how proud I am that you finally love yourself enough to show the world who you truly are, marrying for love this time and not just because society or your family says it’s the thing to do.”

As Iris had gone on, Carlos couldn’t help but smile, both at the sentiments themselves and at their repetition. So when she finally reached the end, he couldn’t help but tease, “So...you ARE gonna give me that same acceptance speech.”

There was a momentary silence on the other end of the line before he heard Iris’s laughter ring out. “Yeah, I guess I am!”

But Carlos didn’t mind that she had just repeated the heart-felt words she’d said the first time when accepting the best man position—it only proved how much she really meant them.

And the fact that she was embracing this wedding—and his new life with TK—meant the world to him.

“So where’s it gonna be?” she asked.

Carlos frowned, surprised by the sudden topic change. “Where’s what gonna be?”

“The wedding, of course. I need to know where to show up in my fabulous ice blue tux.”

Carlos smiled. When they’d initially discussed her being his best man—after their annulment had officially gone through—she’d insisted that it felt wrong to wear black like the grooms. When Carlos had pointed out that they didn’t really have any other color scheme, Iris had announced she’d simply wear whatever color his mother would be wearing.

And now that his ma would be attending alone, he was relieved to know that at least she wouldn’t be alone in her color choice.

Carlos was curious, though, as to why Iris had already forgotten the venue.

“You should still have the address...unless you threw out the invitation.” Carlos suddenly wondered if others had done the same, if a reminder would now need to be sent out.

However, that wasn’t why Iris was asking.

“How did you manage to score that same place? I thought you canceled your wedding. Surely you weren’t able to get a spot again so quickly, especially when you were originally on a year-long waiting list.” She paused for a moment before suggesting, “Oh, did TK lie to you, saying he’d canceled while really holding onto the venue in the hopes that you’d change your mind?”

“No, nothing like that,” Carlos said, appalled at the suggestion. “TK actually put Owen in charge of canceling everything.”

Because TK himself had been too busy trying to hold me together, Carlos thought with a regretful sigh, feeling so guilty for what he’d put his fiancé through over these last few days.

Owen, too! The fire captain had really come through for him, preventing Carlos from making the biggest mistake of his life. It was clear that Carlos couldn’t ask for a better, more GENEROUS future suegro.

“Owen tried his best to cancel everything for us,” Carlos further explained, “but it was simply too late.”

“Oh, so that’s why the wedding’s back on,” Iris concluded. “Since everything was already paid for, you guys decided not to let all that money go to waste.”

“Not exactly.”

In fact, Owen hadn’t told either of the boys about the lost deposits, not wanting to cause them further worry. He’d kept it all a secret, intending to simply swallow the non-refundable costs himself as an additional wedding present for his “two sons”. Carlos and TK had only found out when they’d called him to announce that they were going to get married after all, even though their original plans had already been canceled.

They’d been shocked, therefore, to find out that the entire wedding they’d initially planned was still possible.

Everything except for Carlos’s best man.

But now Iris would be there instead. Carlos was so glad that the two of them had reconnected, that they’d reforged their friendship after all these years, and Carlos had the wedding to thank for that.

“Whatever the reason,” Iris began, “I’m glad you still get your venue—it looks way fancier than ours was,” Iris stated matter-of-factly. “And hopefully third second time’s a charm.”

“Third second time?” Carlos repeated, chuckling. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, it’s your second time planning your wedding at this venue, the second time you’ve asked me to be your best man, and the second time you’re getting married. People say that third time’s a charm, so let’s hope third second time’s a charm, too.”

Even in his grief, Iris could still make Carlos smile, just like she always had. Which was why he knew that Iris was the perfect person to help get him through the big day.

And hopefully she was right; hopefully third second time was indeed a charm!

...

More chapters coming soon! If there's some aspect of the wedding (either with TK or Carlos) that you'd really like to see Iris be a part of, let me know.

#911 lone star #911 lone star fanfic #tarlos fanfic #carlos & iris #iris is my fave character to write

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ashandkatiewrite · 2 years ago

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Four Weddings and a Funeral - Chapter 1

FOUR WEDDINGS AND A FUNERAL

FIC SYNOPSIS: Maggie Hastings meets her dream man after a flight into New York City— Bucky Barnes, a pilot who seems to be everything she’s looking for. Except that she already has a boyfriend who never has time for her. After a near-tryst with her dream pilot, Maggie runs, only to find out he later meets her best friend and they’re now crazy about each other. Among their group of best friends, between Chicago and New York, and four weddings and a funeral, Maggie and Bucky struggle to keep their fiery chemistry a secret so they don’t hurt the ones they love.

WRITTEN BY: @if-you-onlyknew & @katiekinswrites

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/OFC

Tags: Idiots in love, Mutual Pining, Forbidden Love, Angst, Fluff, and Smut, Explicit Language

Rating: M (Mature) & E (Explicit)

READ ON AO3

CHAPTER ONE

November 15th, 2019

Maggie sighed as she walked through the airport, “No, I can’t. I’m sorry.” She apologized — though it wasn’t necessary. “I can’t come in. No— no , I am not even in the state right now, Danny.” She tried to stay patient with her intern as he went off on her for not being in Chicago.

Danny Jones was cocky and rarely listened to his surgical resident as it was, but for him to call Maggie up and yell at her for being gone was not something she was going to put up with. People pleaser or not; Maggie Hastings was not going to allow the little shit to speak to her that way. She was his superior.

“Well, I apologize that my vacation fell on such an inconvenient time for you, Danny. But I have been preparing for your intern’s exam for three months now since I knew my time off would fall on the same weekend as the exam. It is not my fault you chose to not attend my stupid, useless, and pointless ,” she quoted him, “study group sessions.”

Maggie was still trying to remain professional, but she was starting to lose her patience with Danny by the time she got to the airport bar closest to her gate.

It wasn’t until Danny called Maggie selfish that she finally dropped any shred of professional demeanor.

“Oh, get fucked, Danny!” She shouted as she sat down at the bar. “It is not my job to hand hold you during the actual exam! I did everything I could to try and prepare you for this and you pushed back each time claiming to know better than I did. It’s time to get your silver spoon out of your fucking mouth and do the goddamn work because your mommy might have been able to secure your spot as a surgical intern, but if you don’t pass this exam, there is no amount of money she could pay to bribe your way through a residency program!” Maggie didn’t bother holding back.

This wasn’t a case of tough love — more of a reality check and Maggie was sure she’d feel guilty about saying all of this later, but she had a shitty flight that had ended up being delayed to begin with and had sat in the O’Hara airport for over six hours waiting for a flight into JFK and now she had to sit and kill time for an hour until her boyfriend got back into the city from the Hamptons and could pick her up and take her back to his apartment.

“Now, I am going to say this once so you better fucking listen,” Maggie said in a threatening tone. “Do NOT call me again, Danny. I am on my fucking vacation !” She yelled before ending the call and let her upper half fall against the bar, resting her head on the smooth granite surface. “A Tequila Sour, please. And keep them coming,” Maggie said to the bartender, not even bothering to lift her head to look at the woman as she spoke.

There was a quiet chuckling coming from the seat two over from Maggie. “Think that guy is gonna survive his neutering? He sounds like a prick.”

Maggie raised her brows in response to the man, her face instantly flushing in not only embarrassment for making a scene, but also because the man was incredibly handsome. She muttered the word fuck under her breath and looked away, mortified by her reaction to the good-looking man and her outburst.

The man who sat there was grinning as he shook his head and lifted a finger towards the bartender to indicate that he’d take another beer.

“You gonna be okay?” he asked as he tilted his head to look at her in amusement.

Maggie winced slightly at his question and was thankful that the bartender handed her the drink she ordered. She took a big swig of her drink, consuming half of it before she went on to answer him.

“Ask me again in about ten minutes once this kicks in.” She tapped her now half drunk glass of tequila sour.

He chuckled before looking away as the bartender set down a beer for him.

She stared at him for a moment, taking in the way he was dressed and his lack of luggage.

“You’re a pilot,” Maggie commented, not asking as a question, but stating it as a fact. It was an assumption, of course. Maggie didn’t know if this man was a pilot, but from the way he dressed, that’s the conclusion she had come to. “Can I ask you a question about turbulence?”

He turned on the barstool and faced her, giving her his full attention. “Shoot.”

“Can turbulence break up a plane? Because I’m constantly flying out of O’Hare and I have yet to be on a flight without any turbulence.” She told him, “and I was wondering if it’s only a matter of time before I end up on a flight with such bad turbulence that the plane rips apart.”

“They don’t call it the Windy City for nothing,” he told her.

Her drink was hitting her harder and faster than she thought it would — but she also had yet to eat and took a Xanax before take off at O’Hare, which meant Maggie was a lot more chatty than she normally would be with a stranger.

It also helped that he had a deep voice that sounded like what silk sheets on her naked body felt like and a face that mirrored a young Luke Skywalker.

So, Maggie continued on rambling. “I mean, there’s got to be some sort of statistic out there that tells you how many turbulent flights one can have before it hurdles to the ground and you die.”

Someone huffed loudly from behind Maggie and when she looked back, an older woman was glaring in her direction while grabbing her luggage. Maggie winced apologetically as the woman stormed off.

Perhaps talking about plane crashes in an airport bar was not the smartest of choices.

“Sorry,” Maggie said in a mumble under her breath as she moved back so her body was facing the man.

He was smiling patiently at her, however, despite the rudeness of the woman that stomped past.

“Well,” he drawled as he reached for his drink, “I guess that’s why some pilots prefer to live a life with no regrets.” His eyebrow danced a little. “It’s exhilarating, especially in a smaller plane where you can feel everything. But maybe I just like the thrill. But flying is not for everyone.” He took a drink from his glass.

Maggie didn’t dislike flying per se, she would just prefer it if her flights were a bit smoother. But like the man had said; Chicago hadn’t earned its infamous nickname — the Windy City — simply for shits and giggles. Though, the way he said it wasn’t quite as vulgar.

She sighed, realizing that she’d likely never have a smooth flight coming out of O’Hare. At least she would only be living in Chicago for one more year.

Clearly, she was not relieved at his statement, so he nudged her hand, his fingers brushing against hers which were wrapped around her drink. “If it makes you feel any better, the statistics do say you’re far less likely to die in a plane crash than a car crash.”

Maggie huffed out a laugh. “Thanks, I’ll be sure to remember that on the car ride home from here,” she said back in a sarcastic yet playful tone.

He tried again. “Look, are you more afraid of dying of boredom on a twelve and a half hour drive with rush hour traffic — or say, being stuck for hours due to a semi-truck breaking down and blocking an entire interstate… or would you rather deal with a few minutes of turbulence flying out of O’Hare and get here in just two and a half hours?”

“Well…when you put it like that .” Maggie grinned as her cheeks flushed once again in embarrassment. “And there is a bathroom on the plane — as terrifying as they are to use.” She added the last part in a rush.

“What?” He asked with a laugh. The corners of his eyes crinkled.

“You can’t use the bathroom while driving…” Her cheeks flushed even more at the realization that she was talking about peeing in front of the very handsome pilot she had just met. “Not that I do that!”

His brows shot up.

Wait ? Did she just tell him she didn’t go to the bathroom? Jesus Christ. She was a rambling mess — especially when she drank.

“I mean — I use the bathroom!” She attempted to correct herself only to make things so worse. “Everyone does! There’s even that book; Everybody Po …” her words trailed off and her eyes went wide. Maggie quickly looked away and focused on her drink. “I’m going to shut up now.” She tried to hide her bright red face.

He laughed and partially shifted on his seat so that his shoe was propped on the bottom rung of the seat between them. “It’s okay,” he told her. “I’ve read it. It’s a good read.” The grin on his face hadn’t dissipated in the least and he set his teeth in his bottom lip as he watched to see if she’d look his way again. “My nephew has that book,” he explained after her questioning look.

Maggie closed her eyes while shaking her head in embarrassment and gave the man a thumbs up in response, keeping her mouth shut to avoid saying anything else humiliating.

“Do you want another one?” He nodded at her empty glass. His was still mostly full. “My treat.”

She looked back over to him with a shy smile. “If I accept, I would be running the risk of saying something stupid and embarrassing,” Maggie said with a chuckle. “But then again, I guess if I have enough of these, I might not care about the dumb shit that comes out of my mouth,” she added.

He laughed again, truly enjoying her candor.

Maggie looked over at the man again, taking in his beautiful blue eyes that she knew she could easily get lost in.

God, he was so fucking hot. It was ridiculous!

“Fuck it,” she shrugged before addressing the bartender. “I’ll have another Tequila Sour,” Maggie said before looking back to the man with a warm smile.

“That’s the spirit,” he told her with a wink.

“You can put it on the Captain’s tab.” She smirked before finally introducing herself. “I’m Maggie, by the way.”

The bartender looked between the two of them with a raised eyebrow but when the man only lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug, she got to work on the Tequila Sour as requested.

“I’m Bucky,” he said and reached over the stool between them and shook her hand.

Maggie looked down at their hands, feeling like her body had now begun to buzz with energy as he held her hand.

When Maggie’s eyes moved back up to look at him, she smiled as she let go of his hand. “Hi, Bucky.”

“Hi, Maggie,” he grinned.

Her cheeks flushed again, only this time it wasn’t out of embarrassment.

No, this was caused from something else entirely — it was from her being genuinely, and intensely attracted to the pilot .

Billy. Maggie tried to remind herself. You have a boyfriend .

But there was no harm in flirting with Bucky though… right?

#bucky barnes fanfic #oc: maggie hastings #fic: four weddings and a funeral #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #marvel oc #sebastian stan #sophia bush

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katie-the-bug · 5 months ago

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More Left Behind Thoughts

When I said my next post would be tomorrow, I lied. I read fast, I write fast, and I'm just having too much fun.

Returning about midway through the book, our cast now includes: Rayford Steele, an airline pilot seeking answers after the death Rapture of his wife and son; Chloe Steele, Rayford's daughter and only surviving non-Raptured family member; Buck Williams, an investigative reporter on the trail of a global conspiracy; Bruce Barnes, a pastor who wasn't Christian enough and got Left Behind (TM); Hattie Durham, a flight attendant Rayford had been lusting after who enters and exits the story at random intervals.

Chapters 10 and 11: one on plotline, Rayford and Chloe are getting a lecture on what it means to be a True Christian (TM). On the other, Buck has faked his death in a car bombing and fled the country. I guess they had to keep their pitch interesting somehow.

Bruce, giving his pitch about the true meaning of Christmas Christianity claims that the term "Christian" derives from "Christ one" or "one like Christ." Wikipedia tells me that it comes from the Greek "Christos" (anointed one) and the ending "ianos" which suggests adherence or belonging. So "Christian" is less "one like Christ" and more "one belonging to Christ." I don't think I need to explain why I trust Wikipedia more than I trust this book.

Chapters 11 and 12 are, as far as I can tell, just one long pitch for True Christianity plus an extra pitch for the book series itself, broken up intermittently by Buck shenanigans. I would really like to know when these plotlines will connect again.

On the advice of a recording of a dead Raptured pastor, Rayford says some magic words (helpfully presented in the text) and becomes a True Christian. "If you were genuine," the recording says, "you are saved, born again, a child of God." If you were genuine. What a qualifier. You just can't let people know that they're saved, you have to make them worry that they aren't. That won't cause any anxiety at all, no sir.

You might be wondering why I'm writing the way I am about dead Raptured people. First of all, because I think it's funny, and second of all, one of the major conceits of this book is that the people who got Raptured aren't dead. Rayford's dead Raptured wife is quoted as saying that the rapture will happen "before we die." there's no funerals for the disappeared, only "memorial services." Rayford himself even says that his wife "being in Heaven" is only LIKE "losing her to sudden death." The authors maintain a distinction without there being a difference, so of course I have to make fun of it.

"Buck Williams sat near an exit at JFK airport, reading his own obituary." <- The opening line of a better book that was never written.

"Rayford Steele had a plan. He had decided to be honest with Chloe about his attraction to Hattie Durham and how guilty he felt about it." <- The opening line to what in any reasonable world would be an unmitigated disaster.

Here's how it went: Rayford told Chloe about his feelings for Hattie. She wasn't bothered. He told her he was having Hattie over for dinner. Chloe came to the not-unreasonable conclusion that he felt he was available now and said as such. Rayford immediately considered slapping her. I'm supposed to root for this man?

"This is going to be a refreshing change from the doom and gloom we've been writing and reading for days," says Buck's editor Steve as they go to document a UN meeting. Every child in the world is dead, but sure, let's have a breath of fresh air.

The narration in this 1995 edition keeps referring to "cellular phones." I will never stop finding it funny.

The entire book, the narration and the characters have been hyping up this guy called "Nicolae Carpathia," who is apparently charismatic, charming, handsome and beloved by all. He finally appears at the end of Chapter 13, getting the most thorough physical description of any character in the book. He gives a speech "earnestly, with passion, with a frequent smile, and occasional, appropriate humor" but when we hear it, it's frankly disappointing - all he does is recite some trivia about the United Nations, culminating in him listing off the member states of the UN. That's it, that's the speech, and the fictional audience goes buck wild. I'm sure this is meant to represent his Antichrist powers (he's a charismatic leader dedicated to unity and peace, of course he's the Antichrist) but surely the infernal forces could come up with a better speech.

Expect a lot more of this. I have a road trip ahead and nothing to do but read.

#katie reads left behind #left behind #stay tuned #long post #these are all gonna be long posts I'm sorry

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latibulesanctuary · 1 year ago

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The Tale of Losing Myself Part I

This year is both a blessing and a nightmare at the same time.

I passed an ultimate exam that gave me additional letters to my name. Then I was ranked high in a promotion. These events gave a major improvement in my reputation and my career track advanced quick.

But one of laws of the universe was put into motion: To get what you desire, you need to give away something.

My dad was diagnosed with cancer and the treatment was too expensive. The costs were triple my salary and he's over sixty (I call his generation the Gen Z Seniors) so he lives through pension. "

I was expecting people around me to be sympathetic. I was expecting: "you'll get through this" and "God will help your dad heal". But they were more surprised at the money we needed to rake for his treatment. My team leader was even joking about it, "God, that's why I am wishing not to get that kind of disease because treatment is too expensive!"

Things got even worse - the universe took my grandmother. I admit that she wasn't a pleasant woman while she was alive but losing the parent of my parent is still sad.

The news of her death made me look back at the days I had with her. She was my babysitter when I was in pre-school. I remember that she always bought me crackers instead of chips.

I also remember the bamboo woven bag she would always carry every time she came to our house. She never wore pants, always a flowery blouse and a long skirt. Her hair is always tied in a bun and she would only let her hair loose only when she takes a bath. She curses a lot and shouts a lot. But when she was sitting me then, I was always taken care of.

I didn't cry at her funeral. I was sad but I can't bring myself to shed tears. I felt that I only had to attend her funeral as an obligation.

I went to consult with a psychiatrist for answers. I took tests and had a couple of consultations. Told them what I felt. It's funny because I told the psychiatrist that I think I have Adult ADHD. She said, there's a possibility but my situation is leaning more on depression.

I asked if I need some meds for either of the possible diagnosis, yes for ADHD and not necessary for depression. I told myself, "ugh, therapy. Ugh."

Then results came and my diagnosis: not ADHD but MDD. Major Depressive Disorder. It was recommended that I undergo therapy.

I was asked to sign some forms afterwards. The psychiatrist then asked, "do you want to continue with the therapy?"

"Well, uh," I stammered. "Can I just get a printed copy of my diagnosis?"

It was clear that my answer was "no". She tried to get me into the therapy program again, but I insisted on getting a print-out of my diagnosis.

She sighed and told me to wait while she gets the print-out. I waited for twenty minutes, then left.

It's November now. My life is summed up like this:

Got heartbroken/ghosted.

Passed the bar exam.

Dad got diagnosed with cancer.

Got into the promotion list.

Grandma died.

At this point, I don't know how to feel. If I feel happy for the positive things, I will feel guilty afterwards about my dad and my grandmother. If I feel sad about my dad and my grandmother, I'd have to tell myself, "At least you passed the bar and will be promoted".

I did tell the psychiatrist about this and she said that's why she strongly recommends therapy.

I told her I don't have enough money for the therapy sessions - which is a lie. I can afford them actually while I help with my dad's bills. Of course, with little sacrifices like eating in less expensive restaurants and taking the public transport instead of Grab or taxi.

I just don't want to.

#MDD #DEPRESSION #death in the family

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utter-queer-nightmare · 1 year ago

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Why is being good so difficult?

My best friend's grandma just died and I know I should feel bad for her but my emotions are broken so instead I am sobbing because this means we can't go shopping together.

I organised my entire week around that shopping trip. I've been looking forward to it for a month. It's just a shopping trip but I'm mourning it more than I've ever mourned a person and I'm so angry at the same time.

Because my grandma's dead too. And I barely reacted. I was there for my dad, I supported my brothers and I left work early to attend the funeral. That was it. I didn't even miss a full day of work. And I know it's not fair and I know people mourn in different ways but there's a child inside me who was always told to put others first who is crying because she was never put first and will never be put first even by her best friend.

And even through all of this, I have to be sympathetic. I have to say that of course I don't mind that you can't come out, no don't feel bad, is there anything I can do? And I feel so angry that she's just cancelling and I feel so guilty because what kind of fucking sociopath doesn't care that my best friend's grandma is dead???

#vent #long post #guilt #tw family death #Autism

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tooearlyforthis · 2 years ago

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The Hawkins House Sale

Synopsis: (9.6k wc) It's sad, really, knowing so far in advance that you'll be forgotten by everyone you know and love. Hawkins is still a mess after defeating Vecna and everyone is moving away - Steve, however, isn't. Or in which Steve takes care of everyone but himself.

Warnings: post-season 4, no romantic pairing, steve and max have a sibling relationship, steve-centric, hurt/comfort, found family

masterlist || steve harrington taglist

Hey guys I have something a little different today. I wanted to write a Steve and Max are siblings fic so no reader insert or main romantic plot line but I am really proud of this so let me know what you think!

There was something about being in danger that made Steve Harrington feel important. Sure, it was nice to not have death looming over his shoulder every waking moment, but, there were still small things he missed.

Weird conversations with Robin, sleepovers with Dustin... hell, he didn't even mind when Mike cursed his head off. At least there was someone there. So when they defeated Vecna and Hawkins was once again saved, he envied his friends who got to return home to their families.

Steve’s house was always empty. It didn’t matter if it was a holiday or a normal Tuesday - he was the only one who ever stepped foot in the Harrington house. It didn’t bother him anymore, remembering the days of sophomore year, when he would wait for his parents by the door. They never came back from that west coast business trip. Instead, a lousy check arrived every month in their place.

Opening the door to his house, a familiar silence washed over him. It wasn’t a mess, quite far from the opposite. Not a piece of trash was in sight, the blankets stacked so neatly that they could’ve been brand new. Part of him wished it was a little dirty if only to feel the prescience of another person around him.

He let the nail-filled bat drop to the floor and made his way to the kitchen. As expected, the food in the fridge expired weeks ago. This last battle with the Upside Down was the longest he had ever been away. Vecna had put up a nasty fight and he found himself crashing on Nancy or Robin’s couches most nights. He didn’t mind it though, not wanting to return home alone. But now that Vecna was gone, there was no turning away from the Harrington home.

Sighing, he closed the fridge door and picked up his keys - maybe he could avoid being alone for just a little longer. After all, he needed to get some food for the house.

The trip to the grocery store wasn't long and before he knew it, he had a cart full of fresh produce and a microwave pizza. He pursued the aisles one more time, debating whether he had gotten everything he needed. Deciding it was, he turned the corner, coming face to face with the freshly-cut flowers.

He stopped, staring at the different types: daffodils, roses, dragon lilies… dragon lilies. They reminded him of the flowers he had sent to Will Byers’ funeral back when everyone thought he was dead. At the time, he wasn’t close enough with the Byers family to attend but felt guilty not sending anything.

Moving forward he reached out to observe the flowers, turning over the vibrant pink petals in his hand. He hoped that one day when he died people would bring flowers to his funeral, a reminder that someone actually cared for him.

Eddie Munson didn’t get flowers at his funeral, Steve thought to himself.

He didn’t know Eddie outside the countless stories Dustin told or the four days they spent together leading up to his death. He knew a private funeral was held for him through Dustin. Only a few of his Dnd friends and his Uncle Wayne attended, knowing if it was bigger some non-friendly people might show up.

So as Steve stared at the dragon lilies in his hand and then back at his basket of food; he decided again that he could avoid the Harrington house for just a little longer. Taking a bundle of dragon lilies, he headed towards the checkout line, leaving the basket of food abandoned in the middle of the store.

He didn’t know where Eddie was buried but if he had to guess it would be at Roane Hill Cemetery. Lucky for him, he was right. It was dark when he arrived, the only light illuminating the field was from his flashlight.

He stared down at Eddie’s grave, saddened by the sight in front of him. Photos and letters were resting on the tombstone probably from the funeral Dustin mentioned, but all of them had been destroyed. The letters were ripped up, the photos graffitied with awful words he didn’t care to repeat. The town had labeled him a freak, and it pained Steve to know that he did the same.

Placing the flowers down on the grave bed, he wanted to leave, to run away back to a place where he didn’t have to think about the people injured or dead from the events of the Upside Down.

He didn’t know if it was not wanting to return to that big empty house, or guilt from never getting to know Eddie, but something inside him told him to stay. Sitting on the ground, leaning against the side of the tombstone, he sighed.

“What happened to me, Munson?” He asked into the cold, night air.

He knew there would be no response, but there was still a little part of him that waited for an answer.

Being alone was not good for Steve’s mental health, especially when he hadn’t seen another person for a whole week. That is why he didn’t care Dustin showed up at his house unannounced. Usually, he would curse him off for inviting himself in, but he was so relieved to see another person that he hugged him. He actually hugged Dustin Henderson.

It was short-lived as Dustin pushed him off, walking into his living room. “Jeez, dude what was that for?”

Steve shrugged, trying to say anything. “I-“

“-Never mind,” he interrupted, sitting on the couch. “Can you come to help me and my mom pack? Everyone is helping their own parents and my mom is getting a little too old to grab all the kitchen glasses without breaking one.”

Even though they had defeated Vecna, stopping the infection of the Upside Down into the real world, Hawkins was still a mess. There were cracks running through the whole town; homes, and businesses destroyed in the aftermath of their fight. It made sense that everyone was up and leaving, especially since this wasn’t the first strange thing to occur in the suburban neighborhood.

Dustin was the one that told him a few days after things returned to normal - or as normal as things could be. Most of the town, including all of his friends, were moving a couple of cities over to a new neighborhood being built. It seemed nice enough and for a moment Steve considered joining them. That was until he reminded himself of his situation.

With Family Video destroyed and businesses shutting down left and right, Steve had no income. The only source of money he had at the moment was the checks his parents continued to send and he was 100% certain they had no idea Hawkins was in ruins. He couldn’t leave, having no way of buying a new home or even finding a job good enough to support him with only a high school diploma. So while his friends were moving away to start their new lives, Steve would be stuck in Hawkins alone.

And even though it pained him that his friends were leaving, probably to never return again, he said, “Sure. I’ll stop by tomorrow.”

“Awesome!” Dustin exclaimed, standing back up again and walking towards the door. “I gotta get back to my mom, see ya later!”

Without waiting for a response, he left, leaving Steve again in silence. Dustin didn’t know that he wasn’t leaving with them, and neither did the rest of their little group. It would be easier to let them all go, slowly forgetting him. He would be left alone for good.

Maybe now would be a good time to get fresh flowers for Eddie’s grave.

At first, Steve didn’t understand why he felt the need to return to Eddie’s grave so frequently. He thought maybe it was guilt, after all, he was the one who suggested Eddie and Dustin go off to cause a distraction. But as he returned for the third time that week, replacing the dead bouquet of dragon lilies on his grave, it finally dawned on him why.

With everyone moving away or thinking he was a murderer, Eddie Munson was destined to be forgotten. People stop existing when there is no one left to remember them and Steve didn’t think he deserved that.

He wondered if he would stop existing once everyone moved on and forgotten him.

After spending half an hour in silence, he figured he probably should get back home. Standing up and brushing off his knees, he looked up over the sea of graves. That’s when he spotted her.

He was unsure at first, a hoodie covering her signature red hair but after staring for a moment he knew it had to be Max Mayfield. Without thinking, he took a step towards her, breaking a branch under his feet.

Max’s head snapped between him and the grave she was standing in front of - Billy’s grave. She had been crying, that much he could see under her sunken eyes. They made eye contact for only a moment, neither of them knowing what to do. He hadn’t seen her since Vecna was defeated but if he had to guess she wasn’t doing too well either. Suddenly, she turned around, speed walking out of the cemetery without looking back.

Sighing, Steve headed back to his car. From that day on, anytime he brought flowers for Eddie, he also brought ones for Billy.

Somehow helping Dustin pack turned into helping everyone pack and Steve didn’t mind one bit. It helped keep his thoughts at bay, the constant fear of what would happen once they left pushed to the back of his brain.

His favorite household to help was the now-merged Hopper-Byers. It surprised him at first at how open and inviting Joyce and Hopper were, even though he was a random guy that got mixed up in all their drama. What was even more surprising was how much Steve liked spending time with Jonathan.

If they were both being honest, the guy basically stole his girlfriend. And even though in the end he realized he and Nancy were not a right fit, it still felt odd to be around the happy couple. That was until he started helping Jonathan pack up his house.

Nancy had her own family to worry about so it left the boys in an uncomfortable state. The glue that usually held together their conversations was gone, leaving awkward silence in its wake. But then, one day while they were quietly folding clothes in his room, Jonathan started humming a song.

“What song is that?” Steve asked, causing Jonathan to snap his head up and stare.

It had been four days of no talking, just cleaning the house and packing boxes. Stuttering, Jonathan responded, “I-It’s uh, Disorder by Joy Division.”

“C-cool. It’s uh… it sounds cool.”

Jonathan slowly nodded, turning back to his pile of clothes only for a moment before looking back up at him. “I-I have the album. If you want me to play it.”

Steve couldn’t help a smile form on his face. “Yeah, sure.”

After Jonathan finally found the box of his tapes and popped it into his stereo, it was safe to say no packing was done for the rest of the day. The boys sat in the silence of his bed bobbing their heads along to the album.

Steve really liked Joy Division. All his life he had only listened to whatever pop music came on the radio or the songs that the girl he was dating was into. Listening to this band, who Jonathan identified to have a “contemporary punk feel,” made him realize that he never bothered to discover what music he liked. He always got swept up in the popular trends or whomever he was around, never doing something just for himself.

After that night, Steve went out and bought the entirety of Joy Division’s discography.

It wasn’t just music that he liked talking to Jonathan about. After another day of packing and listening to The Cure, Steve stumbled upon Jonathan’s photography.

The guy was actually good, like, really good. So good in fact, that he actually thought they were prints Jonathan had bought, not taken himself. Steve let him explain what inspired the photo, the angle, shutter speed, and even the process of developing it.

None of it made any sense to him but it didn’t matter because he enjoyed learning about it. He was never a creative kid, usually sticking to sports like basketball and swimming. But hearing Jonathan talk about his passions made him want to go out and discover more of his own.

That night, after they had finished packing most of his vinyl, Steve left for the living room to give his farewells to Joyce and Hopper.

“See you tomorrow Ms. Byers,” Steve said, reaching for their doorknob.

“Oh, Steve sweetie wait!” Joyce called out from the kitchen, running over to him. “Do you have any plans tonight? Why don’t you stay for dinner.”

“It’s okay Ms. Byers I don’t wanna impose-“

“Nonsense, kid,” Hopper said, emerging from the kitchen holding a pot. “Stay and eat with us.”

Steve looked back and forth between the couple. It was clear they wouldn’t give up anytime soon and whatever they were cooking smelled amazing - he couldn’t remember the last time he had a home-cooked meal.

“Sure, Ms. Byers,” he gave in. “I’d love to.”

“Perfect!” she said with a smile. “We’re almost ready, let me just set the table.”

“Let me help,” he said, not waiting for a response as he walked over and grabbed a plate.

“Kids! Come out for dinner, Steve is gonna eat with us!” Hopper yelled.

One by one, they all emerged from their rooms, Jonathan the first to come, happy his new friend was staying. Then came El and Will, running away quickly to wash off paint from the new project they were working on together.

Once they were all seated and began their meal, Steve expect more awkward pauses and weird small talk but none of that ever occurred. He was thrown right into the conversations like he had been there the entire time.

“No, Jonathan it was The Clash!” Will persisted. “I remember we listened to it and Should I Stay or Should I Go on the same day.”

“It wasn’t!” Jonathan argued back. “It definitely wasn’t.”

As he listened to the brothers argue about their music, he felt a tug on his shoulder. Looking over, Eleven was staring at him wide-eyed.

“What is The Clash?” she asked.

“It’s a band your brothers like,” he told her before turning to address Will. “And they don’t sing Sweet Jane, The Velvet Underground does.”

Jonathan waved his hands in the air. “Thank you!”

“Wow, Steve, you sure know a lot about music,” Joyce commented, sipping on her glass of wine.

“Only through Jonathan,” he explained. “But I do really like the music.”

“You have good taste then,” Hopper commented.

Steve turned to look at the cop. Out of everyone there he probably knew Hopper the most but for all the wrong reasons. When he was younger, still hanging out with Carol Perkins and Tommy Hagan, he got in a ridiculous amount of trouble. So much so, that every time he was brought into the sheriff’s office, Hopper would groan.

But now, sitting in front of him once more, there was no sense of distaste or hatred written on his face. In fact, he was grinning. Steve tried not to smile too wide, looking down at his lap to try and hide his face. He was happy that after all these years of fighting side by side against the Upside Down, his opinion of Steve had finally changed.

After helping clean up from dinner, Steve finally left the Hopper-Byers household. He stepped out into the cold night air, leaving way later than he should have - it was already dark outside. He felt his chest rise, as he tugged on the door to his car. He really didn’t want to go home to that silent house. He didn’t want to be reminded of the family he didn’t have after spending so much time with the nicest one.

Shit, he cursed in his head. And I never got those flowers.

Well, he has to go get those flowers, he never missed a day replacing them. Going home would have to wait.

An hour had passed by the time he got to Eddie’s grave, crouching down to place the new set of dragon lilies on his tombstone. He wanted to stay longer like he always did, but it was too cold outside to warrant any more time in a graveyard at night.

Standing back up, he grabbed the other bundle of flowers, trekking his way across to Billy’s grave. He expected to be alone, but when he shined his flashlight onto the headstone, there was someone lying across it.

Yelping, he stumbled back, tripping his own feet and falling to the floor. He let out a loud breath and pointed his flashlight back at the grave, a hooded figure slowly sitting up.

He was concerned when he saw who it was.

“Max?” he asked confused. “What are you doing here?”

Rubbing her eyes, she willed herself to focus on him. “Oh, hey Steve,” she said nonchalantly. “What’s up?”

“What’s up? What are you doing sleeping on your brother’s grave? It’s too late for you to be out here alone.”

Glancing up at the sky, she shrugged her shoulders. “It wasn’t dark when I got here.”

“By why are you here?”

She moved to stand up, pulling off her hood to reveal her vibrant red hair, still visible in the dead of night. “That’s none of your concern.”

Steve stood up, watching as she walked off with no more explanation. He was so confused at what had just happened but he knew that there was no way she was walking home alone. Quickly, placing down Billy’s flowers, he raced after her, falling in step with her walking.

“Max, you’re not walking home that’s the other side of town,” he told her.

“I can and I will.”

“No, you aren’t.” He stepped in front of her, grabbing one of her arms in an effort to stop her. Too sleepy to fight him, she did. “I drove here. Come on,” he said, motioning to his car behind them.

Rolling her eyes, she followed him. They got in the car awkwardly. Neither of them spent any time with one another when they weren’t fighting monsters. Why would they? He barely knew the girl who was four years younger than him.

“You gotta tell me why you were out here,” he said, breaking the silence. “Or I won’t start the car.”

Her eyes darted to his. “Then I’ll leave.”

She reached for the door handle, pulling hard - it didn’t budge. He had turned on the door locks the minute they go in the car, anticipating this from the stubborn girl.

“Talk,” he said.

Sighing, she crossed her arms, leaning back in her seat. “My mom gets drunk a lot, doesn’t care where I go…” she began, not meeting his eyes. “I come out here at night sometimes to be with Billy.” She shrugged. “I just don’t want to be alone- you know what it doesn’t matter.”

Steve didn’t know how to respond to that. He knows what she is feeling all too well. Instead of replying, he turned the ignition, and the car came to life.

Turning her head, she looked at him. “Are you taking me back to the trailer park?” she asked.

“No,” he responded, pulling away from the sidewalk. And that was all she needed to know.

They were quiet on the ride back and Max didn’t question anything when they pulled into his driveway. As they got out of the car, it dawned on him that other than Robin, Nance, and Dustin, no one had ever stepped foot in his house. He didn’t have to worry about a mess because he knew he didn’t leave one, but still, he felt anxious as he unlocked the front door.

Max stepped inside after him, taking in the living room. It was a nice house, definitely better than the trailer park but it wasn’t as fancy as everyone always imagined it was. There were knick-knacks everywhere from his mom’s traveling days before Steve was born, a rack for shoes by the door with only his stacked on it. It wasn’t some museum with untouchable art, but a once cozy home abandoned by its family.

Steve ushered her to follow him. She did, walking up the rugged stairs and into what she could only assume was the master suite. Sitting down on the bed, she waited for him as he rustled through the drawers. No one had slept in this room since his parents left so it took a couple of tries to remember where everything was.

Finally, he found the right drawer, pulling out a pair of pajamas his mother had left behind. He placed him on the bed next to her before moving to leave. Reaching to pull the door closed behind him, she finally spoke.

“Wait,” she whispered, shuffling slightly on the mattress. “Why do you do it?”

“Do what?” he asked.

She looked up at him, that stern facade she always wore fading away. “Bring flowers to Billy’s grave. He was a bully and I’ve seen him kick your ass enough times to know you weren’t friends.”

Steve shrugged. “He was important to you and that means he was important to me.”

Max nodded softly, feeling her eyes water but not making any more to wipe them clean. He nodded back, closing the door to let her get some sleep. Both of them would never admit it to the other, but finding each other in the cemetery was the best thing that could have ever happened.

The next morning, Steve made sure to get up extra early and cook an actual breakfast. Not some half-assed meal that would satisfy him for the day but an actual meal, eggs, bacon, and pancakes included. He knew how to cook decently, having been on his own since the age of 15, but the food was never extraordinary.

As Max walked into the kitchen and spotted the food, he could see her eyes light up. He turned to her, handing over a glass of orange juice as she sat down at the kitchen counter.

“Thanks,” she said, taking it from him.

“Of course,” he responded, before going back to make a plate for himself. He opted to stay on the other side of the counter and eat standing up, both of them still not knowing each other well enough to sit close and eat in silence.

After taking a bite of her eggs, Max twisted in her seat to stare around the kitchen. “Are you hiring movers to pack everything up?” she asked.

He shook his head, “I’m not moving.”

“Oh…could I ask why?”

He had never told anyone his plans to stay, and part of him felt relieved when someone actually cared enough to ask. “My parents aren’t around anymore and even though this house makes it seem like we have a lot of money, we don’t- or at least I don’t.”

“Where are they? Your parents I mean.”

“I like to think Seattle,” he said nonchalantly; like it was normal to not know why his parents weren’t home. “But knowing my old man they moved to the desert. Maybe Las Vegas, I don’t know…somewhere to match his dry personality.”

Max snorted into her drink, placing it down quickly. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t funny.”

“No, it was. Trust me, they’ve been gone long enough that the jokes don’t hurt anymore.”

She nodded, using her fork to play with her food. “I-I’m not moving either if that makes you feel better.”

Steve twisted his head in surprise. He knew that she was hurting from the very few words they exchanged about the subject; but he still figured she would be moving too, ready to start her new life in a fresh town.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Not looking up, she continued. “My mom’s barely coherent enough to know I sneak out most nights. Do you really think she has any idea what’s going on in town right now?”

He didn’t respond, not needing to. The now comfortable silence was enough between them that they knew they could relate to each other’s problems. And even though they never verbalized it, both of them knew that she was never stepping foot in that trailer park again.

“Will, can you pass me that blanket?” Steve asked the youngest Byers child.

“Sure,” he responded, reaching over to grab it off the couch and hanging it to him.

“Thanks.”

It had been three weeks since the night he found Max at the cemetery and she hadn’t gone back to her home since. It was a weird adjustment at first, to have someone in his house after being alone for so long, but he wasn’t complaining. The company alone, even in the form of a stubborn teenager that barely respected him, was better than having no one at all.

They hadn’t seen her mother either in those weeks either and it made him sad that she didn’t even make an attempt to find her daughter. No missing person flyers, no reports - he would have heard it from Hopper by now - and no communication. He felt this hate for Mrs. Mayfield that was stronger than he cared to admit. Max had a parent around, one that was alive and in the same town as her yet made no effort to reach out. At least his parents left town before deciding they didn’t want a son anymore. To do that to Max… it had to hurt way more than his loss ever did.

He spent time with her, watching movies, reading books, and when they were eventually both ready, helping everyone pack again. No one knew they were living together, neither of them wanting pity or sadness from their friends. So while Steve stayed in the front, helping pack up Dustin’s living room with Will, Max was in the study helping Lucas.

He knew that Robin was helping Dustin with his room but that wasn’t what he was focused on at the moment. What he wanted to know more about was why Will kept glancing over and Eleven and Mike Wheeler packing up the kitchen.

Steve had his suspicions, ones that he didn’t have last summer, and he wondered if Will was anything like Robin. He couldn’t know for sure, Robin claiming to have a sense about these things that he could never have, but it didn’t hurt to test the waters.

“So,” Steve began carefully. “Anyone special moving over to Fulton with you guys?”

“What?” Will asked, his gaze snapping from the kitchen to the shelf in front of him. “N-no! No girlfriend. Just me…” He grabbed another book and placed it in his box.

“I didn’t say, girlfriend…” Will’s eyes grew wide as he looked back at him. “I said anyone special.”

Steve couldn’t enter Will’s mind as Eleven could so he didn’t know for certain what he was thinking. If he had to guess, probably be shock and anxiety over someone finding out a secret he so desperately was trying to hide.

“I hope you find someone special in Fulton Will, and I think I know a person that could help with that.”

“Y-yeah?” he asked, trying to figure out if they were really on the same page or not.

Steve nodded. “Yeah, think of her like your wingman. Come on, I’ll introduce you guys.” He stood up, waiting for Will to do the same.

“N-now? They’re here right now?”

“Yep, come on.”

He guided the young boy through the house until reaching Dustin’s room. Gently knocking on the door to make their presence known, he watched his two closest friends look up at him.

“Hey Robs, we’re gonna switch for the rest of the day,” he said.

“Why?” she asked with furrowed brows.

“We just are, come help Will in the living room.”

Still confused as to why they were changing duos, Robin walked out to meet Steve in the living room. He placed a hand on her shoulder and motioned to Will.

“Here’s your new wingman, kid,” he said.

“Wingman?” Robin questioned, darting her eyes at him.

Will shuffled in front of them, playing with his hands. “D-do you have someone special too?”

“Special? I don’t know what you mea-“ It didn’t take long for it to click in place. “OH! Yeah, kid, I have someone special too, let’s go have a little talk.”

A sense of relief washed over Will as he made his way back into the living room. Robin turned around at the last moment clasping a hand on his back.

“Are you sure you aren’t special?” She mocked him. “Cause your gaydar is off the charts.”

“Oh my god Robin, just go!”

With a smirk, she left to join Will. He found his way back to Dustin where he was packing away all his comic books.

“What was that all about?” he asked as Steve leaned down to join him.

“Nothing,” he responded, picking up a comic.

“Awww you couldn’t stay away from me, Stevie!”

“Shut up… and never call me Stevie again.”

Dustin chuckled as he went back to packing. There was a silence that filled the air again but it wasn’t one that Steve hated, it never was. Being in the same room with him was enough to make him feel not alone. Almost a full hour went by before Dustin spoke up again.

“Hey, so when my mom and I went to go look at the new house last week,” he started. Steve hummed for him to continue. “And that Major Video on West Dunn got turned into a Blockbuster.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s this new video-renting place that’s been popping up everywhere. It’s supposed to be better than Major Video and Family Video.”

“Cool, Henderson.”

“I just thought… you know since you have experience already, you and Robin could apply.”

Steve faltered in his tracks, almost feeling his heart shatter into a million pieces. Dustin was already thinking of a future for Steve in Fulton, one that would never happen. He couldn’t tell the kid he wasn’t going with them just yet and would never admit it to the kid, but when everyone leaves, he’ll miss him the most.

Not wanting to break the bad news to him, he replied softly, “Sure Henderson, that sounds nice.”

When it came time to leave, Steve made sure he was the first to say his goodbyes. After closing the front door behind him, he walked to his car which was strategically parked a block away. Waiting for only ten minutes, he was relieved when Max climbed in the passenger side seat.

“No one saw you?” he asked her.

Putting on her seat belt she shook her head. “Nope.”

“Great.” Putting the car in park, they took off down the road. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah, but remember we have to stop to get flowers first.”

“Of course,” he said with a smile turning to look at her.

It was a friendly look that they had both become accustomed to over the past few weeks but in the end, it would be his downfall. For in turning to look at her, he missed driving past a very confused Wheeler on her way to pick up her younger brother…

Dinner at the Hopper-Byers house was becoming more and more regular as time went on. He loved spending time with them, but always making sure it was in the form of helping them pack their house up. If he went over there just to hang out with Jonathan…it would just be more painful for the both of them when they left.

So any chance to stay for dinner after helping them move, he took it. Eleven had even warmed up to him too in the past weeks. She was more open to speaking with him, even asking for help reading once or twice. Steve was elated at that. Someone went to him for learning advice - he never thought he’d see the day.

On one particular night, he surprised himself with how little he cared Nancy was there. Of course, he knew running into her or the occasional dinner would happen but he always braced himself for that awkward tension to return. He was surprised when it didn’t.

She stood next to him, washing dishes while the Byers continued to clear the table. “You seem different,” she said suddenly. When he asked how she replied, “I don’t know, just different…I never thought you and Jonathan would become friends.”

“To be honest, I didn’t expect it either. But he’s a good guy so…”

She handed him another plate to dry off. “Are you going to apply to schools again once everyone’s settled in Fulton? Or are you gonna find a new job in town?”

“I definitely won’t be applying to any schools,” he answered, trying to move around the question of Fulton. “Don’t think college is the right call for me.”

Before Nancy could protest like she always did when it came to his education, Hopper walked into the room. “Here’s those leftovers kid,” he said, handing him a container of food.

“Thanks,” he replied taking it. “I’ll bring the Tupperware back when we’re done.”

“Nonsense, just keep it.”

Smiling, he paid his goodbyes to Nancy, leaving to go thank Joyce for dinner in the other room. She tried to reach out and talk to him, to ask him the question that had been burning on her mind, but he was out the door before she could.

“We’re?” she whispered to herself confused.

Opening the front door to his house, Steve called out to Max. “I’ve got dinner!”

He watched as she shot up from her place on the couch watching Family Ties on the tv. “Did Ms. Byers make her spaghetti again?”

Nodding, he grabbed a fork from the kitchen, sat down next to her, and handed over the container. “With the shredded cheese.”

“Awesome!” she exclaimed, taking a bite of the food.

Even though it had been almost a full month of living together, they were still hesitant to tell people about their situation. Everyone still thought they were moving too, starting their lives a couple of towns away like the rest of them. Max was very persistent to keep that a secret, even from Lucas whom she was getting closer to again by the day.

Steve was happy that she was finally opening up about other areas of her life. Every time she talked about Sinclair he felt this urge to protect her, to go tell the kid that if he didn’t anything wrong, he wouldn’t live to see the next day. She jokingly called him her big brother wanting to watch over her every move. After she said that it was hard to not see her as the sibling he always wanted.

“El keeps asking me if we’re going to be neighbors in Fulton,” Max said, setting down the now empty container on the coffee table. “It’s getting harder to lie to her.”

Steve shifted on the couch to look at her more clearly. “We both agreed it was best not to say anything. If they knew we weren’t coming it would turn into this big thing and-“

“-I’m not disagreeing,” she interrupted him. “If Lucas knew I wasn’t coming with everyone…”

“Oh no, do I need to go grab the bat?” he joked.

Rolling her eyes, she slapped his arm. “Shut up… I was just thinking. Once school starts up again, I could get a job too. Maybe with both of us working, we could move there by the time I graduate.”

She looked over at him with pleading eyes which wasn’t something she did often. Even though he was technically her guardian now, she never saw him as the man in charge. They were equals or he was an easy pushover. But when she asked about moving, it looked genuine. She actually wanted to hear what he had to say for his approval.

Smiling, he wrapped an arm around her. “Sounds like a plan, Mayfield.”

As they went back to watch the television, there was a sudden knock on the door. They looked at each other confused, Steve getting up to investigate who it could be.

He pulled the door open, surprised to see Jonathan and Nancy standing in front of him. “Hey guys,” he said hesitantly. “What are you doing here?”

Jonathan leaned forward, “Nancy said she saw something and wouldn’t leave me alone until she came to investigate.”

“I’m not investigating!” she scolded him. “You make it sound like I’m writing for the paper.” Turning back, she addressed Steve. “We want to know where Max is.”

Steve tried to stay calm, to keep his face from contorting in a way that would give away anything. But on the inside, he was freaking out, hyperventilating. Was everything going to come crashing down this easily? On a regular Tuesday in July?

“M-max? Why would I know where Max is?”

“I saw you leave with her from Dustin’s a few weeks ago.”

Curse Nancy for being so perceptive. “I don’t know what you’re getting at Nance-“

“-I thought it was strange so, I went to the trailer park and her mom said she hadn’t seen her in weeks. Then, earlier tonight when Jim gave you those leftovers you said you’ll give it back when we’re done. Not you, but we.”

Steve felt panic rise through him. It caught him off guard, having not felt completely alone since Max came to stay with him. Why was she so observant? Why did she have to notice?

Nancy crossed her arms. “I can’t believe it took me this long to piece it together.”

Jonathan put a hand on her shoulder. “We’re sorry to interrupt you like this,” he said. “We just care about her and-“

“-No, it’s okay, I just…” Steve interrupted, not knowing what to say or do or how to counteract any of the very true things she was saying.

Before he had time to speak, Nancy pushed passed him and into his house. “Nancy!” Jonathan called out, surprised at the slightly rude interaction.

The two boys ran after her inside, but it was too late. Nancy was already standing in the living room, staring in confusion at Max Mayfield on his couch. She turned back to him.

“You don’t know where she is?” she asked again in a disappointed tone.

“What did you want me to say?” He complained with a shrug. “That Max has been living with me for a month because her mom is an alcoholic?”

She walked over to the couch sitting down to give Max a hug. Pulling apart, she addressed Steve again. “I just wanted to know she was safe.” She looked back at Max. “You are safe, right?”

Max smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I am… I finally see what Dustin says about Steve being a mom now.”

“Hey!” He protested.

“Wait,” Jonathan called out, turning in circles in the living room. “Where are all your boxes? The moving people come next week”

Oh great. Another explanation and Steve knew that this one wouldn’t end well. He looked at Max who was frozen too, unsure of what to do.

Slowly he said, “We’re not moving from Hawkins.”

Nancy’s hands dropped back to her sides as she stood up from the couch. “What do you mean you aren’t moving from Hawkins?” She asked, not wanting what he said to be true.

“We’re not moving. Between money and Max’s mom-“

“That’s bullshit,” Jonathan said. “N-no just look where we’re standing. You can’t seriously tell me this is about money!”

In the calmest voice he could muster, Steve turned to Max. “Do you wanna go to your room, Max?”

“No,” she said without missing a beat. “I’m old enough I’m staying-“

“Max!” He shouted. It freaked her out for a second, never hearing him scream like that before. “Just give us a few minutes, okay?”

She nodded without saying a word, grabbing her blanket before going upstairs to what used to be the master suite.

Steve turned back to Jonathan and Nancy. “I don’t have a lot of money guys, let alone enough to move to a new town.”

“I-don’t get it,” said Jonathan. “I mean you’re a Harrington, look at this house I mean-” He motioned around the room. It was nice, Steve had to give him that, definitely nicer than the Byers' house in the woods. But it wasn’t a rich house, just a shell of what used to hold an upper-middle-class family. “Didn't your parents try looking in Fulton?”

He scoffed. “I haven’t seen my parents since I was 15.”

“What?”

“My parent; they left on some business trip when I was a sophomore and never came back. I get these checks every month from them but it’s not enough to support a new life with Max in some other city. Staying here is our best bet for now. Maybe in a couple of years, we can move but-“

“-No, Steve,” Nancy butted in. He looked up at her to see watery eyes and that look, the look he tried so desperately long to prevent. “You haven’t seen your parents since you were 15?”

He nodded, not wanting to speak. If he spoke, he knew the floodgates would open. And Steve was done crying over people who definitely weren’t crying over him.

“That was before I even met you,” she said softly letting his words sink in.

“I know Nance…”

Jonathan said, “Let me talk to my mom or Hopper maybe they can-“

“-no, it’s okay Jonathan.”

“Let me ask them if-“

“Jonathan!” he yelled. The couple stood in silence, trying to put together a plan in their heads. “You don’t need to do anything. We’ll still see you guys, maybe not as frequently but…”

“Fulton is over an hour away,” Nancy said.

She didn’t need to say more, those words being enough to convey what they all knew what true. A couple of visits back and forth from Hawkins would soon turn into none, Steve and Max becoming a forgotten part of their childhoods.

“I know…” he said understanding. “We- Max and I - have been anticipating this for some time now. We’ve made our peace with it. It’s why we didn’t want to tell you…”

The three of them stood quiet, not knowing how to move on from this point. Everything was changing and it was a lot sooner than Steve expected. He needed them to leave, he needed to think about everything and try not to sit in discomfort for too long.

“I think you guys should leave,” he said.

Jonathan was the first to protest. “No, Steve maybe if we-“

“There’s nothing you can do. Just, go back home. I need to make sure Max is okay.”

Nancy was the one who took his arm, dragging him out. He was hesitant to follow his girlfriend, not wanting to leave his new friend behind. Friend, Steve feared that would happen one day. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be Jonathan’s friend, he really did. He just knew that if they could get that close it meant leaving would be just a little harder.

Finally getting him out the front door, Steve watched as Nancy paused. She turned back to face him, her mouth opening as if she was going to say something to him. But what was there left to say? They would be leaving, he wouldn’t - it didn’t get more simple than that. She closed her mouth, taking only a moment more to stare before turning and following Jonathan to their car.

And that was that.

Steve’s landline was ringing off the hook. It had been a week since Nancy and Jonathan had found out the truth and if Steve heard that phone ring one more time he was going to throw it into Lover’s Lake.

He had just left to use the bathroom, just one moment to himself before he heard Max calling from the kitchen.

“Steve, it’s going off again!” Groaning, he washed his hands and barged into the kitchen. Max was sitting at the counter again eating a bowl of cereal. “I don’t think that’s a telemarketer.”

“No, but I think I know who it is,” he said, making the mistake of finally picking up the phone.

He couldn’t even get a word out before the kid started screaming. “If what I just heard is true you are dead, Steve, DEAD,” Dustin said sternly.

“Henderson just-“

“This better be some sick fucking joke. It is right? You just wanted to get back to me that time I told Robin you liked Flash Dance.”

He sighed, knowing there was no stopping the endless amount of curses being shouted at him. “Dustin just listen, okay? We would move if we could but that isn’t an option-“

“Bullshit! That is total utter bullshit. You can’t leave, especially after Ed-….” He paused and it didn’t take rocket science to know he was missing his Dungeon Master.

“You can’t Steve,” he continued, his voice growing weaker. “You just can’t.”

“I wish things were different too. But that’s not going to change our situation, okay?”

“But Ms. Byers said-“

“We’re not taking any money from Ms. Byers or Hopper, all right?”

“I’m coming over, we’re talking about this,” Dustin said urgently and Steve could hear the rustling of his shoes over the phone.

“Henderson don’t you dare show up.”

“You can’t stop me! We have to talk about this in person.”

“Dustin if you show up announced, use not moving will be the least of your problems.” Not waiting for a response, he slammed the phone down. Even with a threat, he knew nothing would stop him from coming over. Turning to Max who was still eating her breakfast, he said,” We’re going early today.”

“Okay,” she said, taking another bite of her food. It wasn’t until she realized he was still staring he meant that instant. “Now?”

“Yes, now, Henderson is gonna show up any second with a fucking militia we need to go.”

“Right, yeah.” Scrambling to place her dish in the sink, she ran upstairs to get changed.

There was still one place no one would be able to find them, or at least that’s what they thought.

Slamming the car doors shut, Steve and Max walked up the hill of the cemetery. They stopped at Eddie’s grave first like always, standing silently in respect. Steve kept his head low like he always did, talking in his head like Munson could hear.

He didn’t believe in a god. No god would have let this much bad shit happen to one group of people. But if there was something out there, a god or an afterlife, he hoped Eddie could hear him. He hoped he could hear how much regret he had for not treating him better, for not making an effort to be his friend.

As he silently paid his respects, he could feel Max tugging at his arm. He opened his eyes to look at her but she wasn’t looking back at him, instead of their shoulders in the distance. Turning, he searched for where she was staring, not taking long to find what it was.

Across the hill, next to Billy Hargrove’s grave, stood Joyce Byers and Jim Hopper. Steve felt his body turn to look at them, Max grabbing onto his arm. There was no avoiding them, no turning away or running. Facing this head-on was the only option and part of him was terrified, and Max read him like a fucking book.

“You ready?” Max asked a reminder that he wasn’t alone.

“We have no other choice do we?” he asked back.

Walking to them felt painfully slow. His mind was moving a hundred miles a minute. How does he explain this to them? How does he not feel the pity he can already see on their faces? Approaching, Max slowly bent down, putting the dragon lilies on her brother’s grave before returning to his side.

“Hey kids,” Hoper said crossing his arms. “You’ve been pretty hard to get a hold of.”

“How did you know we would be here?” he asked.

“Sinclair is really easy to crack once you put a little pressure on him.”

“Shit,” Max whispered to herself before turning to Steve. “I may have told Lucas that I bring flowers to Billy’s grave sometimes… I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he reassured her before turning back to the adults. “We’re fine guys, really.”

“We’re gonna go for a ride,” Joyce said as she began to walk back to their car.

Hopper followed her, stopping only for a second when he realized they weren’t following. “That wasn’t a suggestion,” he said more sternly.

That made them move. Steve never wanted to be on Hopper’s bad side ever again. Loading into the back of the car, he and Max exchanged a look. Where were they going? Back to the Harrington House? To the Byers? No, they were driving too long by that point to be anywhere they knew.

Hopper kept his eyes on the road while Joyce turned back to ask them a question. “Why didn’t you two say something?”

“Talking about it wasn’t going to change anything,” Max said, keeping her gate out the window. “We didn’t need your pity.”

“Ms. Byers, you guys were already stressed about moving already we didn’t need to add more fuel to the flame. You needed to focus on your family.”

“You two are family,” she said. “From the moment we all go involved in that mess.” She turned back to Hopper. “Get off here, sweetie.”

He pulled the car off the freeway and onto a suburban road and it didn’t take long to figure out where they were going. A sign reading Welcome to Fulton passed Steve’s window as they pulled down a neighborhood street. It wasn’t pristine, houses were still being built and renovated for the sudden influx of residents.

Max tugged his shoulder. “Why are we here?” she asked in a whisper.

“I have no idea,” Steve responded.

He watched as they turned suddenly into a driveway, a Sold sign on the mailbox. It was a nice house, nicer than anything the Byers or Hopper had owned before. Was this some sick game they were playing? Showing them the place they were all moving, where they would be when they forgot they existed?

Hopper was the first to get out of the car, pulling open the back doors to let him and Max out. Wearily, he climbed out of the car, stretching from the long ride.

“What is this, Hopper?” he asked. Was this some sick joke they were playing? Showing them the neighborhood they weren’t moving to. To show them a glimpse of the life they wouldn’t be a part of? “Why did you bring us here?”

“Just follow us, kid,” he replied, ushering them into the house.

As they entered the foyer, Steve couldn’t help but turn in awe. The place was already furnished, the stuff from their old house already moved in here. “When did you guys move in? We were supposed to help you in a couple of days.”

“We had some help,” Joyce said, placing a hand on his back. “We wanna show you two something upstairs.”

“Would you mind telling us what it is?” Max asked, following everyone up the steps.

“It’s better if we just showed you.”

As they reached the top of the stairs, Hopper already stood holding a door open. Steve stood outside the door, not really knowing what to do. He looked back at Max, standing outside another door on the other side of the hall that Joyce had opened.

“Look inside,” said Joyce.

And so he did. Steve walked into the room. It was pretty bare, with only a dresser, and bed inside.

“I-I don’t get it…” Steve said, looking back at Hopper. “What is this?”

“This,” he began, “- is your new room. That one is Max’s.”

Steve walked back towards the door to see Max across the hall, looking equally confused. She sat down on the bed, taking in her surroundings.

Joyce said, “We figured you guys had some stuff at home you want here but once your stuff is moved in, we can go out and get more decorations. Make it feel more like home.”

“What do you mean?” Max asked her. “I- this is crazy.”

“We want you two to live with us.”

Joyce walked over to Steve who still stood frozen in the doorway. Was he hearing them correctly? Joyce and Hopper wanted them to live with them. In Fulton? He didn’t know how to feel. It would be rude to accept, right? To put the stress of two more bodies to feed, to help grow up. She placed her hands on both of his shoulders, willing him to look at her - he did.

“I- these rooms-“ he tried to get out but Hopper beat him to speaking.

“They were supposed to be an office and guest room but whom are we kidding, they would never get used.”

“We want you two,” Joyce said, willing his attention back to her. She reached out a hand to Max which she took, pulling her closer. “End of story. No more pitying yourself okay?”

“But-“ Steve tried to start but it was useless.

He felt a hand on his back as Hopper approached. “No buts,” he said. “We want you here, both of you.”

Steve looked down at Max by his side. She was on the verge of tears and that was saying something. He rarely saw Max cry even after her mom abandoned her, he never saw her shed a single tear.

“So, what do you say guys?” she asked.

He could feel his eyes watering now. They wanted him to live with them. They wanted him. He tried to control his emotions, failing too as he felt a tear roll down his cheek. Harrington’s don’t cry, not when their parents leave, not when their friends are ditching town, not now…

Okay fuck it, maybe they do.

It was like a damn had opened, letting out all the pent-up rage and sadness that had plagued him since he was 15. Nodding his head was all they needed to embrace in a tight hug. He felt Max hit him first, then Joyce, and finally Hopper - his family.

The ride back to Hawkins felt a lot lighter than the trip before. He couldn’t stop smiling, Max bumping shoulders with him as she thought about a bright future for the first time in a while. He heard the excitement in her voice as she talked about being at school with her friends, with Lucas whom Steve was convinced would be her boyfriend again any day now.

As they pulled back into the driveway of his house, he wasn’t surprised to see that there were a handful of cars already parked on the curb. All of their friends stood by the door, waiting for them to come back, confirmation that Joyce and Jim had told them of their plan.

They barely took a step outside the car before there were people pulling them into a hug. He felt Robin first, his nose getting tangled in her messy hair.

“You are an idiot, you know that?” she said, stifling back a cry.

“Yeah, what else is new?”

Pulling back, he watched as Max was pulled into a hug by her friends. He saw Lucas holding her tight, as well as Eleven; getting a pat on the back from Will and Mike. But where was Dustin? He wouldn’t miss this he-

Smack!

“Ow!” Steve shrieked, turning to see the kid in question holding up a rolled-up piece of paper.

“What the fuck Harrington!” Dustin yelled at him.

He didn’t even have time to react as he was pulled into a hug. Shocked, he looked over at Robin who only rolled her eyes.

“What did you expect?” she mouthed to him.

Dustin broke away, waving the paper in his face. “Never do that again! You need to tell me everything! That was what we agreed on when we became friends!”

“When did we-“

“And no talking over me!” He shoved the paper forward to Steve who took it. Crossing his arms, he added, “here.”

Confused, Steve began to unroll the paper he was smacked with just moments before. “What’s this?”

“You’re resume. I already applied for you to work at Blockbuster.”

He couldn’t help but cackle. Of course, the kid had.

“We have an interview next Wednesday,” Robin added.

Steve smiled and he couldn’t help but pull both of them into a hug again. He felt his eyes start watering again. When did he become so emotional? Peering over his shoulder, he made eye contact with Max who was still getting her ear talked off by her friends. She nodded to him with a smile, enough for them to both know everything was going to be okay.

All right, maybe letting others into his life wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

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unadulterated-syd · 2 years ago

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Giving Up On Your World

Regulus x Dead!Y/n

Warnings: Angst, slight mentions of su!cide nothing explicit but metaphorical mentions.

I wrote this like a year ago, Its probably very out of character but I was sad when I wrote this! I love Regulus so very much 😭. And this is short!

Perhaps the sky above couldnt really save him from the fact. Y/n, his best friend, his lover, the funniest person he'd ever known, was gone. Forever. And to his own ideas, it was his fault.

His head ached, the room spinning, his fists clenched against his slacks. Y/n used to always tease him about his constant need to dress 'fancy'. In a way he wish he'd taken Y/n's advice and dressed like an 80s virgin. That's what Y/n would've called it, anyway.

"Are you sure?" He was sure this was at least the 3rd time he'd asked his older brother this. It broke his brother all the same, "Yes. You need rest, Regulus. Please." But it wasn't enough for him, he didn't want to rest without Y/n, he didn't want to laugh without Y/n, he didn't want to walk the same Earth Y/n did without Y/n.

Lily, James, Sirius, anyone remotely close to Y/n or himself attended the funeral. That's how Y/n was. Y/n was someone no one could forget, no matter what conversation you'd had with Y/n you remembered. He also knew Y/n's irrational fear of death, the poor thing had been terrified, cried everytime a new year passed, and here he was alive without Y/n.

The thing he hated the most was what had happened, Y/n held his hand and cooed him through death, even though he had never been close to dying in that moment. Y/n always put him on the front burner, it was one thing that made him feel so guilty yet so loved.

As the night faded, and the sun came up it was just him, his brother, and a gravestone. "Regulus, we should go..Y/n needs rest." Sirius knew the man in front of him would never take that as a good reason, obviously the dead aren't sleeping, but he still had to try. He was his big brother after all.

Regulus put a finger up, a finger that said a million words without a noise. Sirius left him, giving him the second alone he'd requested, but he stayed near by out of pure need to keep Regulus safe.

"I suppose this is a second good bye." He cleared his throat, keeping his voice from breaking, "Even now you choke me up, Y/n. I'm sorry. I promised you'd live forever, I promised myself I'd go first to show you it wasn't all that bad. And yet here I am, and there you are." He paused once more, pulling out a singular Pansy from his pocket, "I know you never liked flowers, you said they weren't worth the money, but I think this is a special occasion."

Regulus stood up, looking down on his partner's grave, and sighed. "I love you. I'm sorry I never got the chance to say it back in person." He took one last shakey breath, and set the flower down, "If there ever was a heaven I know you'd be there. I'll see you someday, soon hopefully, my love."

And he set off towards Sirius. They went home in silence, Hogwarts was over for them, it was a journey they'd never thought they'd be in together. Everything they'd planned, Regulus and Y/n, ending with Sirius and Regulus driving no where in particular.

The worse part for Regulus was watching James and Lily from there. They were so in love. Y/n's brother, happy and healthy with someone he loved, and Y/n dead with him left alone. He'd never hate the two, but he'd always envy them.

He began his work for the ministry until his own death came. Perhaps he had never been happier to go, he'd always wanted to go, since Y/n had, but he had never wanted to do it himself, he didn't want Y/n to feel worse about dying than Y/n already would have.

Now it was Sirius crying at his grave. Life has one cruel sense of humor and Sirius had now been dealt this hand twice. Y/n had been his best friend as well, James and Lilly long gone, and now, his baby brother.

"I've never been happier to have the world leave you behind, my love. " Regulus looked at the one who he'd been searching for, for years, the voice of reason to the chaos of himself, Y/n.

Maybe death wasn't all that scary.

#regulus black #Regulus black x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #james potter #lilly potter #harry potter drabble #harry potter angst #timothee chalamet #sirius and regulus #Spotify

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cherienymphe · 4 years ago

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Bloodied Crowns (Peter Parker x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, STEPCEST, murder, violence, abusive realtionships, Tony x reader, prince!Peter, king!Tony, queen!Reader

➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ based off of this ask

summary: When your husband, King Anthony, is killed in a coup staged by his son from his previous marriage, Peter, you are forced to marry the young man who no longer feels the need to hide his feelings.

Peter was only eighteen when you married the king, the stern monarch losing his wife only a few months prior. The engagement and the wedding happened so quickly, and before you knew it, you were married to King Anthony Stark. Truth be told, you’d feared that you’d never marry at all, and that you’d bring shame to your name, but a stroke of luck, or perhaps misfortune, had put you directly into the king’s path.

Your family had attended the queen’s funeral to pay your respects. It had been drilled into you to catch the eye of an available suitor, as it had been many times before, and while you were disgusted that you could not even properly pay your respects to the royal family, you understood your parents’ desperation. You were twenty-eight with no prospects on the horizon. They had no other children, no sons, your mother unable to conceive after yourself, and so the weight of carrying on the family name was solely on your shoulders.

Your family was not poor by any means, but you were far from wealthy. That being said, your mother spent an outrageous amount to get you the most captivating black dress money could buy. It was not something that would draw too much attention, but enough so that you did not look like a grieving widow yourself. When it was your turn to pay your respects, you recalled bowing to the young prince, the brunette barely acknowledging anyone’s presence. It was rumored that he and his mother were close, that he’d taken her death very hard, and the way he seemed to stare right through you confirmed as much.

When you bowed to the king, apologizing for his loss, you could feel his eyes on you. This was nothing you concerned yourself with. After all, you were speaking to him and he you, but when you rose, you were taken aback by the intensity you found in his dark eyes. Where his son seemed to look through you, the king could not seem to take his eyes off of you. No one else seemed to notice, and, brushing it off, by the time you returned home, you had forgotten all about it.

Until a few days later when a royal guard was at your door. You were being invited to dine with the king, the invitation extending to your family as well, and although you were confused, you knew you could not refuse. Even if you wanted to. The dinner was nice, and you were a bit surprised at how easy it was to get along with the king. You never thought him cruel, but you’d heard that he was a rather stern man. After supper, he extended the invitation to staying at the castle so that you would not have to travel back so late in the evening. Your mother answered before you had the chance to, and it was no surprise to you that the answer was yes.

The castle was so different during the night. It seemed less welcoming and more ominous, and you found it hard to sleep that night. Convinced that the corridors would be empty, you quietly slipped from your chambers and made your way down to the kitchens. There were still a few servants lingering about, cleaning or preparing for the next day. You felt guilty for bothering them for something to drink.

“Nonsense, my lady. I would be more than happy to get that for you,” a younger girl by the name of Guinevere told you.

“Oh...please,” you waved her off. “No one is around. Call me Y/N.”

Her eyes seemed to sparkle as you told her your name, but she said nothing more as she gave you your water. The dark corridors did not scare you, but the eerie silence was a bit off putting, especially in such a grand structure. You had turned the corner to make your way back to your room when you bumped into none other than the prince. You had almost dropped the drink, and you placed your hand on your chest in an attempt to still your heart.

“Your highness. My apologies, I did not see…”

Your words died in your throat as the prince fixed you with a look that made your stomach churn. You snapped your mouth shut, swallowing as he simply glared at you, brown eyes looking so much darker. You had not seen him since the queen’s burial, and he did not look much better than he did then. Before you had a chance to say anything else, he had shoved past you, almost making you drop the goblet in your hand, and a low gasp escaped you as your other shoulder harshly met the wall. You turned to watch him go, shock and confusion pouring through you, wondering what you had done to offend him so.

It was only a few weeks later did you get your answer.

“I...I beg your pardon?”

The king reached for your hand, a soft breeze ruffling his dark hair as he brought it to his lips. They were soft as they brushed over your skin, and the corner of them curved upwards into a smile.

“Everything is already being arranged, but...this is my formal proposal. I need a queen, Peter needs a mother, and you are everything I could have hoped for,” he told you.

You stared at him in shock, feeling as if the world had been ripped out from beneath your feet. Your mind whirled as you tried to make sense of this and where this had come from, and suddenly, the puzzle started to piece together. The countless dinner invitations, the gleam in your parents’ eyes, the hushed conversations...the prince’s animosity. You were being courted by the king this whole time...and you’d been none the wiser. His chuckle pulled you from your thoughts.

“When your mother told me that you could be quite oblivious, I thought that it was a simple exaggeration.”

He found humor in your distress, you realized, and you swallowed.

“I do not know what to say,” you slowly breathed, and you watched him tilt his head at you, a frown beginning to form.

“You say yes,” he said with a scoffing laugh as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

You realized that to anyone else, it would be.

“Your majesty...I feel as if we’ve only just met. Surely, you would allow me time to think-.”

“Think about what?”

His hand tightened on yours, and you winced. He leaned in, genuine confusion in his dark eyes as he stared into your own.

“I am a king telling you that you are to be my queen...and you are hesitant?”

The severity of the situation suddenly dawned on you. Anthony was a king. You were a mere lady attempting to refuse his proposal for marriage, and your heart sank to your stomach. You blinked at him, and his face suddenly smoothed over as he sighed.

“Ah. I understand what this is about…”

“You do…?”

He softly smiled at you, reaching up to brush his thumb along your chin.

“You come from an acceptable background. You are beautiful and smart and kind. I assure you, this is genuine. This is not some poor attempt to cope with my grief. In all honesty, my marriage to the queen was over long before she died,” he told you.

You looked away, realizing that you were not getting out of this. Whether you liked it or not, you would be marrying the king, and with reluctance and a shaky voice, you accepted his proposal. He straightened when you did, a look of satisfaction on his features, and he looked as if he wanted to kiss you. You were thankful that he did not.

The wedding took place only a couple of months later, every nearby royal, and even some across the water, in attendance. It was a grand and beautiful affair, no expense spared, and it was days later that you found out it far outshined his first wedding. You remembered feeling sick as you walked down the aisle, the feeling only getting worse as your gaze met that of the prince.

In the time since the official engagement, you had interacted with the prince only a handful of times. Each time more disastrous than the last. You told yourself that he was grieving. His mother’s death was sudden and had hit him hard and here his father was, marrying again so soon. You did not fault him for his cold behavior. He was young, after all. You would expect nothing less, to be honest, but you could not lie and say that it did not hurt.

Unfortunately, even after the marriage, he did not soften towards you. Every attempt to get to know him was met with nothing short of loathing, and you finally accepted that he would come around in his own time. The last thing you wanted Peter to think was that you were trying to replace his mother. You did not know how long this would go on, but you did not expect it to be more than a year.

You were wrong.

“I throw that kid the best birthday celebration a nineteen year old could ask for and this is how he shows his appreciation? By not even having the decency to show up?”

Tony was angry as he sipped from his goblet, glaring down at the attendees dancing below. A wonderful number was being played by a string quartet, several single princesses in attendance, and an hour into the celebration, Peter was still absent. You placed your hand on your husband’s arm with a sigh.

“I am sure there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for it, Tony. He will show,” you tried to assure him.

His shoulders sagged as he slammed his drink down, and his eyes softened as he turned to you. He reached for you, and you flinched, but he paid it no mind as he brushed his finger along your cheek.

“You are far too nice to him...and he hardly deserves it,” he whispered.

“He’s your son,” you reminded him with a frown. “Do not talk about him like that.”

“He’s ungrateful,” he spat.

“He’s grieving,” you argued.

“It’s been a year,” Tony sneered. “How much time does he need?”

You sharply turned away, swallowing a sigh as anger flared within you. Sometimes Tony could be so insensitive, amongst other things, and it baffled you. Peter lost the only mother he ever knew, and Tony was treating it as if it was something minor. After a few more moments, you excused yourself under the guise of needing some air. In truth, you were determined to track down the prince.

It was not a hard task. He tended to frequent the same places when he called himself hiding. You found him deep within the grounds, lounging on a branch high up in the tree. It was getting late, the sun currently setting, and you held up the skirts of your dress as you trudged towards him. You knew that he heard you, and you resisted the urge to sigh as you stood below him. Your heart ached for him as you could not even begin to imagine what he was going through. After all, you still had both of your parents.

“Peter,” you eventually called.

He yet again pretended as if he had not heard you, a hurtful habit of his, and this time you did sigh.

“Peter, please come down. Your father is concerned about your whereabouts, and...and I am concerned about you. I-.”

“Why have you deluded yourself into thinking I care about how you feel?”

His tone was cold, venom coating every word, and your heart clenched. He rarely spoke to you, every time he did as cold as today, but this was different. You were unsure of what to say, and before you had the chance to remedy that, he was hopping down. It was a bit cool out, and his coat flared behind him as he strode towards you, face hard and nostrils flared.

“Why have you deluded yourself into thinking that I care about you at all?”

You reared back, staring at him with wide eyes. His words hurt, that you would not deny, and as much as you fought against it, you could feel a familiar burn behind your eyes. You swallowed, briefly glancing down as you took a step back.

“Peter-.”

“My mother was not even in the ground properly before you came sniffing around my father like a bitch in heat,” he sneered.

Your lips parted, wide eyes staring at him in shock at his words. You had never seen him look so hateful, borderline murderous, and you suddenly realized that this was about more than grief.

“P-Peter...that… That is not what happened-.”

“Isn’t it?” he wondered, taking another step towards you. “Do you think me stupid? Blind? You think I have never known of the way so many women prayed on my mother’s downfall?”

“I never-.”

“Do you think that I do not know that you all came to her funeral not as mourners, but as vultures? As desperate snakes trying to slip your way into my father’s bed so that you may take her place?”

“No! That is not what happened-!”

“You are no different from the rest!”

He was practically upon you now, glaring down his nose at you with so much disgust it finally made the tears spill over.

“I always knew that you were a desperate and conniving whore…”

You gasped, more tears falling at his insult. He raised one dark eyebrow at you.

“...but I never took you for a liar too.”

You were frozen as he looked you over one last time before breezing past you. You shook, unable to stop the tears, and you felt like you were going to be sick. You had no idea that Peter’s disdain was in fact not misplaced due to grief, but was instead as genuine as could be because he thought you to be something you were not. This knowledge made your heart hurt, and it turned out that you were not as adept at hiding your feelings as you thought.

“What troubles you so?” Tony wondered later that night, his hand on your shoulder as you sat at your vanity.

“Whatever do you mean?” you asked with a small smile.

His gaze met yours in the mirror, and the way his jaw clenched told you that he did not have much patience tonight. His fingers pressed into your skin, and you swallowed. You looked away, eyes blurring a bit as you recalled Peter’s cruel words.

“Peter hates me,” you confessed.

You heard Tony heave a sigh, and you turned to look up at him. He ran his hand through his hair as he rolled his eyes.

“That kid hates everyone and everything,” he replied.

“No, Tony. You do not understand. He believes me to be something I am not. He thinks that I schemed my way into marrying you, that I am trying to replace his mother-.”

“Peter will be just fine. He will grow to get over it in time,” was his enlightening reply, and you stood.

“But it is not true. Tony, does this not bother you? Because it bothers me! He should be like a son to me. He should be looking to me for guidance and care, and he curses the very ground I walk on. It hurts,” you spat, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Tony’s entire demeanor softened, and he pulled you into his arms. He pressed his lips to your cheek, and you winced at the soreness before he took your chin in between his fingers. He tilted his head at you.

“I love that you’ve grown to really care about him. It warms my cold heart…”

You forced a chuckle at that.

“...but Peter has always been a bit difficult when it comes to me and anything in relation to me. His mother is really the only person he ever really connected with. This will pass, I assure you.”

You reluctantly accepted that Tony just did not care about this as much as you did, and likely never would. Against your better judgement, you opted to let it go, and softly exhaled when Tony pressed his lips to your jaw. He trailed kisses down your neck, tightening his arms around you.

“As much as I enjoy your big heart, I would rather not spend the rest of the night discussing my troubled son,” he murmured, lips finally finding yours.

You did not know if you would ever grow used to making love to Tony. The only time he had ever been anything close to gentle was on your wedding night, and you had still cried, waking up sore and bruised. It eventually dawned on you that this was simply how Tony was, but it did not mean that you had to like it.

The years that passed did not improve things as you’d hoped they would. Tony was still the same as ever, and Peter was no different. Your conversations with the prince were rare, but every one was brief and left you with a paralyzing chill. When he was not speaking to you, his animosity was enough to force you to keep your distance. The hurt that his behavior caused never got any easier.

“When you have a child of your own, this will mean nothing to you,” Tony would assure you.

However, it only did the opposite. Even though Peter was not your own, it did not mean that you viewed him any less, and you knew that would not change when you finally did have a child. Whenever that happened. You and Tony had been trying for years, and there was still nothing to show for it. It was a great source of stress for you both, but Tony was taking it much harder than you.

“They say that it took many tries before they were finally able to have Peter, and even afterwards...the queen was never able to conceive again,” Guinevere had whispered to you one night.

“Oh,” you sadly said. “How awful…”

The blonde girl had glanced around the busy kitchen before leaning in.

“The king will never admit it, but many believe that he was the problem, and considering he is experiencing the same thing with you…”

Your heart sank as she trailed off, and despite everything, you found yourself feeling sorry for your husband. Many would argue that you should feel sorry for yourself. After all, it was a popular opinion that the woman’s womb was always at fault, and kings have gotten rid of their wives for less, but you knew that Tony was far too possessive of you to ever do such a thing.

It was a subject you wished you could talk to Peter about. He knew his father far better than you did, and sometimes you wished you could get some insight on how to make this better for him, but Peter was disgusted by your very presence. There came a time when you reluctantly accepted that it might always be this way, but everything changed when Peter was only a few weeks shy of his twenty-third birthday.

Tony, ever the showoff, was having a ball every week for five weeks straight leading up to the night. It was the second gathering when he had dragged you out of the great hall. His hold had been tight, steps hurried, and you forced yourself to swallow down the pain. The corridor was dimly lit and equally as empty, and tears of frustration were kissing your eyes.

“Tony-.”

“I saw you,” he spat.

“Saw me what? Saw me greet one of your friends? Because that is exactly what King Steven is to me and nothing more!”

His dark eyes were hard as he pressed his fingers into your arms, lip curled over his teeth as he sneered at you.

“He desires you. It is plain as day, and he has never been subtle,” he bit out.

“Somehow I am at fault for that? Steven is a bachelor in every sense of the word. That is how he is, and you know it-.”

“Yes, but I thought to myself, surely my loving wife would have the sense not to entertain his antics!”

“I was being polite,” you told him, wincing at his tight grip. “Just because you are only ever nice to people when you want something-.”

You swallowed your words with a sharp shriek, pressing your hand to your hot cheek as the tears finally spilled over. Your eyes were on the floor as Tony shook you, a scathing remark on his tongue, no doubt, when he suddenly stilled, swallowing whatever he was about to say. His sudden change confused you, and you hesitantly looked up only to realize that his gaze was not on you. You turned to find Peter standing just at the entrance of the corridor, his wide eyes on the two of you.

Tony was quick in straightening you up, and you hurriedly looked away as he acknowledged Peter.

“Why are you not enjoying your celebration with your friends?”

It was a while before Peter responded.

“I noticed that you had slipped out, so I came to find you. I had hoped to continue our...conversation from earlier,” the prince answered.

When you turned back around, you avoided Peter’s eye, but you could still feel the weight of his gaze. Tony’s hand was rubbing into your back as he responded.

“Of course. Sweetheart, you will excuse us, won’t you? Peter and I have much to discuss, and I am sure the other wives are missing your presence,” he said, turning to you.

He threw you a tense and threatening smile, and you shakily returned it with a forced one.

“Of course. I shall see you in there when you return. Peter,” you acknowledged as you hurried past him, avoiding his gaze still.

You did not return to the hall though, but instead made your way down to the kitchen. It was filled with servants, and Mary Jane gasped when she saw you. She and Guinevere were always joined at the hip, but the other girl had been ill for the last few days. The redhead dropped what she was doing, shooing another servant off of a stool before grabbing your arm.

“My God,” she breathed.

The other occupants tended to the food and drinks, much too used to seeing you down here twice a week or so. Mary Jane pressed a cold piece of steak to your face, and you hissed.

“Is it that bad?”

“It is swelling already, your majesty,” she said.

You shifted on the seat, holding the cold meat to your face as you shooed her off.

“I hardly notice how hard he hits anymore. It still manages to shock me every time though, and I have no idea as to why,” you whispered.

She was just about to reply when another voice rang throughout the kitchen.

“Everyone out.”

You turned with wide eyes, confusion tearing through you at the sight of Peter just at the bottom of the stairs. Everyone seemed to hesitate for a moment, worrying about the food, no doubt, before eventually heeding his order. Mary Jane, no stranger to your relationship with the prince, threw you a worrying look before being the last one out. Peter seemed to hesitate as well before huffing, quickly approaching you.

You moved to stop him, but he was already pulling the red meat from your cheek before you had the chance. He stared at your skin for a while before putting it back in place. You held it there as he leaned against the counter, a familiar look of anger on his boyish features.

“This is not the first time this has happened,” he murmured.

There was no need to respond. It was a statement, not an answer. The silence was heavy, thick with tension and filled with words unspoken. Outside of that night, this was the longest you had ever been alone with Peter, and the first time you did not feel uncomfortable in his presence.

“You did not want to marry my father...did you?”

You looked at him with wide eyes, lips parting to refute such a blasphemous statement, but no words came out. Words failed you. Peter was a smart young man, always had been, and you were sure that he would see through whatever lie you pieced together.

“Of course, it was not like you could refuse if you wanted to. He is a king, and you were a mere lady,” he said more to himself than you.

You sighed, putting the steak down as you stood.

“My father has never been kind to anyone in his life. I do not know why I thought you were an exception…”

“Peter… I do not want this to affect how you view your father, do you understand?”

He simply frowned at you, and you continued.

“He is not without his flaws, this is true,” you slowly said. “...but he is still your father. In his own way, he loves you and only wants what is best.”

Peter stared at you for a while before scoffing, a humorless laugh not far behind. He pressed his hand to the counter as he stared at you with a look of shock.

“My father does not deserve you,” he said, almost as if he could not believe it.

He chuckled again, pressing his hand to his forehead.

“All this time, I thought that the two of you deserved each other. I hated you...and now...now I just feel sorry for you. For both my father...and me…,” he quietly finished.

“Peter-.”

“I have been nothing but cruel to you, and for that I am sorry. I am sorry for the things that I have done...and the things that I have said.”

You blinked, convinced that you would never hear those words. They warmed your heart, and you looked away.

“It’s alright. You believed what you believed, and if I were in your shoes, I might have believed the same. Your feelings were valid, Peter,” you told him.

He blinked at you.

“I never wanted to replace your mother. That is still not what I desire...but I am here. I know that there is only a decade between us, but I have come to love you like a son despite everything.”

Peter’s eyes softened, and you could see the guilt there.

“I never wanted to rush you, even now, but I hope that you will view me the same one day. Tony is no longer your only parent, and I am always here.”

Peter looked as if he wanted to say something else, but he held off.

“I should get back before your father comes looking for me,” you said, heading for the stairs. “Oh...and please refrain from provoking him.”

You looked to Peter.

“I may dislike him at times, but I do not want to send him to an early grave.”

Peter simply hummed, sending you a strained smile before you left him to find your husband.

You remained in the corridor as the angry voices bled through the door. Both Tony and Peter assured you countless times that their strained relationship was none of your concern, but it could not be helped. They had never had the best relationship, but if possible, it had soured even more over the years, and you were unsure of who to blame.

The minute Tony started to get more serious about grooming Peter for the throne, things had gone from tense and strained to borderline violent at times. Not only did the two have such opposing views when it came to how to run the kingdom, but your husband had been pushing the idea of marriage more and more lately. It had only gotten worse when Peter neared his twenty-fifth birthday, the party on that fateful day ending abruptly when Peter had stormed out.

You were pulled from your reverie when the door swung open. Peter was the first one out, and he held up a hand as you moved to approach him.

“Not now, Y/N,” he huffed, quickly striding down the corridor with a frustrated sigh.

Tony emerged not long after, and you moved to kiss him, knowing that it would soothe him for the time being.

“That boy will be the death of me,” he complained.

“You both provoke each other, and I do not know why,” you told him.

“He has duties! He is twenty-five and nowhere near taking them seriously. It seems that he is determined to ruin me,” he spat.

You sighed.

“Would you like for me to talk to him?”

“You seem to be the only one he actually listens to, so by all means,” he gestured down the hall, face cloudy.

You patted his chest before leaving him, wondering if a day would come where you would be a functional family. You and Peter were nowhere near what you used to be, and for that you were eternally grateful, but his relationship with Tony was far worse than it had ever been, and you did not know how to even begin to fix it.

You found Peter sparring with his dueling instructor. The sound of clashing swords was loud, and you rounded the corner, wincing when Peter just narrowly missed a rather dangerous blow. He motioned for the other gentleman to stop once he spotted you.

“Come on his behalf, have you?”

“Peter,” you sighed.

He snapped at the other man.

“Give your queen a sword, will you? Come,” he was talking to you now. “Spar with me.”

You reluctantly accepted the other man’s sword, a grimace on your face as you stepped forward.

“I am a horrible dueling partner,” you complained.

“Nonsense, Y/N. You are far better than what you were a year ago,” Peter said with a chuckle.

Your heart sank a bit at the sound of your name, but it did not distract you from blocking the swing of his sword with your own. Peter smirked at you.

“See?”

“Peter, this is not why I am here,” you told him.

“Of course not,” he calmly said. “My father knows that between the two of you, you are the only one I actually respect. He believes that you have some sway over me...and I am not reluctant to admit that he is right.”

He blocked your blow, quick to do so again when you swung your sword down towards his legs. He eyed you, a bit of pride in his gaze.

“Very good,” he praised.

“I was hoping to talk you into agreeing to some sort of compromise with him. Any compromise, really.”

Peter let out a humorless laugh, spinning before bringing his sword down over his head. Your eyes were wide as you lifted your sword, the sound of them clashing meeting your ears.

“There is no compromising with that man. He is determined to bring this kingdom and all of its subjects to ruin, and he wishes for me to just stand back and watch. He does not hear a word I say,” he spat.

He swiped his sword at you, several times and in several different successions. Unable to keep up, you were not surprised when your sword was knocked from your hands. You did not flinch when the tip of his blade found your throat, confident that Peter would never hurt you. He pressed the tip further, eyes locked on yours, and you swallowed.

“Do you agree with him?”

“Of course not,” you honestly answered.

Peter lightly dragged his blade down your neck and towards the top of your dress, his eyes following its movement before he quickly snatched it away. He tilted his head at you, raising an eyebrow as he waited for you to continue.

“You know I do not agree with how your father runs this kingdom, but I have no say. I never did. Believe it or not, Peter, you have much more influence than I do.”

He turned away with a disbelieving laugh.

“Somehow, I doubt that…”

“Look, I am going to say something that I know you are not going to like,” you suddenly said.

Peter did not respond, so you continued.

“I think that you should consider marriage.”

You saw him straighten at that, back tense, and you rushed to say something else.

“If Tony feels that you are taking your future seriously, then he will be more inclined to take you seriously.”

He turned to you with a withering look, and you rolled your eyes.

“Do not look at me that way. I am not saying that you have to marry some poor girl right away, but at least make an effort to look around, and show Tony that you are attempting to meet him halfway,” you advised.

Peter gave you a hard stare for the longest time before eventually rolling his eyes and looking away.

“Very well. You always do get your way, don’t you, Y/N?”

Your mouth parted for a moment before you snapped it shut, looking down. This did not go unnoticed by Peter, and he neared you.

“What is it, now?”

Your eyes met his, and you tried to hide your hurt, but it must have been clear as day. Peter’s entire demeanor softened, and he stuck his sword in the dirt, reaching for you.

“What is it?”

You exhaled.

“That...is another thing I had hoped to discuss with you.”

He frowned in confusion.

“You still refer to me by my name…” you watched as his face fell. “And I do not wish to rush you, I never have, but when you say my name...it makes me feel as if I am doing something wrong here.”

“You are not,” he rushed to assure you. “Believe me…”

“I do not want to replace your mother, but if I am doing something-.”

“It is merely a force of habit. That is all,” he interrupted.

“You are sure…?”

“Positive,” he said with a small smile.

“...okay,” you said with a nod. “...and what will you be doing after this...?”

“I will be speaking with my father,” he reluctantly told you.

“Good,” you said, Peter bending to allow you to quickly peck his forehead. “...and please be polite. I hate the way you two provoke each other.”

He roughly exhaled.

“Yes...mother…,” he seemed to bite out, eyes on you.

You looked to him with wide eyes, heart swelling as your smile grew. You chuckled, kissing his forehead one last time before leaving him to finish his instruction.

Contrary to what you had hoped, your advice did not improve things. Now that Peter had agreed to at least looking for a wife, it just gave him and Tony one more thing to disagree on, and disagreements about the smallest of things only gave room for disagreements about more serious matters. Peter hated the way Tony ran the kingdom, and you could not fault him for that.

Meals were more tense than ever, and it soon became suffocating to be in the same room as father and son. You did your best to keep the peace between them but there was only so much you could do. Especially when the arguments would get so intense that you feared for them. Tony could get so angry, and while you had never known him to put his hands on Peter as he did you, it still worried you that he might one day. And Peter…

Sometimes Peter would get a look in his eye that chilled you to the bone. He would get so fed up with his father, lips pressed together as Tony tore into him, and you would see the younger man’s eyes flash with something you could not name. It was a look that terrified you and made him look like someone that was not Peter, at all.

Tensions only mounted as your birthday neared. You did not want either of them involved in the party planning process, convinced this would be the final nail in the coffin. Truth be told, it was also for yourself as well. It allowed you to breathe better.

“The party is tomorrow night, and Peter has yet to have the last fitting for his attire,” you told Mary Jane as you stood.

“I can finish this up, your majesty, while you go find Peter,” she replied.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely! I am almost finished, anyway.”

“Wonderful! I shall return shortly. There are only so many places he could be at this hour…”

The corridors were scarcely occupied as you decided to check Peter’s chambers first, making your way to his wing of the castle. You were unsurprised to find them empty, and you quickly made your way outside. He had a habit of frequenting the grounds, the maze especially, and you were confident that you would find him there then.

You had not been inside the maze for a while, but you remembered how to navigate it vividly. You were deep within it, somewhere in the middle perfectly between the beginning and the end when you stumbled upon a sight you were not prepared for.

At the other end of a long stretch, were a couple, far too wrapped up in each other to notice your presence. You felt your face heat up as you stumbled upon the lovers, and you were prepared to turn back when the young man lifted his head, familiar eyes meeting yours. A gasp escaped you, and you were frozen on the spot as Peter simply stared at you.

He did not break his gaze as he continued to thrust into the woman beneath him, who you absentmindedly recognized as Guinevere. Her eyes were closed, clinging to Peter as moans tumbled from her lips, and even though Peter was silent as he stared at you, the heat in his eyes was undeniable. Finally coming to your senses, you willed your feet to move, but you did not escape in time to miss the way Peter’s deep moan rang throughout the air.

Upon your return, you told Mary Jane that you were unable to find Peter. You did not want to think of the awkward encounter, and told yourself that the tailor had never been wrong before. You were positive that Peter’s attire would fit. You did not see the young man again until the following day, your birthday, and it was only an hour or so until your party. Tony was meeting with a few of his Lords when there was a knock on your chamber door.

You were quick to answer it, surprised to find Peter on the other side. You only felt uncomfortable for a moment before you took in his attire. You beamed, widening the door to allow him in.

“Oh, Peter, you look positively dashing!”

“Did you doubt that I would?” he smugly wondered.

You threw him a look.

“I swear, you are getting more and more like your father every day,” you told him with a chuckle.

“I got you something,” he suddenly said, and it was only then did you notice the box in his hand.

You blinked in surprise, eyes widening when he opened it to reveal the most beautiful necklace you had ever seen. The ruby heart in the middle was positively blinding, standing out against the rest of the diamonds that made up the band. You pressed your hand to your chest, mouth parting.

“Happy Birthday.”

“Oh my… Peter, this is so sweet of you,” you told him.

“Well,” he started, setting the box aside as he took the piece of jewelry into his hands. “It is not every day that one turns thirty-six.”

He motioned for you to spin around, and you obliged.

“This might also double as an apology for yesterday. I regret that you had to see that,” he chuckled.

You joined him, waving him off.

“Nonsense, Peter. It was a bit of a shock, but nothing more. You are a young man, after all, and I could never fault you for doing what young men do. You are treating Guinevere well, I hope? She is a sweet girl.”

Peter groaned.

“Yes, Y/N.”

Your heart sank at the sound of your name, and you frowned a bit.

“I am treating her just fine,” he assured you.

You chose not to comment on his use of your name, wondering if you had done something wrong.

“Would you ever consider marrying her?” you pushed.

Peter was quiet as he brought his hands over to lower the necklace at your neck. It was not one that rested at your décolletage, but at your throat instead, and your eyes widened a bit when he pulled it back. You reached up to your neck, forced to stumble back into his chest to keep from choking, relaxing a bit when he finally clasped it together.

“No,” was his simple answer. “It is not like that.”

He rested his hands on your shoulder, turning you around to admire you. His dark eyes took you in before finally focusing on the necklace, the corner of his lips lifting a bit. He pressed his finger to the ruby heart, drawing patterns over it before eventually stepping away.

“It looks great,” he told you.

“Thank you. We should track down your father before they start my own celebration without me,” you replied.

It was not long after that the three of you were entering the great hall, a smile on your face as everyone greeted you. Tony and Peter were at your sides, and both of their hands rested at the small of your back as they guided you to the royal table at the head of the room. Everyone only quieted down when you took your seats, and you looked down at the familiar faces with a smile.

Your attention was drawn to Peter as he stood, raising his glass as a servant came by to fill them. He only filled yours and Peters, but another quickly came to fill Tony’s. Once everyone’s glasses were filled, that was when Peter spoke.

“I would like to propose a toast…”

He turned to look down at you, dark eyes unreadable as he swallowed.

“...to the woman who loved me even when I did not deserve it.”

Your heart swelled as you smiled at Peter, so happy that you two had come this far.

“No one could ever replace my mother...and I would not want them to, but you, Y/N, you are the next best thing.”

Your eyes softened, realizing that while maybe Peter did not see you as something akin to a mother just yet, he still loved you, and that gave you hope. You could live with that for now. Peter’s eyes fell onto his father, and he suddenly smiled.

“...and to my father, the king. If it were not for you, Y/N would never have come into our lives.”

His voice was even, but his eyes glinted before he turned to the rest of the royal court, his glass held high.

“To the king and queen. Long may they reign,” his voice traveled over the room.

Everyone else repeated his words before taking a drink, you and Tony following suit. As you set your glass down, you watched, a bit concerned, as Peter swallowed all of his wine, a look of satisfaction on his face as he lowered his glass. You turned to Tony, prepared to ask him if he wished to say anything, just as he let out that first cough.

It sounded nasty, and you frowned, prepared to ask him if he drank too fast when he coughed again, blood staining his bottom lip. Your heart fell to your stomach, eyes widening as you reached for him, hands trembling. You were prepared to call for help when you noted the sound of several coughs reaching your ears, followed by screams.

When you turned towards the rest of the room, you saw every single one of the royal court coughing up blood, and you stood on unsteady legs as understanding dawned on you. You reached for Peter, your hand gripping his arm as fear and horror clung to you.

“P-Peter…”

You looked to him, but his face was stony as he looked down at everyone. The only people who were okay were you, Peter, the servants, and the few guards. You watched as Peter waved his hand, confusion filling you as two guards opened the door to let more in. You were frozen as they all drew their swords, stomach churning as you realized what was about to happen. You turned back to Peter, but he was already moving past you.

“Peter, what- what is happening? What are you doing?”

You lunged for him as he drew a dagger, hand fisted into his fathers hair to pull the struggling man’s head back.

“Peter, no!”

He shoved you away, right into the arms of a waiting guard, and you did not turn your head in time to miss the way he dragged the blade across his father’s neck. A scream left you, belonging to a voice that you did not recognize, and you continued to scream and cry as the guard backed up. Peter pointed at you, his father’s blood coating his hand, his face unrecognizable to you.

“Get her out of here…”

His eyes met yours, dark with a harmful intent that terrified you. Who was this man? He ran his eyes over you.

“...and do not let her get away.”

You fought against the guard as he dragged you away, kicking and screaming all the way. Your efforts did not even cease as you made it into the corridor, having been forced past the dead bodies of your friends and acquaintances. The guard towered over you and was easily double your size, so all of your efforts were useless.

He only let you go when you reached Peter’s chambers, dragging you through the receiving chamber to toss you onto the floor of his bedchamber. The impact made your head spin, and by the time you pushed yourself to your feet, he was already pulling the door shut. You slammed your hands against it just as you heard it lock, and another sob threatened to escape you.

You had only ever been in Peter’s room a handful of times, and you wrapped your arms around yourself as you looked around. Your chest hurt, heart breaking as you recalled the way Peter had so callously taken his father’s life. Your husband was dead, and it was no secret that the man was far from perfect, but his absence scared you. What would become of you now? Why did Peter not poison you like the rest? God, had his feelings never changed, at all? Had he still secretly hated you this whole time and wanted to get some sick satisfaction out of killing you here?

You lost count of how many times you tried the door before moving to the balcony doors. They too did not budge, and you kicked them in frustration. You could barely form a coherent thought, and more tears spilled over as you realized just how alone you were. You did not understand anything. Why would Peter do this?

As you heard someone enter his receiving chamber, it occurred to you that you might get your answer.

Your eyes met Peter’s as he entered his chambers, and you stumbled back, afraid to take your eyes off of him. You watched as he locked the door behind him, and the sight of that made your face crumble.

“What have you done?” you shakily asked.

The room was quiet save for your soft sobs, and you flinched when Peter took a step forward. He did not look like the young man you knew. He stood there in the dark attire he had picked out for your birthday, looking every bit like the murderous man you now knew him to be. A dark strand of hair kissed his forehead, jaw clenched as he eyed you. It started to lightly rain outside, and your eyes fell to the blood on his hands.

His father’s blood.

“Have you come to kill me too?”

Finally, his face shifted, and he frowned at you.

“Kill you?”

Peter scoffed, laughing to himself as he tilted his head at you.

“You could not be farther from the truth…”

“Then what do you plan to do? What are you doing, Peter? I do not understand…”

“My father was going to run this kingdom into the ground. We both know it…”

You started shaking your head before he was even done.

“Something had to be done.”

“Not like this! You killed him- you killed everyone,” you cried.

“...and here I thought you would be thanking me,” he sneered.

“Thanking you?”

“Unless I was wrong, and you enjoy being slapped around,” he threw at you.

You felt as if you were just slapped then, and you pressed your back into the wall, tightening your arms around yourself.

“Not like this, Peter. Not like this,” you tearfully murmured.

The rain got louder, filling the otherwise silent room with some noise, and you flinched when lightning flashed, shedding light on the room and on Peter’s dark gaze.

“What will become of me? Did you ever think about that? I am the widow of a murdered king. A king murdered by his own son in a coup!”

“...and the future wife of the next one,” Peter calmly stated.

You froze, his words failing to make sense despite the fact that you heard him just fine. Something about them did not sound right, and your lips parted, a shaky breath escaping you.

“What...what did you just say?” you hesitantly questioned.

Peter took another step towards you, and you slid along the wall...away from him.

“Do you have any idea how much it pained me to watch you with him?”

“Peter…”

You shook your head, still moving away as he moved closer.

“Do know what it was like to watch him mistreat you again and again only to turn around and reap the spoils of his marriage as if he had not just caused you harm only moments before?”

His voice was low, thick with something you were too disgusted to name. Your eyes were wide, filled with tears as the reality of the situation dawned on you. Peter’s feelings, his father’s murder...the two of you alone in a castle full of people that have proven their loyalty to him. Peter was only eighteen when you married the king, standing face to face with you, but now, eight years later, the young man towered over you.

He suddenly chuckled, and the sound terrified you more than anything now.

“I find it funny… My father was always telling me that royals take. We take what is ours. We take what we believe we should have. That is what we do, son,” he mocked. “We take.”

His cold eyes bore into yours as you stumbled away from him. In a circle the two of you went, and you pulled on the handle of the door as you pressed your back to it. Fresh tears spilled as it refused to budge.

“Now look. I have taken his life, I have taken his kingdom, and I have taken the woman he thought belonged to him-.”

He swallowed the rest of his words as you suddenly dived to the other side of the room. Peter followed, and you reached up to pull the portrait from the wall, tossing it at him only for Peter to evade it. You frantically crawled across the bed, kicking Peter in the chest as he reached for your ankle. You fell to your knees on the other side, running to the balcony doors with tears in your eyes.

Again, the doors would not budge, and you were prepared to throw yourself through the glass when Peter was suddenly there at your back. He enclosed you in his arms, and you reached back to fight against him and push him away, but he only pinned you between him and the glass. The sound of the thunder drowned out your screams, and you yelped in shock when he fisted a hand in your hair, yanking your head to the side.

Peter was determined to taste you, tongue and teeth brushing your skin as he ground himself against you. Nothing you did seemed to deter him, and it suddenly felt hard to breathe. The storm raged outside, wind pushing rain against the window. One of Peter’s hands dragged up your leg, pushing the skirts of your dress with it, and you slammed your hands against the window, attempting to push back.

This only egged him on, and he moaned in your ear.

“Peter, please,” you begged

You could feel the air against you, and your efforts to get away only increased when you felt him moving to release himself. The hand in your hair moved to your neck, cutting off your airway as he pulled your head back to rest against him. You struggled to breathe, nails scraping against the glass. He leaned down to cover your lips with his own, kissing you for the first time, and you sharply inhaled.

He moaned at the taste of you, his tongue meeting yours, tasting the wine that you wish had killed you too. You both struggled against the window, your hands turning into fists when he pushed his leg between yours, quickly followed by the other. You turned your head away, your small victory overshadowed by your ultimate defeat as he thrust into you. You yelped just as Peter shuddered against your back, a long sigh escaping him as he pressed a hand into the glass beside your head.

He pressed his face into your hair, grinding against you, the sound of him breathing you in reaching your ears. Your own forehead was pressed to the glass now, tearful eyes taking in the storm as Peter dragged his cock in and out of your unwilling core. Your body shook from both your sobs and his ministrations, and again, you pushed against the glass in hopes to push him away.

He merely shoved his chest into your back, forcing you back against the glass before wrapping his arms around you again. One hand pulled at the neckline of your dress, ripping it straight down, and your lashes fluttered when he slipped his hand beneath the fabric to roll his fingers over you. His other arm came across your middle, pinning your own at your sides.

“You are finally mine,” he breathed after a while.

You shook your head in denial, another lightning strike bathing the room in a glow. It was gone as quickly as it came, and you were forced to focus on Peter’s reflection in the window. He was lost in the euphoria of you, the feel of you wrapped around him, sucking him back in again and again.

“Finally,” he groaned. “At my side and in my bed as my queen…”

His hand slipped from beneath the torn fabric of your dress, dancing along your skin before his fingers brushed over the diamond choker at your neck.

“I have all night to claim you as mine, and no one is around to stop me.”

“Peter, this is not you-.”

“Oh, but it is,” he sighed. “This is the man you loved when he did not deserve it. This is the man you will marry, bear children with…’

You let out a choked sob, fresh tears falling at his words.

“Oh, please. Everyone knew that my father was the problem. He was the only one in denial about it, and I have a feeling that by the time I am done with you, you shall be with child by tomorrow.”

“Peter, please,” you screamed.

His hand tightened on your throat, pulling your head back so you were forced to stare at the ceiling, back arched to take his slow and purposeful thrusts. He kissed the corner of your eye before doing the same to your cheek. His breathing was choppy, heart pounding in his chest, and the way his hips stuttered told you that he was close.

“Oh God,” he moaned, stilling against your back as he spilled himself into you.

You froze against him at the feel, realizing that there was no turning back. You shook in his hold, feeling the urge to be sick when he suddenly pulled out of you, replacing his cock with his fingers. You gasped, reaching down to grab his wrist as he shoved a second finger inside of you, the wet sound of it reaching your ears even with the rain outside. He pressed you to his chest as he curled his fingers into you.

You bucked your hips, ashamed with your actions as he pulled pleasure from you like it was nothing. LIke he somehow knew your body better than you did. His lips were at your ear, brushing against your skin before he trailed them to your neck again, pressing kisses there. Your nails dug into his wrist, but he paid your efforts no mind as he thrust his fingers into you, setting a pace that had your legs shaking. You knew that if it were not for his hold, you would have collapsed already.

Peter hummed when your breath hitched.

“You are close...aren’t you?”

“Peter...stop,” you shakily begged.

“I shall stop when I feel your arousal dripping down my hand,” he purred.

His words had you clenching around him, and he moaned against your neck.

“I suppose I cannot blame my father for being so possessive of you. Your walls feel like heaven…”

“Peter…”

“I do not know how I will ever allow you to leave our bed-.”

“Peter-.”

“I guess I shall just have to keep you tired…”

“Please-!”

“Come for me, Y/N. Fall apart for your king,” he whispered.

And you did. You seized in his arms, walls clenching around him, your arousal coating his fingers and dripping down his hand. Your nails drew blood, but he only moaned with you, cursing as you rode yourself on his fingers, your other hand reaching back to twist into his shirt. That was the hardest you ever came, and shame filled you. As you came down from your high, Peter lowered the both of you to the floor.

It was only then did you notice the bloody handprints on the glass. The same blood on you, no doubt. More tears sprung forth as it all seemed to hit you, and Peter forced your head onto his shoulder as he shushed you. You obliged, and he leaned down to press his lips to your forehead, rocking you as you sobbed in his tightening arms.

tags: @xoxabs88xox @harryspet @readermia @opheliadawnwalker3 @nickyl316h @captainchrisstan @sebabestianstan101 @villanellevi @lokislastlove @notyourtypicalrose @coconutqueen21 @hurricanerin @hyoyeoniie @cocoamoonmalfoy @mandiiblanche @gotnofucks @oneoftheprettynerds @doozywoozy @mcudarklibrary @melli0112 @buckybarnesplumwhore @dramaholic18

#dark peter parker #dark!peter parker #dark!peter x reader #peter parker x reader #ROYAL AU #prince peter parker #dark fic

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