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yelena-bellova · 3 years

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Don’t Be Afraid: Poe Dameron x Solo!Reader - Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty: Party on Pasaana

Plot: Poe, Y/n, Finn, Rey and the rest of the gang journey to Pasaana to try and find the Wayfinder.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: none really

Word Count: 6.8k

A/N: I’M BACK! This is by no means my best or favorite chapter but it moves the story along and boy, is there a lot coming...Hopefully you’ve stuck around this long and if not, I’m not offended. Hope you enjoy!

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Despite the fact that I’d spent my day fixing the Falcon, me and Chewie still ran every diagnostic possible on it before even thinking about taking her up. She was too temperamental to be treated any differently.

“You know I love flying with you, but don’t feel like you’re obligated to come with, Chew,” I said, closing up the last panel on the underside of the ship, “This one isn’t going to be a simple supply run.”

Chewie groaned in protest at my offer to let him stay on base, reminding me of the promise he’d made to Dad. That he’d protect me and he didn’t intend to stop doing that anytime soon.

I conceded to the Wookiee and emerged from underneath the Falcon. I found Rey finishing her repairs as Poe stood nearby, patting her on the arm, “We’re going with you. Chewie, you get that compressor fixed?” “No, I did,” I answered, dusting off my hands on my pants. The two of us still hadn’t spoken since our fight earlier in the day. “What do you mean you’re coming with us?” Poe separated from Rey, revealing Finn and the droids behind him, and led me to the side of the Falcon. He kept space between us, probably because he didn’t know where we stood after our fight.

“Do you honestly think we’d let you guys take this on by yourselves?” he asked.

“Poe,” I shook my head, “Rey and I don’t even know what we’re walking into, I don’t want to throw you guys in the line of danger.” “So it’s too dangerous for me to risk my life but not you?” he asked with raised brows, wedging me between a metaphorical rock and a hard place, “Y/n, we’re a team. If one of us goes, we all go.” I hung my head in frustration, these were the type of situations that I hated the most. I couldn’t protect everyone, that had been made clear, and I certainly couldn’t justify to Poe why it was okay for me to charge headfirst into a fight but not him. Though I’d try every time, even if it was bound to end in failure.

“Fine,” I relented, shrugging and letting my hands fall against my legs, “But I’m flying us there.”

“Understood,” Poe agreed, pulling a corner of his lip up in an almost smile, “I am sorry about today, y’know…It was stupid of me not to think about how much the Falcon means to you.” “Me too,” I sighed, remembering all the harsh words we had flung at one another in contrast to the white flags me were now waving. This wasn’t the first makeup we’d had lately. Not by a long shot. Poe and I had been fighting more than usual, tensions were high with all that was going on and our relationship wasn’t escaping un-scorched. There was never any doubt as to whether or not we still loved each other, but we needed to find better ways of dealing with our stress rather than taking it out on each other. “Chewie told me there was only one escape route and you took it. You guys coming back alive is more important than anything else.”

Where there should have been a kiss or intertwined fingers, there was only silence and our best attempts to smile. There was so much lying underneath the surface that we didn’t ever have time to deal with.

“I wish you’d tell me.” I tried my hardest not to look phased, “Tell you what?” Poe swallowed as he stared into my eyes, “Whatever it is you’re keeping from me.” Every hair on my body stood to attention and fear shot through my veins. I knew he’d become suspicious of me but we hadn’t addressed it out loud before. Once the words of distrust hit the air, it became a true issue. The bottom line of it all was if Poe knew I had been in contact with Ren, he would never trust me with anything ever again.

My tongue peeked out to wet my lips as I nervously shifted my weight to my other foot, “I need you to trust me that what I’m doing, I’m doing for the good of the Resistance.” “We don’t keep secrets from each other, Y/n,” he shook his head and placed his hands on his hips, “That’s not us.” “You wouldn’t understand it, it’s Jedi stuff.” He bit his lip and nodded sarcastically, “Oh, so because I’m not a Jedi, my little average brain couldn’t possibly understand whatever problem you’ve got? Thanks for clearing that up.” “Poe,” I took a step and reached out to grab his forearm, “I didn’t mean it like that. Just please trust me. Everything I do, I do it to keep us safe.” I watched the emotions flicker in his eyes, changing from confusion to anger to desperation to hurt. The thought of confessing to him came through my mind at least ten times a day, but it wasn’t possible. Selfishly, I didn’t want to watch him learn of my betrayal. He would never look at me the same way and I wasn’t ready to lose that.

“I trust you more than anyone,” he finally said, stiffening his voice to hide his emotions, “I just wish you felt the same way about me.” He shrugged out of my hand’s hold and made his way up the ship’s ramp. I chewed on my bottom lip and leaned my forehead against one of the Falcon’s legs. There was nobody on any planet in any galaxy who I trusted more than Poe. He was the best thing that had ever happened to me and the fact that he was beginning to doubt my trust in him was a sucker punch. This time he wasn’t at fault, he only wanted to help me shoulder the burden. But there was nothing he could do to aid in the mental torture I was inflicting on myself.

I turned on my heels to go find my mother but froze at the sight of her and Rey locked in an embrace. I could sense the sadness in Rey that came with leaving her, the only mother figure she could remember having. Watching as she turned away, clipping Uncle Luke’s lightsaber to her belt, I took my cue to say my farewell.

“We’ll check in when we can, if we can,” I stated, partially as a commander but also a daughter to her worried mom, “Who knows, maybe we’ll be back in time for dinner.” A lame attempt at humor, yes, but there was nothing I wouldn’t do to try and make her smile in the most concerning of hours. “Look out for each other, don’t take too many risks,” she instructed, taking my hand in hers, “And come back in one piece.” There was some feeling in the air that I couldn’t put a name to, but it was there nonetheless. I never liked leaving Mom but with the stakes as high as they were, I felt a new sense of dread. I wasn’t immune to fear of losing my life and the reality of something happening to me and leaving her on her own caused a new urgency inside me to come back alive.

“I love you,” I whispered, squeezing her hands tight as tears began to fill my eyes, “So much.” “My darling,” I could hear the emotion in her voice that she was pushing down, “You are the greatest love I could have ever asked for.”

There wasn’t much more that could be said as I bent down to hug her, there was so much meaning inside our few words. We’d survived for a year as a family of two, something we were never meant to do, but we’d somehow done it. Mom’s health had begun to worsen with her age, but the incident on the Raddus had forced what was natural to happen prematurely. She got tired quicker, she required a cane sometimes and needed my help more often, though she always tried to avoid asking. I didn’t think it possible but we’d somehow grown closer in the last year, which made it all the more important that the mission go right and I return safely.

She whispered against my ear, “May the force be with you.” I pulled back with a watery smile, “We’re gonna need it.” With a kiss to her cheek, I forced myself to head back to the ship with a deep pain in my chest. It felt like I was tied to both the Falcon and Mom, the more distance I put between her and I, the more I began to hurt. It lit yet another flame of determination inside me to come back victorious.

Rey had waited for me outside the Falcon, attempting to act like she hadn’t witnessed the tender moment. The two of us shared a hopeful smile before we walked up the ramp together. When we arrived in the cockpit, it was apparent that it was going to be a tight fit. Rey moved to take the empty co-pilot’s chair with Chewie standing in the back, waiting to be called to action. Poe and I didn’t bother to make eye contact choosing instead to bury our pain for a later date. I gave Finn a good natured slap on the shoulder before sinking into the captain’s chair. I’d flown the Falcon hundreds of times by now and yet each time I took the controls, I felt like a child way out of their depth. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, there was no time to waste on fear. All that mattered was the mission.

“Next stop,” I narrated as I readied myself to lift the ship off the ground, “Pasaana…” ————

“You sure this is it?” Poe asked from the front of our group.

“I followed the coordinates perfectly,” I panted, already missing the jungle heat as opposed to Pasaana’s dry kind, “Right, 3PO?”

“Mistress Y/n is correct, these are the exact coordinates that Master Luke left behind.” We rounded the bend of the hill we’d climbed to find the least likely scenario on a planet we’d thought remote; a party.

“What is this?”

“The Aki-Aki Festival of the Ancestors,” 3PO explained, “This celebration occurs only once every 42 years.” “Well, that’s lucky,” Finn commented from beside me.

“Lucky indeed, this festival is known for both its colorful kites and its delectable sweets.” Under normal circumstances, I have had all the patience in the world with the droid I’d spent my whole life around. But now, overlooking the obstacle that would make it harder to find the Wayfinder and ultimately save the galaxy, I joined my friends in staring him down. “3PO, read the room.” “Let’s get down there,” Poe directed with a thumb tucked into his holster, “This is gonna take way longer than it should.” Having spent the better part of my life traveling, I loved getting to immerse myself in different planet’s cultures. It was one of the reasons my diplomatic skills were so highly tuned, I knew how to connect with all different types of people. So there was a small part of me, though stressed, that made a note to take in the sounds of the Aki-Aki’s chants and the array of colors in the crowd. I wasn’t the only one interested in the details either…

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” a wide eyed Rey commented as Finn and Poe passed us by.

“I’ve never seen so few Wayfinders,” Finn retorted.

“Take in what you can, we won’t be back for another 42 years,” I bumped Rey with my hip before following our group.

“There’s always random First Order patrols in crowds like these, so, keep your heads down,” Poe turned to look back at us, zeroing in on the only one tall enough to stick out, “Chewie. Let’s split up, see what the locals know.”

Rey was too taken by her surroundings to fully register what Poe was saying and Finn had gone with my boyfriend, leaving me to follow along with them. As soon as I did, Poe turned to me, “What are you doing?” “…Coming with you?” “We’ve gotta cover as much ground as possible,” he gestured over towards a grouping of tents, “Try talking to some of the traders, see if they know anything.” Thinning my eyes at him in shock that we were on a mission and Poe didn’t want me with him, I decided that now wasn’t the time to fight back. “Fine, Bee,” I called to my boyfriend’s droid hovering near Rey, “You’re with me.” The two of us made our way through a couple vendor’s booths, unsuccessful in getting any information about the location of the Wayfinder. I didn’t even have to do much talking with them, my senses could tell me whether or not my question brought up any memories. Which was good for me because I wasn’t in the mood to do a lot of chit chatting. Bee must have picked up on my silent frustration because he nudged me in my calf, urging me to talk. “He could have said it about ten other ways,” I vented, “But instead he had to make it sound like I was doing something wrong by going with them.” You know how he can be when he’s stressed. “I’m stressed too,” I cried, gesturing to my chest, “And maybe I wanted to go with him because I feel a little less worried when I’m with him. It’s never mattered what’s going on, we’ve always partnered together on missions. Clearly he doesn’t need me this time.” Didn’t you two have a fight before we left? Do you think it has something to do with that? I sighed defeatedly, “Probably…Or the fight we had earlier today, or the one we had just before he left a few days ago…” There was no shortage of examples I could have given as to why Poe didn’t want to be around me. “Things aren’t great between us right now.”

Maybe you should talk to him about it.

“Not right now, Bee. There’s bigger things at hand then Poe and I fighting. Nobody here knows anything, let’s go find the others.” When we made it back, Finn and Poe were engrossed in a conversation with an Aki-Aki. He turned his focus to me, “Got anything?” “I’d probably be a little more enthusiastic if I did, Dameron,” I remarked, taking a spot across from him instead of next to.

He looked between me and Finn, who was trying to remain focused on the Aki-Aki in question, “Whoa, what’s going on?”

The saddest part of why I was angry was the heart of the matter, Poe and I weren’t functioning like the inseparable couple we’d been for the last year. We were functioning like soldiers, ones who bickered at any chance we were given. And while I wanted nothing more than to talk to him about how I felt and ask him when things had gotten like this, not even love could come before war. I looked up at him, the frustration and hurt clearly painted clearly across my face, “Nothing that matters right now, I’m gonna go question some others but don’t worry, I’ll do it by myself.”

Just as Poe was opening his mouth to reply and I was ready to turn away, Rey came running in our direction. “We have to go. Back to the Falcon, now,” she ordered.

“Why?” Finn asked. “It’s Ren.”

Despite the anxiety running through my veins, I took a contradictory step forward. “He’s here?”

“He’s on his way,” Rey answered, her eyes wide and locked with mine.

“Then let’s get the hell out of here,” Poe began tracing our path back to the Falcon with his eyes, “It’s back this way.”

We ran through the festival with our heads on a swivel, until Poe shot his arm out as a barrier when we came face to face with a stormtrooper. “Freeze! Hold it right there. I’ve located the Resistance fugitives, all units report-“ A dart whizzed past us and landed perfectly in the trooper’s eye. We turned to see a figure holding a crossbow standing behind one of the tents, dressed in robes and his face covered with a helmet. “Follow me.”

With no other options in sight, we trusted in our mysterious savior and followed him. We climbed into his vehicle slowly rolling through the festival. “Leia sent me a transmission,” his modulated voice said before speaking in an alien language to the driver. “Okay, how’d you find us?” Finn asked what we were all thinking. The man reached to take his helmet off and I was greeted by a face I hadn’t seen in years. He grinned, “Wookiees stand out in a crowd.” “Lando!”

Chewie moaned his excitement at seeing his old friend and shoved his way past us all to hug him. “It’s good to see you too, old buddy,” he laughed before turning to me, “Look at you, the princess is all grown up.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and breathed for the first time all day, “I can’t believe you’re here.” “This is General Lando Calrissian,” 3PO said from behind us.

“We know who he is, 3PO,” Rey gently admonished.

“It is an honor, General,” Finn said, a big smile gracing his face. “General Calrissian,” Poe spoke up, “We’re looking for Exegol.”

Lando looked between our crew before centering on me, “Of course she’d send you.” I scrunched up my nose and tilted my head, “I didn’t give her much of a choice.” He shook his head with laughter, “You’re her daughter alright…” he flicked his wristlet on and a holo of a Wayfinder appeared, “Only two were made.” “A Sith Wayfinder,” Rey said, “Luke Skywalker came here to find one.” “I know,” Lando chuckled, “I was with him, Luke and I were tailing an old Jedi hunter,” he changed the image on his holo to a creature, “Ochi of Bestoon. He was carrying a clue that could lead to a Wayfinder. We followed his ship halfway across the galaxy here. When we got to his ship, it was abandoned. No clue, no Wayfinder.” “Is the ship still here?” I asked.

“It’s out in the desert where he left it.” “We need to get there, search it again,” Rey suggested.

My posture straightened as the sound of ship engines filled my ears. I peered out a window to see a small bunch of First Order ships flying towards the festival grounds.

“I got a bad feeling about this,” Lando muttered before turning to us, “Ochi’s ship is out past Lurch Canyon. Go!” “Thank you, General,” Poe said before beginning to help each of us out of the crawler.

Chewie moaned his happiness at seeing Lando again, something he reciprocated. Before taking Poe’s extended hand, I quickly embraced my non-biological uncle. “We’re on Ajan Kloss, come join us. We need pilots.” “My flying days are long gone,” he gently declined before taking my hands into his, “But do me a favor, give your mother my love.”

“I will, as long as you consider coming,” I said before kissing his cheek and allowing Poe to help me out. My heart ached to walk away from another member of my family…

“Can’t believe I never put it together that you’re a princess.” Poe said from beside me as we sprinted through the desert. I was hoping no one had noticed Lando’s long standing nickname for me.

“Of a planet that ceased to exist long before I was born,” I panted, “I don’t think that counts for much.” “Doesn’t matter, I’m still going to call you Your Highness,” Finn called from ahead. “There,” Poe pointed, “Those speeders,” he tossed his gloves off, slid beneath the vehicles and began hot-wiring the vehicles. The yelling of a group of Aki-Aki, presumably the owners of the speeders, made him hurry through his work. “We gotta go!”

Finn, Poe and 3PO hopped into one while Rey, Bee, Chewie and I crowded into the other. I didn’t have time to look back as I began steering but I could sense that Poe was surprised that I didn’t come with him. The urge to turn around and yell at him for the exact same thing that had happened moments before was strong, but once again not our highest priority. What was important was the stormtroopers tailing us. Rey took over on offense while I piloted us, it wasn’t until her cry of my name that I turned around. The troopers were flying through the air using jetpacks, something none of us had ever seen.

“I can’t get a clear shot!” Rey yelled.

“Switch with me!”

She continued firing her blaster as she moved to the front of the speeder where I let her take the wheel. I ducked down next to Bee and calculated what angle I needed them to be at for my plan to work.

I’ve got an idea. “Bee, not now,” I shouted over the engine, turning back to the problem at hand. Ignoring my ignoring him, Bee began tapping away at a stray canister in front of us until it shot up into the air. A yellow explosion burst from the canister in front of the stormtroopers. When one emerged from the cloud, his disoriented driving sent him off a ramp like cluster of rocks. Rey turned and took a perfect shot, the trooper’s speeder exploding in the air.

“Never underestimate a droid,” she grinned.

“He’s doing my work for me!” I replied, standing back up and nudging Bee, “Now where’s Poe and Finn?” “Y/n, look,” I joined Rey at the front of the speeder, “Ochi’s ship.”

Parked atop a large structure of rocks was a modest craft that hopefully contained the answers we needed.

Rey’s face turned serious, “I’ve seen that ship before.”

“Y/n! Rey!”

I whipped around to see Poe and Finn’s speeder flying up behind us, “You get all of them?”

As I inhaled to answer triumphantly, the speeder was thrown forward and us with it. We flew through the air before landing roughly in a pile of dark sand, the screams of the rest of our group following directly after. I rolled over with a groan and looked up to see one last trooper whizzing through the air. Finally getting to go through with my original plan, I got to my knees and raised one of my hands, force pushing him into one of the cliffs.

“So they fly now,” I exhaled, falling back on my heels. As soon as my full weight landed in the sand, it began collapsing into itself.

“What the hell is this?” Poe exclaimed, I looked over to see the same sensation happening to him.

“Sinking field,” Rey cried, “Try to grab something!”

I struggled against the pull of the field to try and reach a piece of our smoking speeder, but my torso was already below the surface making it nearly impossible. I had landed somewhat near Poe and tried to wriggle my way to where he was, him already doing the same. I stretched my arm out as far as it could and barely brushed his fingers when his head dipped down below the surface. “Y/n!” he called out just as I lost sight of him. “No!” I yelled, throwing my arm into the pit and fishing around to try and grab him. “Rey, Y/n,” Finn said frantically, “I never told you tha-“ he disappeared into the black sand, lost to us. “What? Finn!” Rey called, it was the last thing I heard below my body was pulled under fully.

What followed was pure darkness, I kept my eyes squeezed shut as to not get anything in my eyes. In a flash of panic, I flailed about and tried to swim upwards back to the surface for a breath of air. All I could do was struggle and pray that I met the bottom, I didn’t want to die in a pit of sand. After a few seconds, I crashed through something hard and my back hit open air. I fell to the ground with a groan, Bee’s beeps and squeals a homing beacon in the dark. “Poe,” I sat up, feeling around the dimly lit cave for him, “Poe…” “I’m here,” he replied, I could barely make out his silhouette as he crawled on his knees to me. His gloved hand wrapped around my arm, making his close presence known, “Are you okay?” In a rare moment of tenderness, something we hadn’t felt in a long time, I reached up and laced my hand through his curls bringing his forehead down to meet mine. “Where’s everybody else?” Poe pulled me to my feet and unsheathed his flashlight, “Rey! Finn!”

“You didn’t say my name, sir, but I’m alright,” 3PO said, coming in from the other side of the cave.

The sand seeping out of the ceiling of the cave followed by loud grunts sent Poe and I bolting towards it just in time for him to catch Rey and ease her down to the ground. “You all right?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she mumbled, “Where’s Finn?” “Where’s Chewie?” I asked, rotating my head rapidly to try and get a full scope of the cave. On cue, Chewie dropped harshly from the ceiling with a moan, I ran over to him and helped him sit up.

Finn climbed out of a hole behind us, “I’m good. What is this place?” He stumbled towards us, the four of us huddled together for a relieved reunion.

Poe had one hand on Finn’s shoulder and one clutching my waist, he pressed a quick peck to my temple. “I thought we were goners,” he panted, I savored the feeling of being close to him even if it had taken thinking we were going to die to get there.

“Which way out?” Finn asked.

I squinted as I looked at our surroundings, “Can’t see a thing.” One step ahead of me, Rey unclipped her lightsaber from her belt and ignited it, lighting our path. Poe stepped forward as well, clicking his inferior flashlight on as if it would make a difference next to the luminous weapon. Shaking my head at my boyfriend, I ignited my own saber and followed Rey, “We need to hurry if Ren’s on his way. “So what was it?” Rey asked as Finn joined us.

“What?” he replied confusedly.

“What you were gonna tell Y/n and I?” A beat passed, “When?” “When you were sinking in the sand, you said ‘I never told you…’” Rey spelled it out for him.

He inched closer to the two of us and lowered his voice, “I’ll tell you later.” “You mean when Poe’s not here?” the man in question asked from behind us, staring Finn down as he squeezed between the three of us.

“Yeah,” Finn replied confidently.

“We’re gonna die in sand burrows and we’re all keeping secrets?” Poe deliberately turned his head to look at me when he hit the word ‘secrets,’ a wave of guilt washing over me.

“I’ll tell you when you tell us about all that shifty stuff you do,” Finn fired back, referring to to hot-wiring of the speeders and no doubt something else he’d seen Poe do recently.

“I do not wanna know what made these tunnels,” Poe commented as he took the lead at the front of our group.

Ever the helper, 3PO jumped in to give an answer. “Judging by the circumference of the tunnel walls…” Poe turned to the droid, “I said I do not wanna know. Not,” he realigned his focus ahead of us, spotting something in the shadows, “What’s that?” “Is that a speeder?” Finn asked. “An old one,” Rey answered as she got a closer look. “Wonder if it still runs,” I said, running a hand over the dusty vehicle, “We’re gonna need a way out of here.” “Perhaps we will find the driver,” 3PO said hopefully. I think they’d be dead by now.

“Yep, BB-8, I think dead too,” Poe responded to his droid’s astute observation.

“Oh, my,” 3PO pointed towards the symbol on the front of the speeder, “A hex charm.”

“What’s a hex charm?” I asked, shining my saber over the detail and getting a look at it myself.

“A common emblem of Sith loyalists,” 3PO answered. “The Sith…” I mumbled under my breath, running a finger over it and catching the dust in my hand.

“This was Ochi’s?” Finn asked. “Luke sensed it,” Rey stepped forward, “Ochi never left this place.” “And he ended up down here,” Finn continued the train of thought.

“He was headed for his ship,” Poe completed the sentence, “Same thing happened to us, happened to him.” I followed Rey who was hot on the scent of something, the two of us spotting the skeleton at the same time. “So how did Ochi get out?” I took a breath, “He didn’t.” The four of us moved as one to examine the carcass, mangled and broken into pieces but clearly bearing resemblance to a creature. “No he didn’t…” Finn muttered.

“Bones,” Poe said from beside me, turning away for a second to stifle a gag, “I don’t like bones.” “Bones? Never a good sign,” 3PO commented.

My eyes flitted over the scene while Rey searched deeper, spotting a bump in the sand with Bee and helping him to unearth it. She pulled out a unique carved dagger, I could sense the same thing upon seeing it that she could. “Horrible things…have happened with this,” she trembled. “The writing…” I crouched down next to her, running a finger over the weapon and trying to figure out what language the script was written in, “I don’t recognize it, 3PO?”

The loyal droid came forward and took the dagger from my outstretched palm. “The location of the Wayfinder has been inscribed upon this dagger,” he announced, “It’s the clue that Master Luke was looking for.” “And? What does it say?” I asked with a hopeful smile.

3PO turned to our group, “I am afraid I cannot tell you.” “20.3 fazillion languages and you can’t read that?” Poe asked in confusion.

“I have read it, sir, I know exactly where the wayfinder is,” the droid responded, “Unfortunately, it is written in the runic language of the Sith.” “And?” I asked, inklings of impatience seeping out of my voice.

“My programming forbids me from translating it.” “So you’re telling us the one time we need you to talk,” Poe shook his head, “You can’t?”

“Irony, sir,” the droid answered, backing up to face us head on, “I am mechanically incapable of speaking translations from Sith. I believe the rule was passed by the Senate of the Old Republic.” I wasn’t listening, none of us were listening as he went on, instead focusing on the large serpent that had appeared behind 3PO with a growing growl. The four of us took a startled step back and held out our various weapons. It let out a meaning roar followed by a loud hiss, alerting 3PO to its presence. “Serpent! Serpent! Serpent!” Surprisingly, Rey placed a hand on top of Poe’s blaster and lowered it as the serpent showed off its razor sharp teeth once again. Keeping her eye trained on the beast, she blindly handed her lightsaber out for Finn to take. “Rey…” he cautioned, gripping the weapon tight in his grip. I could sense what she was sensing as I watched her approach, the serpent was crying out in pain more than anything else

“I’m gonna blast it,” Poe said quietly, his blaster once again aimed at the snake.

“Don’t,” I whispered, contradicting my words as I kept my saber activated in my hand, ready to fight if necessary. Rey kneeled down next to the snake, her eyes still locked with it as she laid her hand over its body. It snarled at her but she didn’t flinch, shutting her eyes and doing what I suspected she would do. She healed whatever wound the serpent had, receiving a small non-threatening moan in thanks. It snaked away down another pathway of the cave, revealing an exit that lit the cave up with the sunlight of Pasaana.

Bee rolled forward to ask Rey what she had done as she rubbed her hand, “I just transferred a bit of life. Force energy from me to him. You would’ve done the same.” “Luckily, we won’t have that problem again,” I said as I deactivated my lightsaber and clipped it back onto my belt, helping Rey up after, “Nice job.” Our group climbed out of the hole and we got a good look at the rock structure that displayed Ochi’s ship we’d seen during our speeder chase. “Looks like we’ve got our ride,” Poe commented as we walked up the rocks.

“We cannot possibly fly in that old wreck,” 3PO interjected.

“We gotta keep moving, find someone who can translate that dagger,” Poe replied, “Like a helpful droid.” “I suggest we return to the Millennium Falcon at once,” the droid said as forcefully as he was capable of being. “Troopers’ll be waiting at the Falcon,” I said, pausing my steps to try and shove aside the pain I felt at the thought of leaving my beloved ship behind, “We’ll find a way to get it back.”

Not more than two seconds after I spoke did each hair on my body stand up straight and a cold wave run through my body. I twisted to look out upon the miles of sand and rock, sensing the familiar presence of Ren yet not being able to see him. Rey and I shared a look, concern mixed with understanding that someone had to deal with it. I could feel that it was her that needed to confront him, I wasn’t the only one that shared a complicated history with the Supreme Leader. I nodded understandingly to her, the two of us not needing to speak a single word.

“What is it?” Finn asked, approaching the two of us. “I’ll be right behind you,” she said, handing Finn her staff and bag, “It’s okay.”

She passed by both of us, heading back down the way we’d come to go deal with our problem. “Let’s go,” I directed, turning back towards our new ride, “She’s got this.” The rest of us climbed the rest of the rocks until we hit Ochi’s ship, opening the ramp and heading into the heart of it. “Let’s see what we’ve got,” Poe said, switching on the flickering lights, “Let’s get those converters fired up.”

Finn, Poe and I marched to the cockpit, swiping at dusty cobwebs that adorned the ship. Poe flipped open the shutters and started her up proudly while Finn and I were more focused on looking out the windows for Rey. “Where is she?” he asked me.

Poe interrupted before I could form an answer, “Guys, help me out over here.” “Chewie, tell Rey we gotta go,” Finn ordered the Wookiee, who looked to me for confirmation. I gave a short nod and ran off the assist Poe in getting the ship up and running.

“What is she doing?” he grumbled as he sat down in the captain’s chair. “She’s helping us out,” I sat down in the seat next to him, “Trust me.” “That’s all I get?” he asked annoyedly as he flipped various switches, “Another Jedi thing I wouldn’t understand?”

“Are we really doing this right now?” I snapped, pressing a few buttons to help prep the ship.

“We wouldn’t have to if you would just tell me what’s going on,” Poe shot back, his voice raising to match mine. “It’s Ren,” Finn interrupted our fight, anxiety creeping into his tone. He bolted out of the cockpit leaving Poe and I to ourselves. “Finn, wait!” I yelled, taking off after him before he tried to intervene. I caught up to him outside of the ship, “Finn, you’ve gotta let her do th-“ My feet stopped as I spotted what Finn saw as well, Chewie was being loaded into a First order transport along with the dagger. Finn and I dropped to the rocks, crouching down and watching the scene unfold as the Wookiee pushed forward into the ship, hunched over and handcuffed. My natural instinct was to run and free him, but I knew that spelled too much potential danger for us all. And with Finn’s hand tightly gripping my arm, there was no way he’d let me go. It was one of the worst tortures I had to endure.

“We need to find a way to stop the ship,” I said quietly through my unshed tears, “If Poe could get that thing in the air…” “If we fire, the whole thing goes down,” Finn ended the idea as soon as it had been born.

I buried my face in my hands and rubbed furiously, my mind spinning with adrenaline and worry. The sounds on an approaching ship caught my attention, I rose to my feet and followed the noise across the rocks. Yards away from us stood Rey, lightsaber ignited with her back turned to the ship that undoubtably belonged to Ren. She took a running start as the craft advanced toward her and what happened next even I could hardly believe as I watched it. Rey flipped up in the air, letting her arm hang down and slicing off one of the ship’s wings. While she landed gracefully in a cloud of dust, Ren’s ship split violently until it was just the round cockpit rolling across the field of sand before exploding against one of the rocks. My breath caught as the flames engulfed what was left of his ship, I searched for any life left in the wreckage, sensing that he wasn’t dead yet. With my focus momentarily on Ren, I hadn’t noticed Finn had climbed down the rocks and was calling out for Rey.

“They got Chewie! They got him!” he pointed to the skies, I looked up to see the transport containing him had taken off.

“No,” I mumbled to myself, sticking my hand out to stop the ship using the Force. Rey had the same idea and aided me in my efforts. At that moment, a familiar cloaked figure emerged from the flaming wreckage, slowly making his way towards us. I could feel his stony, emotionless stare even with the great gap between us. Even so, I kept my focus on trying to pull the ship out of the sky. Ren extended his hand as well, creating resistance for Rey and I that only made us try harder. The three of us stood locked in our stances, throwing the ship from side to side as we battled for the life inside.

Then suddenly, the fight was over. From Rey’s outstretched hand came thick strands of lightning that wrapped around the ship. It took mere seconds until an explosion ripped the ship apart.

“Chewie!” Rey shrieked in horror. “No!” Finn cried.

I dropped to my knees in shock, watching as the wreckage floated to the ground, Chewie buried somewhere inside. One loud guttural sob escaped my lips and I clutched my stomach, crying out for the loss of another part of my family.

“Guys!” Poe’s voice broke through my grief, “We gotta go! They’re coming!”

Through my tears, I looked above to see Poe standing above me next to the ship and heard the noise of incoming fighters. I had to summon the strength to rise to my feet, my eyes drifting back to Chewie’s fiery grave one last time. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice choked with emotion. I spared a final look to Ren, who I could sense was just as shocked at what had happened as I was. I sensed something in him, the same thing I had sensed when Mom had been thrown out of the Raddus. Sorrow. I wished I could have said I cared, but all I felt towards him was anger. He had contributed to Chewie’s death.

As Rey and Finn approached, I snapped back into action and climbed the rocks, Poe helping me and pulling me up the final foot. We bolted for the ship, racing to the cockpit and taking our assigned seats. He had gotten the thing in flying shape and as soon as we had everybody on board, Poe lifted it off the ground and shot us into the sky and away from the fighters. It was only when I knew he could manage without me that I slipped out of my chair and out of the cockpit.

A distraught Rey was waiting in the hold for me, she stood as I entered, “Y/n, I’m so-“ I breezed past her and Finn, I ignored the droids, I didn’t even think to go to Poe for comfort. Instead, I locked myself in the refresher and let my tears freely fall, mourning the loss of my life long friend.

----

A/N: I promise the next chapter will have little more going on...Let me know what you thought or if you’d like to be tagged ☺️

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#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x solo!reader #poe dameron imagine #star was imagine

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onlyfreds · 3 years

Text

TRP Prologue - Welcome to the Story of Y/N L/N

Summary: To others, being princess is living the dream. To Y/N, it’s a living nightmare. But, that was until the day that she received the letter that changed her life and met the people who love her for her true self.

Warning/s: use of the word “damn”

Series Masterlist

Anybody else would think that being the first-born Princess is literally living the dream.

Let me tell you, it’s not.

“Y/N, put down the book and head downstairs for the Family portrait.” My mother, Queen Ahnica, snapped as she entered my room.

I sighed, placing a bookmark on the page I was currently reading, “Do we honestly have to do this mother? We already did this last year.”

She glared at me, “Do you always have to ask? Now stop this nonsense and give them a smile when we get down. We don’t want the press giving a bad image, don’t we?”

I mentally rolled my eyes as I followed her out of the room, “Yes mother.”

We headed down to the lounge where the royal photographer, my father (King Michael), and my younger sister (Princess Christel) were waiting for us.

I sat down beside my sister, who gave me a sympathetic smile as she placed her hand on top of mine.

“Don’t worry.” She reassured, “This’ll all be over in a minute.”

And boy did that minute feel like an hour.

When we had finished, Clark, our chief of staff approached us.

“Your highnesses,” he greeted, giving a small bow, “There is someone wanting to see you.”

My mother and father exchanged a confused look, before we followed Clark into the guest lounge.

Standing there was a middle-aged woman, her hair in a tight bun and a stern but gentle look on her face.

“Good day Mr. and Mrs. L/N, or should I say your highnesses.” She said, giving a curtsy,

My father smiled, “Good day Ma’am. What assistance could we offer you?”

The woman chuckled, “My name is McGonagall and I’m just here to give your daughter, Princess Y/N, a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

I looked up at her, meeting her eyes for the first time, “Me?”

My sister looked at me excitedly.

The woman nodded, handing me an envelope with the words, Princess Y/N L/N, Montenaro Palace.

Christel nudged my shoulder, “Go on, open it.” She encouraged.

I opened it and pulled out the letter inside.

Dear Mr/Ms. L/N,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

I looked up again at the woman, my parents were both stunned into silence, “Am I really going to learn magic?”

McGongall nodded, “Indeed dear, and at the best wizarding school Britain has to offer.”

“But magic isn’t real.” My mother interjected.

McGonagall brought out a thin, stick and with a small wave of her hand, bubbles erupted from it. She then pointed to a teacup on a nearby table, turning it into a teapot.

“So magic is real?” Christel asked in awe.

McGonagall nodded, “It is.”

I turned to my parents as I gave them a pleading look, “Please mum, dad. Can I go.”

My parents exchanged a silent argument before my father said, “You may go. But if this is some sort of scam. You will regret dragging my daughter into this.”

The woman nodded, “You will regret nothing your highness.”

She then turned to me, “I’ll be meeting up with you next week to get your school supplies.”

As soon as she left, my mother turned to my father, “How could you let her? She’s ten! She should be attending finishing school, not some sort of magic school with a bunch of idiots!”

My father sighed, “We’ve taught her everything that she could be taught in finishing school ever since she was five. She’ll be fine.”

When September first rolled around, McGonagall brought me to King’s Cross Station and she had instructed me how to board on to Platform 9 and 3/4. Thankfully, I was able to leave before my parents realized that I was wearing “normal” clothes. Because if they did, I would’ve received a full lecture about maintaining an image for the press.

To be honest, jeans and a shirt were a lot more comfortable than a corset and a gown.

At first, I thought it was absurd. But after seeing the serious look on her face, I decided to give it the benefit of the doubt and run into the barrier in between Platforms 9 and 10.

I closed my eyes, braced myself for impact. But a cold chill came over me before I heard the chatter of a lively crowd, I opened my eyes, seeing a red and black train with a sign that said, Hogwarts Express.

A hopped onto the train, looking for a spare compartment. I didn’t expect anyone to recognize me as the princess, and I wish they wouldn’t.

I found a compartment that was occupied by two identical looking gingers.

I gently knocked on the compartment door, sliding it open a bit before asking, “Excuse me, but is it okay if I sat here? Everywhere else was full.”

One of them nodded, “Of course you may. I’m George by the way.” He said, offering his hand with I shook, giving him a small smile.

He then nodded to the boy sitting opposite of him, “That’s my twin brother, Fred.”

Fred stared at me, his mouth slightly agape, “Bloody hell, you’re gorgeous.”

I bit my lip, feeling my cheeks heat up as Fred was snapped out of his trance by George laughing.

“Oh, sorry.” He apologized, grinning sheepishly.

I giggled, “It’s fine.”

The three of us bonded over the train ride and became fast friends.

Despite the fact that Fred and George were identical twins, I had absolutely no trouble telling them apart, though something about Fred made my heart race a bit faster and the butterflies to rise up to my stomach.

It’s been three years since I first met the twins. I was now in my fourth year at Hogwarts.

Before I headed down to the Great Hall for Lunch, I adjusted the necklace I was wearing.

Once I arrived, I immediately slipped into the seat between the twins.

Hermione took a sip of her pumpkin juice, looking up from her book, “Where did you get that?”

I looked at her, slightly confused, “Where did I get what?”

“That necklace.”

I looked down and realized that I wasn’t able to hide my necklace in my blouse properly.

“My mum gave it to me.” I managed to stutter out.

“Why? What’s wrong with her necklace?” Ginny asked, “It seems alright to me.”

Everyone in our group was watching me and Hermione, obviously interested in the exchange.

“Well, it’s not just any necklace.” Hermione stated, “There’s only one necklace like that.”

Fred chuckled, “Hermione, I’m sure that necklace is one of billions.”

“No.” She insisted, “There is only one necklace like that and it belongs to the first-born princess of Montenaro.”

She stared at me intently, I could almost see the gears turning in her brain. Besides, she was called the “brightest witch of her age” for a reason.

“Oh Godric!” She gasped and I knew she had come to her conclusion, “What was your last name again?” She asked.

I sighed, “L/N.”

“How did I not notice it before?” She said, most likely to herself, “It makes so much sense now.”

“Hermione, not all of us are geniuses here. So, mind catching us up on what exactly makes sense?” Harry joked.

“The reason why Y/N has that necklace, even though it’s super rare, is because she is the first-born princess of Montenaro. She’s part of the L/N family, she’s basically royalty.” Hermione explained excitedly.

The group looked at me for confirmation.

“Is it true love?” Fred asked softly, “You’re a princess?”

I nodded, letting out a quiet, “yes.”

Everyone was dead silent; you would have thought that someone had just dropped dead in front of us.

Angelina was the first one to break the silence, “Why didn’t you tell us?”

I sighed, “I didn’t want you guys to treat me differently. Because when your royalty and others see you, all people can think about is: she’s the princess, she’s next in line for the throne. And being princess, I’m never free. Every decision is made for me, every word, every moved has to be supervised because there’s always some sort of protocol that’s against it. You guys love me and care about me not because I’m the princess. But because you see the real me. You don’t see me as ‘Princess Y/N’, you guys see me as just Y/N.”

I felt Fred hold my hand under the table as I continued, “Here, I am able to be myself, without having to worry about the damn rules or the press. That’s why I spend every holiday I could at the Burrow. Because I like being free. Because I’ve felt more at home there that when I’ve spent a portion of my life at the palace. That’s why I kept my identity a secret. I feared that when you guys learned the truth, you would treat me differently.”

Fred and George encased me in a “Weasley twin hug” as the former kissed the top of my head.

“We’ll always love you darling.” He whispered, “Whether you’re royalty or not.”

I smiled, “Really? You’re not mad that I kept all of this a secret?”

George chuckled, “Of course we’re not.”

“Fred’s right. To us, your being a princess is just a title, but what matters is the side of Y/N that you want to show us.” Ginny added.

I laughed as all of them wrapped me in a group hug, “What did I do to deserve friends like you guys.”

Fred laughed, running a hand through my hair, “What did we do to deserve being friends with an actual princess?”

“Way to ruin the moment, Freddie!”

“Did you have to bring it up now?”

The rest of the group chimed as they playfully scolded Fred.

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝:

@lumosandnoxwriting @gostupid-godumb @famdomhideout @nova-darling @gaycatlord-stuff @pandaxnienke @escapingrealitybyreading @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts @lunylovelovegood @thefallengodesse (Send a Message/Ask or fill out my taglist form if you want to be added!)

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#fredweasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fredweasleyimagines #fred weasley fluff #fredweasleyfanfic #fredweasleysmut #fred weasley angst #fred weasley series #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #royal!au

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silverlightqueen · 4 years

Text

Her 🦋

‘I could go up out to outer space with her, all I need is one more day with her.’

Phases - Hwang Hyunjin X Chase Atlantic

Rating: M (heavy angst and suggestive content)

Warnings: discussion of suicidal thoughts and severe depression, childhood trauma (absent father, daddy issues), discussion of sex, discussion and use of drugs, substance abuse/addiction and alcoholism, extremely toxic relationship, emotional manipulation and verbal abuse, fwb, sexting and sending nudes

Word Count: 4.6k+

a/n: and here is the second part of phases, my hhjxchaseatlantic series! please proceed with caution bc this fic is very heavy and touches on some very sensitive and serious topics. I really hope you guys enjoy this, lmk what you think and hmu if you wanna be on the taglist! the biggest thank you to the loml @silverlightprincess for proofreading this and bigging it up so much lmao I love you sis! x

taglist 🦋: @diue @shesfuckedinthehead @danyxthirstae01 @linours @titleisyettobemade @jikooksgirl19 @silverlightprincess

A loud ping from Hyunjin’s phone resonates in the hazy room, the other boys exchanging knowing glances, and he ignores the way his hands itch to reach into his pocket and see if it’s her. ‘Aren’t you gonna check that?’ Changbin asks, fingers fumbling as he tries to roll yet another joint. Hyunjin’s surprised the other boy can even see straight, let alone roll a joint, but he manages it. It’s not his best work, but it’ll do.

They’re sat in the private bar on the top floor of Changbin’s dad’s hotel on the outskirts of the city, surrounded by windows that overlook the skyline. None of them have particularly well-paying jobs – they have more than enough to live, but they splash it all on drugs and drink and fast cars and pretty girls who want Fendi bags, but thanks to Changbin’s dad, lavish nights filled with the oldest alcohol and the best weed are a regular. Changbin’s dad helps fund this lifestyle and they can’t be grateful enough towards him for it.

‘It won’t be urgent,’ Hyunjin says offhandedly, but he feels his skin lighting up with energy. It’s like nothing else is allowed to exist in his mind or body when he thinks of her – she pushes away everything else, even the marijuana mist that hangs in a heavy cloud over his mind. He’s already beginning to sober up, his senses alert and tuned into her. She’s not even here, and she’s all he can feel.

‘What if it’s your girl?’ Chan teases, dimples denting his cheeks as he hands Changbin the lighter. ‘She’s not my girl,’ Hyunjin replies mildly, the boys all looking amused. ‘Then why’d you go running whenever she texts you?’ Minho asks, gentle laughter running around the room, and Hyunjin pushes down the shame, rolling his eyes and curling his lips at the corners, trying to seem nonchalant.

‘He doesn’t go running. He leaves her waiting like a dick,’ Jeongin says, Hyunjin flipping him off half-heartedly. ‘As he should. She ain’t shit,’ Jisung says with a grin. ‘You say that, but you’d go running if it was you she was texting,’ Seungmin grins at Jisung, the latter nodding instantly. ‘Of course I would. I’m not a fucking idiot. I just feel sorry for him. They’ve been fucking around for years and she still hasn’t caught feelings like all other girls do. If there aren’t any feelings involved, it gets boring,’ Jisung says, not realising how his words feel like weapons to Hyunjin.

‘Are you fucking crazy? It’s way better without feelings. It gets messy with feelings,’ Minho says as Chan passes him the joint, fresh smoke already beginning to blur the room, and Hyunjin nods. ‘Exactly. The only reason we’ve been fucking around for so long is because there aren’t any feelings. That’s why we work so well,’ Hyunjin lies, his phone pinging again.

‘Well, I admire you. I’d have caught feelings for her by now,’ Felix says candidly, the other boys bursting into laughter. ‘Don’t laugh! You lot would’ve caught feelings for her too!’ he says defensively, raising his voice over the laughter. ‘Yeah, I definitely would have. I think I’d have wifed her by now,’ Changbin grins, and Hyunjin feels the jealously bubbling up inside him. He hates it when they talk about her. She might not be his, but she’s more his than she is theirs. They have no right to talk about her like that.

‘Yeah, but how do you wife a girl that doesn’t wanna be wifed?’ Chan asks, all of the boys letting out noises of agreement. ‘True. She’s actually living the life. Always decked out in designer, dick from Mr Handsome, free drugs from his friends, boujee apartment in the city, sexy group of friends and an easy ass ‘working from home’ job,’ Jisung says, sounding jealous, and all the boys start laughing again. ‘She really is. I’d swap lives with her, no hesitation,’ Seungmin says, more laughing filling the room.

‘Check your phone then, Mr Handsome,’ Felix nudges Hyunjin, and the boy lets out a little sigh, taking his time as he gets his phone out of his pocket. Her name is on the screen, no emojis and pet names or anything. Just her name. She’s sent him two texts, and he tries to hide his eagerness as he unlocks his phone to see them.

come see me when you’re done with the boys

give them my love and bring me some molly pls xo

‘Wow. Not her trying to emotionally manipulate the guys into giving her molly,’ Felix laughs quietly, looking at Hyunjin’s screen, and Hyunjin can’t help but laugh too. She’s one of a kind. ‘She sends her love to you guys,’ Hyunjin says, knowing he won’t even have to ask for the molly. They’ll offer it, like they always do. She’s got them all wrapped around her finger.

‘She’s cute. We should link soon,’ Chan says, handing the joint to Jisung and punching him gently when he nearly drops it. ‘Yeah, the same thing happens every time we link. We get a booth in a club, last for about ten minutes before they kick us out for doing lines, and then those two disappear to fuck and abandon the rest of us,’ Minho says drily, motioning to Hyunjin, who’s busy trying to formulate a laidback reply.

‘Tell her… only if she’s good,’ Felix says under his breath, knowing Hyunjin’s situation better than anybody else (Hyunjin’s never told him, but Felix is wise beyond his years, and very observant), and Hyunjin types up the response. Only a few seconds later do the three little dots appear, and Hyunjin imagines her in his head, lying on her bed and typing with that cute little smile on her face.

I’m always good

I love being good

for you

Hyunjin feels his blood heat up more and more with each text she sends, Felix chuckling amusedly as Hyunjin’s fingers ghost over the keyboard. He never knows what to say, never knows how to be cool and collected around her. ‘You’re on your own, bro. She’s too good at this,’ Felix murmurs, and Hyunjin nods in agreement, desperately wracking his brains for a response, ignoring the current conversation the boys are having.

Before he even begins typing, another text from her comes through, and it’s a picture. His heart speeds up as he waits for it to load, itching to see what she’s sent. He has a folder on his phone dedicated to all the pictures she’s ever sent, and he visits that folder more often than he’d ever admit. When the picture finally loads, he feels his heart stop for a second, Felix so startled that he begins choking, and Hyunjin hits him on the back, eyes still locked onto his phone.

She’s in her bedroom, the lights all off, and she’s stood in front of her mirror, her body illuminated by the flash from her phone and the city lights streaming in from her window. She’s dressed in her completely sheer Dior robe. And nothing else.

‘Fucking hell,’ Felix says when he finally gets his breath back. The boys are all distracted from their conversation, looking over at Hyunjin and Felix with curiosity. ‘What’s going on?’ Jeongin asks, and Felix and Hyunjin are both silent for a moment. ‘She sent me a picture.’ ‘Let us see!’ Changbin says instantly, all of them looking at him with disgust. ‘No, you fucking creep.’ ‘You showed Felix!’ ‘I didn’t show him.’ ‘Yeah, I looked at the screen just as the picture loaded,’ Felix says, the boys all raising their eyebrows at him. ‘What a coincidence,’ Jisung says drily, Felix beginning to defend himself.

Hyunjin quickly becomes distracted with the picture again, unable to believe how lucky he is that a vision of beauty sends him pictures like this. He still isn’t used to the feeling of having someone so… perfect trust him enough to bare herself to him. And he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to it. How do you get used to something so… extraordinary?

‘The picture must be good. He can’t look away from his phone,’ Seungmin laughs, all the boys looking over at Hyunjin again. ‘At least… describe it to us,’ Changbin says, Hyunjin shooting him another dirty look. ‘Bro, just go watch some porn or something,’ Chan says, everyone bursting into laughter as Changbin shoves Chan. ‘I don’t want details. Just the gist of it,’ Changbin says, like a dog with a bone, and Hyunjin rolls his eyes.

‘It’s a mirror picture, and she’s wearing a robe.’ ‘Oh. That’s it? Bro, you’re down bad if you’re getting horny over that,’ Jisung says, and Felix bursts into laughter, Hyunjin unable to hold back his own chuckles. ‘You guys haven’t seen it, though.’ ‘If she’s fully clothed, it can’t be that sexy,’ Minho says, and Hyunjin and Felix laugh again. ‘The robe’s see-through,’ Hyunjin admits. When it comes to her, his pride and jealousy regularly battle, and leave him torn between showing her off and keeping her to himself.

‘It’s see-through? Like totally see-through?’ Jisung asks with wide eyes, and Hyunjin nods smugly. ‘And is she wearing anything else?’ Changbin asks, Hyunjin shaking his head with a grin, the boys all looking shocked. ‘Wow, she must really trust you, to send you a picture like that,’ Chan says disbelievingly, Hyunjin feeling smugger by the second.

‘What the fuck are you waiting for? Go to her, stupid,’ Jeongin urges, Hyunjin chuckling. ‘There’s no rush. She likes the long game,’ Hyunjin replies mildly, the others all shaking their heads in disbelief. ‘You’ve got it so good,’ Seungmin says, voice laced with envy, and Hyunjin can’t help but grin in response.

aren’t you gonna tell me I look good?

did I make you hard in front of your friends, jinnie?

are they all jealous bc your girl is so hot?

I bet they wanna fuck me like you do

only you get to fuck me though, jin

I only want you

only wanna be good for you

He stays with the boys for another hour, but his mind is elsewhere completely. The texts she sends him every few minutes fry his brain, and he feels himself getting needier with each one. He needs her. So many addictions in his life, but he’d give them all up for her. Fuck Mary Jane and Molly; she’s his favourite.

I’m thinking of you, jinnie

always thinking of you

And those texts are the ones that push him over the edge. Not the ones about how much she wants him, how good his dick is, how wet she is for him, but the ones that make him think she cares.

‘I’m heading off,’ Hyunjin says, getting up from his seat, and the boys all laugh and cheer. ‘Coming back after?’ Jeongin asks, and Hyunjin shrugs. ‘Probably,’ he says, pulling his jacket on. ‘Here, bro. I’ve got her favourites,’ Changbin says, holding a little plastic packet out to Hyunjin. The boy takes it, and he wants nothing more than to crush the pills into tiny little pieces. But he puts them in his pocket instead, their weight on his heart like bricks.

Hyunjin doesn’t waste any more time, driving like a madman to her apartment in the city centre, praying he doesn’t get a ticket but knowing that it’s worth it for her. He has a pass for her apartment block’s car park, and thankfully his usual space, the one beside her space, is empty. She has Hyunjin to drive her around most of the time, so her barely driven black Audi A5 with its D&G interior is in pristine condition. Hyunjin has a keycard to get into her apartment and he taps his foot impatiently as he scans it, the lift slowly moving upwards. He practically leaps through the doors when they open, stepping straight into her living room.

The lights are off, allowing a clear view through the floor to ceiling windows that look out over the city, but Hyunjin doesn’t care about that view. The view on his mind isn’t in here, and he exerts the last of his self-control as he heads towards her bedroom. When he reaches the open door of her room and she comes into his eyeline, his breath catches in his throat. She’s sat on her windowsill, looking out over the skyline with a wineglass in her hand, and he knows it isn’t wine that she’s drinking. It’s never something as weak as wine.

She looks like an angel, face serene and thrown into dim light from the city, and she’s not wearing the robe anymore. She’s in underwear, just a plain black Agent Provocateur set, but she looks like the most beautiful girl in the world to him. Practically everything in her room is Louis V, but she’s worth more than it all. He walks towards her slowly, and she knows he’s there but doesn’t look over at him. As he gets closer, he sees the black lines of mascara across her cheeks, her eyes red and swollen, and he isn’t sure whether it’s because she’s higher than a kite, or she’s lower than she’s ever been before.

‘Are you high?’ he asks her softly, and she lets out a gentle laugh. ‘No.’ ‘So you’ve been crying?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘You gonna tell me why?’ ‘No,’ she replies, voice like silk, and Hyunjin lets out a gentle sigh. ‘You can’t keep it all bottled up.’ ‘I can, and I will. I wanted you to come here to fuck me, not to be my therapist,’ she says tiredly, Hyunjin silent.

‘Did you bring my molly?’ she asks, and he just stares at her, waiting for her to look back at him. To actually look at him for once. ‘Hyunjin?’ Silence continues to fill the room, and after what feels like an eternity, she looks at him, her eyes shining with tears. ‘No.’ ‘You didn’t?’ ‘No. I brought you enough for a week on Tuesday. It’s Friday today.’ ‘I know what day it is. My health isn’t your problem.’ ‘I know it isn’t. But you should still have some left.’ ‘That’s not your concern. If I ask you to bring me something, you should bring it.’ ‘Stop being a fucking brat.’ ‘Stop being a fucking dick.’

He wants to scream at her, grab the glass from her hand and smash it against the wall, flush the pills in his pocket down the toilet. But he doesn’t. He just stands there, staring at her, and she stares back at him.

‘When was the last time you were sober?’ ‘For fuck’s sake, Jin, I can’t-’ ‘Answer the fucking question,’ he says angrily, and she flinches at his tone. ‘I… I’m sober now.’ ‘You’ve been drinking. When was the last time you were properly sober – no drugs or drink?’ She’s completely silent, and Hyunjin remains silent too, waiting for her response.

‘On Wednesday.’ ‘I’m not fucking stupid, stop lying to me.’ ‘I’m not lying!’ ‘I swear to God, I’m walking out of here if you don’t tell me the truth.’ ‘Then leave.’ ‘Don’t tell me to leave when that’s the last thing you want,’ he murmurs, and she just stares at him, eyes shining with tears.

‘Last week.’ ‘Stop lying!’ ‘I don’t fucking know, Jin! Maybe last week, maybe last month, maybe last year, maybe longer! I can’t fucking remember! I can’t even fucking see straight most days! You think I can remember when I was last sober? I’m never fucking sober!’ she screams, her voice shattering the silence, and Hyunjin feels his heart ache at the tears spilling down her face.

‘You’re slowly killing yourself.’ ‘You think I don’t know that? I’m not a fucking idiot, Jin! I haven’t got any delusions about my health!’ ‘If you know you’re dying, why don’t you stop?’ ‘You’re not an idiot either. You don’t need me to explain that to you,’ she says tiredly, as though all of her energy has suddenly flooded away.

Hyunjin’s eyes fill with tears at the realisation. She’s doing it on purpose because she wants to die.

‘Why? ‘What?’ ‘Why do you want to die?’ he asks softly, and she laughs humourlessly. ‘I told you; I don’t want a therapy session. That’s not why you’re here.’ ‘You’re insane if you think I’m gonna fuck you now,’ he says, the girl just staring at him.

‘This isn’t a film, Hyunjin, or a book. I’m not gonna magically decide to open up to you and cry on your shoulder and you hold me whilst I sleep and then you take me to DAA tomorrow and help me get sober. That’s not how this works. That’s not who I am, or who you are. You fuck me, or you leave.’ ‘I’m not gonna fuck you when you’re like this. I’m not a fucking monster,’ Hyunjin says harshly. ‘I might have to disagree with that,’ she murmurs before taking a sip from her drink.

‘You’ve had enough for tonight,’ Hyunjin says, the girl raising an eyebrow at him as she continues to drink. ‘I said that that’s enough,’ he spits angrily, and she flinches again, taking the glass from her lips a moment later. He holds out a hand to take it, and she hesitates before handing it to him, Hyunjin celebrating internally. It’s a step forward. It might be a small one, but it’s something.

He puts the glass down on her bedside table before taking a seat beside her on the windowsill. ‘You can leave.’ ‘I know,’ he says softly, and she doesn’t reply, looking back out over the city with tears streaming down her face. They sit in silence, looking at two different views, and Hyunjin feels like he could live in this moment. Her walls are up, but she’s letting him in, even if it is just for a little while.

‘You should go.’ ‘No.’ ‘Hyunjin-’ ‘I’m not leaving.’ ‘But why?’ she whispers, so much loneliness in her voice that his heart drops. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘Why are you staying? We’re not having sex, and we’re not in a relationship. You don’t have any obligations to stay,’ she murmurs, lips quivering as she speaks. ‘I know I don’t have any obligations, but I won’t leave you – not while you’re like this.’

They fall into silence again and it’s so heavy, weighing down both of their hearts. ‘No one ever stays,’ she says miserably, and he tilts his head questioningly. ‘My ex-boyfriends always left. My friends always leave. You always leave. My dad even left. So why are you staying now?’ she asks, and he’s devastated at her words. This is more than she’s ever told him, and he never expected to hear that this is her trauma. She’s got daddy issues, and that’s why she is the way she is. She’s a drug addict, an alcoholic, ridden with mental health illness, all because of her dad.

‘I’m all you have left, other than drugs and money.’ ‘That’s all I need.’ ‘If you’ve got what you need, why do you wanna die?’ ‘It’s all I need to survive. Not to live.’ ‘Don’t you want to live?’ ‘Of course I do. But not like this, not… haunted. Not weighed down. Not numb and empty, all the fucking time. I can’t escape. It’s all I am… when I’m sober. If I stay drunk, and high, I can forget it all. The second I start coming down, it all comes back, and it hurts so much. I just wanna feel… not even happy. Just… alive. For once. Without the help of alcohol and drugs and designer clothes. But they fill the emptiness inside me like nothing else does.’ ‘There’s so much more to life. Love, friendship, memories, nature, achievements.’ ‘I know, but my brain doesn’t work in that way. I could be… stood on top of the world, and I’d still feel like I want to die.’ ‘Let me help you,’ he replies, and she laughs.

‘You do help me. You help me fill the void my dad left behind. You’re an asshole. You might call me a good girl and praise me and baby me and treat me like a princess sometimes, but you’re emotionally unavailable, and you shout at me and get angry with me, and you’re never here when it matters which is good because I’d get attached if you were, and you’re horrible to me when we fuck, and you make me feel like I’m not good enough for you when you text other girls in front of me and check out every girl that passes us when we’re on a night out, and you never respond to the nudes I send you which makes me feel like I’m fucking ugly, but that’s okay because you’ll come and fuck me and I feel the validation that I need, and you never stay the night which makes me feel like you only ever want me for sex, but it’s okay because at least you like me enough to fuck me in the first place. You told me once that you won’t call me yours, but it’s okay because I’d rather my body be yours than none of me at all.’

She’s sobbing by the time she finishes speaking, struggling to breathe properly, and Hyunjin’s frozen in shock. He’s an asshole? No. He’s a guy who’s in love with her and doesn’t want her to know it, because she’s always told him that she doesn’t want his love, she wants his dick and his drugs. But maybe if he’d ignored her wishes, and openly loved her, she wouldn’t be so fucked up. She wouldn’t crave his worthless validation. She wouldn’t be so lonely that she wants to die.

‘But I’m-’ ‘No. Don’t you dare deny it and say some stupid fucking shit to try and manipulate me into thinking you care. You don’t have to. I know you couldn’t give a shit about me, and I’ve known for so long, and it doesn’t matter,’ she says, furiously wiping away her tears, and Hyunjin shakes his head, taking her trembling hands into his. ‘No, you don’t understand. I’m only like this because you pushed me away. We were so good at first, I used to openly adore you, but you pushed me away and told me that you didn’t want that from me.’ ‘Yeah, because I’m fucked up! I turned you into an asshole, and then fell in love with you! More fool fucking me! Can you just leave now?’ she asks, pulling her hands from his and looking away. His heart sings at her confession that she does love him, that this isn’t one-sided, but it quickly quietens when he sees the look on her face.

‘I’m literally trying to tell you that I’m in love with you too. I want to be with you, and do the things we’ve never done. Restaurant dates, and staying the night and laying with you, and shopping trips that don’t end up with us fucking in the Chanel back room – not that I’m complaining about that, obviously. But I just want to be with you. We could be so good together – just give us a chance. Things don’t have to be this way.’ ‘They are.’ ‘But they don’t have to be! Just give me a day. A day to be more than your dick appointment and your dealer. All I need is one day with you, and I can make the pain better.’

‘No, Hyunjin. Just go,’ she says quietly, the tears gone and her voice calm. She’s shutting herself off again, pushing him back out, and it makes him panic. ‘Don’t do this. This is your chance to be happy, for us to be happy together.’ ‘No. Leave, like you always do,’ she murmurs, and he can see the city lights reflected in her eyes, the galaxy held between her lashes.

‘I only left because you wanted me to.’ ‘I still want you to.’ ‘But you love me.’ ‘They don’t cancel each other out.’ ‘That doesn’t-’ ‘Make any sense? I know. I don’t make any sense. I want love, but I’m scared of it. I hate my dad for abandoning me, but I only ever want guys that abandon me so if you stay, I’ll fall out of love with you, or I’ll push you away like I did when we first started fucking so that I can carry on loving you. I was never treated right, but I only ever want guys that treat me badly, so if you treat me right, I’ll get bored of you. I never got love from my dad, so I’ve been running from it my whole life, and that isn’t gonna change. I’ve driven myself insane for years, trying so hard to understand why I’m like this, but I am, and you should just accept that instead of trying work me out.’

Hyunjin just blinks, trying to process her words. Where does he win? The only way he can have her is carrying on being the asshole he’s been for the past few years, but there’s only so long he can keep that up when he’s falling more and more in love with her by the day. But if he openly loves her, she won’t want him anymore. Hyunjin makes a vow that if, by chance, he ever encounters her dad, he’s gonna beat the shit out of him. And he also makes a vow that he’s gonna help her, get her to therapy or DAA, because there’s no other way he can see a positive outcome.

‘You should just leave.’ ‘How can I leave you like this?’ ‘Because I can’t love you if you stay. I don’t love people who stay, and I never have. So… go. Please,’ she says, no emotion, no nothing in her voice, or on her face. She looks like one of those ancient marble statues, passive and cold but beautiful. And Hyunjin knows that he doesn’t want to live a life without her in it, so he does the only thing he can tonight, the only thing that won’t push her away.

‘Fine. I’ll fucking leave, since you keep fucking telling me to,’ he says harshly, the girl flinching at the suddenness of him pushing himself off the windowsill, feet landing heavily on the floor. ‘Came here to fuck you, and you’re fucking crying instead. You’re such a fucking mess. I should have brought your fucking molly. At least you keep your fucking mouth shut when you’re rolling. Never tell me to come over if you’re in your feels again, ‘cause I don’t wanna sit here and listen to you whine about your shitty dad,’ he mutters angrily, loathing himself for the words he’s using against her, the kind of words he’s subjected her to for so long, the words that made her fall in love with him.

Despite his brain screaming at him to not look back before leaving, he does it anyway, and when he sees her reaching for her glass again, eyes filled with tears and lips curled up into a sad smile, he feels his heart break into a million little pieces. He should knock the glass out of her hand. He should tell her how much he loves her, and how he’s not gonna give up on them. He should force her to get into his car, take her to rehab, and tell her that he won’t stand by and watch her slowly kill herself. But he squares his shoulders, ignoring the clink of her glass against her Cartier rings, and leaves her bedroom with the weight of the world on his shoulders and her face in his mind.

#straykidsland #kpopscape #kwritersworldnet #stray kids #skz #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids hwang hyunjin #stray kids au #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines #stray kids angst #hyunjin angst #phases hhj

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rosy-wooyoung · 4 years

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Husband series [2/8] | Seonghwa

Word count: 3.8k Pairing: ex-husband! Yunho x single mom! reader x boyfriend! Seonghwa Genre: mostly fluff, kinda cliché af?? A/N: Second work out of the eight that I’m not really proud of... as usual, the gif doesn’t have anything to do with the fic :’)

You sighed as you looked for your child in the store, worryingly pushing strands of hair out of your eyes. Two minutes of inattention were enough for him to walk away, carelessly wandering around the shop. He was still quite young, but he was able to walk without your help, freeing him from any restraint.

“How could we lose him?” your boyfriend Seonghwa exclaimed as he looked around him, brows knitted. You were on the verge of tears and abandoned the trolley in a corner. Seonghwa gently caressed your back as you started searching for your son again.

“Minwoo? Minwoo, baby, where are you?” you said louder, starting to imagine the worst-case scenarios that could have happened to your son. You hurriedly trotted through the store, earning side glances from the rest of the shoppers, sometimes meeting Seonghwa at the end of an alley, only to find him alone. Your son was the most precious thing you had in your life and you couldn’t see yourself without him. It didn’t matter if you lost your boyfriend, you had already lost your husband by the past, but you’d kill to keep Minwoo by your side. You neared the fish counter and noticed a small boy next to two tall men, who were showing him the living sea animals in the huge tanks next to the fridges. You recognised the dark blue jacket your mom knitted for Minwoo and felt a weight flying away from your chest. However, you didn’t recognise the men next to him, so you ran towards your son.

“Minwoo!” you almost screamed and rushed to your son, grabbing him from behind, not paying attention to the men next to your son. “How many times did I tell you not to leave my side when we grocery shop! We were worried about you with Seonghwa!” you said in one breath, your hand cradling his head on your shoulder. “But Daddy,” you heard your son said and you froze. “What do you mean, “Daddy”?” Minwoo looked up from your shoulder and you recoiled as he pointed to one of the men. The man you didn’t recognise was none other than your ex-husband, Yunho, accompanied by Mingi, his best friend. After seeing his face, you noticed that he hadn’t changed, even after years of divorce. His hair was a bit shorter, but his facial features were the same as when you parted ways. He was wearing a suit and tie, an embarrassed smile drawn on his face. Your eyes widened when Minwoo made grabby hands at him, happy to meet his dad. “Hi Y/N,” Yunho managed to say, rubbing his neck, “I didn’t expect to meet you there,” you clenched your teeth and awkwardly smiled, not really knowing what to say. “Ah, Y/N, you found him,” you pursed your lips and closed your eyes as your boyfriend arrived, ready to take you and your son in his arms. He took a step back when he noticed Yunho and Mingi. Minwoo, who was in your arms, did everything to touch his father. Mingi, behind the two of you, took a step back and waited a bit further away to clear things out. He knew your situation since he was also a good friend of yours, your divorce preventing you from hanging out with him.

“What’s happening here?” Seonghwa said and none of you answered. You stared at Seonghwa, feeling sorry that he had to witness this awkward encounter. You could see his brain working, his eyes going from you to Minwoo, then to Yunho and his eyes widened when everything clicked in his head. For some reasons, you couldn’t talk, and the three men around you noticed that. You were frozen on the spot. Yunho cleared his throat and extended his hand towards your boyfriend. “I’m Yunho, Y/N’s ex-husband and… Minwoo’s father and, that’s Mingi, a good friend of mine,” he said, gesturing to Mingi, who nodded with a dull face. “I believe that you’re her new partner?” Seonghwa shook his hand without a word, his eyes never leaving your ashamed ones. He detached his eyes from you and looked at your ex, shaking his hand with such force that his digits turned white. “Exactly, I’m Seonghwa,” He said and his eyes darkened, suddenly remembering the reason why you divorced.

Of course, you had told him by the past the reason why you parted ways with your ex-husband, and he was mad. He was mad that your husband acted like a complete coward, scared of his parents. Yunho was someone from the high class. His parents owned an immensely powerful company and he fell in love with you the minute he saw you entering one of his parents’ restaurants. It was a place that your friends didn’t usually go to, but she wanted to celebrate your well-deserved promotion and went there, lucky to find a free table at rush hour. He immediately introduced himself as the son of the restaurant’s owner. Your friends were impressed, you were quite too, but you didn’t show it. You treated him like an ordinary person, with respect, but you didn’t admire or glorify him as your friends did. You beamed and nodded at his jokes, making him feel weird not to have everyone laughing and smiling like everyone did when he was around. He found you hard to get and Yunho loved challenges. At the end of your meal, he boldly asked for your number and you gave it to him without really thinking about it. However, when he was in private, he was way calmer but still very flirty, charming you with his sweet words and actions you exchanged until your first date.

After two years of life together, he introduced you to his parents and it was one of the worst nights you’ve ever had. You put a lot of efforts for your appearance, going to the hair and nail salon, buying an expensive, chic dress with heels. You almost chickened out at last minute but Yunho comforted you and you walked out of his car. But now, in hindsight, you shouldn’t have ever entered this mansion. The dinner was tense, even Yunho could sense it. His parents made zero effort to welcome you in their family, both of them shook your hands with such strength that it made you whine when they turned around. You kept your head high the entire dinner even if they put you down, subtly telling their son that you weren’t good enough for him. They even suggested in front of you that he should get married to someone richer and more influential. You swallowed your pride and feelings when you were in front of them, but you let everything out as soon as you entered your home. Yunho apologised for his parents’ behaviour but it didn’t make you feel better. The only thing you wanted to do was breaking up with him and get away as fast as possible from the two sharks that were his parents. Yunho begged you to stay and promised that he’d make everything to keep your relationship alive. And you believed him.

After months of struggle and rebellion, his parents reluctantly let him date you. On the other side, your parents were happy and proud that you were with Yunho, even if his parents were mean to you. It was sounded better to have their daughter dating a son from a rich company than being happy with someone from your social class. Sadly, showing off was something really important for your parents. They were even happier when Yunho proposed to you during one of your trips abroad. You had said yes without really thinking about the consequences with his parents, and it created many, many problems. You had to hide the ring every time your future mother-in-law randomly paid a visit to her son’s house. One night, she was there and Yunho was about to enter the house, but you pretended to go grab a bottle of wine from the cellar, grabbing Yunho by his tie and pulling him here. Yunho was thinking about something else as you untied his tie knot and unclasped his thin golden chain, your promised ring hung from it. You took off your ring from your finger and hid it behind a wine bottle, grabbing another one as you quietly explained the situation to your future husband. He nodded as he redid his tie, acting as you ran into him as you went out of the cellar in front of his mother.

One night, seeing your distress, Yunho offered you to marry him in secret. You were very against it at the beginning, worried about his parents and their power, but he promised to make everything work. He invited only your family and your closest friends and celebrated this wonderful day in a small group. You were a bit anxious to see his parents show up unannounced, but fortunately, they didn’t.

One day, as you slid your key into the slot, you realised that the door was unlocked. You first thought of housebreaking since Yunho’s house was big and filled with different kind of luxury items, silently making your way to the kitchen and grabbed a knife. Someone was upstairs and rummaging through yours and Yunho’s stuff. You instantly sent a text to Yunho about the current situation and took off your shoes, easier for you to climb up the stairs without making any noise. Through the poorly closed door, you recognised his mother, raging mad, searching through everything. You hid the knife in the bathroom next to you, scared that she might kill you when she’ll find out the truth. When she saw you, she yelled, hurriedly pacing towards you.

“You filthy bitch!” she said as she went to grab your blazer, but you pushed her away, feeling the rage boiling in your body as well. “What is wrong with you, what do you want?” you yelled back, making eye contact with her. “How can you enter your son’s house like a burglar?” “Oh,” she exclaimed, eyes shooting bolt lighting towards you, “you dare to call me a burglar when you are the biggest gold-digger out of all my son's girlfriends? You’re only dating him for his money, his fame and power we have in the city. I won’t let you ruin our reputation by dating and marrying my son! A silly cow like you doesn’t deserve to get a taste of luxury,” her behaviour truly shocked you, each word spilling out of her mouth sending daggers to your heart and pride. You gulped and started to walk back, noticing every item around her that could serve as a weapon. “Now, where do you hide it?” she spat and furrowed your brows. What was she talking about? “The ring, you bloody foul, where do you hide it, hm? You can’t deny anything, I found the wedding ring bill in Yunho’s desk drawer. Tell me where it is!!” she screamed, and you thought that she was going mad. You clearly didn’t want to fight or hurt her, knowing that she’d take you to court for your acts, so you avoided her as much as possible. Hoping that Yunho would come soon, you heavily inhaled and remained silent. “I’m going to ruin your life if you don’t tell me where it is.” “Mom!” Yunho yelled from downstairs and came up in a blink, shielding you from his mother with his body. “Get out of my way, son.” She said through gritted teeth but Yunho didn’t move. “Get out of my house first. How dare you coming in like a robber?!” he forced her to walk down the stairs by pushing her with his body, and you shivered when she looked at you. She squinted her eyes and pointed her finger towards you. “You,” she whispered, ignoring her son, “don’t think that you’ve won. You don’t know me, I’ll fucking destroy you.” Yunho pushed his mom out of the house, closing the door and locking it.

Three months after this incident, you discovered that you were pregnant with Minwoo. You were happy but his parents were the only fly in the ointment. During the time of your pregnancy, Yunho and you decided to live in a smaller house in the countryside, an unknown place for his parents. Yunho worked from home as much as he could and so did you, your maternity leave coming way sooner than you expected it. Those nine months flew by and you almost felt like breathing again, without being constantly feared that his parents would show up. You even had nightmares of it at the beginning of your pregnancy, but Yunho was here to protect you. However, a week before the scheduled birth date, you went back to your house and Yunho changed the door locks, preventing his parents from breaking in as his mother did.

A night where you were alone, Yunho paying a visit to his parents, labour had just begun, your waters just broke. It was very painful, yet you managed to call your husband to announce him the news. Yunho was stuck, he couldn’t leave his parents so suddenly without arousing suspicions about your pregnancy. He excused himself from his parents, but they didn’t let him go so easily and you started screaming in pain in the phone, his mother instantly understanding everything. She grabbed her son’s phone from his hand and threw the cellular on the floor. You were still on the line, but you were starting to be weak, not able to call for Yunho anymore. You were about to hang up to call someone else, but you heard his mother’s words.

“You divorce with this witch immediately or we’re disowning you. I’m calling our lawyer.” You hung up and called Mingi, knowing that he’d help while Yunho fixed the situation with his parents. His friend was terrified and concerned, but he managed to drive you to the hospital before you gave birth. Before falling asleep from exhaustion with your newborn son on your chest, you begged Mingi to look after you and he promised, allowing you to rest.

Yunho never came to see you. You learnt from a nurse that he still came and signed the birth certificate, but he never came to see you and his child that you carried for nine months. Mingi and his mother came to visit, taking care of you like her own daughter-in-law. They understood you because they weren’t the same as Yunho’s family, Mingi's parents worked hard to allow their son to work in this company, yet they were still mad that Yunho never came to visit. Once you could get out of the hospital (you had to stay a few more days because the doctors found that you were exhausted and dehydrated), Mingi and his mom took care of Minwoo while you drove back to Yunho’s house. When you entered the house, you had to lean against the doorway when you saw boxes filled with your clothes and other belongings.

“Yunho?” you called with a small voice, eyes filling with tears. You heard footsteps coming from upstairs and the tall man appeared, tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes. He ran downstairs with a devastated face. “I’m so sorry Y/N,” he said, and you shook your head, understanding that it was too late. You swallowed and refused Yunho’s embrace, starting to drag the boxes outside, putting the maximum in the trunk of your car. In less than a month, you were homeless, a mother and divorced. When you closed the car trunk, you sighed and Yunho grabbed your wrist. He placed a set of keys linked to a tag, an address messily written on it. “I bought this apartment for you, I’ll come to visit when the situation will quiet down a bit.” He closed your palm on the key and you opened his other palm, putting your wedding ring in it. “Thank you, but I can’t do it anymore. I can’t risk my life, Minwoo’s and yours just because of your parents. I’ll put the keys of this apartment in the mailbox once I’ll find something else I can afford.” You said as you cried, starting to walk to the driver seat. “Please Y/N,” “No Yunho, we can’t. I can’t do it anymore. You didn’t even come to see me and our child. You didn't even ask why he's not with me right now. Everything stopped here for me. Our years of relationship, our marriage, it all ended. Thank you for the wonderful memories but it’s over. And deep down, you know that it’s already over, your parents probably forced you to sign the papers anyway. Goodbye Yunho.”

He sent you one last text that night, telling you that he was sorry and that they sent him in America, for “business matters” and it was the last time you heard from him. It took you months to move on and start again. You had found a place to stay which was smaller but closer to your workplace, a day-care centre only a block away from your apartment. Minwoo grew up and started asking for his father and you quietly explained to him why he didn’t have a father. You kept a picture of the two of you framed next to the door, showing it to your son every time he asked for his father. At first, he cried, but he slowly understood that you were still loving him and trying your best even if you couldn’t give him a father. You had also tried to date again, but you were so worried about your son in day-care that you never enjoyed any of them. It was hard to be a single mom, feeling worthless and unlovable each time you came home from an unsuccessful date. You knew that your son loved you, but it wasn't comparable to the love you could get from a caring man.

Since your work was closer, you privileged the public transports over the car. You entered the bus and your son suddenly started crying for no apparent reason. You tried to feed him, give him his cuddly toy, but nothing changed, he was crying at the top of his lungs. You were so embarrassed that you barely looked up, profoundly apologising to everyone around you, nearly in tears due to exhaustion and shame. The man in front of you looked around your age and his gaze on your son was tender. He tried to catch your son’s attention by grabbing his plushie, waving it in front of his face, the cries slowly fading as the man in front of you portrayed a funny sweet voice while talking to your son through his toy. Minwoo was now mesmerised by his talking plushie, laughing, and hugging it close to him while looking at the man in front of you. You rested your head against the window, and you sighed along with a few other people around you, relieved that your son had stopped crying.

“Thank you so much,” you said to the young man and he smiled. “It’s nothing, I couldn’t let this little man embarrass his mother,” he chuckled, and you started talking to each other until you had to get off the bus. He was named Seonghwa, and came with you to your workplace, distracting Minwoo from crying. You thanked him again and went to work, feeling more peaceful. Meeting Seonghwa on the bus had become your daily routine. He was an interesting and smart man, bringing you entertained until your stop, looking forward each time to see him the next day. Bus rides turned into dates, smiles turned into kisses, closeness turned into caresses and tenderness. You fell in love with him, hard, and you were scared, but he reassured you. You had almost forgotten your ex-husband and his tormenting family, hoping to never see them again. You were doing well. Until tonight.

You cannot lie, Yunho looked happy and surprised to see his son for the first time, but Seonghwa didn’t agree. You noticed the two men menacingly stare at each other and the atmosphere was tense. You couldn’t let them start a fight in the middle of the shop, so you grabbed Seonghwa’s hand, quickly bidding goodbye to your ex-husband, as well as Mingi and left the fish counter as quickly as possible. Once everything was in the car trunk, you sat Minwoo in his seat and went to the passenger seat, Seonghwa waiting for you to go home. You took big breaths during the journey home, expecting your boyfriend to leave you or not talk to you for a while. Why did you have to run into your ex-husband when you were with him? Why did it have to happen? You got out of the car as soon as it stopped in the driveway, taking in a big bowl of fresh air. You shook your head in defeat and opened the car door, unfastening your son’s seatbelt, carefully carrying him to your apartment and put him to bed. Seonghwa was tidying the grocery around the kitchen when you came downstairs, taking a glass of water along with a pill for headaches. Your boyfriend closed the fridge door and observed you, noticing that you were on the verge of tears. He walked towards you and took you in his arms, shushing you as you quietly cried on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry-” “I know the memories and scars are still vivid, but you need to move on. I saw how sad and upset you looked when we met him, but I won’t let this ungrateful bastard destroy what we built together. You were doing fine so far, we managed to make you forget him and I won’t let you dive back in your sorrow. You’ve been strong for so long, it’s not the time to give up. Do it for your son, for yourself, and for us as a pair. You need me, I need you, Minwoo needs healthy parents and I’m ready to take this role. Forget about this man, I promise that you will be better and healthier without him and his family.” Seonghwa whispered and worked his fingers through your hair, “I wasn’t so sure about bringing up a child who wasn’t mine, but I realised that I love you too much to let you down.” His words made you burst into tears and he shushed you, his fingers working in your hair. “I’m sorry that we had to see him, I swear it wasn’t planned.” You whispered and Seonghwa exhaled at your words, realising how guilty you felt. “No need to swear Y/N, and it’s okay. Let’s forget that for a while, shall we? You look really tired.” Seonghwa kissed your temple and you nodded, letting your boyfriend carry you to your bedroom.

Seonghwa made sure to kiss you on the cheek and dry your wet tears, his arm circling your waist before you both fell asleep in one breath.

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xbaepsae · 4 years

Text

the ebb and flow | part one

“But you do know that it’s possible for a child of wisdom and a child of the sea to be amicable. Maybe even be more than that. However, at the end of the day, it’s really just because of you and Jeongguk.”

[demigod!jeongguk x demigod!reader]

genre: percy jackson!au, mythology!au, demigod!au, enemies to lovers!au

word count: 2.2k

rating: pg-13

warnings: language, character tension lol

a/n: ahhh. today’s our baby bun’s birthday + dynamite is number one on billboard, so you know i had to deliver something! for a while now, i’ve wanted to start a drabble series (especially since i always feel pressured to write longer 10k+ fics). also, i love pjo so, so much. this idea has been on my mind for a while now, so i really hope you all enjoy! i can’t wait for you guys to read the next parts :) xoxo

→ series masterlist!

the fifth summer - in which you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place

Perhaps, challenging Cabin Three to an impromptu capture the flag game had been a bad idea from the start. However, you fully blame their head counselor for egging you on in the first place.

If Jeon Jeongguk would just learn to keep his damn mouth shut, maybe you wouldn’t have felt the need to defend yourself. The only reason you challenged Poseidon’s cabin in the first place was because he called your battle strategy weak. Thinking about it now, you honestly don’t recall how the conversation even got to that subject—after all, you and Jeongguk argued a lot most days—but you knew he was wrong.

How could you—a daughter of Athena—have weak battle strategy? The idea was absolutely absurd. Your mother was the goddess of wisdom and battle strategy; and as a child who literally sprung forth from her brain, you inherited every drop of her skills.

While you admit that the son of Poseidon is probably one of the more capable demigods here—though you’ll never dare say it to his face—he’s also arrogant, and arrogance never wins in a game of pure strategy. Thus, in the five summers you both have attended Camp Half-Blood, you’ve won more capture the flag games than Jeongguk has. Maybe he forgot that little fact.

“Are you sure you want to lose again, Jeon?” you asked him, a smirk stretched across your lips.

“I think you’ll be the one losing today, miss goody-two-shoes.”

Unfortunately, neither of you managed a victory this time because a certain someone from Apollo’s cabin spilled the beans to Chiron. You don’t even know how Jung Hoseok found out about the game, probably from one of those sneaky Hermes kids, but you were going to—

“Y/n, I expected better from you.”

You freeze up at the disappointed look on Chiron’s face. Although your pride is wounded, you know he’s right—you’ve always been a top-notch camper, which is why you’re head counselor of your cabin. However, when Jeongguk gets involved, you just can’t seem to think clearly. Beside you, you hear the devil himself break into laughter. He attempts to hide it as a cough, but Chiron doesn’t buy it and shoots him a glare.

“Don’t think I’m letting you off the hook either, Jeongguk.” The boy sobers up. “You both know better.”

“Sorry, Chiron,” the apology simultaneously slips past both your lips.

The centaur sighs. “It was quite reckless to get both your cabins involved like that. It’s only the first full week of summer, and things are already this bad?”

You know he’s referring to the first time you and Jeongguk butted heads together. It was your second summer, and Jeongguk accidentally shot a canon of water in your face while you were practicing your archery. Your natural reaction was to shoot an arrow back at him. Obviously, you both got a mouthful from Mr. D afterwards.

Since then, as each summer’s gone by, it’s been little things—like tripping each other, spilling food on each other, causing the other to lose at games. This impromptu capture the flag is probably the worst thing you’ve both decided to do.

“I promise it won’t happen again,” you speak up, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Can you?” Chiron lifts a brow.

Suddenly, Jeongguk nods. “Yeah, I sure can. Because it was y/n’s idea in the first place—”

“Only because you made me do it!” you interrupt, facing him now. “It’s always you and your cocky attitude that gets us in trouble.”

“Well, what about your pride, huh? You’re too damn prideful to admit that you. Can. Be. Wrong,” he spats. “Have you thought about that?”

You are riled up; you can feel your body shaking. “I’m never wrong, Jeon Jeongguk.”

“I think that’s enough, you two.”

Taking a step back, you release a deep exhale and turn to face Chiron again. “Sorry…again.”

He just waves your words away and clears his throat. “I will let this incident go”—your ears perk up at that— “only if you two serve a punishment.”

Your stomach drops at his words. In all of your years here, you’ve never done anything bad enough to warrant a punishment. You’ve seen plenty of younger campers receive penalties in the past, but you’re eighteen now and the thought of having to do something embarrassing in front of the entire camp makes you nauseous. No one would let you live that down.

“How about cleaning the Pegasus stalls for a week?”

“A week?” you exasperate. Cleaning stalls was much better than doing something during the campfire, that’s for sure. But still—a week is a long time. You have campers to take care of. “I don’t have a week to spare just to clean—”

“Okay,” Chiron interrupts. “We’ll make it two.”

Jeongguk shoots you a death glare, but you can’t help the next words that tumble past your lips.

“But isn’t Taehyung in charge of the stables?” You refer to the son of Zeus. “Why the—”

“Should I make it a whole month?”

“Two weeks is perfect,” Jeongguk grits through his teeth.

“Okay, I expect you both to be at the stables sharp and early tomorrow morning then,” Chiron smiles. “Just be glad Dionysus isn’t here this week or you both would’ve had worse punishments.”

After he dismisses you both, you begrudgingly follow Jeongguk out of the Big House. By this point, it’s almost dinnertime and you really should make sure everyone in your cabin is already at the dining pavilion. As you’re lost in thought about what to eat for dinner tonight, Jeongguk suddenly turns around and forces you to stop in your tracks.

“Thanks a lot,” he practically spits out venom. “Your big mouth gave us an extra week with the Pegasi.”

“Looks who’s talking,” you frown. “You have the biggest mouth there is.”

“At least I know when to shut up,” he retorts. “Now, we have to clean the stables every damn morning.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t act like I actually want to spend more time with you than I already do, Jeon.”

Bypassing him, you ignore his grunts of protest and make your way to Cabin Six. Outside of the gray building, you already see some of your half-siblings making their way to dinner. You greet a few of them, but they’re not who you’re looking for. Walking inside the cabin, you search the stacks of the books and finally find who you’re searching for. As if he knows you’re staring at him, he looks in your direction. “Hey.”

“Hey, Namjoon,” you wave at him.

He sets the book he’s holding down and begins walking towards you. “How did the meeting with Chiron go?”

“Oh,” you awkwardly scratch the back of your head. “Jeongguk and I have to clean the Pegasi stables for two weeks.”

Namjoon scrunches his nose at that. “That’s unfortunate.”

“Tell me about,” you sigh, and then look him in the eyes. “Because of that, would you mind helping me with counselor duties these next few weeks?”

“Sure,” he shrugs. “I mean, it can’t be that bad, right?”

You consider Kim Namjoon to be your second-in-command. As a son of Athena, he is equally as brilliant as you—if not more so—and is a natural born leader. And in all honesty, he could’ve been the head of the cabin; except, he didn’t want to. Something about how he’d rather spend his days doing more productive things.

“Yeah,” you nod, “just make sure everyone’s awake in time for breakfast—you know how some of the kids can be without proper nutrition—and morning activities.”

Namjoon seems to ponder this for a moment before agreeing and you both head off to the dining pavilion. You’re thankful that there’s someone like him in your cabin, that you two get to be technical half-siblings. Because it’s going to be a long next two weeks.

That night at dinner, as you’re drinking from the pavilion goblets, you feel a pair of eyes burn the back of your head. You don’t even have to turn around to know it’s from table three. Jeongguk’s predictable like that. And as you throw your food offerings into the fire and prepare for the nightly campfire, you never feel his gaze leave you.

***

A part of you wants to blame the fact that you hate Jeongguk so much on your mother’s rivalry with his dad.

Ever since Athena became the patron saint of Athens, you know she’s had issues with Poseidon. You don’t know why—olives are so much better than a salty water spring anyway. But you do know that it’s possible for a child of wisdom and a child of the sea to be amicable. Maybe even be more than that.

However, at the end of the day, it’s really just because of you and Jeongguk.

Ever since you were thirteen and started your first year at camp, you’ve hated him. What started off as a simple dislike became this thing where you can’t even stand to be in the same room as him. Every half-blood knows that you both are rivals, which is why you’ve never willingly been on the same capture the flag team or on a quest together. Not that you’d want to anyway.

Which is why it makes this punishment so terrible. You have no doubt Chiron knew exactly what he was doing.

Despite your repulsion towards the son of Poseidon, you wake up before the sunrises—which isn’t entirely unusual for you. But what is unusual is that you don’t even have time to pick up a book or look through your laptop. You already have somewhere to be.

After you pull on your orange t-shirt and a pair of denim shorts, you slip your sneakers on and make your way towards the stables. As you walk past the arena and volleyball courts, you’re surprised to see a few campers already walking around. A few of them give you curious glances, probably wondering why the head counselor of Athena’s cabin is outside at this hour; but you ignore their looks and continue marching ahead.

Once you make it to the stables, you already see Kim Taehyung unlocking the gate. He must hear you approaching because he turns around with a boxy smile on his face. “Good morning, y/n.”

You wonder how someone like him could be so cheery this early in the morning; on the surface, Taehyung appears rather nice—approachable, even. However, you know that he often has a storm brewing in his eyes. He isn’t afraid to zap people with lightning.

“Hey…”

“I’m so excited you and Jeongguk get to be here with the Pegasi. When Chiron told me about your p—I mean, when he mentioned that you guys would be helping, I thought it was very nice of him,” Taehyung finally unlocks the gate and beckons you to follow him.

Inside the stables, you notice that quite a few of the Pegasi are already awake and begging for attention. You pet one gently on the head, enjoying the soft hair underneath your fingers. Maybe this punishment wouldn’t be so bad.

“He wants to know if you have any carrots.”

Pulling your hand away, you realized you’re getting ahead of yourself. Looking towards the doorway, Jeongguk stands there with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. You know he’s referring to the Pegasus, and you forgot that he could communicate with equines.

“Oh good, you’re here Jeongguk,” Taehyung claps a little too enthusiastically. “That way I don’t have to explain everything twice.”

The son of Zeus explains what he does every morning and every evening, and everything seems easy enough. All you and Jeongguk have to do is clean and feed the Pegasi. Taehyung mentions that he’ll swing by during the week if you two need help, but you let him know that he doesn’t have to do that—everything’s pretty self-explanatory.

“Also, you don’t have to worry about letting them out,” Taehyung continues. “Campers come to ride them during the day, so they should be fine when it’s nighttime.”

After he shows you two where everything is, Taehyung leaves you with the key and two to get to work. By the time you and Jeongguk are done with everything, it feels like hours have surely gone by. Although the work itself is easy enough, there are more Pegasi than you realized.

“How the hell does Taehyung do all of this by himself?” you ask once you put your broom away. You don’t expect an answer, but Jeongguk gives you one anyway.

“He’s been doing this since he got here. I guess he really likes Pegasi.”

Turning to face Jeongguk, you don’t miss the way sweat beads along his forehead and how he uses the bottom of his orange shirt to wipe it away. Your eyes travel down to the exposed skin of his abdomen, drinking in the sight of his tan and toned body. Before he can realize you’ve been staring for a second too long, you’re already halfway out of the stable.

Did I just check out Jeongguk? No, you shake your head; you were just looking at what was in front of you. Besides, he was talking to you anyway. You were not admiring him at all.

“What time are we supposed to meet back here?” his voice catches you before you can get too far.

You stop and turn back around. “I guess before the campfire?”

Jeongguk nods at that, and you proceed to ignore him for the rest of the day. At least, until you both have to be at the stables again later.

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petertingle-yipyip · 4 years

Text

Selfish - Peter Parker

Part Three: Good in Goodbye

// Selfish // Stained Glass //

//Tags @josiemara @dylanstilinskiposts @just-a-sad-chicken-nugget-xxx @throughparisallthroughrome @tomhollandssecurityguard @marvel4geeks @yourbiggestspiderfan //

Word Count: 5974

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Summary: Peter and Y/N have revealed their secrets and tried to talk things out. But in an effort to be honest, it may have gotten worse. Is there hope for this couple or should they find the good in goodbye?

“You got blood on your hands.” Your dad stands over you, Captain America on one side and Black Widow on the other. “How do you plead?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt him.” You say weakly. “I made a mistake. Just-”

“You seem to do a lot of that.” Captain America’s voice bounces through the room.

“Please, I love him. Let me make it right!”

“Doesn’t look like you loved him enough, did you?” Black Widow’s voice offers you a challenge.

“Y/N?” MJ said from your side, shaking you lightly.

You jumped slightly, sitting up quickly from leaning against the table. You looked around, seeing no one left in your class room but you, MJ, and your teacher. You sighed slightly, wiping your face and trying to clear your head of your latest dream. You gathered your school supplies and noted that you hadn’t written anything on your papers.

“I slept the whole class period, didn’t I?” You asked regretfully as you and MJ left the room, waving a goodbye to your teacher.

“Mhmm.” She nodded simply. “I’ll send you my notes later.”

“Thanks.” You muttered, pulling out your phone to see nothing from Peter.

“Wanna tell me what happened last night?” MJ offered as you two headed to the main door. “You look terrible.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” You shrugged.

“Does that have any correlation to Peter not being here today?”

“Probably, I don’t know.” You mumbled, turning away from your normal walk home.

“Where are you going? Your apartment is this way.”

“I’m going to my dad’s.” You replied, stopping to turn and face your friend. “I can’t be home, not right now. I could barely stomach to be in my own room last night. I stayed on my fire escape all night because I just couldn’t take it. It’s just all bitter, no sweet.”

“So you two broke up then?”

“We’re not on speaking terms.”

“You broke up.”

“No, I don’t think so… Just not talking right now.”

“Well, what happened?”

“I made a mistake.” You answered carefully. “And I’m having a problem trying to make things right. Last night, I probably made things worse.”

“What are you going to do about Liz’s party this weekend?”

“Not go?” You shrugged with a nervous laugh. “I don’t know, MJ. Right now, I’m just trying to get through the day. And I had a fight with my mom last night about getting in trouble over the Flash thing so I’m really not in the mood for anything today. Sorry.”

“I get it.” She nodded slightly. “Just- Don’t beat yourself up too much, alright? Peter’s just an idiot. You two will figure it out.”

“Thanks, MJ… I’ll text you later.”

You rode in silence through the city to your dad’s tower. You showed the badge Tony had sent to your apartment, security ushering you in easily. You conversated with the head of security after he introduced himself. He said his name was Happy, and that he had known your dad for a long time. Happy took you to the floor where your dad was, saying that Tony’s lab and most of the Avengers were found on that floor.

You wandered around the massive space, soon finding a training room. There was a dumbbell rack against the far wall, a wall lined with full length mirrors. A weight bench was near it, next to a squat rack. There was a row of punching bags, an area on the floor set aside for partnered work. Various pads were piled by the ring, along with pairs of boxing gloves.

“I didn’t know you were coming.” A familiar voice said from behind you as you were kneeling to pick a pair of gloves.

“My mom is working late and I didn’t want to be home. She’s gonna pick me up when she gets off.” You answered, not wanting to turn and face him. You knew if you did, some sort of emotion would take over. But you were scared of which emotion it would be. Desperation? Anger? Fear? Pain? Loneliness?

“Are we okay?” He asked carefully, dropping his bag by the door and coming into the room. You watched his movements through the wall of mirrors, refusing to turn and face him.

That was always the thing with Peter. You two didn’t fight often. The Spiderman feud was probably the only real fight you two had ever had. But you had petty arguments every now and then. And once those arguments got to the silent treatment, one look from him and his big soft puppy dog brown eyes and you were melting back into him.

“There’s so much I want to say… So much I still haven’t said yet.” You replied slowly, picking your words intently. You knew you had to be careful with what you said. You were afraid that you would blow up and lose Peter. “But I’m lost, Peter. Things are different between us, and you can’t tell me it isn’t.”

“Not everything is different.” He offered a small, sincere smile. “I still love you.”

“The worst part about this is that it isn’t affecting you the same way it’s affecting me.” You laughed in disbelief. The words you had been holding in, hiding from everyone around you were bubbling over. The locked up feelings that you couldn’t verbalize were beginning to change into actions. You could feel the familiar twitch in your muscles, begging to release itself as quick and decisive blows. You turned to face Peter, dropping the gloves in your hands.

You let your feet move themselves, guiding your body closer to Peter. It felt like a magnet, pulling you to him. You knew you should’ve stopped. You should’ve planted yourself like a tree and refused to move. But it felt like it’d be right to be close to him, to trap yourself within the painted lines on the floor with him.

You realized you weren’t trying to just be close to Peter. You were closing in on Spiderman, the way you used to slowly stride closer to him before launching an offensive. You wanted to start a fight.

“Y/N, every night that I’m out, I swing by your apartment.” Peter explained, stepping closer to you. He was giving in to your movements, following your lead to close the distance, fully unaware of your subconscious intentions. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what last night.”

Once he was close enough, you threw a quick punch. Peter dodged it easily, catching your right hand with his left. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion while you squinted your eyes in determination. You urged yourself to forget, to bring yourself back to before you knew the identity of the bug-themed boy in spandex. You urged yourself to let your mind slip fully into Heretic’s mindset, the girl who knew how to release her pent up frustration. The girl who wasn’t dating a superhero.

“What are you doing?” Peter asked in surprise.

With a quiet tilt of your head, you reacted. You spun your wrist out of Peter’s grip, grabbing his arm and pulling him to you. While he was thrown off balance, you dropped to a knee and brought your elbow against the back of his knees. He groaned, falling to his knees. You kicked out to the side, knocking Peter flat on the ground.

Peter tried to process what was happening, but his brain kept telling him that he couldn’t hurt you. But the way you were moving, the intent you were moving with, it wasn’t a fight between Y/N and Peter. He recognized your movement pattern as a fight between Spiderman and Heretic. He took a second to compose himself, to allow himself to believe it was Heretic he was against.

He quickly jumped to his feet, trying to decide if he should fight back. Before he could make up his mind, you were coming at him with a calculated series of blows. Peter quickly blocked most of your hits. You ducked under his arm, connecting your elbow to the ghost of the bruise from where you had stabbed him previously.

He wobbled on his feet as he held his side, allowing you to charge again. Your mind was fuzzy, your muscles acting on their own. Soon, Peter was redirecting all of your attacks. He wasn’t blocking or fighting back, just sidestepping and avoiding. You dropped to sweep his legs, but he easily jumped over your foot. He landed in a low crouch, reaching over to push you. You quickly leaned into your palms, kicking your feet out.

Your feet connected with Peter’s chest, sending him rolling across the mat. You used the opportunity to jump to your feet. Peter turned to face you before shooting a web at your ankle and yanking your foot out from under you. You fell to your back, Peter quickly moving to pin your body down. He had his legs on either side of your hips and folded your arms against your chest.

“What the hell has gotten into you?” Peter panted, slightly winded.

You stared at him for a moment, noting the way the sweat made his curls stick to his forehead. His cheeks were slightly tinted pink and his chest noticeably rose and fell with his heavy breaths, both effects quickly fading back to a normal level. You chuckled lightly, pushing Peter off of you. He moved easily, not fighting to keep you pinned. You sat up on your elbows, tilting your head to look at him.

“You should’ve told me sooner.” You said plainly, working through the thick lump in your throat. “Maybe if you had told me before Tony came back into my life, this would’ve been different.”

You knew you had to have this conversation with Peter if you wanted to be able to move on. You wanted things to go back to normal with him, to be able to hang out and laugh and enjoy each other’s company. But now, it just felt like there was an elephant in the room. A big, fat elephant in the room wearing red and blue spandex. And even though you had tried this conversation last night, it didn’t work out well for you.

“I knew how you felt about superheroes.” He replied, his head hanging low. He was upset that he didn’t tell you sooner, but he also knew that you would react in a similar way. He didn’t know that you’d physically fight him over it, but he knew you’d lash out. “And the way you always talked about Mr. Stark and the Avengers… I didn’t want you to hate me too.”

“Peter, you know that I love you.” You sighed, crawling to sit across from him. You considered reaching out for his hand, but you decided against it. You had sent enough mixed messages when you put up the facade for school in the previous days. “Whether you’re a superhero or not, I still love you.”

“Then why did you just attack me?” He asked in shock, gesturing to the mat you two had just been fighting on.

“I don’t know!” You replied in the same tone. “I just- I’m trying to cope with everything still. I’m trying to pretend like everything is okay but it’s not. And this is the only way that I’ve figured out how to deal with things.”

“I didn’t want this to come between us.”

“That’s why I never told you about Heretic…” You explained slowly. You thought that maybe - just maybe - if you had confessed everything, put it all on the line, things could stabilize between you two. “I didn’t want the idea of me being the bad guy to drive you away. I didn’t think you’d understand what I was doing and why I was doing it.”

“I still don’t understand. You’re not the bad guy, Y/N, but...” He shook his head in silent frustration. “These tantrums been old. I can’t keep doing this.”

“You’re killing my vibe in ways words cannot describe. But I’ll try.” You paused, trying to plan your words before you said them. Last night, you let your words flow freely and you caused a rift between you and Peter. So now, you sat before him, silently pleading for him to forgive you. Maybe then you could forgive yourself. “I would take a bullet for you just to prove my love.”

“Only to find out you were the one holding the gun.” Peter scoffed. “Y/N, do you honestly think this hasn’t been bothering me?”

“How would I know?” You challenged simply. “You didn’t come to school today, so was I supposed to just know?”

“It's eight Mondays in a row, nine days of the week.” He replied, punctuating his words with a purposeful point to the ground. “Ever since you started ignoring me the first time, I haven’t been able to actually sleep, o-or focus. Everything reminds me of you, but you don’t even care.”

“I do care, Peter.”

“No, you don’t.” He chuckled in annoyance. Peter wanted to let the whole thing go, to forget that you were at odds and go back to the blissful ignorance of your relationship- back to a time when neither of you knew the other’s secrets. But he knew that wasn’t possible. Your relationship was changed forever, and now you two were faced with a challenge. Adapt or lose everything you two built. “If you actually cared, you’d come with me tonight. As Spiderman.”

You sat in front of your boyfriend, dumbstruck with his request. It seemed so simple. Spend time with Peter as Spiderman, learn to see them as the same entity instead of separate beings. How could you not see it before?

“And if I can’t do it?” You asked tightly, knowing that if you could barely stand the thought of Peter in the suit, it’d be even harder to spend the night with Peter in the suit.

“I saw something earlier, about how there’s good in the bad and bad in the good.” Peter explained, seemingly off topic.

“Yin and Yang.”

“They said there’s an ‘over’ in lover, ‘ex’ in next. But I think what hit hardest was the g-o-o-d in goodbye.”

“We’d break up, then…” You nodded slowly, realizing you were backed into a corner. “Looks like I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“I need you to need both, baby.” He said softly, consoling almost. He leaned over and took your hand, tugging it slightly in an effort to ask you to come closer. You gave in almost instantly. You crawled to sit beside him, to lean your head on his shoulder. His arm came around you as he held you close, as close as he could keep you. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t, Peter.” You confirmed. The moment felt so normal, it made your head swim. “You won’t lose me.”

“Y/N?” You heard your dad calling from down the hall. “Where you at, kid? There’s someone I want you to meet.”

“In here.” You replied, lifting your head from Peter’s shoulder to turn and look towards the door. You watched as your dad entered with Captain America and Black Widow.

Doesn’t look like you loved him enough, did you?

You jumped up in a panic, remembering your dream from your last class. A fresh, new wave of pain and regret coursed through your body. Regret flowed in your veins instead of blood, the desire to flee causing tension in your muscles. Your eyes darted around the room as you looked for another exit, any way to escape the suffocating pressure you felt closing in. Part of you knew that they weren’t going to lecture you - they wouldn’t turn against you - because they didn’t know you. They didn’t know anything about the situation, let alone know anything about you. But the irrational idea that your dream was some sort of prediction was hard to rid yourself of.

“Y/N, this is Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff.” Your dad introduced them.

“Uh, hi.” You said awkwardly.

“Not much for words, are you?” Natasha teased lightly.

“Yeah, guess not.” You chuckled nervously.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about it.” Steve offered kindly. “You’re Tony’s kid, which means your welcome here with open arms.”

“That’s really good to hear, Captain.” You nodded, the tight knot wound in your stomach gently unravelling. “And considering I’m on the outs with my mom, that’s really comforting.”

“What’s this about you and your mom?” Tony cut in, sliding in front of Steve and Natasha.

“Huh?” You played dumb.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Y/N.”

“She got mad that I wasn’t home when she got home.” You waved your hand to dismiss his concern. You saw Natasha motion for Steve to follow her, not thinking they needed to be in the room for that conversation. She pointed at Peter for him to follow, but then shot a look of annoyance before the two left. You assumed Peter refused to leave. “She wasn’t happy that I got into a fight and then ran off like nothing happened.”

“Yeah, but nothing happened.”

“I know that. But she doesn’t. I don’t even care anyways.”

“Y/N-” Peter tried.

“No, I don’t.” You laughed. “She wants to blame me for getting in trouble when A) I didn’t start the fight. B) I didn’t actually hurt Flash, just his ego. And C) Morita was sending me home anyways. What does it matter where I actually went?”

“I get where you’re coming from.” Tony offered, continuing to speak even though you were gathering your stuff to leave the room. “Hey, don’t walk away when I’m talking to you, alright? You’re pissed at your mom? Fine. But you’re not gonna take it out on me.”

“It’s more than just Mom.” You shook your head. “Ask him.” You nodded towards Peter before leaving the room.

You were about halfway out the doorway when you felt a thread-like material wrap wound your wrist. You let your backpack fall from your shoulder on the opposite side while you turned on your heel. You wrapped some of the excess webbing around your hand as you faced Peter, his arm extended and his hand gripping his end of the webs. You glared at him in challenge, trying to gauge if he actually wanted to do it. When his gaze didn’t waver, you acted quickly.

You yanked Peter forward. You aided yourself by moving in close, spinning towards Peter with your left arm locked out, in essence clotheslining the boy. Peter fell to the floor on his back while you stood triumphantly, gently placing your foot on Peter’s chest.

“Seriously?” You mocked. “What were you trying to accomplish?”

“Quit it.” Your dad said, cutting Peter’s web. “Leave him alone, Y/N. He’s trying to help.”

“Yeah, everyone’s trynna do what’s best for me, right?” You scoffed, picking up your backpack on your way out.

You took the long walk home by yourself. You declined Happy’s offer to drive you home. You declined Steve’s offer to pay for a cab. You knew the walk would be about half an hour, maybe more. But it would give you time to think.

You knew Peter would show up on your fire escape tonight, covered head to toe in his suit. You knew that you would have to dig out your gear and if you had the time, repair the neurotransmitters for your knives. A small part deep in the back of your brain was excited, itching to wear the familiar spandex as you silently wandered your neighborhood. But a bigger part, a louder and more prominent part was smarter. It was telling you to call off the meet-up, to find an excuse to not go out.

Maybe you had to catch up on the notes you missed. Maybe your mom was cracking down on you since you were M.I.A. two days in a row. Maybe you were feeling sick. No, Peter wouldn’t believe any of it.

For what felt like the first time in your life, you felt truly afraid. You were scared that you wouldn’t be able to see Peter and Spiderman as the same person. It wasn’t an option to keep them segregated, to have such a deep love for Peter but turn around and despise Spiderman. You kept telling yourself that they were one and the same.

You had seen it with your own eyes. You saw Peter come to your room the night before, red and blue suit fitting snugly against his body. You watched him peel away the mask and let loose a bed of messy brown curls and wide, loving eyes. You saw Peter, in a simple pair of jeans and a nerdy t-shirt, move with the same specific agility and precision that Spiderman moved with. You saw the same moves, the same defensive strategies at play less than an hour ago.

You had ample evidence and memories etched into your brain to support the notion - to prove the notion - that Peter Parker, the boy you loved with your whole existence, the boy who you had given your heart to without hesitation, was the beloved local hero. Peter was Iron Man’s newest prodigy. He was Queens’ protector. Peter was Spiderman…

But could you be Heretic again? It seemed like the fiasco of alter egos kept unravelling new issues every day. It felt as if a mountain of issues was piling up in front of you, and if you pulled on the one you felt was the heaviest to deal with, the entire collection would topple over on top of you and suffocate you.

As you finally approached your apartment door, the sun was slipping behind the nearby buildings. Night was coming quickly, swallowing the time you had left as Y/N. Pushing the time you had to become Heretic upon you. You set your intentions on your bedroom as you entered your home. You quickly reheated your dinner and took it to your room, refusing to utter a word to your mom.

“How was school?” She tried, to which you huffed in response. “Did you go to your dad’s after school or were you at Peter’s?”

The only response was the microwave beeping.

“I know you’re upset about last night, but I don’t think it was right for you to run off with Tony when you were sent home from school… But I do have to admit, I am glad you two are getting along so well.”

“Mhmm.” You acknowledged, a lift to your eyebrows displaying your disbelief in the subject. You carried the hot plate to your room and locked the door behind you.

You knew it wasn’t fair to be so angry with your mother. But with everything going on at that moment, you felt like you wanted to be mad at everyone. You couldn’t even let yourself be - admittedly - starstruck by meeting Captain America because you were upset about what your own mind produced. You hesitated by your door, considering heading back out and apologizing. But the dimming sunlight outside your window and the heat spreading from your dinner to your fingers reminded you of what you were intended to be doing.

You picked at your dinner while you worked to repair the neurotransmitters. You didn’t know what Peter had in mind when he asked you to meet with him, but you knew what the streets of New York could hold, the danger that she kept tucked in alleyways and prowled on dimly lit avenues. You knew you had to be prepared for anything, and since you wouldn’t have your serums to give yourself added protection, you needed to have your knives at the ready.

It was a few hours before you had completed the repairs with the stashed parts in one of your desk drawers. You unlocked your window before changing into your familiar spandex suit. You tugged on your boots, treading silently across your room. You pulled your hair up into a tight ponytail, pulling a couple strands to frame your face. You tossed your mask on your messy bed while you busied yourself at your desk, copying the notes that MJ had sent you.

meech🤔🙄: hey loser. heres the notes you missed. meech🤔🙄: quit screwing around and handle your issues with the other loser. i dont want to see you spiral cause a scrawny nerd

You hadn’t heard Peter crawl through your window, being that you had your music playing on your computer. His light tap on your shoulder caused you to jump and turn aggressively in the chair. Luckily, he was there to catch you so you didn’t tumble to the floor.

“Hey.” He said simply. Even though he had his mask on, you knew he was smiling. You heard it in his voice.

“Wow, guess I fell for you again.” You joked instantly, patting his chest lightly as you hauled yourself to your feet. “So, what’s the plan for tonight, Spiderman?”

“You’re really gonna come with me tonight?” He wanted to confirm. One thing you could always count on was Peter’s double-checking.

“No, these are my new skin-tight spandex pajamas.” You laughed lightly, side-stepping him to collect your knives from your bed, along with your mask. “Peter, I know these past couple days have been terrible. And I know it’s mostly been my fault.”

“Baby, no.” He said softly, reaching for your glove covered hand with his own. You couldn’t physically feel his fingers around yours, but you felt the pressure of a gentle squeeze and the slight texture of his suit against your exposed fingertips. “I’m as much at fault as you are.” Your eyebrows raised in amusement as you paused placing your mask on your face. “I didn’t mean it like that!” Peter immediately backtracked.

“We’ve been together for a long time, hon. I know what you meant.” You shook your head in amusement before hiding behind your mask. “You can keep going, by the way. I like where that was headed.”

“All I’m saying is that I could’ve done a little more. I don’t want to lose you, Y/N.” Peter admitted, headed towards the window with a gentle grip on your hand still. “You are… everything to me.”

A huge smile broke across your face. You had never thought that hearing words Peter had told you a million times over would give you such butterflies, such a tingling feeling across your body. Hearing it come from Peter, but seeing it come from Spiderman, it helped you bridge the gap between the boy you adored and the persona that you despised.

“So, what’s the plan tonight?” You asked again as you two climbed out of your window to your fire escape. “Usually I just kinda wander around until I run into you.”

“You ever wondered what it’s like to swing?” He offered, the sound of a smirk dancing in his voice.

“You’re kidding.” You smiled nervously.

“Do you trust me?”

“What?”

“Do you trust me?” He asked, climbing to stand on the railing of your fire escape and holding his hand out for you. The entire scene reminded you of the Disney movie, Aladdin.

“Yes?” You replied carefully, reaching for his hand. You climbed to the railing, wrapping your arms around his shoulders tightly. “If I die-”

“You’re not gonna die.” Peter laughed.

“If I die-” You continued pointedly. “-don’t let Flash come to my funeral.”

You closed your eyes tightly, burying your face into the crook of Peter’s neck. You locked your hands together, clinging desperately to Peter. Once you felt your feet leave the railing, a small squeal left your lips. You considered wrapping your legs around Peter’s waist for bonus security, but you abstained, worried it would interfere with Peter’s swinging.

You wanted to take a peek and see where you two were headed, but the wind burn on your face kept your eyes shut. You eventually felt the sharp sting of the cool air stop. The deep woosh in your ears had silenced, but it took a moment for your head to stop spinning.

Peter’s arm around your waist relaxed slightly to a lazy drape. Carefully, your feet felt the solid ground beneath but your arms remained locked around Peter. The swirling feeling in your head subsided, your mind settled slowly to allow your body to find its balance. You carefully opened your eyes, finding you and Peter atop a tall building with a familiar skyline.

“Is this your apartment building?” You asked slowly, taking in the new angle of the familiar view.

“Yeah..” He said gently, as if he was admiring the view as well. “I didn’t really want to do anything tonight… I just wanted to be with you.”

“Y’know, last time I was here with you, I threw you off the roof… I didn’t get to actually take in the view.”

“I forgot about that.” He laughed gently.

“I never said sorry for that, by the way.” You said awkwardly.

What you didn’t see was that Peter was admiring the view, only he wasn’t looking at the skyline. Peter’s eyes were trained on you, feeling as if he was seeing you for the first time. Peter was dumbstruck. How could you become even more beautiful?

Maybe it was the wind blown look of your hair. The pink tint of your cheeks and nose due to the wind burn. Maybe it was the wide, soft look in your eyes. The adoring smile you offered. Maybe it was the way you clung to his body even though you were completely safe. He felt your hands release themselves, one of them slid from across his shoulders to hang lazily against his chest. The ghost of your hand left a tingling warmth across his skin under his suit. Even though there was no skin to skin contact, he had missed your touch more than he had realized.

“I love you.” He said so quietly he barely heard his own voice.

“I love you too, Peter.” You replied, turning under his arm to face him. You took a small step to the side so you could stand in front of him fully. You slid the hand from his chest back up to his shoulder and up his neck. “Can I kiss you?”

“I was hoping you’d ask.” He tilted his head with his words, his signature move when he was a little cocky. He leaned in slightly before pulling back quickly and removing his mask. “Almost forgot.”

You paused for a millisecond, recognizing something incredible. You didn’t shy away from the kiss with his mask on. Yes, it would’ve been strange to kiss his mask and not him. But you didn’t think of it as kissing Spiderman. Your mind registered it as Peter with a mask on.

It was just Peter with a mask on.

You smiled widely from your revelation, leaning into his lips eagerly. Your hands easily slid up his neck, the feeling suit disappearing under your exposed fingertips and fading into his warm, soft skin. You felt the tousled texture of his hair, the slightly damp mess of curls that your digits were so used to being tangled in.

When you pulled away for a breath, you noted the dopey smile on your boyfriend’s face. You tilted your head back to let out an honest laugh, the realest laugh you had released since you had learned your boyfriend’s secret.

“This is amazing, Pete.” You said gently, your fingers dancing small circles on the nape of his neck. “I can’t believe you get to do this every night. I can see why you never answer me after eleven.” You joked.

“You’re in a good mood tonight.” He offered a small, content smile as he spoke. “So I guess Spiderman isn’t all that bad, is he?”

“Well, Spiderman did just try to kill me…” You teased, tilting your head side to side as if mulling over the thought, to which he scoffed in response. “But the guy under the mask is actually pretty great.”

“Y’know, if you want, I’m sure Mr. Stark would give you an internship like mine.”

“I don’t know about all that yet.” You shut down the thought almost immediately. “But I don’t think it’ll be as hard for me to see you and Spiderman as the same person anymore.”

“That’s all I wanted.” He sighed in relief.

“I owe you an apology, Peter.” You admitted with a heavy sigh. “It’s the least you deserve.”

“No, you-” He tried.

“Let me say this. Please.” You tried, offering Peter a pleading look. He nodded slightly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your shoulder. “I reacted out of fear, out of anger and- and pain. And I know that’s not an excuse, but I didn’t know how to cope with everything. The entirety of my world had flipped in the matter of minutes. Less than one hour changed my family dynamic and my dynamic with you. You are a huge part of my life, and if I lost you - especially over something so temporary - over feelings so blown out of proportions. I don’t think I’d be able to forgive myself. I couldn’t even sleep last night when you left. And then you weren’t at school and I- I thought it was my fault. I thought I chased you away and I had lost you.”

You felt a gentle thumb drag across your cheek and you realized you had begun to cry. Silent, warm tears had started to fall slowly down your face, and the sight was almost enough to move Peter to tears of his own. He offered you a sad, understanding smile. You leaned into his touch, your eyes closing to let your mind root yourself in that moment.

He knew it was hard for you to admit everything you were saying. He knew you were never the most open of books, not even with him. You told him everything - almost everything. And now, here you were, with the New York skyline setting the scene behind you. The constant sounds of the city’s streets filling the silence between your words, the heavy movements of your chest as you tried to maintain your semblance of calm. Peter felt a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach, a tingling feeling. Almost like butterflies.

It felt like the first date all over again.

“Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I absolutely adore you. And I want you in my life, no matter what you’re wearing.” You laughed nervously. “I love you, Peter Parker. And I need you.”

“You need me?” He teased lightly, wiggling his eyebrows in suggestion.

“I need you, Peter.” You nodded with a smile. “And I need you as Spiderman, too.”

Peter threw his head back with a wide grin. He let out a dramatically long sigh of relief before he faced you again. “I’m so glad you said that.”

“How long are we going to be out tonight?” You asked. The adrenaline of swinging with Peter was draining from your system and you could feel your body inching towards a crash. The lack of sleep from the night before probably wasn’t helping your case.

“You wanna come in?” He offered, leading you to the side of the building that would eventually lead to Peter’s window. “I know you’re tired.”

You nodded tiredly, mumbling how you’d have to explain it to your mom in the morning. Peter hopped over the ledge so he could offer you his hand and help you climb the fire escapes. He stayed in front of you, walking down sideways so he could keep any eye on you. His hand was locked around yours as you two treaded the metal steps that would eventually take you to his bedroom.

#peter parker #peter parker fanfic #peter fanfic #peter parker fic #peter parker x reader #peter x you #peter x yn #peter x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x yn #peter parker x y/n #spiderman fic #spiderman #marvel fic

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heyhihellowhatsup0 · 5 years

Text

Tangled Webs - Chapter Three (Peter Parker x Reader)

Dark Webs Masterlist | Tangled Webs Masterlist

Warnings: Angst, language, Smut (smut in this chapter!), Topics of death and depression, PTSD, more angst, violence, a bit more fluff and smut than the last series? Somewhat ignoring the MCU timeline due to mature content

Word Count: 5520

Summary: When the truth begins to unfold about whats happening to you, you decide to turn to Peter for help

A/N: Cleaning up my taglist so if you haven’t put your name on the form please do so. I can’t wait to hear your feed back on this chapter! I know with everything going on right now, we can use more distractions so I really hope this helps. FEEDBACK PLZZZ (Also I found this .gif on google, so if you made it, or know who did, let me know and I will credit!) Thank you xx -N

“Every time I look at that picture of my brother, I really just want to use again so badly,” one of Peter’s grief members confessed as he stared down into his coffee cup, “Been clean for two years but his death has been something I don’t think I can get through,” he admitted as he looked up to Peter for advice.

Peter nodded his head solemnly, relating to each and every story he heard, as he always did. Coming to these meetings was always hard and Peter knew how hard it was to talk about your own story. Listening was the easy part; just nod your head and ask questions, try his best to offer advice and talk things out until hopefully the feeling of wanting to use again would disintegrate.

It was the telling that was always hard. Sharing what was happening, admitting there was a problem. Releasing the anger that made everything inside convince you that the only escape or solution was at the bottom of a bottle. Accepting the reality of the situation by admitting there was only one person responsible for those actions. That was the hardest part of all.

And Peter still struggled with it. Every time when it was his turn to talk, he’d stumbled over his words; sometimes afraid to fully admit the truth. If he had a bad day, he would talk more, hoping that if he kept talking that unnerving feeling would suddenly vanish.

He’d talk about the things that made him happy instead. The things that pushed him forward and made him realize the value of his life. Most of those things had to do with you; the way you made Peter feel and how lucky and grateful he was that you were so supportive of him. How every time he felt like he was going to lose his mind, you’d pull him back up in the simplest of ways; always making him see there was a light at the end of the tunnel.

“My dad has been coming up a lot again ever since I went back to work and it’s been making a lot of old feelings resurface that I wasn’t ready for. And like you, I wasn’t sure if I could push through that pain,” Peter responded as he looked at him knowingly, “But we came here today. And we’re here for each other to get through that. And we have to remind ourselves that tomorrow is a new day, you know?” Peter answered as best as he could. Giving simple advice was usually the best way to go.

He absolutely hated when others would preach certain ideas or beliefs and shove them down Peter’s throat. He knew what did and didn’t work for him and he just hoped those things might help somebody else in the process.

Peter thanked everyone for coming and ended the meeting, shaking everyone’s hand and telling all the participants how proud he was of them and he listened to how proud they were of him. He headed over to the coffee pot, pouring himself a cup before he headed back home for the day.

“Hey,” one of Peter’s confidants came up to him by the coffee machine, “Still no Y/N?” they asked casually as they grabbed a cup from the table to make them self a cup.

Shaking his head no, Peter let out a shrug, “I don’t want to force it too much. But she’s been pulling back a lot lately. I don’t know, I feel like I’m only making matters worse for her. It’s been a bit like walking on eggshells lately but I’m sure it will pass,” Peter admitted as he blew on his coffee.

He hated that he was telling somebody else his problems instead of confronting you. It wasn’t fair to you and he knew it. But he had nobody to turn to anymore. You were suffering and you weren’t telling him what was bothering you.

And even though Peter assumed it had a lot to do with you and Harry, he needed you to be the one to say that first. But in the meantime, all it had been doing was causing an enormous elephant in the room with you hiding things. And he was now at a standstill, unsure of where to turn.

“She uh...came home drunk the other night,” Peter revealed as he looked down vacantly at the black liquid in his cup, “We haven’t really spoken much since,” he cringed at the thought. Peter couldn’t stand not speaking to you, especially when you needed him.

“I know you probably don’t want to do this. But when this happened to me, I had to take a break. Take some time for myself and let them come to their own terms in their own time to cut off the toxicity in my life to grow. I know it isn’t ideal but-”

“Thanks,” Peter answered back curtly, cutting them off as he felt his nerves bundling up again. He couldn’t imagine his life right now without you in it. A break? It sounded absolutely absurd and not to mention, unnecessary. You needed time, yes. But you didn’t need to be isolated. That would be the last thing you needed.

Peter’s mental health was important, yes. And he’d come such a long way from then to now. If something or someone were that bad for Peter and he thought he would use again, he would do what he had to in order to make sure that wouldn’t happen. Especially since the city needed him to be on top of things, it was another reason for him to keep going.

But you weren’t toxic to his life, not even in the slightest. And just hearing somebody say that to him, who didn’t even know you, only made him more annoyed. You were sick and all he wanted you to do was just reach that point of acknowledgement sooner rather than later. Unlike Peter, who didn’t do something until much, much later.

Peter would never want that for you. You just needed time, which is why he was so goddamn persistent about it. But he didn’t care. If that’s what it would take, then so be it. He cared way too much about you to let anything else bad happen to you. He’d take the hit first with no hesitation before it even went to you.

--------

You stood still in the machine, waiting for the scan to complete as the lights swirled and swiveled around your head. Your head felt like it weighed a million pounds and the feeling that you got hit by a truck wasn’t going away. This wasn’t a hangover, you knew this had something to do with the other day.

Deciding to figure it out on your own before calling Dr. Octavious, you started your morning by doing a full body and brain scan of yourself up in the lab while Peter was out for counseling. Of course, if you had told him what you were doing, this would have been a lot easier since Peter had EDITH and KAREN; but you didn’t want him to freak out about what you had done. And Peter would freak out.

You robbed someone and someone got stabbed because of you. If you hadn’t been there, none of that would have happened. It felt like you weren’t in control of yourself anymore. And whatever was going on, was only getting stronger.

The only good thing so far was that you hadn’t heard any voices, or experienced any paralysis like you had since that night. But you couldn’t take any chances with this. You had a gut feeling they would be back at some point, whatever they were. You wanted to be ready when they did and perhaps create a countermeasure for it and prepare yourself properly when it did happen.

Stepping out of the machine once the scan concluded, you practically ran for the computer to check on the results. Waiting anxiously for them to finish calculating and uploading, you glanced to the other side of the lab where your stash of bottles were hidden away along with your mask and the pile of cash you had stolen.

“Don’t,” you told yourself through your teeth. Remember Peter’s face, you reminded yourself as you stared at the hiding spot. Remember what had happened to him. Distract yourself while you wait, you suggested to yourself.

You grabbed your phone and you called Peter like you always would when you needed someone. He was the only one you really trusted being around, your best friend. And even though the two of you really weren’t talking, you knew he would be there for you for anything no matter how upset he was.

But it went to voicemail, making you frown. His phone seemed to be off, so you assumed he was still in his meeting. Waiting for the voicemail to beep, you cleared your throat as you turned your head away from your stash, trying not to look at it.

“Hey, it’s me,” you told Peter into your phone as you felt yourself get quiet. Your voice was so off and you knew Peter was going to worry when he heard this. But you really just needed a distraction, “I just...wanted to say I really miss you. And I am sorry about the other night. I’m…”

You took a breath, feeling yourself get weak as you apologized. Apologized for coming home drunk in his face and hiding everything from him. It was a burden you began to despise more and more each and every day. You couldn’t take much more of it.

“I think it’s just a weird day, so just delete this when you get it. I just really miss you,” you sucked in another breath as your eyes fluttered to the computer screen, noticing the scan had officially been uploaded, “I love you, Peter,” you breathed out before you hung up the phone.

Tapping on the screen, you opened up the brain scan. Examining it carefully, turning it around in every which way. You felt your head already pounding like a migraine beginning but you tried your best to ignore it. Whatever the problem was in this scan.

Your eyes widened when you noticed a small white particle in your brain scan. What the hell was that? It didn’t look like it was meant to be there and it stuck out like a sore thumb. Zooming in on it, you couldn’t figure out what it was.

“Karen, can you please figure out what this thing is, please?” you finally asked out loud as you slid Peter’s mask over your head. You didn’t really want to because even with the protocols you created to prevent KAREN from sharing your history with her to Peter, you still knew Peter had authority to override anything. It was risky but you couldn’t make heads or tails with this scan.

Karen lit up, the computers moving around rapidly as she searched, “I’m having a hard time accessing the files in the microchip located inside of your brain, Y/N,” she answered.

“Wait, did you say microchip?!” you screeched, your heart beating even faster now. You stared at the computer in front of your eyes as Karen showed you a closer look, “Can you tell me what the chip is used for?” you asked again, getting more and more nervous.

“Ahem. She can’t. But I most certainly can,” another voice came through. A male voice. And it was crystal clear. You couldn’t tell if it was in your head or through KAREN’s system. But there was something about that voice that sounded eerily familiar.

It couldn’t be, you thought to yourself. Beginning to realize how badly you had screwed up. You did this. You trusted someone too much because you were desperate for answers and now you were paying for that in the worst way possible. You only wished that none of it were true.

“What the fuck did you put inside of me?” you finally asked as you tried to compose yourself but you could feel yourself breaking the more you spoke.

“Nothing that wasn’t already there. I just helped move it along a bit more,” Doctor Octavious replied in a menacing tone that sent shivers down your spine, “The others didn’t have what you had. You can go farther than any of them,” he continued, which didn’t make you feel any less at ease.

You swallowed harshly, the lump in your throat only getting bigger and bigger as you felt your body tense up. This couldn’t be happening. How could you have done something so stupid? So careless? You didn’t even know what was going on but you could already tell just how severe it was going to be.

“What. The. Fuck. Did. You. Do?!” you asked again through your teeth. Feeling the anger and stress build up more and more, only you weren’t blacking out like you were used to. Everything felt different right now and you were completely lost.

You heard Doctor Octavious laugh and it only made your stomach continue to churn hearing he was actually laughing at your misery, “Consider it an implant with some oversight from our lab. Making sure you do better than the other experiments.”

“So it’s a mind control chip,” you scoffed out a laugh as you shook your head, feeling the tears streaming down your cheeks, “Please just let me go. I can’t even control what I have, I’m no use to whatever you’re thinking I can do,” you pleaded.

The vibrating through your body stopped suddenly as you heard a sound from outside of the room. Opening your eyes, you looked around and noticed that one of the computer monitors were now cracked. No doubt from you and whatever the hell you can call this sixth sense that was only getting worse now.

“Oh, I beg to differ. And we can help you control it and get better, Miss Y/L/N…” Doctor Octavious added with another laugh. He was laughing at you. And now you realized what you needed to do.

You already hid this for too long. Bottling it up, lying about it, trying to make excuses for it when it was only getting worse. You went to go see Doctor Octavious to help but now you really were in way over your head. And doing this on your own was only getting you into more trouble. Not to mention, you hated going through all of this by yourself.

“KAREN, call Peter,” you whispered through your tears as you looked over in the corner where your stash from the other night was hidden. Running over to it as quickly as you could, you threw the cabinets wide open as the phone began to dial with KAREN’s confirmation.

The phone rang once more before it abruptly disconnected and you froze in place. Of course, not by choice. You were right in front of your stash, your confession to Peter, and now you couldn’t move again, which was only making you more upset and beginning to cry harder. You were officially in hell.

“Please…” you cried out through your mask as you whimpered. You stared at the cash, the gun, and everything else you had stowed away inside of there. Wanting to come clean so badly but knowing you couldn’t.

“If you tell him. I will have you kill him. I refuse to have you fuck this up for me, girl,” he demanded of you as you began to feel your heart beating in your throat, “I’ll summon you when I need you next in a week. Until then, enjoy the silence as a thank you in advance,” he said.

And then you could move again. And the echo was all gone.

Collapsing to the floor, you let out a loud scream as you removed Peter’s mask from your head. All of your worst nightmares coming true. Not being in control of yourself, hurting Peter while the whole reason you went to Doctor Octavious in the first place was so you wouldn’t, commiting crimes, everything just too horrible to be true.

“KAREN, wipe memory of that phone call and everything from the last hour,” you said to the AI through your tears as you put everything back where you found it, shutting down the computers and scans. Peter couldn’t find any of this out.

You closed the cabinets and locked them again. If what he said was true, and he would make you kill Peter, then you had to do whatever you possibly could within your own will to keep him safe. You had to protect him in whatever way he would. And when Doctor Octavious came back as he said, you had to be ready.

--------

The rest of the day you stayed in the apartment, doing your best not to interact with too many people. You waited impatiently for Peter to come back, even though you weren’t speaking at the moment, you needed him by your side right now; even though you really couldn’t explain to him what was happening right now. You were hoping that he would eventually forgive you for that if it meant you were keeping him safe.

Luckily, Morgan came upstairs to visit after school with a stack of homework. Helping and spending time with her was the best distraction to keep you from freaking out and going off the deep end. And you were more than happy to be sitting with her at the kitchen table to keep busy.

“There’s no way you were given this as homework, Morg,” you looked at the sheet and how complicated it was for a six year old to complete, “This is a fifth grade level math. Did your teacher give you this?” you asked her curiously as you handed her back the sheet.

Morgan shrugged as she picked her pencil up, “I may have offered a few older kids my service if they buy me french fries for lunch for the week,” she answered as she answered the first equation on the sheet. Correctly, at that.

It was nice having Morgan around for the afternoon. You were actually beginning to feel normal again. Coming down from the shock you had earlier and trying to push it aside for right now. It was the distraction you wanted, even though you knew you really shouldn’t have one right now, you didn’t care.

“Your service? Meaning you’re doing their homework in exchange for french fries?” you asked for clarification, trying your best not to laugh. But the truth was, you needed that little laugh right now. And you were glad it was Morgan making you feel better. Like an actual human being with no problems to deal with.

Focusing on the math equation, Morgan nodded her head, “I think I can turn a profit if I make it until May,” she told you, knowing perfectly well exactly how smart she was. She was her father’s daughter, after all.

“Well then if you do, I’m requesting 10% equity for your company since you’re using my table as your office space,” you teased as you smiled at her, watching her solve the next problem. She didn’t even need your help.

“Four percent,” Morgan countered as she put her pencil down to give you a proud grin, “But only you get four percent, not Peter. Otherwise it’s 8% and I don’t trust him with my company,” she told you sternly.

You laughed harder as you extended your hand out to her, “Deal. But first, make sure your own homework is done, please,” you told her as she shook your hand firmly before both of your heads turned as you heard the door beginning to open.

Morgan pulled her hand away and brought her index finger up to her lips, shushing you to keep your secret as you placed your palm in front of your chest, promising her silently that you would as Peter came in with a bag filled of groceries. He smiled a bit when he saw you at the table with Morgan while he trotted his way inside.

Peter’s eyes fixed on you as he greeted the both of you with a warm smile. But you could tell he was looking at you because he heard your voicemail and you most likely panicked him. Especially since you turned your phone off after the incident in the lab, probably worrying Peter further when he assumably attempted to call you back to see if you were alright.

“Long time no see, Morg,” Peter said to her cheerfully, trying to keep his voice level. He didn’t want to worry her but Peter really needed to check on you and see what was going on. The silence between the two of you over the last few days was deafening and now he really needed to break it.

“Not long enough,” Morgan rolled her eyes as she answered Peter in her snarky little tone that always made him laugh. Only he really couldn’t laugh right now because he was only concerned about you, “We’re busy,” she sang at Peter, sticking her tongue out at him playfully.

Peter laughed to himself a bit as he stuck some of the groceries in the refrigerator, “Hey, Morgan? I need to talk to Y/N about something right now. But if you come back later, I will tell you what the password is to Happy’s snack cabinet where he keeps the good candy under lock and key,” he offered her with a playful smile.

Morgan gave Peter and you a look before she collected her things and slid them into her folder, “Bribing a six year old with snacks, real nice,” she told Peter, but you couldn’t help but laugh at the irony as you waved goodbye to her.

“Enjoy your grown up couple crap!” Morgan called out from the door as she grabbed the doorknob and started to pull it closed behind her.

“Don’t say crap!” Peter called out to her but the door was already closed, leaving the two of you alone, not sure of what to say to the other.

You knew you had to say something as you stood up and followed him into the kitchen. Trying to force a smile, but you couldn’t pretend with Peter. Especially when he knew perfectly well that something was going on with you based off of your phone call.

Sucking in a breath, you met Peter’s gaze as you stood against the counter, “I-I’m sorry about the voicemail I left you. I didn’t mean to freak you out or worry you,” you finally said as you felt your chin beginning to quiver.

“I already am plenty worried, Y/N,” Peter told you as he rested his hand against your hip to try and steady you, “I miss you,” he admitted, knowing how horrible it had been the last few days not speaking to you. Especially when he needed to every day since.

“I missed you too,” you told him as you wrapped your arms around him. Taking in his scent as if he had been gone for months. You felt yourself beginning to tear up, whimpering against his chest, “I f-fucked up, Peter. I’m sorry. I'll-stop drinking, okay?” you apologized for the other night, coming home drunk, amongst other things. But you were genuinely sorry for doing that to him, he certainly didn’t deserve it.

And with everything going on, you really didn’t intend on drinking like that again. You knew you needed a fresh mindset and that didn’t involve your clouded judgment from the other night. Not to mention, surrounding Peter with something extremely triggering for him. It wouldn’t be good for either one of you.

Peter shushed you as he brought his lips to the top of your head. Not wanting to say anything because he wanted you to get it all out. Release everything that built up inside of you as he held you in his arms, wanting you to so badly find your way to the surface as quickly as you possibly could.

“I let you down and I’m sorry,” you cried out against his chest as you pulled away, wiping your tears in hopes that he couldn’t see but you knew that he could. You were always so open with Peter, even when you didn’t want to be.

“I’m just worried, that's all. I’m sorry for shouting like that the other day. I-I just...” he trailed off thinking about it. Thinking about what he went through and seeing you go down a similar path. How he tried seeking some advice from earlier and hated the answer he got because he didn’t want to do that at all.

You cupped Peter’s face as you pulled him closer, “Am I going to be okay?” you asked him as you rested your head up against his, your lips both inches apart from each other as your eyes closed. Finally feeling a sense of calm knowing you had Peter again.

“You’re going to be more than okay. I know it,” Peter told you without skipping a beat. And he meant that. You were trying, he could see that. And maybe you weren’t ready to go to grief therapy like Peter, everyone worked in different ways. But you were taking small strides. And for that, Peter was glad.

“I love you, Peter Parker,” you told him as you swept your lips gently against his bottom lip. Capturing a small and gentle kiss, your first kiss in days in what had felt like an eternity without them, reminding you both how much you missed the other.

Peter’s lips began to trace yours slowly in return as he lifted you effortlessly, wrapping your legs around his waist, “I love more than anything, Y/N,” he whispered against your lips as he carried you into the bedroom.

Laying you onto the bed, your neediness for each other grew and grew as Peter discarded your t-shirt and jeans along with his, tossing them towards the wall. Cussing underneath his breath when he saw you in your lace bra with the necklace he gave to you underneath.

His fingers went to the necklace as he hovered over you, pressing small, soft kisses to your chest, “I never want to lose you again,” he muttered against your skin as he laced his free hand into yours. Beginning to think about the time last year when he had lost you and how empty he felt inside without that missing piece.

“And you never will,” you reassured him as you arched your back while Peter pushed himself into you. Letting out a whimper against his lips as he began to roll his hips slowly against yours as the two of you began to find your rhythm.

Locking your fingers together, Peter rutted his hips faster into you, whispering your name softly as your leg wrapped around his hip to pull him closer. You both craved each other so badly and even though you both knew you still had so much to talk about, this was all that mattered right now.

Peter’s lips found yours again as the hairs began to stick up on the back of his neck as his senses heightened with every touch. Moaning into another kiss, your tongues wildly began searching for each other’s. His hands running down to your breast, kneading you gently as he heard your soft moans wanting more from him.

Using all of your force, which wasn’t much at all since you were getting stronger these days, you rolled Peter onto his back, letting out a giggle as you did so, “I want to make you feel better too,” you whispered as your lips went to his neck, sucking a small bruise against his skin.

“Jesus, I’ll say,” Peter chuckled as his hands flooded down to your waist to guide you, “Nearly knocked the wind out of me there,” he laughed into another kiss as he pulled you down on top of him. The two of you laughing and being playful with each other was a simple reminder to the both of you of how much you both still loved the other and that feeling wasn’t ever going away no matter what was going on.

Your hand splayed against Peter’s bare stomach as you motioned your hips deeper into his. Letting out a soft moan as you felt him push himself deeper into you and his fingers beginning to circle you slowly while your eyes began fluttering opened and closed. The combination of his touch and your senses going as wild as his making it all the more incredible for you as you threw your head back with a loud moan, moving your hips faster for him. You knew everything always felt good with Peter, but this time was...different.

It was even better.

Peter bit his lip as he circled you faster, “Ungh...k-keep going like that, Y/N,” he cried out to you as he was trying to make you feel just as good as you were for him.

Pressing your palm into his stomach, you began to ride Peter faster. Feeling the coil in your stomach building up as you continued, Peter’s eyes kept watching you. Beginning to let all of your concerns from earlier go. The past was in the past and your present and future was Peter. That was all that mattered.

What once was tension from the last few days, now was turning into lust and love building up between the two of you as Peter arched his hips higher towards you. Your desperate gasps whimpering his name and breathy, ‘I love yous’ were beginning to send him over his edge as he continued to rub harsh circles against you.

Digging your nails into Peter’s sides, you bit your bottom lip as you began to unravel. Peter held onto your hips with his spider-like grip as he began to follow your lead. The two of you coming undone together as you collapsed into his chest, muffling your moans against him as you cried out one another’s name in ecstasy. The sensitivity from both of your capabilities magnifying it even more now than it ever did for you. Maybe it was because you were becoming more in control of it, but this was one of the few beneficial things of what was going on with you.

Peter took a few breaths as he came down from his high with you, smiling to himself as he picked your face up to look at you. Cupping your face lightly, he frowned at you when he saw there were tears in your eyes.

“What’s wrong? Please don’t do that because you know I’ll start crying too,” Peter smiled, trying to make light of it in hopes that he would make you laugh. Which only made him smile bigger when you let out a tiny giggle, rolling your teary eye at him, “That’s my girl,” Peter told you as he wiped a tear away.

“I just really missed you,” you told him as you smiled at him, resting your chin against his chest, “Missed this with you...” you mumbled as your finger began to trace circles against his bare stomach.

Pressing his lips together, Peter nodded his head, “It’s never a good day for me when I can’t speak to you,” he admitted as he felt his nerves coming back the moment he told you that. He hated not speaking to you and he hated admitting his stubbornness was one of the reasons why he didn’t.

His hands went back to your necklace as his thumb brushed over the spiderweb charm in the center of it. The fact that you wore it every day meant so much to him, “We’ll start fresh tomorrow, right?” he asked you.

“I’d like that a lot,” you agreed as you rolled off of Peter and nestled yourself against him.

That hope for a fresh start sparked a sense of calm within you. A feeling you hadn’t experienced in a long time ever since you developed these powers. You almost felt a pang of pain in your chest thinking about how this must have really been for Peter when it all happened for him.

But that serene feeling was beginning to become overshadowed by that prickling fear and anticipation of Doctor Octavious returning. And what that return would bring for you and Peter…

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#tom holland #tom holland x reader #peter parker

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the--sad--hatter · 6 years

Text

Phantom Pain (14)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU

PAIRING - Bucky X Reader

WARNINGS - Bad Habits and Rough Sex, Angsty and Dark AF.

DESCRIPTION - Everybody in the world knew of you, but not who you really were. Some called you a vigilante, some called you a criminal and some called you a hero but all of them called you The Phantom. Only two people knew your real identity and they swore to never tell anyone but when The Avengers need to infiltrate a high-security facility, Bruce Banner deduces that you’re the only one who can pull it off. That decision puts you and Bucky Barnes on a path you can’t turn back from, even if neither of like where it’s leading.

Series Masterlist

Chapter Fourteen - Phantom Hiding

“Ok, today's training is easy. We’re playing a game, Find the phantom.” Steve said simply, grinning in excitement.

“No using Friday to find her for you.” He added before Tony could finish opening his mouth.

“So we’re playing Hide and Seek? With a literal invisible woman?” Clint checked.

“Ten points for anyone who successfully finds her, twenty if you manage to touch her, fifty if you capture her.” Steve said.

“If anyone manages to capture me I’ll buy them dinner.” You chuckled derisively.

They all looked around warily, trying to figure out where your voice had come from.

“Alright, one your marks... get set... go!” Steve called and everyone scattered, looking for you.

You stifled a giggle and walked through the wall. As soon as you were clear you ran for Tony’s workshop, and phased straight inside an Iron Suit. It was only after you were inside your brain caught up to the fact you’d ran straight past somebody.

“How did you beat me up here?” You demanded, popping your head out of the suit.

“It wasn’t that hard to figure out where you were going to hide, you love winding Tony up.” Bucky said, smirking at you.

“Fine, take me in.” You sighed, phasing out of the suit and surrendering.

“No need Domniţă, if nobody else finds you I still win by thirty points.” He said, winking consiprationally at you.

“You need to touch me to get the full thirty.” You pointed out.

Bucky leaned in until there was less than a centimetre between your bodies. He ran his hand along the bare skin of your arm, not touching but so close he made all the little hairs stand up.

“Nobody else touches you, am I clear?” He said lowly.

You nodded slowly, like you were in a trance.

“Good girl.” he whispered and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

You closed your eyes and savoured the sensation, opening them to find him gone. You sighed wistfully and stepped back inside the suit, determined to keep your word and not let anyone else get a hold of you.

Three Hours Later

“Miss King, Captain Rogers asked me to inform you that they give up.”

“Where the hell were you?” Sam demanded when you strolled into the common room.

You laughed out loud.

“I haven’t even been invisible or intangible for the three hours. I was taking a nap.” You told them.

“WHERE? We looked everywhere.” Steve insisted.

“I was in one of the Iron Suits. They’re surprisingly comfortable.” You laughed, cackling at the put out and betrayed expression on Tony’s face.

“You were in my suit? My suit? Really? My suit?” He wailed.

“Did anyone find you?” Steve asked.

“Friday?” You said smugly, grinning at Bucky.

“Sargent Barnes found and touched The Phantom, earning thirty points.” She informed everyone.

There were a chorus of cheers and boos that you ignored as Bucky winked at you from across the room.

“Uh, I have to go take care of work stuff. Excuse me.” You stammered, practically running out of the room in your haste to escape.

When Bucky had winked at you, your stomach had done a little somersault and you didn’t like that. Physical attraction was fine, it was good and when it came to Bucky Barnes, it was expected. You’d known he was gorgeous from the second you’d seen his picture and meeting him in person had only made you salivate that much more.

Yes, Bucky Barnes was as sexy as sin but he was also charming, caring, sweet, protective, thoughtful and funny. Your body’s response to him was no longer limited to arousal, it was emotional longing.

“Are you alright? I could feel your panic.” Wanda said, rushing down the corridor after you.

“Oh, no you aren’t.” She said, answering her own question.

“No, I’m not.” You agreed flatly.

“Why are you so angry? What’s happened?” She asked, concern flooding her features.

You were angry, you were practically shaking with rage. Anger at your father, and at yourself. You took a deep breath to calm yourself and tried to explain it to her.

“When I was four I jumped off a wall in the swingpark and cut my knee open. It was barely a scratch but my dad carried me all the way home, singing ‘Somewhere over the rainbow’ to distract me from the pain.” You said, smiling wistfully.

“Your father did that?” She asked, smiling at the thought for a brief second before she remembered what a bastard Alexander King was.

“Yeah. When I was seven he taught me how to ride a horse because like all little girls, I wanted a pony. He insisted that if I had one, I had to learn to look after it properly because it was a living thing and not a toy. He made me muck horse stalls every day.” You laughed.

“That sounds awful.”

“It was. And it was one of the best lessons I ever learned. That Christmas I came downstairs on Christmas morning and found my mothers corpse under the tree. Burglary gone wrong. They caught the guy, he’s in jail. But my dad shut down after that. After the funeral I don’t think we were ever even in the same room alone.”

Wanda realised where you were going with the trip down memory lane.

“This isn’t just about his escape is it?” She asked softly.

“Losing the love of his life changed him, it destroyed him. And because he was so broken, he destroyed so many other lives. Love is dangerous and stupid and I consider it my moral obligation to never fall in love. I’m not good at caring about people and it’s his fault and it’s just one more thing he’s done to piss me off.” You said.

“Is there someone you wish you could care for?” She asked.

You hesitated before you nodded and thankfully she didn’t press you for a name.

“I had a brother, a twin. His name was Pietro and when he died it was like a piece of me died as well. I feel that pain every day and I carry it with me everywhere I go. It was difficult, learning to be a person on my own when I was always one of two but I manage, with help.”

“Wanda I’m sorry.” You said, moving over and tentatively offering her a hug which she accepted.

“Your fathers pain doesn’t excuse the things he’s done. Loss does not give anyone a pass to be evil or hurtful and love is not a weapon.” She said softly, burying her head in your shoulder.

You wished you believed her.

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

It took Tony 0.2 seconds to realise you were in a bad mood. It took him 0.3 seconds to figure out the best way to snap you out of it.

“Are you sure you wanna do this princess?” Tony challenged, ignoring Steve who walked into the lab with a look of trepadition.

You and Tony were stood in the middle of the lab, facing off against one another.

“I’m just her type, an egocentric, superhero billionaire with daddy issues. Bonus, I’m the younger model. Less mileage on me.” You said, waving at the befuddled Captain.

“False. I’m older but you’re sluttier.” Tony accused.

“Stark!” Steve snapped, glaring furiously at Tony.

“Cap you called her a manipulative snake yesterday.” Tony pointed out, waving Steve off.

“Not gonna lie, I’m a little bit turned on by that.” You said, winking at Steve who went the brightest shade of red you’d ever seen on a human being.

“There she is, Pepper! You would leave Tony for me right?” You asked her as she strode in.

“I can have the divorce papers drawn up within the hour if you’re offering.” Pepper said without missing a beat.

Tony made an undignified squeak and you double fist pumped the air.

“Pay up Snark!”

“What did you lose?” Pepper asked.

“The red custom lambo.” He grumbled.

“I’m gonna have it repainted.... blue.” You purred.

“You monster!”

“You have nobody but yourself to blame, you made a bet with the Betmaster.”

“The what?” Steve asked, bemused.

“That’s it, I’m taking your stupid title away. I challenge you to.... A bet war!” Tony said dramatically.

You gasped loudly and sat up to give him your full attention.

“I’m in. For the title.” You said

“Rules. We will take it in turns to offer up a bet. If you refuse or fail to complete your bet within one hour, you lose.” Tony decided and held out his hand.

“Agreed, let the games begin.” You said, shaking his hand.

“What just happened?” Steve whispered to Pepper.

“It just became a very long day.” She answered, sighing in resigned exasparation.

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

Stark V King!!! Oooohhhh this isn't gonna end well, but first lets cover the important stuff.

Flirty Bucky and soft Wanda! I love them both, in very different ways.

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#hattersmarvelverse #Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader

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morningfears · 6 years

Text

Morning Fears

Rating: M | This is smut! No one under 18!

Summary: Best friend’s dad!Luke | You met Dylan Hemmings your freshman year of college when she was assigned to be your very first roommate. With her came her father, Luke. You never expected Dylan to become your best friend and you certainly never expected your small crush on Luke to become anything more. But life is funny that way. (Luke is around 43 or 44 in this, reader and Dylan are about 22.)

Word Count: 6.6k

PART TWO | PART THREE

UPDATED SERIES MASTERLIST

“So, how does it feel to be a college graduate?”

You glance up from the pale pink drink on the table in front of you and blink as you take in the increasingly familiar sight of Luke, your random freshman year roommate-turned best friend’s father. He smiles warmly at you as he takes the empty seat to your right and slides a glass of water in front of you. After a quiet thank you, you take a sip before you contemplate the answer to his question.

“Doesn’t feel much different, if I’m honest,” you answer with a small smile as you tap your nails against the glass. “Maybe it just hasn’t hit me, maybe it won’t hit me until I’m finished with grad school. It just doesn’t feel like an accomplishment, you know? It doesn’t feel as powerful as I thought it would.”

Luke frowns at your answer and shifts in his seat to move a little closer to you. “It is an accomplishment,” he reminds you gently, “you worked hard. Everyone could see by the ten pounds of regalia you wore today.” When a small laugh leaves your lips, Luke grins and reaches out to gently squeeze your hand. “You should be proud of what you’ve accomplished. You’re not the same person I met when I moved Dylan into her dorm four years ago. You’ve grown so much and surpassed any and all expectations for you. It might not feel like it until you graduate for good but you’ve done something incredible. I know your parents are beyond proud of you. They gushed the entire ceremony,” he informs you with a grin, “and, I know it might not mean much, but I’m proud of you, too.”

You smile at Luke’s encouraging words, in awe of how quickly he could switch from being the goofy dad-next-door stereotype to someone who knows exactly what you need to hear. “It actually really means a lot to me. Thank you, Luke,” you inform him with a nod and truly mean every word.

You’ve never known why, never been able to understand it, but the moment you met Luke four years ago, you wanted to impress him. You wanted him to be proud of you, to see you as an adult who could take care of herself and not a dumb kid who needed someone to hold her hand and walk her through life. You wanted him to see you as an equal, not just his daughter’s best friend. And although you know that he probably means he’s proud of you in the way that he’s proud of Dylan, it still thrills you to know that you’ve at least gotten that far.

You think that maybe the reason you’re so desperate to make him see you as an adult, to make him proud, is because of the small crush you’ve had on him since the day you met. Watching him lift boxes and look incredible while simultaneously cracking the best, lamest dad jokes you’d ever heard was something that you hadn’t expected to like so much but couldn’t help falling for. And now you’re reminded of just how deep your crush runs as you glance at the exposed sliver of his chest peeking out of his shirt.

You try to be discreet, only looking when he’s glancing out at the partygoers milling about the party space, as you allow your eyes to rake over the silver necklace that you’d never seen him without, the one that stops just above the first fastened button, before they dip down to take in the deep burgundy of his button down. You have to bite your cheek to stop a groan from leaving your lips as your eyes rake over his thighs in the same black pants he’d worn to the graduation ceremony earlier in the day and you want to drop your head to the table and ask forgiveness as you imagine sitting on them.

“Are you alright?”

You blink at the suddenness of Luke’s question and nod quickly. “Fine,” you hum, “I’m okay. Just a little tired. It’s been a long day.”

“I can imagine,” Luke nods. He pauses for a moment before he returns his full attention to you. “Do you have a ride home?”

“Dylan and Alex are supposed to give me a ride home,” you inform him as you take a look around the back yard, searching for your best friend’s familiar head of curly blonde hair. When you don’t see it, you frown and reach for your cellphone. “Uh, at least, I hope they’re going to give me a ride home.”

Luke frowns as he informs you, “Dylan left about thirty minutes ago.”

“Fuck,” you sigh as you glance at your cellphone and notice the text from Dylan telling you exactly the same thing. “Well, Uber it is, then,” you huff as you tap the app on your cellphone and wait for it to load.

“I could take you home,” Luke offers with a shrug, “I know it’s probably safe for you to take an Uber but I don’t like the idea of you alone with a stranger.”

“Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that,” you shake your head as you glance up at him, “it’s fine, honestly. You probably have something better to do than drive me home. No worries.”

Luke breathes a laugh as he shakes his head. “I cleared my day for the ceremony and the party. I’m all yours,” he informs you before he quickly adds, “if you want me to take you home. I don’t have any other plans.”

You smile at Luke’s offer and nod. “If you’re sure it’s not a bother,” you agree, “thank you. I really appreciate it. I’m not going to lie, I hate taking cabs or Ubers or something if I’m alone. My mom’s always telling me how dangerous it is and it kind of freaks me out.”

Luke nods seriously as he offers you his hand to help you out of your chair. “I understand where she’s coming from,” he informs you as he begins leading you out of the ballroom, “it’s dangerous out there. I’m glad you and Dylan are practically attached at the hip. Makes me feel better knowing you both have someone to watch out for you.”

With that, the two of you fall silent as you make your way out of the venue. Your mind is clouded with a frustrating mixture of lust, guilt, and nerves as you allow yourself to slip back into your thoughts. Being alone with Luke is somewhat new, you’re still not entirely sure how to behave yourself without Dylan’s presence, and it’s enough to send your heart thumping as you peek over at him.

Despite his age, or maybe because of it, he's still incredibly handsome. The years have been kind to him, you think, as you take in the soft curls of his hair and the stubble lining his jaw. His eyes are a beautiful blue, kind and shining, and they make you want to lose yourself in them. You want to grin at his nose and that’s how you know you’re completely fucked, when the image of waking up beside him and kissing his nose with a soft ‘good morning’ flashes through your brain. But you can’t seem to help yourself, despite the nagging feeling of guilt bubbling in the pit of your stomach.

You’ve never felt this way, never wanted anyone so badly, and at first you were unsure of whether it was the fact that he seemed so unattainable or the fact that he just genuinely made you feel so strongly. Now, however, staring up at him, you know that it’s a genuine feeling bubbling in the pit of your stomach, settling in right alongside the guilt. You genuinely want him, you’re certain of that. What you remain unsure of is whether or not he wants you back.

As you stare up at him, you can’t help your spiraling thoughts.

What if he actually does want you? What if something were to happen between the two of you? What would Dylan think? What would your parents think? Would it be an actual relationship or a meaningless hookup? Is it wrong to want him? Does it make you a bad person to want to be with him? Would it make him a bad person to want to be with you?

“You’re spacing out on me again.”

You blink away your thoughts and focus on Luke who looks somewhat concerned, despite the teasing tone to his voice. “I’m okay,” you assure him quickly, a small smile quirking your lips, “just thinking, sorry.”

“Please, don’t apologize. It’s alright,” Luke assures you as he opens the passenger door for you, “we all get lost in our thoughts.” Luke shuts the door and rounds the car as you settle into your seat. As he buckles his own seatbelt, he tells you, “You don’t have to, of course, but if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here. I can’t promise I won’t laugh if it’s embarrassing, but I will listen.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the giggle that leaves your lips at Luke’s teasing. Luke looks pleased with himself as he hears the sound of your giggle. He grins widely at you before the starts the car and asks you to direct him to your apartment. The moment he pulls out of the parking lot, Luke turns the radio up and you grin as Ozzy Osbourne begins pouring from the speakers.

A soft smile graces Luke’s lips as he watches you quietly sing along to Mr. Crowley. You look so content in the moment, happy and free in a way that he rarely sees you, and he’s suddenly reminded of the person he met nearly four years ago. You seem to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders now, you seem jaded and hardened by the four years that have passed, and Luke is happy to see some of that melt away if only for a moment.

Luke continues the playlist of classic rock as he drives you to your apartment and even sings along to a few of the songs with you, grinning widely as he watches you begin to truly enjoy yourself. By the time he pulls into the parking lot of your apartment complex, you’re fully channeling your inner Joan Jett and he wants to turn the car around and keep driving, just to keep the carefree smile on your lips. But as the final chords of Crimson and Clover fade out, you realize where you are and a quiet sigh he’s sure he wasn’t meant to hear spills from your lips.

However, as quickly as your genuine smile faded, a smile that Luke can instantly pinpoint as fake replaces it. “Thank you for bringing me home,” you nod, your appreciation genuine though your smile is not. “I really appreciate it.”

“You’re very welcome. Thank you for letting me bring you home,” he smiles. “Have fun with your parents in the morning,” he urges, “Dylan told me you guys were going to get breakfast before you head home for a few days.”

“Oh,” you nod slowly, “uh. Plans changed a bit. My mom got sick during the ceremony. They left as soon as I got off stage with my diploma. They headed home earlier. I’m driving back by myself tomorrow.” Luke’s smile falls as he watches you attempt to keep your tone even. “It’s not a big deal,” you shrug, “we’re having a party for me and my cousins who’re graduating high school this weekend. So, we’ll celebrate then.”

“But you’re going to be alone tonight,” he prompts, “and on your drive home tomorrow?” When you shrug, his frown deepens. “You should be celebrating tonight. You should be too hungover to drive tomorrow. You should be surrounded by people who love you tonight.”

You smile softly at Luke’s words and shrug. “It’s really not a big deal,” you laugh slightly, “it’s not the first time and it won’t be the last. I’ll probably still be too hungover to drive tomorrow. It’ll just be because of wine and Chopped reruns. Like I said, this doesn’t really feel like that big of a thing, anyway.” When Luke opens his mouth to argue, you truly laugh. “If you’re so concerned about me being alone, you’re free to come up and watch an episode or two of Chopped with me. I have to warn you, though, I’ve seen all of them so I can tell you who wins the moment I see the first chef appear.”

Luke laughs at this, his frown lightening for a moment, before he hesitates. You think he’s going to tell you that he shouldn’t, that he needs to head home, but to your surprise, he nods. “I suppose I’ll have to try and guess before you can tell me who wins, then,” he teases as he unbuckles his seatbelt. “And maybe keep you from getting too hungover to drive in the morning.”

“My hero,” you retort with a playful roll of your eyes as Luke steps out and rounds the car before you can get your seatbelt unbuckled. Luke nods his acknowledgement when you thank him and gestures for you to lead the way up the stairs. “I have to warn you before you come in,” you murmur as you search through your bag for your keys, “my place looks like a hurricane hit it. Between packing for the trip home, getting ready for graduation, and work, I haven’t had much time to clean.”

Luke rolls his eyes at this because he knows you. He knows that you’re the tidiest twenty-something he’s ever met (every time he visited when you and Dylan lived together, the only cleaning supplies to be found were tucked away in your closet. Hell, he even walked in on you cleaning the apartment Dylan lived in alone after you both moved into one-bedroom places of your own).

He’s imagining a pair of shoes scattered near the door or makeup left on the bathroom counter but he’s surprised to find a duffle bag left open on the dining table, clothes scattered around it. He raises an eyebrow at the wine glass on the coffee table and shakes his head amusedly when you grin sheepishly at him. The apartment does look messy by your standards but, to him, it’s another glimpse into a side of you he’s not usually privy to.

“Do you want something to drink?” you ask, pulling him from his thoughts. “Um, I have wine, obviously,” you laugh as you step around him to grab the glass from the table, “I have Jack, some rum, some vodka… I also have, like, non-alcoholic stuff, too. Juice, I think, and some water. I have some La Croix that Dylan drinks and a soda but, if I’m being honest, I wouldn’t drink that. I feel like it’s been in there since I moved in and I doubt it’s any good anymore. I should throw that away…” Luke watches as you scramble around, tidying the mess that he knows is killing you inside, with an amused smile on his lips.

He remains in his spot near the door for a moment, just watching, before he steps toward the living area and begins helping. He’s tidied up the coffee table, straightened papers and returned books to the shelf beneath your television, by the time you notice he’s helping and before you can argue that he doesn’t have to, he shakes his head. “I know it’ll be on your mind the entire time if your apartment is “messy” and someone is here to witness it,” he hums as he folds the large knit throw over the back of the couch, “even if you know that someone has a daughter whose definition of cleaning is kicking things under the bed or into the closet. How did you even deal with sharing a living space with Dylan?”

“It was a challenge,” you laugh as you zip your duffle bag, now filled to the brim with clothes, and place it in a chair in the corner, “but she gets it honest, I’m sure.”

“Hey,” Luke frowns playfully, his eyes still shining with amusement, “I’m a busy man. I clean when I can.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever really seen the desk in your office,” you laugh as you step around him to get into the kitchen, “is there actually a desk under all those papers?” Luke shakes his head at your question, his lips quirking into a smile as he shrugs, but says nothing to defend himself. With a triumphant grin, you grab a clean wine glass from your cabinet and turn back to him. “So, drink?”

“Just water, please,” he requests as he leans against the kitchen counter and watches you pour your glass full of grape juice. “I see you’ve decided against the hangover.”

“Mm,” you nod as you hand him his glass, “figured I’d be annoyed enough with the traffic. But juice always feels better when you drink it out of a real glass. Now, Chopped marathon or no?” Luke gestures for you to lead the way with a smile and follows you back to the couch. “My Hulu’s already pulled up. You can just find Chopped. I’m going to go change out of this dress really quick,” you inform him as he settles at one end of the couch.

“Take your time,” he nods, “it’ll give me a head-start trying to figure out who wins before you can spoil it for me.”

“A man with a plan,” you nod, your tone light as you laugh and head down the hall, “I like it!”

Luke laughs at your words and you try not to let yourself dwell as you search your drawers for a pair of comfortable (but still cute) pajamas.

You try not to think about the fact that Luke, a man you’ve had a crush on for nearly four years even though you shouldn’t, is sitting on your couch, waiting to watch Chopped with you. You try not to think about the fact that you’ve been laughing and joking like you’re old friends. You try not to think about the fact that he’s treating you the way you’ve always wished.

You try not to think about how badly you’d like for this to be more than just him pitying you. You try not to think about how nice it would be to come home to Luke, waiting to watch Chopped with you and laugh as you ultimately spoil every episode, after a long day at work. You try not to think about how badly you’d like to curl up beside him, his arms wrapped around you and his fingers gently combing through your hair as he listened to you ramble about anything and everything. You try not to think about how nice it would be to kiss him, to feel his lips against yours and his hands on your hips.

You try not to think about how you shouldn’t want any of this.

But you can’t help yourself as the overwhelming flood of thoughts returns to the forefront of your mind as you pull out a pair of shorts that aren’t too short or too frumpy, a t-shirt that’s still completely in tact, and a pair of fuzzy socks. Before the thoughts can fully consume you, you strip out of your party dress and pull on your pajamas. You attempt to calm your racing heart as you return to the living room and settle onto the opposite end of the couch, leaving as much space between the two of you as possible.

“Figure out who’s going to win yet?” you question as you do your best to keep your tone light.

“Not yet,” Luke hums before he turns his head and fully looks at you. When he catches sight of you, clad in your pajamas and looking softer than he’s ever seen you, he can’t help but smile.

“What?” you question, your eyebrows quirked in confusion and a slight frown on your lips.

Luke shakes his head, a smile still on his lips, as he tells you, “You look so cute. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this dressed down. Even when you stayed over with Dylan, you were in jeans every time I saw you.”

“I’m not cute,” you huff, “and I’m sure you’ve seen me in clothes that aren’t, like, clothes. I’m sure I’ve worn shorts or something at the beach or around the pool.”

“I’ve never seen it,” Luke shrugs, “always jeans. And definitely never fuzzy penguin socks. Those are my favorite, by the way.”

“Okay, well. Now you’re just being mean,” you huff as you curl your feet beneath you in an attempt to cover your socks.

Luke laughs as you turn your head away from him and pretend to focus on the television. He hesitates for a moment, unsure of whether or not he’d be crossing any boundaries, before he decides to say fuck it and reaches out to gently tug at your ankle. “I promise I wasn’t making fun of your socks,” he assures you with a soft smile as he convinces you to straighten your legs and prop your feet in his lap, “I really do love them. They’re cute. It’s nice to see you like this, soft and at home. I always see this tough exterior, this girl with the weight of the world on her shoulders, so it makes me happy to see you this way.”

You’re not sure if you should play this off with a joke or if you should share your thoughts with Luke. You’re not sure if he will laugh at you, if he’ll play it off himself with a smile and a witty comment, but you can’t help yourself. You quietly inform him, “I like you seeing me this way. I’m comfortable with you.”

Luke wants to believe that he imagined the softness in your tone. He wants to believe that you don’t mean those words in the way that he knows you do. He wants to believe that you just see him as a positive adult figure but as he looks at you, truly looks at you, he knows that that isn’t the case. He can see the apprehension in your eyes, the fear of rejection or judgement or a lecture, and it sends a pang that he hasn’t felt in years surging through his chest. He knows it’s a bad idea, knows that he should let you down gently before either of you get hurt, but he can’t bring himself to crush your heart. So, instead of moving his hands and nudging you back to your side of the couch, he gently traces his fingers along your shin and smiles softly at you.

“I’m glad,” he nods and you can feel the sincerity in the statement as he gently squeezes your ankle, “I want you to feel comfortable around me.”

The two of you fall silent, his words settling in the air and sending your heart rate skyrocketing. The feeling of his fingers on your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake as they gently brush across your shin, combined with the gentleness of his tone sends your mind reeling. And before you can truly register what you’re doing, you’re whispering, “Is it bad that I really want to kiss you?”

Luke wants to say yes, wants to tell you that it’s a bad idea and that you shouldn’t want him, but he can’t. Not when you’re looking at him with the most wide-eyed look of sincerity he’s ever seen. Not when you’re jumping, hoping he’ll be there to catch you.

He can’t tell you that when he feels exactly the same way.

So, he shakes his head. “Only if it’s bad that I really want to kiss you,” and it feels as if all of the air has been sucked out of the room. You find yourself unable to breathe, unable to think, and you feel as if you’ll wake up at any moment to the harsh ringing of your alarm, only to find that this was all a dream. But when Luke shifts and looks at you, concern clearly written on his face, do you realize that this is real.

“I don’t care, then,” you whisper before he can ask if you’re alright, “I don’t care if it’s bad. Please, kiss me.”

Luke knows that he should refuse. At the very least, he should hesitate. You’re his daughter’s best friend, for crying out loud. But he doesn’t. The moment the words leave your lips, he’s pulling you closer and reaching out to gently cup your cheeks as he presses his lips to yours.

He feels any semblance of doubt disappear the moment a content sigh leaves your lips and you relax against him. You settle closer to him, as close as you can get with your thighs draped over his lap, and reach up to tangle your fingers in his curls. Luke relaxes into the couch, sighing contentedly as he feels your lips moving with his. The two of you lose yourselves in one another, the world around you ceasing to exist as you focus on finally feeling Luke against you after four years of pining, and you’re content to spend the rest of your life right here.

But your lungs, unable to stick with the program, pull you away from Luke to take in a deep breath. As you blink at him, your chest heaving and lips slightly swollen, Luke can’t help but gently brush his thumbs over your cheekbones. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his eyes as soft as his tone.

“So are you,” you breathe, “you make my heart feel like it’s going to beat out of my chest.”

Luke smiles at this. He remembers the feeling from his own days in college, remembers how confusing feelings were in the beginning, and he wants to tell you that it’s simultaneously one of the best and worst feelings in the world, but he doesn’t want to remind you of just how old he is. He doesn’t want to remind you that he has so much more life experience than you, that he understands because he’s been there, so he doesn’t address it. Instead, he whispers, “Could I kiss you again?”

You don’t respond verbally. You shift so that you’re a little more comfortable tucked into his side and return your lips to his. This kiss is different than the first, you think, as his hands move from your cheeks, down your arms, to rest at your hips. His grip is gentle, a barely there pressure that you’re all too aware of, as he deepens the kiss. You feel any thought that doesn’t consist of Luke, of his hands and his mouth, slip from your mind as you shift to place a knee on either side of his thighs without breaking the kiss.

Luke’s grip on your hips tightens slightly as you shift on his lap to get more comfortable. You can feel him hardening in the black pants that hug his thighs just the way you like and the idea that this could go further than a makeout session on your couch has you tugging at his curls a little harder than before. His fingers dip beneath them of your t-shirt, thumbs brushing your hipbones as he groans against your lips.

“Are you sure about this, pretty girl?” Luke questions, his voice quiet as he pulls away just enough to see your face.

“So sure,” you breathe, eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze. “I’m an adult, Luke. I know what I want and that’s you. Please.”

Luke searches your eyes for any hint of doubt. In them, he sees certainty clouded by lust and that’s enough to have him nodding. He shouldn’t he knows that. He should stop this before it goes any further. But he can’t help himself as the words spill past his lips. “Up, then,” he breathes as he taps your hip, “don’t want to do this on your couch.”

If it had been any other time, Luke would’ve laughed at your slight stumble as you climb off of his lap and reach out for his hand. But as your fingers curl around his and you lead him down the hall to your bedroom, decorated in blacks and reds and far more sensual than he would’ve imagined, laughing at your clumsiness is the farthest thing from his mind.

The moment you step through the doorway, Luke’s hands are back on you. It’s as if a switch has flipped in his mind as he returns his hands to your hips and pulls you so that you’re flush against his body. He reconnects your lips in a kiss that is a mess of teeth and tongue, of passion and lust and lowered inhibitions, as he allows his hands to begin wandering. You feel him brush the swell of your ass, his touch gentle and unhurried as you allow your own hands to drift.

While you work diligently to unbutton the remaining buttons of Luke’s shirt, his hands move to dip beneath your t-shirt and splay across your ribcage. His fingertips trace the band of your bra, lightly brushing the patterns of the lace, and you shiver at the featherlight feeling tickling your skin. The cool metal of his rings feels heavenly against your skin and you almost whine at the loss of it before you feel him cup your breasts and gently squeeze.

“They feel better without a bra,” you breathe against his lips as you pull away to catch your breath.

“They feel pretty damn good with a bra,” he laughs but pulls away and allows you to nudge his button down off his shoulders before he tugs at the hem of your t-shirt. Your shirt joins his on the floor and his breath catches at the sight of you standing before him. He’s seen you in bikinis, seen you in crop tops, but he’s never let himself truly look. Now, though, he feels as if he can’t tear his eyes away. “Fuck,” he breathes as his eyes rake over the black lace, “you’re so beautiful.”

When you dip your head to hide your face, Luke gently grips your chin and tilts your head up to face him. “I mean it,” he assures you, “you are so beautiful and if you’ll let me, I’d love to show you how beautiful I find you.” Unable to do more, you nod at Luke’s request and return your hands to his shoulders as he dips his head to press searing kisses to your neck. He begins walking you backward, his lips never leaving your skin, and only stops when your knees hit the foot of your mattress and your knees buckle. “Take your bra for me, pretty girl,” he breathes and you swear you feel your heart stop as he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of your shorts and tugs them down your legs.

Your bra joins the pile of clothes as Luke settles in front of you and you’re certain that your panties are noticeably soaked as Luke gently nudges your thighs apart to step between them. He takes his time; presses kisses down the column of your throat, brushes his lips across your collarbones, nips at your chest, and pauses when he comes to your breasts. His fingers gently pinch and tug at one nipple while his mouth envelops the other. His tongue swirls around the hardening bud, warm and enough to leave you thoughtless and floating in the pleasure of Luke.

After giving your breasts the same treatment, Luke drags kisses down your stomach, across your collarbones, and just above the waistband fo your panties as he settles on his knees before you. “Lie back, princess,” he hums against your skin, his eyes lifting to look at you and you swear you’re going to combust before the night’s over.

Luke continues to move slowly as he avoids the area you want him the most and nudges your thighs further apart. He places kisses along your inner thighs, nipping and sucking at the skin and leaving small marks in his wake as he gets as close to the apex of your thighs as he can without actually touching you. You’re certain that he’s doing it to drive you insane, to rile you up, but as he presses a kiss to your folds through your panties, you realize that this isn’t meant to be teasing. This is meant to be foreplay. And you don’t know if you can handle an entire night of this.

But then Luke tugs your panties down your legs, tosses them with the growing pile of clothes on the floor, and you’d gladly take an entire night of this as you feel his tongue brush your folds. He’s in no hurry as his tongue explores your folds, his nose bumps your clit, and his hands grip your thighs to keep you spread open for him. After what feels like a lifetime of him exploring with just his mouth, Luke shifts so that his shoulders is pressing against your thigh, freeing one hand to bring his fingers to your entrance. He starts you off slow, one finger slipping into your heat and giving you a moment to adjust to the intrusion, before a second joins and he’s working you open.

As his lips wrap around your clit and his fingers tap repeatedly at the small spot that has your thoughts blanking and your you feel the coil forming in the pit of your stomach. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging a little harder than you intended, as you clench around his fingers and Luke shifts just enough to breathe, “Cum for me, pretty girl. Let me see how beautiful you look when you cum,” before he returns his lips to your clit and works his fingers just a bit faster.

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly you fall over the edge and just how hard you cum but you can’t bring yourself to care as you lose yourself in the afterglow of your orgasm. Luke’s fingers are gentle against your thighs as he brushes your heated skin and you’re not sure what to do other than reach out and grab his hand.

“So beautiful like this,” he breathes as he stands. He leans over you, his hands on either side of your head, as he presses a kiss to your lips and you groan at the taste of yourself on his lips.

“Need you, please,” you whisper against his mouth, “want you.”

Luke nods, his fingers moving to brush stray pieces of hair from your face, as he presses another kiss to your lips. “You’ve got me,” he assures you as he pulls away to unbuckle his belt. “Can you move up for me, pretty girl?”

You push yourself up and move to the head of the bed as you watch Luke shove those sinful black pants and his underwear down his legs. He kicks them off, lets them join the mess of other clothes, and climbs onto the bed to hover above you. The silver chain around his neck is sandwiched between the two of you, the silver a cool contrast to the warmth of Luke’s chest pressing against yours, as he presses one more kiss to your lips. “Do you have any condoms, pretty girl?”

“Nightstand,” you whisper, still slightly dazed from your orgasm, and Luke nods.

He grabs the foil packet from a box in the corner of your nightstand and rolls the latex onto his cock before he pauses and stares down at you. “Are you sure about this?” he asks, one more time. “If you’re not, I’ll stop.”

“I’m so sure,” you nod, your tone pleading, “please, don’t stop.”

Luke nods at this and places one hand on your hip as the other grips the base of his cock. His lips are on yours as he brushes your folds with the head of his cock, effectively distracting you as he begins to sink into your heat. You can tell that the torturously slow pace he’s set will continue through the night as he takes his time fully seating himself inside of you. And by the time he’s sheathed to the hilt, you’re already on edge. He gives you a moment to adjust, a moment to process that this is truly happening, before you’re clenching around him and he can’t help himself.

His free hand rubs slow, loose circles over your clit as he fucks into you slow and deep. You can feel every thrust, every drag of his cock inside of you, and it’s maddening. Your moans are spilling freely now, any concern you might’ve felt for your neighbors long gone as Luke’s eyes meet yours. You want this to last forever, want this moment on a loop, but you can feel yourself moving closer to your orgasm by the second. And when Luke snaps his hips just right, buries himself into your heat in just the right way, you cum for the second time and clench around him so tightly that all Luke can do is give you a moment to ride it out,.

He moves to pull out, to finish himself off, but you grip his wrist and shake your head. “I’m okay,” you assure him, your breathing ragged, “you can keep going.” He looks like he wants to argue but you clench around him and his resolve crumbles.

You’re so sensitive, every nerve ending in your body feels as if it’s on fire, but you wouldn’t trade the feeling of Luke chasing his orgasm for anything. And when he grunts, breathes your name in such a reverent tone that it’s almost overwhelming, you can’t help the moan that spills past your lips.

Luke is gentle as he pulls out, both of you groaning at the loss. He ties the condom, tosses it into the small trashcan by your bed, and settles in beside you. He hesitates for a moment, unsure of whether or not he should wrap you in his arms, but when you shift closer to him, he decides that there’s no more harm to be done. So he pulls you tight to his chest, presses a kiss to your forehead, and tugs the blankets up and over the two of you as he feels the both of you drifting.

And while Luke falls asleep fairly quickly, your thoughts return full force and force you to lie awake. You wonder if this meant as much to him as it did to you, if this is going to happen again. You wonder if anything will come of this.

But then you think of Dylan. You think of your best friend, the one who has been there for you through some of the hardest times, who you just betrayed. And your stomach turns.

No matter how you feel, no matter how Luke feels; you can’t shake the pure terror that fills your veins at the thought of Dylan finding out. And you know that if this happens again, it’ll only increase the chances of her finding out. So as Luke sleeps soundly beside you, you wonder if this is worth it. You wonder if you’ll still feel as strongly for him when morning comes or if your senses will return with the morning light.

Author’s Note: This got a little out of hand but I had a ton of fun with it. I’m probably packing as you read this (moving actual furniture and things into an empty apartment is so much harder than just moving clothes??) so. Anyway. Hope you liked it. Any thoughts? Feel free to share.

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serpentsangel · 7 years

Text

Raised on the Wrong Side: Part Eleven

A/N: Okay so initially this chapter was going to have a little more Sweet Pea but as I was writing it went on a little too long and I didn’t want to extend it over 3,000 words :O So, our sweet baby will be present in the next chapter but I hope you still enjoy this <3

Special Dedications: to @sgarrett49 and @dementorskissbitch for your lovely messages this morning about this series! It really made me smile and have motivation to write more :) Thank you!

Plot: Archie and Betty attempt to help Reggie and (Y/N) see eye-to-eye by hosting a party as a rouse but out of their good intentions, someone in the crowd has less-than-ideal plans for the night.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption and possible murder :O

Words: 2,360

Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five // Part Six // Part Seven // Part Eight // Part Nine // Part Ten

Part Eleven

Reggie grabs his helmet and places it on, trying to calm down his nerves and worries just to get through this one practice without failure. All week (Y/N) has been clouding his mind with no remorse and sympathy, he has tried everything from calls, texts, flowers and, chocolates but she hasn’t backed down. Not one bit and it was starting to get to him that maybe he needs to accept that his love has decided to move elsewhere and if he doesn’t accept it anytime soon, he could lose her. To him, that was not an option.

He runs out to the field and loosely greets his players and takes his position for the exercise run. A simple run and catch, Reg. You can do this. It’s not that hard. Reggie reminds himself as the muffled voice of coach echoes in his ears and he charges forward, keeping his eye on his opponent and sees the ball flying towards him but being too focused on his friend, Reg didn’t notice he had run too far and crashes full force into the heavily padded pole of the goal.

Falling straight to the ground as a ringing fills his ears and the slow elevation of coaches frustrated rants towards him registered in his head as he manages to get himself up and regain his composure. “That is the FIFTH time this day you have failed to catch the damn ball in a simple exercise Mantle. THE FIFTH TIME. You need to get your damn act together or else I’ll have to bench you!” Coach Clayton threatens as he shakes his head in disappointment and walks away.

Reggie snaps his helmet and throws it to the ground as he rests his head on the padded pole and punches it repeatedly in anger. “Hey, Reg.” Archie approaches him, placing a careful hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got to loosen up. You’re losing your drive. The team needs you.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve just been…distracted lately. I just need some time off.”

“I’m holding a party. Tonight. You should come, it may help you loosen up and just relax. You need to get your mind off of (Y/N) for one night. Just let it out. I suggest you go. I’ll see ya there.” Archie pats Reggie on the back as he walks away, letting him have his own space to think. A party? Is this really what I need, right now? He blows the thought out of his head and decides to accept the offer. Maybe a night of reckless dancing and no thoughts is just what he needs.

****

Betty walks into Pop’s, the lunch rush clearly in motion as she looks for (Y/N). Sitting in her usual spot, looking rather down, (Y/N) looks outside trying to see if the world had anything interesting to offer her sore eyes. “Hey. Is this seat taken?” Betty asks, (Y/N) makes the signal to allow her to sit as she offers her some fries that she couldn’t muster up to eat. “Is something on your mind?”

“What isn’t on my mind? I’ve got a million things on my plate and one brain to harbor them all in. It’s like an overcrowded train up in here.” (Y/N) points up to her head and laughs, or at least tries to. The masking of the pain through humour has been her attempt at forgetting everything she didn’t want to be preoccupied with.

“Well, I wanted to invite you to a party. Archie is hosting one and I want you to come. You’ve been through a lot (Y/N), your dad returned, you almost died from a fight and you and Reggie have been on the rocks for a week or two.” (Y/N) eyes perked up at the mention of her and Reggie’s relationship. “Everyone knows.”

“Of course.”

“Look, Reggie is hurting as much as you are and whatever it is, it’s between the two of you but you’re my friend (Y/N), and I hate to see you so down. Come to the party with Veronica and I. We’d love for you to hang out with us, like the good old days.” Betty reaches out a flier and (Y/N), the artistic nature of it made it sound more appealing and the worry of seeing Reggie there didn’t cross through the different hurdles in her mind as she smiles, telling Betty that she’s a sure show-up. “Great! I’m excited!”

“I’ll try to be. Thanks Betty. For still being the one friend from the North that still cares.” (Y/N) gets out and gives Betty a hug before walking out of Pop’s.

The moment the coast is clear, Archie runs from his hiding place and slides into (Y/N) spot in the booth and excitedly looks at Betty. “She said yes?” The two of them let out a sigh of relief as they couldn’t help but break out identical celebratory smiles. “Operation: Get Reggie and (Y/N) back together is set in motion.”

****

“Is there anything else that you can tell me about what happened?” FP edges on, AJ ruffles up his hair, in an attempt to recollect any more of his memories that weren’t so deeply repressed that he can’t access them. “We need to know as much as we can before we do anything AJ, if they sent you away like that and threatened Mags and (Y/N), then this deal is bigger than we think it is.”

“Malachai and some of his goons told me that they had some sort of ‘deep dirt’ on the Serpent’s and threatened to expose it. Something like that but he threatened to pin it on me if I didn’t leave town. It was either I went to jail on a life sentence or he pinned the blame on the family and get us all away from the South. He mentioned something about fraud but it wasn’t anything he mentioned a lot, in fact he’d be the one that commits fraud!”

“Hey, Hey, Hey. Calm down, AJ. We aren’t going to get anywhere if you lose your control. Let’s just start from the beginning, tell me about when Malachai first approached you.” AJ leans against the counter and takes a deep breath in as he takes a seat, maybe sinking into the comforts of the cushioning will help ease his nerves.

“He came up to me saying that some of his kids found some young Serpent’s dealing drugs within Southside High and that they were responsible for the death of two Ghoulie’s at a party. Initially, he said that if I didn’t make an effort to investigate he’d go after the kids himself. So I talked to all the kids and they told me that there was nothing happening and that it was the Ghoulie’s themselves dealing and doing the drugs. Then I went back to Malachai and told him my findings, it didn’t settle well with him and that’s when the three Ghoulie’s were found dead in the park. Malachai threatened to pin the killings on me and that’s honestly all I can recall, FP.”

FP nods as he registers it all in his mind. “Are you sure that’s all that happened?” AJ nods, rubbing his temple as he’s just as mad at himself for not being able to gather anything else that was relevant. He wish he could give more to FP but nothing was popping up.

“You know what? At the time it felt like he was pinning all these things on me to lead up to something bigger. Something more cynical, but I could never figure out what or why.”

“You mean like trying to break us?” FP causes himself to scoff at the ridiculousness of the idea but to AJ, it sparked something in his eyes. An ignition of realization that brought down an entire fountain of memories and anecdotes.

“No, no, no. That’s exactly it. Malachai has had it out for me since I took over, something about a rivalry between our grand-fathers and has promised to eradicate the south of the Serpents for the longest of times but he can’t do this on his own and I can’t seem to figure out how he plans on executing this. We need to find out who he is working with and what their plans are now that I’m back.” AJ stands up and gives his hand over to FP. “I can trust you, right?”

“You can count on me.”

****

Reggie adjusts his shirt as he approaches the doorsteps of Archie’s house, already flooding with people in every corner, he struggles greatly to even get through the front door as he pushes through a few drunk couples making out at the entrance. He turns to the kitchen and finds the bar, grabbing a cup and filling it up with the pre-made Jungle Juice as he feels the sting run down his throat but the more he drank the more he hated it. When no one was looking, he pours it back into the bucket and wanders around the place trying to find a reason to stay.

(Y/N) adjusts her dress, and recites some mental notes to herself as she paraded inside, going straight for the drinks, gathering what she could and chugging the first one so fast it didn’t register till later the magnitude of alcohol present in it but she didn’t care because if this is the one night that she could forget about everything going on, then she might as well take advantage of it.

It didn’t take long till the effects were taking over her and (Y/N) migrates to the living room where the music was pumping and sweaty energetic bodies swayed to the loud music. Lurking in the corner, Reggie tries to plan an escape route, the party wasn’t doing to him what he had hoped it would. (Y/N) was glued to his mind and it was worse than ever but that’s when he spotted the figure he has longed for. (Y/N) dancing smack in the middle of the room, a fellow Bulldog holding onto her waist as the two danced together, luckily (Y/N) pushed the man away as she turns towards the kitchen, getting more drinks for sure.

Reggie feels the sudden urge to go talk to her, even though she’s wasted out of her mind, he needed to feel something but the wave of never ending bodies prevents him from even getting a hand on her arm before she disappears completely into the midst of it all. Feeling defeated, he exits the house instead wanting to go home and away from it.

Though just as he opens the door to his car he could hear the familiar sound of her laughter, his head turns to the roof. Reggie’s heart beating out of his cage and before he could register who had brought (Y/N) up to the roof, and how, her screams echoed through the neighbourhood as the dark figure pushes her over. Reggie sprints over and manages to catch (Y/N) right before her head hit the concrete. The adrenaline rushes through his veins as the shock of witnessing his girlfriends attempted murder kicks in. Reggie manages to get her safely into his car as he runs back inside, desperately trying to find Archie, anyone that could help.

“Reg? What’s wrong?” Reg falls over in fear and shock as he takes them out of the loud rooms, pointing towards his car. His entire body shaking as incoherent words and incomplete sentences escape his mouth. “Calm down, Reg. Take a deep breath. Ronnie, get him some water, Betty, get him a blanket from my room.” The two girls nod as they rush back inside, Archie keeping Reggie company as he urges his friend to soothe the nerves so he could figure out what had happened. “What happened?”

“Someone….roof….(Y/N)….” As Reggie tries to take his mind back to a few moments ago, that same adrenaline feeling and hyperventilation returns and he feels sick down to his core. “I couldn’t see them….” Oh no. He could feel the vile bitter taste coming up his stomach but manages to bring it down. “I was just about to go home, I didn’t want to be here and then I saw (Y/N) but I couldn’t get to her and I left but I should’ve watched her. I should’ve stayed! As soon as I got out to my car, I heard her laugh but when I turned around, she screamed and someone threw her off the roof and I managed to get her in time but if I had fucking stayed maybe she wouldn’t have almost been killed Archie!”

Veronica and Betty return, and Reggie chugs down the water as it helps, somewhat, to get rid of the uneasiness in his stomach. “What happened Archie?” Betty asks. He looks at the both of them.

“Someone tried to kill (Y/N).”

****

Archie drives the group straight to FP’s trailer, where they know (Y/N) has been staying since she moved and it’s Betty that knocks in desperation as Veronica helps Reggie and Archie gets (Y/N) who had passed out in the back. “Betty?” FP answered, he looks over and sees the rest and opens the door wide to allow them all in. Archie resting (Y/N) on the couch, immediately covering her with the blanket Betty had gotten for Reggie. “What the hell is going on? Someone care to explain?!”

Reggie, still in his state of shock, rocks back and forth on the chair as his eyes stay glued to the floor. “We were just having a party when Reg called us over. Someone tried to throw (Y/N) off the roof of my house. He caught her in time.” FP’s eyes, now fully alert, darts outside to make sure there wasn’t anyone else as he shuts the door and locks it. Going around to each window and covering the curtains too.

“Are you telling me, someone attempted to murder (Y/N)?” All the kids nod. “This is not good. This is not good. Were there any South Side people, besides (Y/N) there?” They shake their head. “Somebody call Jughead and bring him down here. Betty call, AJ, now.”

@rosegoldquintis @laheybabe14 @truthfulchange @daya-thelastunicorn @valeriemusiclove @smilexoxoes @kayladooley@nonononononono-i-cant @swordsandserpents @southsidepea @oops-forgot-to-laugh @sweetspea @superhalsteads @southsideserpentsweetpea@twistnet @evyiione @sweetpeaprompts @serpent-squad @septic-pixl-plier @beepxbeepxtozier @lostnliterature @annasbulletjournal

#riverdale fanfic #riverdale story #riverdale #riverdale imagine #betty cooper #archie andrews #veronica lodge #reggie mantle #riverdale x reader #north side #raised on the wrong side

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monster-mum · 7 years

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Sorry, not sorry

Trying to be kind, helpful and respectful in an ever-growing world can seem like a difficult task at times. There are many out there who wouldn’t give someone else’s well-being a second thought but for many of us it is second nature. Growing up me and Andrew regularly saw our parents reaching out and helping others. Not huge extravagant things but the little things like holding the door open for a Mum struggling with a pushchair, or giving up their seat to the elderly lady on the train or seeing a stranger upset and going over to see if they were okay. I can remember one time, when I was around fourteen years old, the four of us were heading out in the car when we noticed an elderly gentleman struggling with his shopping while trying to cross a busy main road. Suddenly he dropped his shopping and it spilled out all over the pavement and road. Without a word to each other our Dad pulled over and our Mum jumped out of the car to go and assist the man. This was just the normal thing for me and Andrew to see our parents do and so as we’ve grown into adults we both go out of our way to follow in their footsteps. I think it is a good thing to put a little kindness out into the world when and where we can, sometimes just that one moment can turn someone’s day around. Have you ever read that book ‘The Five People You Meet in Heaven’ By Mitch Albom? If you haven’t you really should. It is a book of influence and has changed many people’s perspective on interactions with others. It’s a fantastic read. I was lucky enough to be on the receiving end of one person’s act of kindness the other day and I was so grateful.

There I am on my own with my tiniest monster who has decided that he despises Tesco’s with a passion and screams bloody murder from the entrance of the shop and down every single aisle. Half way down the shop it’s beginning to wear thin and I’m contemplating either ending the shopping trip and coming back later or cutting my ears off. Just as I am about to give in and head over to the kitchenware aisle a lady comes over and offers to carry the little gremlin so I can finish the shopping. I couldn’t believe it. I stood and stared at her for far too long, she must’ve thought I had been frozen in time with a freeze gun (totes real thing). Eventually I responded with an enthusiastic “Yes, please!”

There is this misconception with many people that parents enjoy the sound of their children screaming, like it’s a beautiful symphony. The fact of the matter is we hate it so fricking much. It is like a screwdriver to the brain for most parents. If anyone wants a screaming, tantruming child to sit down and be quiet the parents are at the top of that list. I never really understood how stressful a screaming child could really be until our little banshee Lyla Rose arrived into the word with a series of loud screams.

Lyla is a beautiful, strong, independent, fierce character. A wonderful array of personality traits for any young girl to have, unless you are the parent of said young girl. Teaching manners and respect to a child that was born knowing all the answers can be somewhat a challenge.

Set scene: I’m in the kitchen with Lyla, having just set down her lunch I begin tidying bits away.

Lyla: “Mummy can I have a drink please?”

Me: “Sure.”

I pour her drink and set it down in front of her, I wait patiently for the thank you which should follow. Lyla glances at me and gives me a look that demands “why are you looking at me servant?”

Me: “Lyla, what do you say?”

Lyla: “You’re welcome.”

Me: “No Lyla, I’m supposed to say you’re welcome.”

Lyla: “Then what do YOU say Mummy?”

Me: “Lyla you’re supposed to say thank you.”

Lyla: “Why? I’ve already said you’re welcome, which you are supposed to say Mummy. You need to have better manners.”

What! I mean seriously where do you go from here. Knowing that I have lost this round I walk away. Lyla: 2,352 points. Me: 1 and a half points. Yes, I have just been schooled and outwitted by my four-year-old. It happens to the best and the worst of us, and to me and Chris on a regular basis.

I think teaching children respect can be particularly difficult. Many parents desperate to step away from the “seen and not heard” parenting style, and not wanting to go too far towards the “free rein” style, are stuck bouncing between the two trying to find a balance. I’d like to tell you that I have all the answers and I know the exact right way to go about it but I struggle to call the right child by the right name let alone be able to give any decent parenting advice. A lot of parenting involves guess work, attempting to not sound like your own parents but sounding exactly like them and learning to adapt to how tired you are. That’s something no one really tells you when you have a child. Many new parents are aware that you are tired for a while after having a baby and that is true, but the misunderstanding occurs when they believe that you manage to catch up on all the sleep you miss. I’m sorry to tell you all but that never happens, yep never. You simply adjust to being tired and with each consecutive child you just adjust to being even more tired.

Trying to teach my kids respect seems to be particularly challenging. Our dog is better trained than our kids. I have tried to get the kids to respond to a whistle and for an hour it worked, I did treat based training and our spaniel joined in too. The three of them had a ball. I was feeling pretty chuffed with myself and was getting a bit cocky at the thought of outsmarting all those parenting books. Surely this was just a type of positive reinforcement. It was all going well until it wasn’t and that is a common theme in parenting. This happens a lot with children, you think you are on the home straight and there’s no way you can lose and then out of nowhere you get hit with a curve ball and you’re out.

Set scene: I’ve just sat down to do some writing. Lachlan is having some ‘beat the crap out of my toys’ time in his play gym. Steven and Lyla are off in another part of the house shouting and trashing whichever room they’re in when suddenly they quietly appear. Steven walks in with his IPad.

Me: “Steven what are you doing?”

Steven: Playing the role of a film director his attitude is of someone creating a piece of art as he points the iPad at me. “I am making a film Mummy.”

It’s about 1 in the afternoon and I am still in my pj’s. My hair looks like a family of birds has been nesting in it and I’m pretty sure I have some left-over breakfast down my top, so I am sure you’ll appreciate how little I wanted this moment in my life documented on my son’s iPad. He is also the type of child who enjoys showing anyone and everyone anything and everything he has done so it undoubtedly would’ve been halfway around the village before dinner time.

Me: “Steven, I don’t want to be videoed, please stop.”

Steven: Looks like I am “The Man” tearing down his right to a creative vision. “Fine Mummy, I’ll film Lachlan.”

I glance down at Lachlan and notice that he is in his favourite sleeping at gunpoint position and is out for the count. Just as I am about to ask him not to film Lachlan, Steven and Lyla shove their heads under the play gym and are practically nose to nose with the poor boy.

Lyla: “Aww Lachlan you’re so chuubbbyyyyy!”

Lyla has heard us say this a few times to Lachlan and has decided it is a term of endearment, which it is for a baby, but when you’re sat with your four-year-old on your lap cuddling into you and she says “Aww Mummy you’re so chubby” it doesn’t have quite the same sentiment.

Lachlan jumps out of his skin and opens his eyes and then jumps again at the sight of his big brother’s and sister’s faces that are about a centimetre away from his own. The next thing he sees is Steven’s blue covered IPad in his face.

Me: “Hey! Guys! Come on, Lachlan was asleep.” Lachlan pulls his sad face and I look at the login screen on my laptop, so close yet so far, and close the lid.

The kids stand up and pull their ‘sorry but not sorry faces’. You know the ones I mean where they don’t really care but they know that if they play the part they can get away quicker and with little to no lecture.

Me: “Please be more aware of others. You could see that he was sleeping and you just woke him up. That’s not nice is it?”

They Shake their heads “no Mummy.”

Okay this is looking like it’s going well. I am parenting my arse off and they seem to be actually taking it on board for a change. Feeling like I’ve done an awesome job I mentally pat myself on the back as I tell them to just be more mindful in the future and to go have fun and play. Then…

Steven: “Mummy, before I go can I just take a photo of you with two heads?”

Urgh! They fooled me again. Dammit. I need to start being more suspicious of my little monsters. I tell them both to go play and no, Steven cannot take a photo of me with two heads. I look down at my tiniest monster who by now has fallen asleep with a smile on his face as he listened to his brother and sister getting told off, he’s probably going to be the worst out of all three of them.

The lack of respect at times is infuriating but I guess even them learning to humour the idea of it is better than nothing at times, they just need to get better at humouring for a bit longer than three seconds.

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onceuponamirror · 7 years

Text

heart rise above

///// CHAPTER 8

summary: It wasn’t an experiment with freedom borne of some Americana fantasy; rather, a road trip of purely logistical intentions. The plan was simple. Drive from Boston to Chicago for his sister’s college graduation. That’s it.

Or, he drives a Ford Pickup Named Desire.

Mechanic!AU

fandom: riverdale ship: betty x jughead words: 36k chapters: 8/19

[read from the beginning] [read the latest]

And I'm getting older, too

Jughead’s fingers run smoothly along the dashboard of her car as if greeting an old friend.

“I love the chrome in vintage cars,” he says softly, firm admiration mixing with his typical surliness. “Every little detail was just so…cohesive. Now it’s like each part of a car competes with itself.”

“I know what you mean,” Betty agrees, allowing a moment of appreciation for the way he meets her smile. She feels silly with how happy she is just to be around him again. But is it so surprising? She hasn’t been able to keep him from her thoughts for very long, especially since their day at the river. And she’s known about her attraction to him from the start, though it does feel like absence has made the heart grow fonder in this case.

Heat flashes through her at the memory of his muscled arms slicing through the water, so she fiddles with the radio settings in hopes of distracting herself. “Though speaking of anachronism, I do have an aux chord, if you want to play more of that road trip playlist?”

Jughead snorts and nods, taking the little black cord from her deftly. He plugs it into his phone, reaches forward for the stereo, and Leonard Cohen’s gravely thoughts come to life.

“I’m surprised Archie let you make a driving playlist, considering he’s the musician,” Betty notes.

In the background, she’s dimly aware of Leonard Cohen's rasping lyrics.

(And just when you mean to tell her that you have no love to give her, she lets the river answer that you've always been her lover.)

Jughead seems distracted by his thoughts, but hearing her, he flicks his eyes across the car.

“That he is,” Jughead says, “but he also has a very limited scope, so to speak. He often forgets that there are singer-songwriters dating back further than 1992. Music school helped, but as of this week, he still thinks Stevie Nicks is a guy, so clearly not entirely.”

“Yikes,” Betty hisses through a giggle.

“I mean, it almost makes the fact that he’s actually a decent musician all the more impressive,” Jughead says, sighing. He rolls down his window and sticks his head out the window, letting the whizzing of the road filter through the car.

It’s still morning, but Betty can tell it’s going to be a hot day. Humidity has been gathering for days, with the first series of summer storms forecasted over the next few weeks, but clearly today promised to be the start.

Along the horizon, gray clouds swell and greet.

She prefers driving with the windows open, but she turns on the A/C she’d installed anyway, while Jughead removes his beanie in order to run his fingers through his hair. He leaves the hat in his lap, giving Betty a long moment to rake her eyes over the black curls before returning them to the road.

“You have nice hair,” she finds herself saying, and Jughead’s hands immediately reach for the hat again. They hover over it, and then seem to settle for squeezing the brim.

“I know the hat is stupid,” he mumbles, eyes downcast.

“That wasn’t what I meant at all,” Betty says hastily, realizing this beanie is a sensitive subject.

He shrugs. “No, it is. It’s just one of those habits I’ve never broken, like much of my latent adolescent angst.”

Betty disagrees, and tells him as much, but he waves her off and changes the subject. “So, what’s on our docket today?”

She feels a flutter at our, and tries to hold it down. “Well, first is my meeting with the Chisholms. We should get that out of the way, I think.” At his inquisitive look, she adds, “I have a monthly meeting with Adam and his father. My dad and Adam’s dad were best friends, so they like to check in with me.”

“Were?” Jughead repeats, and Betty realizes that she’s never actually told him about her own father. She supposes it had to come up sometime, and there’s no point in lying.

“My dad died,” she says softly, her hands gripping the steering wheel. “Just over a year ago.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine, really,” she assures him, and finds that it’s the truth. She hasn’t always been able to talk about this, but she feels surprisingly calm now. “He was sick for a long time. Brain cancer. In the end…I’m glad he isn’t suffering anymore.”

“Yeah,” Jughead says sympathetically.

“I learned everything I know from him,” she adds, breaking into a smile at the memory of childhood evenings spent under the hood of a car. “I didn’t plan on moving back to Riverdale, but now…the garage is my way of staying close to him, I think.”

“What do you mean, you didn’t plan on moving back?”

She inhales. “I went to Colombia for school, majored in English with an emphasis for Publishing. I wanted to be a book editor, actually. After graduation, I got an internship out in Somerville.”

“Somerville, Mass.?” Jughead repeats, his eyebrows rising. “Outside of Boston? You were in my hood?”

“Just the summer of 2014,” she says, halfway through a sigh of nostalgia. “I liked it. Not so big as New York, but still a real city.”

“It’s a great place,” Jughead agrees, scratching his jaw thoughtfully. “Why’d you leave?”

“My sister came to visit me, towards the end of my internship. I was so excited to see her and show her around—my boss had made me a formal job offer, I had an apartment I really liked, and was even making friends. But at the end of her trip, she told me that our parents hadn’t been honest with me about how sick our dad really was. They’d said his cancer was in remission, but it didn’t stay that way. They relied on Polly a lot, and she was feeling really overwhelmed—she had this two toddlers, she was trying to go back to work…”

She lets out a long breath as the rest of the story bubbles up. “Mom and Dad had bills, and Polly’s in-laws wouldn’t offer any financial help, and that Dad needed help with the garage. She said I should come back, not only to help, but because she didn’t want me to be blindsided should things get worse. Which they did, eventually.”

“I’m sorry, Betty,” Jughead says, and she shakes her head.

“I’m just glad I wasn’t away in his final years. It was good to have had that time with him.” Whatever else she may now feel, this is the truth. She is grateful for what she had, and with a few exceptions, probably wouldn’t do anything differently.

“Thanks for telling me, then,” he says, fiddling with the edge of his beanie.

She looks over, her breath hitching. “Well, thanks for listening.”

As they roll up towards the Chisholm Garage, the sky rumbles ominously. Rain looks imminent now, but she’s distracted by greetings from the mechanics milling about. “Hey Betty!” One guy, Raj, calls, as he runs a washcloth over a glistening Audi A6. “Adam’s in the back!”

She gestures in thanks, and heads in through the garage, Jughead on her heels as he tugs his hat back on. She finds Adam leaning over the open hood of a new BMW, having muffled conversation with a fellow mechanic. He looks up when he hears them approaching, his face breaking into a big grin as his arms wrap her in a hug.

“Hey! Or should I say, howdy?” He greets.

“How was Nashville?” She asks, pulling back slightly.

Adam shrugs and gives a little fluff to his auburn hair. “Fun. You missed out, though. You know the offer always stands—you’re always welcome on a Chisholm family trip.”

“Next time,” she says, angling so that she can beckon Jughead over. He’s been hanging back with a frown, eyes moving between them. “Adam, this is Jughead. It’s his truck I’m getting the compressor for,” Betty explains, as Jughead hesitantly steps forward.

Even Adam, normally friendly towards everyone, seems to be sizing Jughead up as he pulls one hand from his pockets and reaches for a handshake.

“Nice to meet you. Jughead, is that your name?” Jughead nods, and Adam glances at her from the corner of his eye. “Well, I was happy to help out. Anything for my girl Betty.”

Jughead raises an eyebrow when Adam turns back to him. “Betty said it was a ’77? F-150, right? Wow. That’s a real blast from the past.”

“It’s a beautiful truck,” Betty supplies, because it almost sounds like an insult and Jughead appears on the cusp of an award-winning scowl.

“You always had more of an appreciation for the oldies than me, Betts,” Adam chuckles, gesticulating at the pristine BMW next to them. He shrugs. “Alright, shall we?”

“Sure,” Betty agrees. “Where’s your dad? In the office already? I got him his favorite Merlot.”

“It’s actually just us today, Betts,” Adam replies, taking the bottle of wine from her. Jughead, who had been inspecting the rafters of the garage with interest, quickly swivels his neck back towards them. “He has some business in Albany this afternoon that couldn’t wait. But I’ll be sure to pass it along to him.”

“Oh,” Betty says, because she’s never had a meeting at the garage without Mr. Chisholm present. She remembers Kevin’s musings on Adam’s feelings for her, and suddenly feels like she needs to defend it to Jughead, which is silly. She shouldn’t feel guilty for taking a business meeting.

Perhaps it’s because she suspects Kevin is right about Adam, and maybe it’s because she doesn’t want Jughead to think it’s mutual.

She meets Jughead’s eye, and gives him a reassuring smile. “We’ll just be a little while.”

“Do your thing. I’ll wait by the car,” he says, and slinks off.

“Ready?” Adam asks, cocking his neck at her. Betty realizes she’s been staring at the back of Jughead and shakes her head to clear her thoughts. He leads her back into his office, and she settles into a chair across the desk.

“I know it’s kind of weird to do our monthly without Dad, but we weren’t expecting you so soon, and he really had to take care of this shipment coming from Albany,” Adam explains, leaning back in his swivel chair.

Feeling slightly relieved that meeting with Adam alone wasn’t something he planned, Betty nods. “I know I moved up the date, but my friend is really on a deadline to get back on the road, and I don’t want to be working up against it. Thanks for letting me come by today instead.”

Adam looks thoughtful. “So, your friend—Jughead, right?—he’s just passing through?”

Don’t remind me, she thinks. “Yep,” she says instead.

He makes a slight noise in the back of his throat, and then leans forward in his chair, lacing his fingers together. “So, to business. I have two propositions for you, and…hear me out first, okay?”

Betty releases a long breath, feeling nervous.

“I just want to say I could’ve never done what you did, Betty,” Adam says softly. “If I’d lost my dad and my only other employee went back to school and I was running this garage by myself, I would’ve already had a mental break down, or four.” He chuckles, like maybe this is funny, but Betty just feels her anxiety dial up. “I’m in awe of you, really.”

She swallows, forcing the same placating smile that she likes to fall back on, especially when someone brings up the garage or her father. Her fingers, without anything else to do, ease into a familiar vice and curl backwards into her palms. “Thanks.”

Adam’s expression turns serious again. “My dad and I—you know we made a promise to Hal that we would check in with you; look out for his family. That’s why we have these monthly meetings, right? Well, more specifically, he asked us to make sure you and the garage were doing okay.”

Betty nods; this isn’t anything she doesn’t already know, but Adam’s vague recapping makes her hesitant. Adam continues, “But these past few months, my dad and I have noticed…I mean, the compressor, for example. It’s not that I don’t love seeing you or getting your calls, honestly,” he’s quick to add, “but you should have more than one compressor lying around.”

Her head jerks back in surprise at Adam’s frankness. He’s not wrong, but it still stings.

He drops his head, sighing. “I know that sounds harsh, and I’m sure my dad could explain this better than me, but—you’re an incredible mechanic. You and I both know that. But running a garage is a business, Betty, and we think that maybe Hal didn’t prepare you for that.”

“What are you trying to say?” She raises her chin in the air, trying to appear more confident than she feels.

“Well, we’d like to buy the garage,” Adam replies, his tone blunt.

Her nails are fully digging into her palms now, but in the shock of his announcement, her fingers briefly slip against her skin. “What?”

“Almost nothing would change,” he assures her hastily. “You would still be head mechanic. It’d still be Cooper Garage. We would just…take over some of the managerial stuff, for instance.”

“Managerial stuff?” She echoes.

“Ordering parts, making sure shipments arrive, hiring more mechanics; stuff like that. My dad has been doing this for 40 years, Betts, and we’ve been talking about expanding for a while now, and we can give you a great offer. This way, you can clear out some of the hospital bills in one fell swoop.”

For a sweet bliss of a moment, Betty imagines what it would feel like to have those taken off her shoulders. No more looming debt, no more living in that big house with only her mother, no more—but she stops there.

She couldn’t really be considering this, could she? That garage meant everything to her father; how could she sell it?

“I don’t know, Adam,” Betty says, exhaling shakily. “This garage is my livelihood. It’s…” The only thing I have left of him, she thinks, but cannot form the words.

But Adam seems to understand. He nods slowly, and runs a hand through his reddish-brown hair. “Look, just…keep an open mind about it, would you? And I know my dad would really like to make the formal offer himself, so why don’t you take the month to think about it?”

“Alright,” she says tightly. “I have to talk to my mom, but I will think about it.”

There’s a long intermission as Adam looks at her with an expression she cannot place.

“You said there were two propositions?” Betty asks, if only to break the silence.

“Right. Secondly—I heard about you and Trev,” he says, while Betty’s stomach sinks. “I’d honestly be lying if I said I was sorry, but I hope it wasn’t too hard on you.”

He pauses, but when she can’t find anything to say, he goes on. “I’ve known you a long time, Betty Cooper. But with your high school boyfriend coming in and out of the picture, I never really had my chance. And I’d like to get one in before the next fellow throws his hat into the ring, which I’d guess won’t be long, if it hasn’t already happened. I mean, you’re not seeing that Jughead guy, are you?”

Betty manages a mute shake of the head, and Adam looks relieved. “Well. I hope this doesn’t come as too much of a shock when I say I think we’d be good together. I’d like to take you to dinner.”

“You’re asking me out?” Betty stutters, somehow feeling shocked even though Kevin has warned her about this for years.

She’s not sure why she’s so resistant to the idea—it’s not like Adam isn’t good-looking. It’s not like he isn’t a good person. But they don’t have much in common, beyond being mechanics. And even then, he likes flashy new cars, she has a soft spot for junkers, and feels like that says something. And isn’t this just Trev all over again?

Jughead’s roving, deceptively tender eyes flash across her mind, and she has her answer.

Betty opens her mouth to turn him down, but seeming to guess her response, he beats her to it. “Just…think about it? While you’re thinking about the garage? We can talk about it next month. I’m not in a rush.”

He’s smiling at her so hopefully that she almost wants to tell him she will, but that’s not fair, to keep him hanging. “I’m sorry, Adam. I just don’t think it’s such a good idea.”

Adam’s grin falls, and he sighs deeply. “It’s that other guy, right? You like him?”

“Yes,” Betty admits aloud for the first time, finding the truth comes easily. Something warm spreads across her chest. “But I don’t think we would’ve worked anyway, Adam. You’re like a brother to me.”

He lets out a frustrated chuckle. She appreciates that about him; good-natured even in the face of disappointment. “That’s what I was afraid of,” he says, standing. “Well, I had to try. Tell Jughead he’s a lucky guy.”

She rises from her chair as well, adjusting her purse over her shoulder and not bothering to mention she has no idea if Jughead feels the same way. They shake hands and make goodbyes, but as she’s in the doorway, Adam calls out again. “But really, Betty. Please consider the first offer.”

She looks back over her shoulder. “I will think about it,” she promises.

Jughead is waiting for her by the exit, rather than the car, because it has begun sprinkling. “How’d your meeting go?” He asks, as Betty turns on the wiper blades.

“Okay,” Betty sighs, deciding to leave out the second half of the conversation even though she desperately wants to know what his reaction would be. “Adam and his father want to…buy the garage. They’re looking to expand, but also…they think I’m not running it as well as I could be. They want to take over with some managerial stuff.”

“What?” Jughead breathes, looking furious. “He said that? Turn the car around, Betty, that’s fucked up. I wanna talk to him.”

“Juggie.” He stops his ranting, and she tries not to smile at how defensive he’s being on her behalf. “It’s okay, really. They’re not wrong.”

“Yes, they are,” he says adamantly. “I’ve been in that garage with you, remember? I’ve seen you at work. Fuck them. You’re running it perfectly.”

“I’m not,” she maintains, with a trickle of frustration. She hates that word, perfect. “If I was, I would’ve already had the compressor part you needed. Or—Joaquin and Kevin are going to Europe for the rest of the summer in two weeks, and I haven’t even started looking for someone to replace him temporarily. I don’t know what I was thinking, because now I’m going to need to either extend my hours or close the garage on weekends, which is gonna be a hit on business.”

Anxiety flickers across her skin, and she re-tightens her grip on her steering wheel until her knuckles are white. Now that she’s said it out loud, it all feels more real. And to his credit, Jughead seems to understand her point, which she appreciates. She doesn’t want to be put on a pedestal, especially not by him.

“They still shouldn’t have said it like that,” he says, finally, eying her hands. She catches him looking, and tries to relax her grasp.

“It’s really fine. It’s something to think about. And I’d rather people be honest with me,” Betty says. Jughead’s eyebrows furrow.

He remains silent beside her, worrying his lip between his teeth.

Their afternoon is spent ducking in and out of little shops; the rain is still light enough for it not to ruin the day, so she follows through on her promise of a nice lunch and antiquing. Jughead finds something to say about nearly every item in the shops, inserting some kind of back story onto each of the dolls or furniture or paintings, and it amuses her to no end.

In the growing heat, Jughead sheds down to his t-shirt and she spends a solid couple of minutes thinking about what's beneath it. She wonders how long she can keep from essentially throwing herself at him, but then he’ll do something like wink at her from behind a particularly creepy doll, and she’ll start giggling again, and the moment will pass.

After a couple of hours, humidity wins out, and the sky opens up.

“We should get back on the road, before this gets worse,” Betty sighs from under an awning. Her skin feels sticky with sweat, and all that time in musty antique shops hasn’t helped.

“Probably,” he agrees, narrowing his eyes up at the dark clouds overhead. They rush back to the car as the rain picks up around them, and drive back to Riverdale with light conversation about Archie and Veronica’s blooming relationship.

She starts to turn off for the exit to his motel, wondering if there’s a way to extend their day. “You wouldn’t want to…make dinner, by chance? I’ve heard corn is your favorite food, after all,” she adds, with a smirk.

“Ha, ha,” he says drolly, but he’s smiling. Her windshield wipers are working in full force against the downpour now. “Yeah, that…I would like that. Corn and all.”

She grins, driving past his motel and on to the grocery store where they’d met earlier this morning, because if she’s making dinner for two she needs more food. They park and run into the store with their arms over their heads, rain pouring down their backs in buckets and laughing. Jughead shakes his head roughly, like a dog splashing in a puddle, and water flies into her face, which only makes her giggle harder. He meets her grin, but his expression is increasingly turning serious.

Then—in a bold move, he reaches forward and pushes the wet hair off her face, which immediately makes her still.

His eyes darken slightly, and he might be moving closer, but the sliding doors open behind them, other people are shuffling in and collapsing their umbrellas—and Betty remembers they’re standing in the entryway of a grocery store under the din of florescent lighting.

(Nicholas Sparks would never.)

Whatever moment was arguably there is quickly gone. When she looks back to Jughead, he’s holding a grocery basket in his hands and waiting for her expectantly, his expression schooled.

“Let’s make this quick,” she says, shivering a little as her damp skin meets the frigid air conditioning. She pulls her phone from her purse, grateful it’s still dry, and finds a recipe from her favorite cooking app. They set to work gathering the necessary produce and miscellaneous items—Jughead makes a skeptical remark at how healthy this is all sounding, but doesn’t otherwise protest—and they finish in record time.

Toni is still working at the grocery checkout, and she fixes them both with a confused look. “Weren’t you two here earlier?”

“Yes, Toni,” Betty says, with a sigh. “This a friend of mine, Jughead.”

Toni blows a pink tendril off her forehead and tips her chin up at Jughead in the same movement. “Oh yeah. Joaquin told me about this guy.”

“Pardon?” Jughead asks, seemingly paying attention for the first time.

“Nothing,” Betty says swiftly, because whatever Joaquin told his best friend, he surely got from Kevin, who has surely nothing but gossip to offer, and she wants none of that getting back to Jughead.

“Mm-hm,” Toni murmurs acerbically, returning to her task of ringing up the groceries. “So, how’s Cheryl doing?”

She doesn’t see Toni often, her being more of a friend of Joaquin than anyone else, but whenever she does, she makes a point to bug Betty into gathering intel on Cheryl’s relationship status. Last time, Betty had insisted that Cheryl wasn’t ready to start dating again, let alone over Veronica. Her impression of that hadn’t changed much, though Cheryl did seem less upset at the sight of Archie than she had with Veronica’s last fling.

“Subtle,” Betty intones.

Toni shrugs. “I’m not known for that.”

“I’ll find out, okay?” Betty tells her, and means it. “But only if we were never here.”

“Don’t tell Kevin, got it,” she replies, not missing a beat. She whips into a grin. “That’ll be $30.67.”

“Is there a reason why that lady can’t tell Kevin we were at the store?” Jughead asks, after they’ve loaded the groceries into the car and are back on the road. The rain hadn’t let up even an inch, and so Jughead had used his flannel to protect their grocery bags from the sheets of water.

“Oh, um,” Betty replies, pretending to focus on driving. “I just…Kevin likes to gossip.”

She blushes furiously, because she’d been about to say Kevin likes to gossip about my love life, which would’ve been right out admitting to Jughead that she likes him. And if maybe there were different circumstances, she would’ve taken that opportunity.

But Jughead is leaving in two weeks, and she’s had nothing but whiplash from his mixed signals thus far, so that’s not a bet she’s yet willing to hedge.

“Copy,” Jughead says slowly, squinting at her. They finish the drive in silence and, for about the zenith time today, Betty is grateful that her mom is away; this time it’s because she gets to park in the garage and spare them any further onslaught by Mother Nature.

Jughead’s arms wrap around the grocery bags as Betty gathers up his wet flannel. She directs him to the kitchen, while she heads for the laundry area. She peels out of her soaked clothes and fumbles into a basket of clean clothes, pulling on a pair of leggings and a soft cotton shirt. Her outfit is too delicate for the dryer, so she hangs it to air-dry and throws Jughead’s flannel into the machine.

She realizes he’ll probably need something dry to wear himself, and has a moment of pivoting around the laundry room before she finds the large Cooper Garage t-shirt that once belonged to her father. She hesitates at the thought of handing it off to Jughead, but no one deserves to sit around in wet clothes, and she’s sure she’ll get it back.

Deciding that he’s skinny enough to fit into her sweatpants, she grabs those, a pair of socks, and goes to meet him. He’s standing at the border of the living room, his eyes sweeping over the high ceilings and family portraits. “Nice digs,” he murmurs. “Maybe I should go into the mechanic business.”

“Yeah, or move to a town where you can live off a baker’s dozen,” Betty replies, which makes Jughead snort.

“Minimum wage joke, nice,” he says, following her into the kitchen.

“This is actually my paren—Mom’s house though,” Betty clarifies, much to Jughead’s sudden distress.

He flashes her a look of mild panic. “You could’ve warned me I was going to meet the Mrs.,” he says, glancing around worriedly, as if Alice Cooper is about to leap out from behind the couch and accuse him of corrupting her daughter. Which, if she were being honest, probably wouldn’t be far from the truth.

“My mom is out of town this week,” Betty says, pressing her lips together to hide her smile. Jughead absorbs this with flexing eyes and visibly relaxes, leaning against a counter.

She has a fluttering moment of distraction, because there’s something about the way his body stretches out devil-may-care that makes her eyes drop to the brief flash of damp skin at the hem of his shirt.

“Um. Anyway, not that I don’t love the grunge look, I think you’ll probably want these. I can put your other clothes in the dryer while I make dinner,” she says, handing him the pile of clean garments in her arms.

“Tropes: game, match, set,” he mumbles as he sets off for a bathroom to change. Betty blushes, because she might as well have offered to get him out of his wet clothes, as if they live in some kind of rom-com.

He returns with a blank look on his face. His soaked beanie sits on the top of the outfit in his arms, and in the time it takes for her to add his clothes to the dryer and pin up his hat to air out, Jughead has started unpacking the groceries.

It’s a shockingly sweet moment of domesticity, and Betty briefly allows herself to enjoy the sight, let alone where her imagination takes her beyond that. If things were different, if they’d met when she was living in Boston or he’d moved to Riverdale—would this be their life? Would they be together? Would she even have kissed him yet?

And then he turns around, and she realizes with a giggle that she’s given him her old high-school sweats. The word VIXEN is printed in big letters on his ass, so she has to slap her hand over her mouth to stifle her sniggering.

It’s unsuccessful; Jughead glances over, looking mildly alarmed. “What? Did I do something wrong?”

“Nope,” she chirps, bouncing over to him in the kitchen.

“So what can I do to help?” He asks, after watching her suspiciously. Betty comes around to his side of the island and pulls a large pot from a cupboard.

“Fill that up with water for the corn,” she instructs, while she gets to work with knives, a cutting board, and the tomatoes. When Jughead returns from setting the water on the stove, she hands him an onion to chop.

Halfway through dicing the onion, his eyes start to water, and he takes a break to blink his eyes up at the ceiling. “So if you’ve only been living here a few months, where were you before?” He asks, glancing at her. “Just trying to paint a full picture of the mysterious Betty Cooper.”

“I don’t think anyone has ever called me mysterious before,” Betty sighs, using the knife to scrape the vegetables into a bowl. She puts down her cutlery and meets his gaze with resignation; somehow, she knew they’d finally get to this. “I was living with my boyfriend.”

Jughead, who had been stealing a bite of the tomato slices she’d just cut up, begins to cough loudly. He flattens his palm against his chest and beats it a few times as he sputters through the moment.

“Sorry,” he says finally. “Went down the wrong pipe. Uh, cool. So, when am I going to meet this…boyfriend?”

“Ex-boyfriend. I should’ve been more clear,” Betty says, biting her lip. Was she imagining it, or did he sound suspiciously too nonchalant? He’s so hard to read, let alone tell if he’s even interested—especially after he disappeared on her this week—but with their little moments all day, she’s started wondering if she’s not so unrequited. She slaps his hand away from reaching for another tomato piece. “And stop eating these, or we won’t have enough for sauce.”

Jughead licks his lips and has the decency to look guilty, but at the last moment, sneaks a smirk her way. She rolls her eyes once again, but settles for handing him a cheese shredder and a block of parmesan.

“So,” he says, in that strange voice again, “what happened? Between you and the ex?”

She glances his way, and he immediately backpedals. “I don’t know why I asked you that. You don’t have to tell me, obviously.” He’s now determinedly focused on shredding cheese.

“It’s alright, Juggie,” she hears herself saying. The words continue to come despite her better judgment. “I’m just not great at talking about it. Or a lot of things. I get anxious and can’t…” She trails off as the familiar staccato of dread reappears.

She hears her heart thumping in her ears as Jughead’s hand finds measure on her arm. She realizes he’s abandoned his task and standing awfully close all of a sudden. She swallows and steps back so that she can find something to busy herself with.

If she doesn’t occupy her hands while she talks about Trev, she’ll fall back on destructive habits. It’s one of the coping mechanisms that actually works, so Betty settles into the motions of setting up the vegetable spiralizer and prepping the zucchini.

“But…I think avoiding it is just making it worse, so I should try. Trev…was great. Is great. We dated in high school, and broke up when I went to college, but when I moved back, it was so hard with my dad and family that…it just seemed easy to lean on the past. And he’s so sweet, and so nice, but I felt like I was dating myself sometimes. We never joked around, or talked about anything too serious. It just was boring, after a while.”

She looks up; Jughead’s eyes are narrowed thoughtfully. “Anyway. We had a lot of issues, and I wanted to break up with him for a while. But really, the main problem was…that Trev never wanted to leave Riverdale. He likes it here. I knew it would come up eventually, but I somehow wasn’t ready for it when it did.”

“What do you mean?”

She sighs and forces herself to meet his gaze. “He proposed,” she says quietly, dropping her eyes. “And I…had a panic attack on the spot.”

“Shit,” Jughead says.

Betty is silent for a moment as she takes a few measured breaths. “I just…all of a sudden, I saw myself turning into my sister, who turned into our mother. Who never left Riverdale, who married their high school sweetheart young, who popped out 2 kids and a white picket fence. And I knew if I didn’t say no then, I would never say no again. I would be here forever.”

She glances up, and sees him nodding along solemnly. “You were brave,” he says.

“I was just honest.”

“It’s the same thing,” he insists. He pauses, running his tongue along his teeth. Rain thunders down along the roof, echoing the rhythm in her heart. “Betty, if you don’t want to be in Riverdale, why are you still here?”

“I can’t leave,” she says simply. “I just can’t.”

He moves closer. “Why not? Why can’t you sell the garage to these Chisholm people? You trust them, right? Isn’t it kind of the perfect solution?”

“Because my family needs me,” she says, her voice hitching. “Because I can’t just leave. We have medical bills, and my mom was living here in this big house alone, and my sister has her hands full. Because the garage is all I have left of my dad. My grandfather built the business himself, to give something to his son, who gave it to me. How could I just walk away? How could I sell that? Sell our memories?”

“But it’s not what you want,” Jughead says softly, his hands finding purchase on her own. “Betty, you have options. You have connections. You already got a job offer in publishing once, I bet you can get it again. Or, hell, even I have connections. Let me help.”

“You don’t get it.” Betty shakes her head furiously, pulling her hands away from him and wrapping them around her arms. She sees the twins’ faces, her sister’s, her mother’s. They need her. It takes all of her willpower not to curl her fingers into fists.

“I don’t get needing to make a hard decision about separating what I want and need from what my family wants and needs? Really? I thought you read my book,” he sighs, throwing a hand in the air.

She looks over as it clicks into place. “The part about his father?”

Jughead nods solemnly. “Art imitating life. I had to cut off contact with my dad two years ago, when he got his third DUI arrest and went to prison for it,” he replies tersely. “It wasn’t easy, but I had to do it for me and my sister. I bailed him out way too many times and he never once fucking changed. It’s different, but yeah, I understand what it’s like to shoulder a responsibility that isn’t mine.”

She stares at him, and then, to her own horror, breaks out into a sob. Jughead’s arms are around her in a flash as she bursts into a fit of crying. “It’s okay,” he whispers, while she mutters incoherently about how she can’t, she can’t, she can’t—but can’t what, because she no longer knows.

Can’t sell the garage? Can’t leave Riverdale? Can’t tell him what she feels around him? He rocks with her gently, murmuring encouragement and hushed mantras. She feels her world pull back, acutely aware of his body against her own.

Halfway through the tears, she wants to throw herself into something physical—let herself act on the desire she’s been stifling—but she can’t quite make herself do it. She can’t kiss him like this, red-eyed and blubbering, or use him to escape her own thoughts. It’s not fair to either of them.

Outside, it’s still raining.

She settles for tucking herself against his neck as her sniffling becomes more infrequent. “It’s okay,” Jughead says again, his voice sounding somewhat broken. His fingers leave light touches of gooseflesh along her arm. “It’s okay.”

When her eyes are finally dry, they untangle themselves. Betty rubs the heel of her palms into her cheeks, wiping away any remnants of tears. “Sorry—” she starts.

“Don’t apologize,” Jughead interrupts, his voice steady.

“But I was going to make you dinner,” she sighs, glancing over at the half-prepared mess of vegetables. “Zucchini noodles and tomato sauce and—”

“Which, while sounds great, we can take a literal rain check on. You’ve had a long day,” he says, slipping back so that he can raid through her cabinets. His head disappears behind an open cupboard, and when he closes it, he’s shaking a box of Mac & Cheese. “I don’t claim to have a lot of culinary affectation, but even a lowly fool can manage this. Go sit, watch something.”

She starts to protest, but he’s shooing her towards the couch and pressing a remote firmly into her hands. After realizing he won’t budge on this, she finds a silly movie to put on and tries to pay attention. 20 minutes in, Jughead is flipping off a light switch and returning with two steaming bowls of macaroni.

“I added the parmesan, since it was already shredded,” Jughead adds, when she glances over in surprise at the taste, the spoon still in her mouth. He scratches at his neck. “And a little pepper. That’s how my sister liked it, pre-veganism.”

He gets comfortable on the couch and leaves an opening for her to lean into him, should she want it. She does.

Betty rests her head against his chest, eating in silence while Jughead makes snide comments about the characters on the screen. He’s seen this movie before, and apparently has a lot of thoughts on it.

She tilts up at him, taking in his still-damp hair, the television glow reflected in his eyes, and the soft expression he has when he returns her gaze. He seems like he wants to say something, but instead his lips twitch into a smile.

Betty is disappointed, but then again, she has some things she would like to say too. Things she would like to do.

But on the off chance she’s reading things wrong, this is a moment she doesn’t want to spoil. So she turns her head back to the screen, focuses on the rise and fall of his chest beneath her ear, and the heat of his body through his clothes.

Feeling hyper aware of her own heartbeat, she tries to concentrate on her meal, but realizes she can’t remember the last time anyone made her dinner.

#bughead #bughead fanfiction #betty x jughead #betty cooper #jughead jones #fics #long update #recommended listening: suzanne by leonard cohen

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digidetective-shararaizel · 7 years

Text

Fear and Loathing in Recovery

Summery: Jason Todd is back from the dead and he's out for vengeance against those who have replaced him. Tony has something to say about that.

This chapter is a Jason centric chapter and it ended up being so long because of all the feels. I've never read the Death in the Family comic where Jason Todd's Robin was killed, but I own a copy of and have watch several times, Batman: Under the Red Hood, so the events of that movie is what I have in mind concerning Jason's death, resurrection, and fight with Bruce and Dick, though I do hint at his birth mother being a factor at some point to keep with comic canon.

That said, I hope you enjoy the chapter

Full series AO3 link

My Master List for Fan Fiction

Fear and Loathing in Recovery 2011

Jason Todd had grown up learning that there were very few people in the world that you could trust. The only reason he believed that there were ANY people you could trust was because of people like Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, and Tony Stark. Before his death at the hands of the Joker, Jason had thought he could trust them. Trust them to have his back. Now he knew better.

Bruce, his so-called father figure, had replaced him, and Alfred clearly liked the newer model better, dotting on the boy like he was the man’s own grandchild. Stark was no better. Jason had looked into the man’s travel records, and saw that he made twice as many trips to Gotham since the new Robin had appeared then he had when Jason was Robin.

It had made Jason so incredibly angry to see the three men he’d looked up to before his death so happy and having dinner with his replacement. Even Dick Fucking Grayson was there, tussling the brat’s hair and making nice like he never had with Jason. It had made the resurrected teen want to shoot out the dining room windows and have them look at him. Make them face him. Make them stare him in a face and see that even after his death they wouldn’t be rid of him. The only reason he hadn’t was because he had been watching that sickly domestic scene through a hacked camera feed in the manor from his safe house and not in person.

It just galled him. His replacement was a joke. He might have been smart (Jason could admit that the runt was a much better detective than he and Dickie-bird had ever been as Robin), but he was woefully underwhelming in the power department. It had been so easy wiping the floor with the brat back at Titan’s Tower. So easy in fact, Jason found him pathetic and not even worth finishing the job (or so he told himself). And yet Bruce and Alfred and Dick-face continued to keep the boy around. They weren’t going to take him off the street. They couldn’t see that this life was going to get him killed.

At least Stark seemed to be getting with the program. It had been very satisfying to hear him and Bruce go at it in the Batcave after Stark had found out what Jason did to the kid at the tower. Jason wasn’t sure how long Tony had known that Bruce was the Batman, but it was clear that he was in the know now. What was also new these days was the fact that Stark himself was part of the superhero scene, though not apart of any official team like the Justice League. Jason had to admit that Stark’s Iron Man armor was totally badass. He would almost give anything to see him take on the Batman, but he knew that would never happen. Stark and Bruce argued a lot, but it had never come to physical blows.

Jason was keeping low these days. Batman and Nightwing had been hunting for him relentlessly after he’d attacked the new Robin in Titan’s Tower less than a week ago. It irritated Jason that that was what it had taken for them to take him seriously. Two weeks ago they’d had their own little reunion. There had been injured pride all around after that little debacle. Nightwing had twisted his ankle badly during their first chase/standoff, and Batman had nearly crippled Jason’s hand during the final showdown when he’d caused Jason’s gun to backfire with a batarang just when he was about to blow the Joker’s brains out.

His hand was still a bit stiff, but it was nearly healed. The cursed Lazarus Pit was good for something at least. Dick was clearly feeling better since he was back out on the streets trying to help Batman hunt the Red Hood down. At least the Joker was still in traction with all the busted bones that came with having a building blown up and fall down all around him. It was a pity he hadn’t been crushed. That was only mildly satisfying, though. Jason still wanted that fucker dead, but the Bat had the clown locked up tight. So Jason had gone after his replacement.

The kid had returned from some summer trip in California apparently, which would explain why he hadn’t been around when Jason was trying to draw the Bats out in the beginning. Then Bruce had sent him back to Cali to the Titans after Jason had tried to slit the kid’s throat. If Bruce had thought that sending the brat away was going to stop Jason, than he was only kidding himself. Jason had seen the action as a challenge and proved that it didn’t matter where the Bat sent the boy. If the runt was going to wear the Robin uniform (and seriously? Why did he get to have pants?!) he was going to have to earn his place and prove that he could handle it. But clearly he couldn’t.

So now Jason was keeping low in Crime Alley in one of his few but secure safe houses. He didn’t dare patrol as Red Hood right now with Batman and Nightwing scouring every inch of his territory. All of Crime Alley’s usual criminals were keeping low as well. The Bats were clearly out for blood and it was best for everyone to stay low until they moved on.

Jason was very proud of the fact that he was able to hide right under their nose. He wouldn’t admit it, but he’d been nervous and anxious the first few nights he’d heard that the Bat was making sweeps of Crime Alley. When it became apparent that Batman hadn’t found any of his current safe houses, he began to relax a bit. Big mistake. Just because Bruce and Dick-face hadn’t found him yet, didn’t mean that someone else couldn’t.

“Nice place you have.”

Jason stared, surprised, as he took in the fact that Tony Stark was standing in one of his most secure safe houses examining his Red Hood helmet. Then he pulled out one of his guns and aimed it at the man’s head.

“Are you going to shoot me, Jason?” Stark asked, actually pouting a bit. “Rude. I’m unarmed.”

“Your mistake. What the fuck are you doing here?” Jason snapped.

“What, I can’t visit?” Stark asked. “I’m hurt. You came back to see Dick and Bruce and even the fucking Joker, but not me? If you weren’t going to drop by for a visit, then I was. Simple as that. Alfie says hi, by the way. He’s disappointed you haven’t visited him yet either.”

“Why are you here?” Jason growled.

Stark sighed and set the Red Hood helmet down, his fingers gliding over it’s red finish almost… fondly?

“I had to see for myself,” the man said, looking straight into Jason’s unmasked eyes and never had the teen felt so vulnerable. Those warm brown eyes cut straight through like the Batman’s never had to Jason’s core. His corrupt Lazarus Pit saturated core.

“See what?” Jason muttered, his voice rising in volume until he was screaming at the man. “That the kid you knew is no more? That I’m as twisted and evil as the Bat says?! That I’m nothing more than some common criminal now?! Huh?!”

Stark shook his head and dared to take a step forward. Jason flicked the safety off the gun and aimed between those disappointed, condemning… sad eyes?

“No,” Stark said softly, taking another step. “I came to see if Jason Todd was really back from the dead.”

“Well here I am,” Jason scoffed, throwing his arms out wide. “What are you going to do about it, Mr. Genius?”

Then Stark moved, faster than the teen thought the man capable of. Jason was too late to bring the gun back up in time for a clean shot, so he dropped it (and was glad it didn’t discharge, because that was sloppy of him), ready to get into it with his fists…when the man hugged him.

Jason froze, unsure of how to react, before his face suddenly found itself tucked into the man’s neck. Stark’s hold was strong and hard, full of muscle Jason didn’t remember him possessing.

“You’re alive,” Stark gasped, choking a bit. “You’re really alive.”

Jason…was astounded. He hadn’t expected this at all. Hadn’t thought he’d mattered enough to Stark to warrant this kind of a reaction. The man had never been much of a touchy feely person. Yes, there’d been moments Stark had offered tokens of physical affection in the form of a shoulder squeeze, hair ruffles, and pats on the head, shoulder or back, but the closest thing to a hug he’d gotten from the man before this was the occasional loose arm around his shoulders as they surveyed their work on whatever car the man had brought over for them to tinker on.

“Sorry,” Stark said taking a step back, eyes blinking rapidly - shit, were those tears?! “Awkward, I know, but… Jesus , kid, you’re alive.”

Jason had no idea what to say. He was honestly still a little shocked that he’d been hugged … and that’s when Stark punched him right in the face. Hard . POW! Flat on his back and, son of a bitch, that had actually hurt . Then again, the man had supposedly been a boxer for years now.

“Sorry, not sorry, but I felt entitled to a punch,” Stark said. “You did nearly kill my kid twice now. Chalk it up to a dad’s overprotective tendencies, parental rights and all that jazz.”

What now?

“The fuck?” Jason growled, feeling the pit driven anger rile up again, but he was still so confused by the hug and even more so upon hearing that,that it only simmered instead of explode.

“Tim Drake,” Tony said, crouching down next to Jason where he was still flat on his back, and poked him hard in the chest. “Batman’s new Robin? The kid you slit the throat of and then not even a week later beat to a pulp in the Teen Mini-League’s Clubhouse? He’s biologically my son. Bruce may have legal guardianship until Jack Drake clears PT and gets out of the hospital, but due to our agreement I still have what amounts to parental rights. Shit, that does make us sound like a divorced couple.” Jason tried to make some sort of comment, but Stark wasn’t having any of it. “No! I’mtalking. I’ll tell you that whole story later. Right now you listen because I’m having a hard time deciding whether I want to hug you or slug you again because, fuck, I missed you, you little bastard, but I also want to kick your ass into next Tuesday for what you did to Tim. Just be glad I decided to have this conversation without the Iron Man suit nearby.”

“Seriously,” Jason groaned. “What. The. Fuck?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that,” Tony sighed, plopping back to sit beside Jason’s sprawled form. “I get wanting to stick it to Bruce and Dickie-bird, because who doesn’t on occasion, right? But going after Tim? That, I can’t fathom. He’s never done anything to you. Well, technically he did stalk you when you were Robin but that was because he fucking idolized you. Dick may have been the first Boy Wonder, but you were the one he followed around the most. Your death and the shit storm that became life afterwards was the whole reason he became Robin. He did it in memory of you, asshole.”

“And you never thought to stop him?!” Jason growled, sitting up. “Didn’t my death teach you guys anything?! Kids his age shouldn’t be running around in tights playing hero. It gets them killed. It got me killed!”

“Clearly I’m a shit parent,” Stark deadpanned. “Why else would I let Bruce have custody over by boy instead of me? But that doesn’t mean that I like the fact that someone as young as Tim is Robin. I didn’t like it when Dick was Robin, I didn’t like it when you were Robin, and I most certainly hate it now that Tim is Robin and his predecessor is trying to kill him. But I can’t stop him because it’s what he wants to do - it’s what all of you ever wanted to do, even now - and I’d be a hypocrite if I told him that he can’t do it when I am running around doing the same thing as Iron Man. The best I can do is make sure he has the best training, equipment, backup, and protection as possible.”

“Is that why you’re here?” Jason demanded. “To neutralize a threat to your precious son?”

Stark punched him again. The anger that had been with Jason ever since he’d awoken in the Pit came boiling to the forefront and for a moment all he could see was that sickly rage-driven green. He snarled as he sat up and was about to hit back and wrestle the man to the ground when he felt those arms wrap around him in another hug, dowsing the worst of the Pit Rage almost instantly. What the fuck was up with these hugs?! And why were they throwing him so off kilter?

“Idiot boy,” Stark growled back, a hand fisting into the hair at the back of Jason’s head. “Is anything getting through that thick skull of yours? I’m not here for Tim. I’m here for you .”

“No,” Jason snapped, trying to push the man away, but it was harder than it should be. He couldn’t tell if Stark was just that much stronger now, if his conflicting emotions were weakening him, or a mixture of the two was the reason for it. “You’re here for the boy that died . The kid that used to help you fix up your damn cars. The kid that thought you were fucking brilliant because you taught him a few simple things about engineering. The kid that got his ignorant ass beat and blown to hell.”

“I came here for that kid, yes,” Stark admitted. “But I’m also here for the boy who’s stuck in his own personal hell. The boy that’s hurting inside because he thinks that his father figure has betrayed him. The boy who is so justifiably angry at the world that he’s lashing out in the only violent way he knows how. I knew when I came here that I wouldn’t find the boy that had died. Not all of him at any rate. I came here to see the man that that boy was forced to become because of what the Joker did and see if I could help.”

“Help me, huh? What do you know of hell, you rich bastard?!” Jason screamed.

“Plenty,” Stark said so bitterly that Jason ceased his struggling. The man let him go again and began unbuttoning his dress shirt.

“The fuck?” Jason breathed when he saw the white-blue glow coming from Stark’s chest.

“You wouldn’t know this because you were in Ethiopia being murdered,” Stark said softly, “but at the same time that was happening to you, I was in Afghanistan giving a weapons demonstration for the US military. On my way back to the nearest airbase, my convoy was attacked by a group of terrorists called the Ten Rings. A missile detonated in my face and shrapnel pierced through my kevlar vest into my chest cavity.”

Jason eyed the small but numerous scars that littered the flesh surrounding the circle of light in the man’s chest.

“I woke up in a cave a few days later,” Stark continued, “with a car battery plugged into my chest powering a magnet that was immobilizing all of the tiny shrapnel shards in my chest that couldn’t be surgically removed with the materials at hand.”

“Oh my God,” Jason gasped, feeling sick. He could picture it. A dark cave with low torch light and an eerie glow, only Stark’s light was blue, not green.

“I was stuck in that hell hole for three months. Do you know why they didn’t just kill me as they had originally intended?” Tony asked.

“They wanted you to make weapons,” Jason muttered.

“Yes, but that’s the reason they kept me alive after they tried to blow me up. See, when they had attacked my convoy they hadn’t known who I was. I was just a target to them before they realized who they were trying to blow up,” Tony said, chuckling bitterly.

Jason frowned.

“Do you remember Obadiah Stane?” Tony asked.

“Obie? Yeah, I remember him,” Jason said slowly. “Met him at a few of your galas that Bruce flew us out for. Nice guy.”

Tony’s laugh was harsh and ugly and it reminded Jason too much of how he’d laughed at Bruce only two weeks ago. Clearly he was missing something.

“Yeah, nice guy indeed,” Tony spat. “Like a father to me. Took me under his wing, like Bruce did with you. Only, apparently he thought I’d outgrown my usefulness. It was Stane that had ordered the hit on me in Afghanistan. He didn’t want me to know that he’d been double dealing Stark weapons under the table and off the books. It was one of my own missiles that detonated in my face. Irony, right? Nearly killed by a weapon I designed. Gave a whole new meaning to the phrase, ‘bullet with your name on it.’”

Jason felt his insides freeze.

“And that’s not even the worst of it,” Tony chuckled bitterly. “After I managed to escape the caves in Afghanistan, I came back to the states and basically ordered an immediate shutdown of SI’s weapons manufacturing facilities. Stane didn’t like that. See, he was trying to rebuild the armor I’d used to escape in Afghanistan, but he didn’t have a compatible powersource. He knew about this little gizmo in my chest, realized that it must have been what was powering my armor, and when my guard was down, he ambushed me at home and paralyzed me with a sonic taser that emits a high pitched sonic frequency that attacks the subject’s nervous system and causes their entire body to lock up. I could only sit there and watch as he reached into my chest and took out what has become a physical and almost literal metaphor for my heart.”

Jason watched with growing horror as Stark actually touched the device in his chest, twisted, and popped it out so that Jason could see just how deeply it was imbedded in his chest even with the wires still connected to the inside.

“The Arc Reactor has a diameter 2.7 inches, and a circumference of 8.48 inches, though that’s hardly important,” Stark continued. “It’s roughly 7 inches deep inside my chest cavity, including the magnet, meaning that I have roughly 42 inches of total area carved out of my chest, which translates to a little more than 23 fluid ounces. A 16 ounce bottle of pop holds just under 29 fluid ounces, just f.y.i.”

“How are you still alive?” Jason coughed, feeling sick.

“The doctor that put the casing in was brilliant,” Stark said, smiling wryly. “He had to make quite a few adjustments to my anatomy, and the fact that I even survived the surgery - in a cave in Afghanistan no less - boggles the minds of every doctor I’ve seen since my return to the states. I’ve had further surgeries of course, to replace the old casing and make sure it isn’t causing more damage than what’s already been done to my body, but not much can be done since a good number of my ribs were sawed and cauterized to make room for this cursed thing.”

“Why not have them remove it?” Jason asked.

“... It’s not something I’m currently willing to be put under for. In order for them to perform such an invasive surgery, that would involve not only the removal of the reactor and magnet, but the shards of shrapnel still in my chest as well, I’d need to be put under for roughly 18 hours. And then there’s the lengthy recovery period of at least six months,” Stark said, looking away.

“Wait… are you saying you were awake during all of those surgeries?!” Jason gasped.

“Not the first one that hooked a car battery up to my chest cavity,” Stark huffed, “but, the replacement surgery I had when I put in the first arc reactor and all of it’s replacement units, including the new casing that went in two years ago, yes. I needed to be able to give instructions on how to install it. Pepper wasn’t willing to do that, so she made me have my long standing personal physician do it. I’m not exactly comfortable with other people sticking their hands in my chest without supervision.”

“I can imagine,” Jason said softly, watching as the man put the glowing gizmo back in his chest. And just like that all of his anger was just… gone. For now. It was hard to be angry in the face of someone who had suffered like he had. Worse than he had. Jason at least had had the relief that came with death, until he was unceremoniously and painfully revived. The Lazarus Pit had healed all of his wounds and removed every scar. The only pain he lived with now was his anger and any injury he got on the streets, but even those healed pretty quickly. He couldn’t imagine having to live with that contraption in his chest. “Jesus, Tony, you sure don’t pull your punches.”

“It’s not that I’m belittling your own pain by any means, Jaycie. I’ve come close to dying so many times, but never managed to meet that end like you did. I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you coming back to life after all these years, but I think it’s safe to say that I know a thing or two about what hell is like. I’ve been there. I’m still there some nights. Nightmares are a bitch, aren’t they?”

Jason swallowed around a thick lump in his throat. He didn’t know why hearing that stupid nickname made him feel like he was 12 years old all over again.

“Hey! Shit, sorry, Jaycie, I didn’t mean to make you feel worse,” Tony moaned, pulling Jason into another hug, one hand fumbling to wipe at his face and - shit! Jason twisted away to try hiding the tears he only just now realized were falling. When his hand hit Tony’s chest and he felt the warm metal beneath his palm, he ceased all movement, afraid of damaging such an invasive, but crucial device. “Fuck, I’m not good at this,” Tony sighed, settling for just holding Jason, his hand moving away from Jason’s face to cradling the back of his head.

“Funny, you’re doing a pretty good job,” Jason chuckled, the little part of him that had been Robin wanting to just bury his face in Tony’s shoulder, so he did.

“Right, I feel so accomplished,” Tony deadpanned. “I made an 18 year old tough guy cry.”

“You’re right. You’re an asshole,” Jason laughed. He couldn’t help it. For the first time since he’d been revived by the Lazarus Pit he felt a touch of peace.

“Hey, I made you laugh at least,” Tony said. Jason could easily visualize that damn smirk. “And it takes an asshole to know an asshole, and a broken man to recognize another broken man.”

“Is that what we are?” Jason sighed. “Broken men?”

“Poor choice of words. I prefer to think of us as survivors,” Tony said. “Stane and Joker may have tried to break us, but we’re still here, aren’t we? And if we can keep getting back up, and keep fighting, then they can’t win. We’re more than their victims. We’re Tony Fucking Stark and Jason Fucking Todd.”

Jason laughed again, pulling back before smiling at the man.

“I missed you, Tony.”

“Missed you too, kid. Now let’s get out of here,” Tony huffed, getting to his feet.

“And go where?” Jason sighed, feeling his bitterness bubble up again. “B is looking for me and will have me arrested the moment I come out of hiding. I’ve kill a lot of people over the last couple of months, Tony.”

“My hands aren’t exactly clean either,” Tony said softly. “And please. If I can find you when he can’t, I can easily get us out of Gotham without any of the Bats knowing.”

“How?” Jason asked, still feeling skeptical.

“A private plane and an AI feeding the Bats false information,” Tony smirked. “Who the hell do you think helped Bruce install that supercomputer in the Batcave? I also helped him design and upgrade his Batmobiles. Let’s just say that if I wanted to, I could mess him up good. He may think he’s locked me out in recent years, but JARVIS has been a part of his system since it was installed. He’d have to completely dismantle and rebuild the computer and cars to remove JARVIS from their systems and even then, he’d have one heck of a time keeping me out. Oracle is good, don’t get me wrong, but she hasn’t been a hacker for as long as I have.”

Jason shook his head. “Just like that? You’re going to whisk me out of Gotham, Bruce being none the wiser, and what? Set me up in some cozy loft and send me off to therapy?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tony scoffed. “You’ll stay with me in Malibu. I can get you a therapist if you want, but I was thinking more along the lines of helping you get back on your feet and used to living again. I’ve got a decent gym, fun toys, and a sweet firing range. I was looking at your Red Hood helmet and while it’s rudimentary functions are good, I think we can really make it something special. The self destruct sequence if pretty nice. Gives you a last ditch weapon in a tight spot. I assume you wear a domino mask under it?”

“Not going to lecture me on carrying firearms?” Jason asked, genuinely curious.

Tony just leveled a disbelieving stare at him. “Do I look like Bruce anti-gun Wayne to you? Former Weapons manufacturer, remember? I’m hardly gun shy. If you feel the need to carry firearms, then carry a permitted gun. Just ease up on the trigger finger. Where we’re going the most threatening thing is going to be a pissed off Pepper Potts. I kind of ditched our one year anniversary plans to come out here and hunt your ass down.”

“Pepper Potts?” Jason repeated. “Isn’t she your Personal Assistant?”

“She’s acting CEO of Stark Industries now,” Tony said, smiling gently in the same way that Jason had seen Bruce smile at Selina Kyle, meaning that Miss Potts was a lot more that a PA or CEO or whatever her job was to Tony.

“And is she going to be alright with me just crashing at your place?” Jason asked, feeling doubtful.

“Eh,” Stark huffed, shrugging. “We’re not living together, so I don’t see why not. She’ll probably yell at me for not telling her about you beforehand, but I’m sure she’ll warm up to you.”

“Right,” Jason sighed, shaking his head. He doubted it. Nobody - aside from Tony that is - had been particularly thrilled to see him. Granted, that was mostly his fault, but if they’d just gotten rid of the Goddamned Joker-! Hadn’t he meant anything to them? Why was his killer still alive? Why hadn’t they avenged him?

“Hey,” Tony said softly, kneeling on the floor again next to Jason, tapping his knuckles gently against his head. “Talk to me, kiddo. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Why is the Joker still alive?” Jason growled.

“You know Batman doesn’t kill,” Tony sighed, but he at least sounded a touch angry as well. “And Iron Man’s interference isn’t welcome in Gotham, by Batman or GCPD. Trust me, if I could, without ruining my friendship with Bruce, or getting my ass arrested, and my armor seized, I would have blown that piece of shit up as soon as I learned what Joker did to you. That’s what I get for being Batman’s friend and a public superhero, though. I have to play by the rules, which includes not killing someone without probable cause. Though, I’m telling you right now, if that fucker ever comes across my path and tries to murder people in front of me, he’s getting blown sky high. My moral standing is a lot lower than Bruce’s.”

Jason growled, but let it go. That was more than what he’d gotten from Bruce. Besides, Tony wasn’t who he was mad at anyway. Never really had been.

“I don’t think I should go with you,” Jason sighed, finally getting his ass off the ground. “I don’t belong in Malibu in your fancy house.”

“So you’re just going to stay here?” Tony asked, getting up as well and gesturing to the rundown apartment that was Jason’s current safehouse. “And do what? Take over the drug cartels? Become a mobster?”

“Here it comes,” Jason smirked fiercely. He knew it. Tony was no different from Bruce after all. “Going to tell me how wrong I am? That Bruce was right? That I’m a criminal now?!”

“Whoa, Jaycie,” Tony said, frowning sternly in a manner that oddly reminded Jason of Alfred. “Cool your jets, kid, and stop putting words in my mouth. I’m not saying you’re wrong. You’re not really right either, according to the law and stuff, but your plan to take over the underworld to make it more manageable does make a lot of sense. And in a city as corrupt as Gotham? It might just work. You can’t get rid of all crime, but you can at least make it somewhat manageable. Do not ever quote me on that by the way. Pepper would castrate me for the shitstorm that’d come up if it got out that I support a would-be mobster.”

Jason relaxed a touch at that, but was still on edge. “So why do you want to get me out of Gotham?”

“I told you,” Tony sighed. “I want to help you, Jay. It’s not like you can do much while Batman is hunting for the Red Hood anyway, so why not leave and regroup elsewhere? Take a vacation. Get away from everything. California sunshine just might do you some good. I’ll even help you with your tech.” Tony patted the Red Hood helmet, grinning. “I can’t stop you, but I’m willing to help give you the means to be safer. I…I don’t want to lose you again, Jayce.”

Jason grit his teeth, watching the man for a minute before sighing, feeling the fight drain out of him. Now that the seemingly never ending rage that had fueled and driven him for so long was gone, he felt tired. So tired he felt it in his bones. It felt strangely of defeat. Like that moment he’d watched the last seconds on the bomb’s timer in Ethiopia tick down and he knew that he was going to die. Stark had worn him down. He should have seen it coming the moment he found himself stunned by that first hug. Tony always got his way, after all. Why would now be any different? The man was a force all on his own and, apparently, not even the Pit’s influences could persevere against the man.

“Ok, Tony,” he said. “Ok.”

3 Weeks Later…

Not everything had been smooth sailing after Tony had gotten Jason to come to Malibu. He’d been right about Pepper being furious, but after their fight she’d taken one look at Jason and personally saw to setting up a guest bedroom for him. For the first couple of days, things had been fine. Jason was grouchy in the mornings (the kid had never been much of a morning person), but had taken to the bots well enough. He helped Tony tinker in the lab (though never with the Iron Man armor. That was Tony and Tim’s thing), and spent a good bit of time at the range Tony had set up on his property. So at first, everything was fine. Good even. It was like having the old Jason back, only the kid was older and full of more biting sarcasm and snark.

But the third night led to the first of what Tony and Jason had begun to call Pit-mares. A Pit-mare usually involved Jason reliving his death, his resurrection, and, in one way or another, a disappointed Bruce/Batman. After a Pit-mare, Jason was always seething and angry and just destructive in general, upturning furniture and throwing things because they’d agreed not to have guns in the house. JARVIS was smart to lock down the lab after the first one, after Jason had nearly wrecked half the work space during his Pit-fueled tantrum.

The worst thing about Pit-mare nights, however, weren’t Jason’s bouts of impossible rage, self loathing and destruction. It was the breakdowns afterwards. There was a lot of ugly crying (the kind with a lot of tears and snot and wailing) and depressing shit, that usually ended with Jason saying that he wished that he’d stayed dead. That he could just die again so that it wouldn’t matter anymore. JARVIS had taken to locking away the kitchen cutlery after one particularly bad night that had left half the kitchen in shambles and Tony with a black eye and some scratches from fork tines.

Those nights were becoming fewer, though, the longer Jason stayed, but the previous night had been particularly rough. Tony had known that he wouldn’t be able to keep Jason’s actions a secret from Pepper and Rhodey for long (frankly he was impressed he’d managed 3 weeks), so he wasn’t too surprised that once they saw the damage in the living room when they came over that morning they ganged up on him after Jason left, feeling mildly embarrassed, to shower off another ugly morning-after.

“Tony, he needs help,” Pepper pushed. “Professional help.”

“He needs a psych ward and a straight jacket,” Rhodey had grumbled, eyeing the turned over couch, it’s shredded cushions and the shattered lamp in the living room where there was a steak knife embedded in the wall. JARVIS had missed one, it seemed. Either that, or Jason was in the habit of sleeping with knives under his pillows, which Tony wouldn’t put past the teen.

“He’s not crazy, Rhodey,” Tony sighed. “He’s been through alot and is hurting.”

“You keep saying that, but you won’t say what he’s been through,” Pepper sighed.

“Who is this kid anyway?” Rhodey asked. “Where’d you pick his crazy ass up?”

“I told you, his name is Jason,” Tony said, gritting his teeth. “And he’s from Gotham. He grew up a street kid and has recently seen some really tough times.”

“Was he in a gang?” Pepper asked.

Could the Batman and his posse be considered a gang? Nah. They were more like a mafia. He’d taken to referring to the group of Gotham vigilantes as the Bat Family because of the obsessive way they tended to keep tabs on each other and their Rogues Gallery.

“No,” Tony sighed.

“Well he’s got one hell of a case of PTSD,” Rhodey said. “He looks too young to be a soldier, but was he in service?”

“Something like that,” Tony muttered. “More along the lines of Special Ops.”

“Jesus,” Rhodey sighed. “And how old is he?”

“17-19-ish,” Tony mused, not really sure. Did you count the time he was dead or not?

Rhodey frowned, because obviously Jason wasn’t old enough to have gone through the training required to be a Special Ops. agent.

“Regardless,” Pepper cut in, “that young man needs help. I’m proud and happy that you want to help him out, Tony, I really am, but he needs professional assistance. He needs someone to talk to about his experiences.”

“He is talking. We both are,” Tony snapped, feeling defensive.

“Both?” Rhodey repeated, eyes sharp. “What’s going on, Tony?”

Tony grit his teeth and turned away, heading for the mostly tidy kitchen. A few appliances still needed to be replaced from the fit that Jason had had the week before, but the furniture had either been restored or replaced. He blatantly ignored Pepper’s glare and Rhodey’s pointed looks at the fist sized dents in the fridge door.

“I’ve known Jason for years,” Tony admitted. “We’ve both been through hellish situations in recent times, but we’ve been talking to each other. Last night was just a really bad night for him. He really is getting better. You guys just don’t know him like I do.”

“Tony,” Pepper and Rhodey sighed in unison, but before they could continue, Jason appeared in that quiet and sudden manner that all bat brats were in the habit of doing. They both jumped, startled to see him suddenly there. That had been a quick shower.

Jason glared at them, but flashed Tony a guilty look before opening the fridge. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“Hey, I have my bad nights too,” Tony said shrugging, handing Jason a glass from the cupboard for his orange juice.

Jason sighed, shaking his head.

“Wanna talk about it?” Tony asked, casually. He normally offered after Jason had calmed down after a Pit-mare.

Jason frowned at his drink, eyes darting warily at Pepper and Rhodey.

“They won’t say anything,” Tony assured. “I trust them.”

Jason scowled, but shrugged, slumping against the counter.

“What’s there to say?” he growled. “It’s the same thing every time. Bastard comes at me with a crowbar and beats the shit out of me. Then that damn bomb blows and I’m burning and screaming until fire becomes the water and instead of burning, I’m drowning and I can’t breathe and all I can hear is that bastard’s laugh.” Jason chokes, his voice going hoarse. “And I’m still screaming. I’m always screaming, always burning, and he’s always laughing.”

Tony stepped up next to Jason and wrapped an arm around the teen’s shoulders.

“I have dreams like that too sometimes,” Tony admitted. “In Afghanistan… the terrorists would shove my head under water and hold me there. Over and over and over again when I didn’t immediately follow their commands. When I wasn’t working fast enough to build them their damn missile. It was worse when I was still hooked up to that damn car battery because not only was I drowning, I was being electrocuted too whenever water hit the battery. When I have nightmares about that particular brand of torture… I wake up unable to breathe. Unable to scream because there's no air in my lungs to make a sound. And they’re still shouting and yelling in Arabic and other dialects of languages I can’t understand.”

Jason clenched his eyes shut, nodding, before leaning into Tony’s side. They both jumped slightly when Pepper made a noise that sounded like someone had punched her in the gut. Rhodey also looked pained at the admission. Tony flushed, looking away from his two closest companions. He’d honestly forgotten that they were there in his attempt to reach out to Jason, to let him know that he wasn’t alone in his pain.

“You never told us how they’d tortured you before,” Pepper whispered, staring at Tony sadly.

“Because it’s not something I want to talk about,” he sighed. “I didn’t want you to know what that felt like, because isn’t it enough that I’m back?”

“Is it?” Jason asked hollowly. “ Can it ever be enough?”

“If we want it to be,” Tony said softly. “If we choose to move on instead of dwelling-!”

“Easy for you to say,” Jason snapped, stepping away. “You’ve never died. I did die, Tony. I was dead! I should have stayed dead! But Ra’s al Fucking Gul decided to dunk me in his Lazarus Pit and revive me for whatever sick reason he had and I can’t find peace. I’m so angry! All the fucking time! All the time, Tony…” And yet Jason’s anger faded just as quickly as it’d erupted. “And when that anger is gone, I’m tired. So tired I can’t find the strength to move some days. I didn’t know I could feel this tired until you showed up and dragged me here.”

“Gotham wasn’t good for you,” Tony said softly. “And being here hasn’t all been bad, has it? We’ve had some good days too, remember? The bots like you when you’re not knocking shit over and screaming at them. Why, just yesterday, DUM-E let you use his fire extinguisher. I don’t think you realize how attached he is to that stupid thing.”

“I blew up the prototype for the new Hood we were working on,” Jason grumbled, but his lips were twitching up into a small smile.

“Sure did,” Tony said, grinning. “And then Butterfingers accidentally squirted you with the oil can when we were working on the old T-bird, and U wouldn’t stop chasing after you with the rags.”

Jason chuckled, slumping back against Tony.

“And don’t forget when you allowed him to test the new repulsor, sir,” JARVIS piped up.

Tony laughed, nodding. “Weren’t expecting that much kickback were you, kid?”

Jason snorted, his small smile now a large grin.

“See? Not all bad times. Nights just really suck sometimes. That’s why I don’t sleep very often.”

“That’s not a good thing, Tony,” Rhodey huffed, but he and Pepper were smiling at them, a warm, fond look in their eyes.

“Sleep is overrated,” Tony said, surprised to hear Jason’s voice echo him. He grinned at the teen and ruffled his hair. Jason squawked, batting his hand away, but the smile hadn’t faded in the slightest.

“But in all seriousness, Tony,” Pepper said gently. “He needs help.”

“I’m not subjecting him to anything he doesn’t want to do,” Tony growled.

Jason winced, looking away from everyone as he slumped against the counter again.

“I’m not just talking about him seeing a psychiatrist, Tony,” Pepper sighed, “even though I think that would really help. I was thinking more along the lines of something more recreational. Something to help him work out all of that aggression, instead of letting him take it out on your house and the furniture.”

Jason winced again, looking gloomily at the refridgerator and the fist sized dents in the door.

“Why didn’t I think of that? I can arrange something,” Tony conceded. “Maybe move you to a room that’s closer to the gym? We can get some really sturdy punching bags. I can program some training droids for you to fight, too. Then you can fix them up. We’ve already agreed that fixing stuff is therapeutic, right?”

“I’ve heard pet therapy works wonders,” Rhodes offered.

“I am not letting any animals in here, thank you,” Tony scowled, but noted that Jason was smiling a bit again. “Pet dander gets everywhere and then there’s cleaning up their excrement and just-! No! Ick! N. O. NO!”

“So don’t get anything big like a cat or a dog. What about something small like a hamster? Or a fish?” Rhodey asked.

“They’ll die within the first couple of days,” Tony huffed. “I’m not taking care of anything like that. I’ll forget to feed them.”

“Fish are boring anyway,” Jason scoffed. “All they do is swim in circles.”

“And a hamster?” Pepper asked.

Jason shrugged. “It’s a rodent. What’s so fun about those? Don’t they carry diseases and shit?”

“Rats are notorious for being plague carriers,” Tony added.

“Oh please,” Pepper huffed.

“Hamsters can be fun,” Rhodey protested. “You two could probably build the craziest hamster habitat ever for the little guy to run around in. And don’t BS me about the whole not feeding and watering, thing. You can program a food and water distributor that JARVIS and the bots can run. I’m sure the bots would love to help with the clean up as well. DUM-E and U are kind of neat freaks when they’re not knocking shit over and creating their own messes.”

Jason raised an eyebrow and Tony mirrored the action.

“It’s up to you, Jayce,” Tony admitted. “I don’t mind getting you a hamster if you take care of it.”

“Do I look five to you?” Jason scowled, but there was a look of consideration on his face.

“Whatever, we’ll table this conversation for later,” Tony said, but knew that both he and Jason were probably going to be looking up hamsters later that day.

Rhodey and Pepper stuck around for brunch before taking Tony away for work at the office. They needed to get everything in order before they could get started on the build for Stark Tower in New York. Pepper and Tony had managed to buy out some prime real estate that was within a couple of blocks of the Chrysler Building.

By the end of Jason’s fourth week in Malibu, not only had Jason decided to buy a hamster (a little black thing with a white spot on his back that looked like a bat if you squinted and looked at it sideways) named Batster the bastard hamster, and not only had they built the BEST hamster habitat for Batster that wrapped around Jason’s new room, it also went through the wall into the gym with extensions planned to go into the workshop. Jason’s new room had been a storage space previously, but Tony had quickly outfitted it with everything and anything Jason could need in the basement level. It became common place for Tony to wake up from where he’d fallen asleep in his workshop to the sound of Jason pounding on the punching bags. Tony was still putting the finishing touches on the androids for Jason to fight, but he wanted to reinforce and protect the circuitry and processing panels to make sure that Jason wasn’t able to completely destroy the things when he fought them.

The most surprising development of the fourth week, however, was that Pepper had worn Jason and Tony down enough to get them to agree to meet with a psychiatrist. The doc was more of a behavioral specialist, really. They had scheduled sessions with Dr. Patrick Jane on Tuesday and Thursday. They were allowed to have their sessions together, for emotional support as Pepper liked to say. Tony and Jason knew that that was a load of bullshit, but they couldn’t deny that having the other there helped. It also helped that Dr. Please-call-me-Patrick Jane turned out to be sassy and sarcastic as fuck.

The guy was good. Tony could admit that. Dr. Jane had a way of getting them comfortably talking and then somehow turn the conversation on it’s head and get them talking about some seriously personal and emotional stuff. Jason had really lost it in the middle of their first session, screaming at Dr. Jane about how he couldn’t know shit about what it was like to be killed by the Joker and then revived by a meddling immortal. The doc hadn’t batted an eye and just asked more probing questions that had Jason ranting it all out, going into every gory detail of his death at the Joker’s hand, and his resurrection, not even hiding the fact that he had been Robin. By the time he was done, Jason was drained and panting and all Tony could do was gently take hold of the boy’s wrist and draw him back down onto the couch they’d been sitting on for their session, and wrap an arm around his shoulders.

Tony had expressed with great severity after the session that if Dr. Jane ever dared to break Doctor-Patient confidentiality and speak a word about Jason to anyone, Tony would do everything in his power to ruin him. Dr. Jane had sworn he wouldn’t, saying that he saw it as an honor to help heroes like Iron Man and Robin.

Despite reassurances, Tony had JARVIS run a thorough background check on Patrick Jane and had his movements followed for the rest of the week to ensure that the man was genuine. It sure seemed like it, but Tony had JARVIS keep the surveillance up as a precaution.

Their Thursday session had been less explosive, mostly because it was focused on Tony due to the last one being primarily about Jason. Jason had no trouble helping Dr. Jane heckle information out of Tony. He even got Tony to talk about Yinsen, someone that Tony had refused to talk about, even to Tim. Especially to Tim. The guilt he felt about surviving captivity in Afghanistan at the cost of Yinsen’s life was still so overwhelming at times. He couldn’t go to sleep some nights because he wondered if he was doing enough good to make up for the bad his weapons had wrought. If he’d saved even a fraction of the number of lives his weapons had destroyed. If he’d even begun to tip the scale in a positive direction.

Unlike Jason, who tended to shout and express his feelings through the anger that the Lazarus Pit had left him with, Tony became quiet and contemplative. Where Jason was raging fire, Tony was still ice. He knew that he’d fallen into a melancholic quiet episode when Jason scooted closer and Tony was able to feel his warm living body budge up beside him, chasing away the cold night desert cave air and the cool touch of sleek machinery that he tended to dwell on.

By the end of Jason’s second month living in Malibu with Tony, the Pit-mares had become fewer, to the point that he was able to sleep most of the week without having a violent episode. The therapy and various physical outlets had really helped. Jason didn’t outright destroy the droids he was fighting either, and had even started to spar with Tony. Those were highly educational encounters for the man that left him battered and bruised in a good way whenever he did it without the Iron Man armor on. It had really freaked Pepper out the first time she’d caught him applying concealer over a particularly dark bruise on his left cheek he’d earned due to a moment of inattention during their morning spar.

Sessions with Dr. Jane still began with a “group” session for the first hour, but they now had individual sessions as well for an additional half hour; Tuesdays were Jason, and Thursdays were Tony. Jason had also started to work a part-time PA position for Tony at Stark Industries under the name Jason Peters. He was mostly getting coffee and running little errands during the day, but he was allowed to work as Tony’s assistant the days that were spent working in the R&D labs. It allowed him to socialize with other people who weren’t Tony, Pepper, Rhodey and Happy (who wasn’t so happy to hear that Jason had sort of taken over as Tony’s sparring partner). The point was, Jason was meeting new people and making sort-of friendly acquaintances. There was a particularly pretty brunette named Abby who doubled as both Pepper and Tony’s office secretary that he was particularly fond of. The woman was a firecracker and fun to banter with. She reminded Jason of Barbara Gordon.

Back at the house, Batster the bastard hamster had also gained a few new friends to join him in the monstrous accumulation of habitats and tubes that threaded throughout most of the basement level. There was Wingnut, a grey, black and white hamster, that enjoyed monopolizing the various wheels in the habitats; Penny, a dusty orange-grey hamster that was always hard to find because he liked roaming around through the tubes; Babster, a bright orange-red hamster who liked to kick Wingnut off his wheels and steal them for herself, and a small brown hamster called Tiny Nim who prefered to roam the tubes and habitat boxes that wound through the workshop because that’s where Jason and Tony spent a lot of their time together.

Yes, it seemed like everything was fine with Jason, but the real test came halfway through his third month in Malibu, when Tim Drake was coming over for a weekend visit after a rough mission with the Teen Titans. If Tony was worried about any possible confrontation, Jason couldn’t see it. He did notice, however, how excited and happy Tony seemed to be the closer it got to Tim’s arrival.

Tim arrived just after sundown looking exhausted as he pulled into the garage on a Ducati in dark civilian clothes with a large duffel slung over his shoulder. Jason kept himself out of sight behind a work table and it’s holograms, watching as Tony set down his tools and raced over to greet the boy. The bots were squealing quite happily as well, as they joined their creator in greeting the blood son of Stark. A bubble of jealousy flared briefly in Jason’s gut, but he squashed the feeling and began a meditative breathing exercise that Dr. Jane had taught him.

Watching them, it was amazing that Jason hadn’t realized before how much Tim and Tony looked alike when he’d been researching his replacement. Seeing them stand side by side, it was obvious. They had the same fly-away black hair (when the kid wasn’t gelling it down or purposefully spiking it up), eerily similar body language, and mannerisms. Yes, their eyes were different colors, and Tim had obviously inherited his mother’s cheek bone structure, but their short, compact frames were nearly identical from the way they held themselves to their bodies’ whip-cord frame beneath their unassuming clothes. Neither looked physically impressive, but Jason knew from experience that both man and young teen were capable of flipping someone on their ass.

“Hey Dad,” Tim sighed, his smile tired as he hugged Tony.

“Timmy,” Tony returned, cradling the back of Tim’s head, much like he often did for Jason after a Pit-mare.

Jason found himself more intrigued than angry as he watched the father and son update each other on their health and recent activities. Then he froze when Tony turned around and motioned him forward. Shit. Tim’s eyes practically bugged out of his head in surprise and his body went tense.

“Well…here goes nothing,” Jason muttered under his breath.

“What’s he doing here?” Tim asked softly. Jason was rather surprised that it was more weary than angry.

“Rehabilitating,” Tony quipped, “and as you know, he’s Jason Todd. Jason, this is Tim Drake, my Godson-slash-bio-son.”

“Huh?” Jason said, frowning in confusion. He knew about the bio-son bit, but Godson?

“Ah, yes, sorry,” Tony laughed. “Even though Timmy’s mother and I agreed that Jack Drake would be his dad, she somehow also managed to get Jack to agree to make me Tim’s Godfather so that I could have some tangible and legal part in his life, no doubt. She was sneaky and manipulative. You would have liked her.”

“I really doubt that,” Tim sighed. “Mother was a high society type. Though she thought it was sweet of Bruce to take in orphans, she didn’t approve of Dick or Jason because of their backgrounds. There was a reason she stopped bringing me to Bruce’s galas as I got older.”

“She thought they’d corrupt you,” Tony said, grinning. “Oh the irony . Jayce and Dickie boy have been corrupting you since Robin first took to the sky.”

Jason frowned, not sure what to make of that statement. He’d only met the kid four months ago.

“You’ll have to tell Jay the story of how you figured out the big bat’s secret and how you became Robin,” Tony said to Tim while smirking at Jason.

Tim glanced between Jason and Tony, his face was carefully arranged in a blank expression - like Bruce’s when he was still taking in a situation and wasn’t sure how to react yet - but the tension was still there in his shoulders.

Jason shrugged. “Whatever.”

“Granted, it’s not anything ballsy like stealing the tires off the Batmobile, but Tim was only eight-nine-ish when he figured Bruce out,” Tony mused in that way that was overly nonchalant and meant to get you interested. …And succeeded.

“Kid found out about the Bat’s ID when he was nine ?” Jason asked. From his research, he knew that the kid was smart, and now that he knew that he was Tony’s it made sense he’d be smarter than most kids his age, but nine years old?!

“Eight and a half,” Tim mumbled, flushing slightly.

“Tell Jay what gave the Bat away,” Tony said, his smirk growing.

“...Dick has a very distinctive skill set, including a quadruple somersault. I saw him perform it the night his parents died,” Tim said. “Then I saw Robin perform the same somersault six years later. Very few people can execute that move and there was only one person in the world Robin’s age capable of pulling it off. So after figuring out that Dick Grayson was Robin, it was only logical to deduce that Bruce Wayne was Batman.”

It was quiet for a minute before Jason couldn’t help himself. He burst out laughing, startling Tim and making Tony beam proudly.

“So Golden Boy was the one who gave it away,” Jason gasped, having to lean on U’s chassis, he was laughing so hard. “And I suppose, baby bird, that after that, it was only logical that I, Bruce Wayne’s next ward, was the second Robin?”

“Yes?” Tim said, looking unsure and confused now instead of tense.

“Oh, that’s priceless,” Jason snickered.

“That’s nothing,” Tony crowed. “Wait till you find out how Timmy became Robin.”

And Jason found himself genuinely interested. He hadn’t cared before, because it hadn’t mattered how he was replaced. All he’d known about his replacement - about Tim - was that he’d begun his Robin training 2 years after he’d died. 2 years… That had seemed like less time than he’d thought it was fresh out of the pit. Of course, then, being Robin had felt like it was just yesterday. It was amazing the perspective he was beginning to get after all the time he’d spent these last few months with Tony (and talking to Dr. Jane).

Jason gestured to the grungy couch where Tony usually passed out for the night if he was on an engineering binge in the lab, and they settled down to listen to Tim (with some antecedents from Tony) explain how he became Robin. He wasn’t sure he believed Tim when he described how bad Bruce - Batman - had been after Jason had died, even after Tony pulled up injury and incident reports from the GCPD’s database during the two years before Tim began his training. He didn’t want to believe because he still had a grudge against the Batman - he’d admitted as much to Dr. Jane during his last private session. He did wish, however, that he could have seen the look on both Bruce and Dickie’s faces after learning that a scrawny 12 year old knew who they were. He even admired the guts the kid had for putting on Jason’s old suit and taking on Two Face. The guy was known for being one of most dangerous criminals in Batman’s Rogues Gallery for a reason.

“I… I never wanted to replace you, Jason,” Tim said softly as he finished his story. “But Batman needed a Robin. I know that I’m nowhere near as good or as strong as you or Dick, but… I could only hope… it’s all that I can ever hope…that I am good enough . That I can do the role justice. That I can give Batman the kind of support he needs now, that he got from my predecessors.”

Aw hell. Now Jason really felt like shit. Especially when his eyes caught sight of the shiny new scar on the kid’s neck. He’d done that. He’d done that to a fourteen year old boy who hadn’t deserved the brunt of his anger. His rage. Bruce and Joker, he could still blame - did blame - but this kid was innocent. And so naive, with those bright blue eyes that shone with that spark of hope he’d so often caught glimpses of in the mirror when he was that age because being Robin was amazing. When Jason was still baffled and amazed that anyone could want him, the neglected orphan child of an abusive asshole criminal father, a drug addicted mom, and a traitorous bitch of a birth mother.

And according to Tony, the Drakes had been neglectful too. They’d been gone for long periods of time and often enough that their tiny kid was regularly able to sneak out at night with little to no problem to some of the worst parts of Gotham just to take pictures of Batman and Robin.

Jason could just imagine him. A tiny little boy who looked like he was 6-7 years old instead of the 8-9 year old he really was in a large baggy sweatshirt that hid his camera, crouching behind chimney stacks, water towers, on fire escapes, and in tiny crevices just to get that perfect snapshot… so tiny no one noticed him if he held still enough, especially when shit was going down and eyes were only tracking movement. How many times had Jason missed seeing Tim, even when the kid was right under his nose?

“Don’t worry, Jason,” Tony said, “just think of it this way. Even though you never suspected anything for the two years you were Robin, just remember that Bruce had been completely clueless for nearly four years.”

That was actually a good point and it made Jason snicker. So much for the World’s Greatest Detective.

“Please tell me you still have some of those pictures,” Jason said, looking at Tim. “I bet you’ve got some really good ones.”

“Uh, yeah,” Tim stammered. “I moved all of the hard copies here last summer.”

Tony hadn’t stopped beaming the entire time they’d been sitting on the couches. He jumped at the mention of Tim’s pictures and went to a spot in the wall that Jason had never realized was a safe. They spent the entire night looking through the photos, even the ones Tim had been reluctant to show Jason from his own Robin days.

Listening to the kid and watching him talk as he described what was going on in every picture was very informative. The kid had an Eidetic Memory like Tony so he could recall everything going on in each shot, and remembered how he’d managed to take it. It helped Jason remember a lot about his time as Robin when they went over his pictures. It was easier for him to remember the good times he’d had with Bruce and as Robin. He could remember the utter joy and elation he’d felt the first time he’d flown and patrolled the streets. Tim had captured him on his first night perfectly, his grin wide as he crested the apex of a swing, Batman’s shadow a dark protective blur behind him.

“Thank you for showing me these,” Jason said, smiling softly as he picked up a picture of him smoking a cigarette while in uniform alone on a rooftop across from the police station where the backlit outlines of Commissioner Gordon and Batman could be seen in front of the lit Batsignal.

“Sure,” Tim said, smiling hesitantly as he began to put away the photos. “You can keep these if you want. I still have the negatives and can always make new prints.

“Thanks. And...I’m...sorry, Tim,” Jason said, handing the picture back. “I… You…”

Damn it. Words were failing him. What could he say? Sorry for slitting your throat? Sorry that I wiped the floor with you in front of your little team of super friends?

“We can always start over,” Tim suggested softly, smile still hesitant, and Jason hated that his eyes kept returning to Tim’s throat. To that scar. He’d done that.

“I can’t promise that I won’t hurt you again,” Jason admitted. “I’m… several different sorts of fucked up.”

“But you’re getting better,” Tony said, encouragingly.

“I’m still an asshole,” Jason huffed.

“So am I,” Tony snorted. “And I doubt therapy is going to fix that.”

“Therapy?” Tim repeated, his eyebrows shooting into his hairline.

“Yeah, Pep’s got us seeing a shrink every Tuesday and Thursday,” Tony admitted before quickly adding, “I’m only putting up with it to help Jason.”

“Sure you are, old man,” Jason scoffed.

“You’ve got him attending regular therapy sessions… Jason, I’m honestly wondering whether or not I should hug you right now. I’ve been asking him to seek some sort of psychiatric help since he returned from Afghanistan,” Tim said.

“Hug him anyway,” Tony said. “Jayce needs as many hugs as you do and Dick’s not here to supply his personal brand of comfort.”

Jason and Tim both made a face at that.

“Still a hugger?” Jason asked. Granted, he hadn’t been on the receiving end of many Grayson hugs, but he’d seen how much of a cuddle monster Nightwing was from observing Dick and his team.

“Like an octopus,” Tim groaned. “It would be nice if he weren’t so…”

“Clingy?” Jason snickered.

“I was going to say opportunistic, but yeah, that too,” Tim laughed.

“Oh?”

“He hugged me every chance he got after my mother passed away, and he’s started up again, now that my father is awake from his coma and is preparing to move out of the hospital,” Tim sighed.

“Speaking of Jack, how is he?” Tony asked.

“Frustrated,” Tim sighed. “But is promising to be a better and more attentive father this time around. He’s moving us out of Drake manor and into a Brownstone that’s more handicap accessible. He’s currently in a wheelchair and will be unable to use the upstairs, meaning that it’s all my space for now.”

“Must make it easy for sneaking out at night to patrol,” Tony mused.

Tim hummed in agreement and as the two continued to talk more about Jack Drake, his condition, and the pretty physical therapist he was seeing, Jason tuned the conversation out and watched Tiny Nim pater through the tubing that ran along the back shop wall. Wingnut was on one of the wheels again in the habitat above the minibar and it looked like Babster was thinking of kicking him off. Again. DUM-E and U whirred fretfully when she did, but it make Jason chuckle. And apparently regain Tim and Tony’s attention.

“What’s so funny?” Tony asked.

“Babster kicked Wingnut off a wheel again. He’s totally sulking,” Jason smirked as he watched the two hamsters he may have named after Dick and Babs.

“Oh my God, are those hamsters?! When did you get hamsters?!” Tim cried.

“They’re part of Jason’s pet therapy,” Tony explained.

“Are not,” Jason scoffed. “Batster, maybe, but the others are totally your doing, Tony. You’re the one who said he must have been lonely.”

“Batster?” Tim repeated, looking like he was torn between laughing and being appalled.

“The Bastard Hamster,” Jason said, shrugging.

“Who may or may not be named after a certain bastard bat,” Tony added.

“Oh my God,” Tim laughed, sounding a touch hysteric - clearly on the verge of losing it. “Do I even want to know what you named the others? Just how many do you have?!”

“Five.”

Tim ended up near tears he was laughing so hard when Jason told him their names. He felt quite proud of himself. His replacement wasn’t so bad after all.

Author’s Note:

So this chapter was really emotionally draining for me to write at times (hence why it's taken me so long to post it). I have a lot of love and sympathy for Jason Todd's character, so I really wanted to give him that chance at recovery. If he came off as too OC, I apologize. I didn't want to make his recovery seem too easy, so that's why the chapter didn't stop after Tony gets Jason to agree to come out to Malibu, even though that was what I'd originally intended. That and I wanted Jason and Tony to grow close again and to give Jason and Tim a chance to meet outside of Gotham and being Red Hood and Robin. I hope that this chapter was believable and kind of fun (the hamster thing came out of nowhere). Because I want this to be a happier Batman and Avengers verse, Jason and Tony are getting the help they need. I really love the bond that has developed between these to characters and with Tim's.

Next chapter will be a little more happier (I hope) and go back to the sort of playful mood the earlier chapters of this fic. Cassandra Cane and Stephanie Brown are going to make their appearances soon and the hijinks promise to be a lot of fun. Granted, I don't know much about either character (having only seen them in the Red Robin comics and read other reader's interpretations of them in fan fics) so I hope to do at least an adequate job, but they will probably end up OC. :P Any advice and info you guys can tell me about the characters would be great, guys.

#Timmy Stark Verse #Jason Todd #tony stark #Tim Drake #pepper potts #Rhodey Rhodes

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