#Just pretend they somehow forgot to check your pulse okay? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

skeeter-110 · 3 years

Text

Just Dropping in

Tony Stark was all alone. Which was fine, he knew that's how it was going to be when he purposely disappeared years ago. He was prepared to be alone once everything fell apart. What he wasn't prepared for, though, was a teen boy in red pajamas breaking into his apartment and bleeding out on his couch.

Remix of Apartment 43B by ironfamjam for the @irondadremix

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Tony was awake in a flash when he heard a loud crash and bang coming from his living room. He sat up in bed for a second, waiting and listening to try and figure out what the noise was.

It didn’t take long for him to hear footsteps shuffling around and for it to dawn on him that someone had broken into his apartment.

A thousand different thoughts began to run through his head as he scrambled out of bed; a thousand different scenarios of what truly could be happening.

Had someone found him? Were they here to kidnap and hold him for ransom? If they were they were going to be extremely disappointed when they realized that no one was going to actually pay to save Tony.

As quietly as he could, Tony grabbed the crowbar he kept in his toolbox - thankful that he forgot to put his toolbox back in his workshop - and began to creep down the hallway.

Tony was fully expecting to see a group of men trying to rob him of all he had, but what Tony wasn’t expecting was a body just laying there on his couch.

Carefully, Tony approached the person, holding the crowbar up in a defensive position just in case it was a trap and the person was just pretending so they could attack.

When he got closer though, it wasn’t hard to see what was wrong.

The Spider-Man that Tony has been seeing all over the news and internet - that Tony had been keeping recent tabs on - was lying there unconscious and bleeding out on his couch.

“Oh, shit.” Tony breathes out once the image clicks in his brain.

Tossing the crowbar to the side, Tony all but ran over to the vigilante’s side, looking him over to try and see what exactly was wrong. Although, the blood pooling around the guy’s leg and seeping into Tony’s couch was a big giveaway.

“Alright, guy, don’t punch me for this, but you need help and I can’t do that with your clothes in the way,” Tony mumbles as he turns the living room light on.

Spider-Man didn’t even stir as the light filtered through the room, which both settled and unsettled Tony; it settled him because at least he wasn’t going to have to strip this guy and fix him up while he was awake, but it also unsettled him because the guy could very well be more than just unconscious.

Slowly, in case he had a head injury, Tony took off Spider-Man’s mask - if you ever wanted to call it that - gasping a bit when he saw the man underneath. Or, rather, the boy.

“Ah, shit. Of course, he’s a child because why wouldn’t he be?” Tony curses before shaking his head to snap out of it.

Quickly and gently, Tony began to take the make-shift superhero suit off of the teen, stopping short when he got to the gear on the kid’s wrists. The scientist in him couldn’t help but look over the cartridges, noticing that they were now empty.

"Well, that explains the webbing. Somehow I don't know if it’s better knowing that stuff isn’t coming out of him or not.” Tony mumbles to himself as he continued to strip the vigilante, cringing when he got to the teen’s leg and saw that’s where the worst of it was coming from.

Tony got up and went into his bathroom, praying the kid would stay asleep while he grabbed his first aid kit. The last thing he needed was for the kid to wake up and freak out.

Tony was just thankful that he's had one too many late-night workshop accidents and knew exactly how to stitch someone up

“Stay asleep. Please, stay asleep.” Tony begs as he approaches Spider-man once again, hoping and praying the kid didn’t wake up while he was in the middle of putting him back together.

Tony continued to repeat those same words as he worked, thankful that whatever higher power that’s out there heard him and kept Spider-Man completely unconscious.

After checking the kid’s pulse and confirming that yes he was still alive and didn’t have any other life-threatening injuries, Tony pulled the throw blanket off the back of the couch and used it to cover Spider-man up.

Tony stood there for a bit, just staring and marveling at how young the vigilante really was. Tony quickly concluded that there was no way the hero knew what he was doing and that he might as well help him out in more ways than one.

Going to the bathroom, Tony began preparing a whole separate first-aid kit for the teen to take with him whenever he left. He made sure to put everything the kid could need, hoping that it would be enough in the future.

Looking at the time after he finished, Tony sighed and began heading back to his bedroom, figuring that he might as well get a few more hours of sleep before having to deal with what would inevitably be one of the most disastrous mornings of his life.

* * *

When he woke up, Tony actually almost forgot completely what had happened a few hours prior. Almost.

That bliss didn’t last long though because once he was fully awake, the memories began to flood through his mind.

Tony just groaned and threw his arm over his eyes, giving himself two more peaceful seconds before forcing himself out of bed to check on the body on his couch.

Sure enough, when he got out to the living room, Spider-man was still lying there on his couch fast asleep.

Tony walked over to the teenager, checking his pulse one more time before going into the kitchen to start the coffee pot up. It was way too early to be dealing with any of this without at least three cups of caffeine in his system.

While waiting for his coffee to finish brewing, Tony tried to think about where to go from here. Should he wake the kid up? There has to be someone out there looking for him, right?

So many different questions and thoughts were running through Tony’s head, and not for the first time, the idea of getting charged for kidnapping crossed Tony’s mind.

After all, if someone really was looking for Spider-man, it would be extremely difficult to explain how he got in Tony’s apartment without some sort of kidnapping allegation popping up.

After finishing up his first cup of coffee, Tony figured that the kid was going to be asleep for a little while longer so he began heading to his bedroom - not without his second cup of coffee though - to get dressed and ready for the day.

Hearing groaning coming from the living room, Tony made sure to make it quick, walking back out to see Spider-Man staring down at his bandaged leg with confusion.

"Morning Spider-Man.” Tony greets, leaning against the entryway with a faux nonchalance. The teen in return let out a very childish manly squeal and tried to cover himself up more with the throw blanket Tony had given him.

Tony could help but snort in amusement as Spider-Man began to look him up and down. For a split second, Tony worried that Spider-Man recognized him from before he disappeared, but the moment passed when the kid’s eyes began to dart around the rest of the apartment.

“Who the heck are you? Where’s Harry?” Spider-Man questions. Tony just took another sip of his coffee, hoping that if he stayed calm about this whole thing then Spider-Man would stay calm also.

“I don’t know who ‘Harry’ is, but I’m Tony.” Tony introduced, staring at Spider-Man for a bit longer as he tried to decide what his next move should be. Anything that could avoid getting charges pressed against him by whoever “Harry” was. “But the real question is who are you? Considering you just broke into my apartment in the middle of the night and then passed out on my couch - you left an impressive bloodstain, by the way. It was pretty gross.”

“Oh my god.” Spider-Man groaned before burying his face in his hands. Tony watched the exact moment that panic began to set in Spider-Man, noticing when his breathing began to pick up a bit.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Crazier shit’s happened to me, trust me.” Tony tries to reassure, walking over towards the teen with his hands up, trying to placate him like he was some wild animal. Considering Tony isn't really around teenagers very often, he might as well be.

Spider-Man removed his hands, looking up at Tony with wide and slightly terrified eyes. Tony could understand why he was terrified, though.

Here he was sitting in a random man’s apartment, injured, and said random man now knew who he truly was. It was a terrifying situation, especially for someone so young.

“And don’t worry about your secret identity. I can keep a secret.” Tony adds, miming zipping up his lips and making sure to grin comfortingly after.

Spider-Man just continued to stare Tony down with a wary look before looking back down at his injured leg. Tony watched as the teen lightly touched the bandages before wrapping the blanket tighter around. Slowly but surely, Spider-Man looked back up at Tony and began to relax back into the couch.

Once Tony was sure the teen wasn’t about to have a breakdown he got up and went into the kitchen, preparing another cup of coffee. The kid sure looked like he could use a couple of cups.

“Thanks.” Spider-Man quietly says as he takes the offered cup out of Tony’s hands.

“I can’t survive a day without at least three cups so I can’t imagine what it’s like for a super kid,” Tony says just to ease a bit of the awkwardness and to have something to talk about other than the big elephant in the room.

"You’d be surprised how much energy I’ve got. My Aunt considered buying me a hamster wheel when I was younger just so I could run it all off. Now I’m more of a hot chocolate kinda guy.” Spider-Man jokes making Tony chuckle. The kid was charming, that’s for sure.

“Well, if you’re going to be stopping bad guys, all that pep must come in handy. A full stomach probably helps, you hungry?” Tony offers, figuring the whole conversation about “why” would go over a bit smoother if the kid had something in his system.

Instead, Spider-Man quickly threw his legs over the side of the couch and attempted to stand up.

“Hey, hey, you gotta go easy on that leg of yours. It’s very delicately put back together.” Tony says when Spider-Man ends up hunching over and hissing from the pain.

Quickly Tony sat his cup on the table and gently put his hands on Spider-man’s shoulders, easing him back down onto the couch. Once the teen was sitting again, Tony examined the bandage, noticing that blood was beginning to seep through it.

“Yeah, that probably needs to be changed.” Tony sighs to himself, thankful that he left the first-aid kit out in the living room last night. Tony had a sneaking suspicion that Spider-Man would try and escape if he was left alone.

Tony made sure to be quick when unwrapping the bandages, unsure if the sight would make the kid queasy; to be honest he didn’t want to find out. It was already bad enough there was a bloodstain on the couch, Tony doesn’t need to add throw-up to the mix.

“Wow. Mine never look like that,” Spider-Man says, admiring the work done on his leg. “Are you a doctor?”

“Oh, God, no. All that schooling? No thanks. I’ve just picked up a few things. Some of it comes in handy. Though, I admit, I never thought I’d be doing this.” Tony absentmindedly says, his main focus on cleaning around the stitching without hurting the kid.

“I’m sorry again.” Spider-Man apologies, although Tony wasn’t really focused on that because his words from a split second ago finally sunk in.

“Wait- did you just say you do this yourself?” Tony asks, a bit horrified at the idea of someone so young and untrained trying to professionally stitch themselves up.

“Only sometimes! And it’s fine because I heal really fast so it never really matters. I’m fine.” Spider-Man defends. All Tony could do was stare blankly at the teen, not even knowing where to begin with that one.

“I’m exhausted just hearing that,” Tony deadpans before returning back to Spider-Man’s leg. “And you’re lucky I got to this when I did. I don’t even want to think about you going at something as messy as this.” Tony says, shuddering a bit at the thought.

“Yeah… I’m sorry you had to deal with me yesterday. Last night was… it was really stupid. And I couldn’t get away without coming here. My friend Harry lives here and I thought I got the right apartment, but, obviously, I’m really bad at counting or something. It’s just - this place looks so much like his that I never even noticed.” Spider-Man rambles. Tony just sat there and listened with amusement, trying to take everything the teen was saying in.

“But, really, Mr. uh, Mr. Tony, it was totally an accident and I’ll cover the washing costs for your couch if that isn't too gross. I could buy you a new one too! But, that might take a while ‘cause it looks expensive and the paper pays me the absolute lowest they possibly can, but I’ll try my best.” Spider-Man continues, his tone of voice getting more and more frantic as he went.

“Woah, kid, take a breath. It’s fine. You’re fine. Who hasn’t broken into a stranger’s house and passed out on their couch? It’s a coming of age experience.” Tony tries to soothe, hoping his teasing tone would be enough to settle the teen.

“And don’t worry about the couch. All the furniture is a rental from the complex; that’s why your friend’s stuff and mine look the same. Guess we’re both too lazy to decorate ourselves.” Tony says, giving the bandages one last tug.

“Well, he just moved out of his dad’s place, so that was probably the last thing on his mind, to be honest,” Spider-Man explains, reminding Tony of why he never even bothered to get new furniture in his place.

Because when he first moved in here, when everything was falling apart and Tony wanted nothing more than to run like a coward and disappear, the last thing on his mind was getting new furniture also.

Tony quickly snaps out of the memory, taking care of the bandages around him.

“I bet he isn’t as good at making omelets as I am. You like peppers?” Tony pushes past the moment, standing up to go into the kitchen when something makes him pause. “And it’s Stark, by the way. Tony Stark. But you can just call me Tony.” Tony introduces, figuring that if the kid hasn’t recognized him by now, then his full name wasn’t going to make any difference.

“No, really Mr. Stark, it’s okay. I don’t want to bother you more. I already wanna die.” Spider-Man sheepishly refuses.

“I did not just patch you up for you to die in my living room,” Tony says before looking at the clock in the kitchen. “Besides, don’t you have school or something? You can’t be more than - what - fourteen?”

“Sixteen.” Spider-Man corrects, pulling an exasperated look out of Tony.

“Ahh, yes, the big difference between a child and a slightly bigger child.” Tony patronizes as he pulls out everything needed to begin making breakfast. “So, what’s a kid like you doing going around fighting crime anyway?”

“My, uh, my uncle died, a year ago.” Spider-Man answers, Tony pausing his slicing in order to turn around and face the teen.

“I’m sorry, kid. That’s hard.” Tony sincerely says watching as Spider-Man just shrugs it off.

“Yeah… it, uhh, it really sucked. Especially because I had already gotten my powers and I could’ve… I could’ve saved him. But I didn't know how at the time. And I just knew, at that moment, that I had to make sure something like that never happened again. I can’t live knowing that I had the power to stop something bad from happening and I chose to do nothing.” Spider-Man continues explaining.

Tony couldn't help but sadly smile, remembering all the things that he could’ve - should’ve - done sooner to stop so much damage from happening. But it was too late now. Way too late.

“Yeah. I get that.” Tony practically whispers before - once again - snapping himself out of his memories by turning around and beginning to crack some eggs into a bowl. “Well, I hear you make quite the impression. So I’d say you’re doing a bang-up job, Underoos.” Tony says, forcing himself to sound light-hearted as he poured the mixture into a pan. Now was not the time to wallow; wallowing was strictly a before-bed routine.

“I hope so.” Spider-Man sighs before realizing what he was just called “Underoos?” He squawks.

“You’re basically wearing PJ’s, kid.” Tony points out, smiling to himself when Spider-Man continued to protest.

“They’re- They’re not PJ’s!”

“If you say so.” Tony continues to tease as he plates the omelet, pouring a glass of orange juice to go along with it before walking into the living room.

“Mr. Stark, you’re amazing. Thank you. I’m sorry.” Spider-Man stumbles over his words as Tony hands him the breakfast, causing Tony to roll his eyes in return.

“So, while you were comatose on my couch, I noticed your cartridges were empty. You make that webbing stuff yourself?” Tony begins to question once he was comfortable in the armchair with - yet another - cup of coffee.

Spider-Man just nodded, in the middle of shoveling the omelet in his mouth. Tony just whistled in response, completely impressed with what this teen was able to do.

“The tensile strength of that stuff is off the charts. How’d you come up with it?” Tony asks, once again not even bothering to keep the scientist in him from coming out.

“Trial and error, and error, and error,” Spider-Man begins to reply after washing down his food with the orange juice. “I’m good at chemistry and I get to hang around the school lab a lot so it’s easy for me to just,” Spider-Man continues to answer, miming pouring a bunch of things together.

Tony couldn’t help but bust out laughing, the realization of how ridiculous this whole thing was fully sitting in. Spider-Man really was a young child.

“Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me the ‘Amazing Spider-Man’ makes his web-fluid in a high school lab ?” Tony asks, laughing even harder when the kid gave him a look as if he had just sucked on a lemon.

“It’s not funny! Where else am I supposed to make it?” Spider-Man protests, Tony just shaking his head as he tried to regain his composure.

“Well, what about you? It’s fully working hours and yet here you are.” Spider-Man points out as if he really was doing something there.

“Yeah. Here I am. In my own home that I pay for.” Tony replied dryly, only softening up and shrugging when he realized that he might have embarrassed the kid. “Don’t have anywhere to be today.”

“Well, what do you usually do?” Spider-Man asks and wasn’t that a loaded question. Tony smiled a bit as he ran through his head what he should say. He couldn’t tell the whole truth about working with the Avengers - not without giving himself away and defeating the whole purpose of disappearing in the first place - but he didn’t want to necessarily lie either.

“Let’s just say I’m an over-glorified mechanic. Or, I was anyway. Now, I just do my own thing. I fix people’s stuff.” Tony simplifies.

“Oh cool, like their cars and stuff?” Spider-Man asks as he continues to devour the plate of food. “My friend Ernest - well, he’s not really my friend, but he’s this guy I know ‘cuz one time these guys were holding his shop up and I went in like ‘Hey! This is automatically a crime!’ except they didn’t get it, so I wrapped up faster than usual.” Spider-Man rambles, pouting a bit when he brings up the criminals not understanding his joke.

“Yeah, they didn’t get it because that’s probably the worst pun I’ve ever heard.” Tony teases.

“Hey! You try coming up with good one-liners while fighting off three guys.” Spider-Man squawks.

Several memories began flooding through Tony’s mind -memories of multiple fights he was in, bad-mouthing all of the criminals - the man having to snap himself out of it before he got sucked too deep in it all. “I guarantee I’d still come up with better.”

Like the child he was, Spider-Man just stuck his tongue out in return before reaching down and setting his empty plate on the coffee table.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark. I, uh- I really appreciate what you did for me. You didn’t have to, but I won’t forget it.” Spider-Man shyly voices his gratitude.

“Don’t sweat it, kid. And I know you won’t listen to a word of this, but be careful out there. It’s all fun and games until you get stabbed.” Tony fondly says as he got up. He quickly walked into his bedroom and grabbed the first-aid kit.

“I made you a kit. There are some instructions in there because sometimes you just really don’t have the spare minutes to go through pages of Google searches before you bleed out or something.” Tony explains as he walks back out of his bedroom. Sitting down next to the teen, Tony opened up the box and began to take out some wipes.

“Use these to disinfect your leg every so often and make sure to change the bandage or it’s really gonna suck. There’s also some stuff in here to stitch yourself up, but, I have multiple instructions - with pictures - so you at least somewhat know what you’re doing. I put some Advil in there just in case, but I’m not sure if it would work on you; it wouldn't hurt to try, though. And the Vaseline in here is for bruising. If you put it on a few minutes after the injury happened, it won’t bruise.” Tony rambles, wanting to make sure the teen had everything he needed.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark. This is so cool. Thank you. But this is too much. I literally broke into your house and you’re being honestly way too cool about it; it’s freaking me out.” Spider-Man jokes, clearly extremely grateful even if he was trying to seem nonchalant about it. Tony just snorted and fondly ruffled the kid’s hair.

“I can’t in good conscience let you walk outta here without at least that. It’s bad for my heart condition.” Tony says, hoping that if he made it about him it would help the kid ease up on it. Although he quickly dropped the teasing and light-hearted tone in exchange for something a bit more serious so Spider-Man would listen to the next part Tony had to say and take it to heart.

“But if you’re ever in trouble, or you need a place to hide, or you’re too stubborn to go to a hospital like a normal person, you can always come back here.”

“I can’t do that, no, really. It’s okay. Thank you, though, Mr. Stark, but I’m okay. Really. This was just a fluke. A complete one-off, once-in-a-lifetime event. Promise.” Spider-Man adamantly refuses the offer, going so far as to even wave his hands to get the point across.

“You’ve already violated the sanctity of my door, what’s one more time.” Tony jokes, smiling when the teen buried his face in his hands.

“Mr. Stark.” Spider-Man draws out causing Tony to throw his head back and laugh.

* * *

Tony wasn’t actually expecting Spider-Man to show up again at his apartment. Not with how embarrassed and adamant the teen was that nothing was going to happen again.

Tony accepted that he was never going to see the teen again as soon as he was able to leave the apartment. All Tony could really do was hope that the kid was following instructions and was cleaning his leg like he was supposed to.

It wasn’t until late the next day when Tony was coming back home from work that he saw a sign of Spider-Man stopping by once again. Right outside on his balcony was a little plate wrapped up in saran wrap.

Curious, Tony walked outside and saw that Spider-Man had left him a plate of cookies while he was out.

Tony couldn’t help but chuckle and shake his head, grabbing the plate and walking inside with it.

Of course, the kid would do something as silly and wholesome as leaving him a plate of cookies as - what he was assuming was - a thank you.

Tony took the cookies and put them in his own Tupperware so he could give the plate back, popping one of the cookies in his mouth as he did so.

Humming appreciably, Tony put the plate back out on the balcony before walking back inside and grabbing more bandages. Tony set the bandages down next to the plate before writing out a note for the kid.

You better be disinfecting that leg kid.

Tony figured he would get a kick out of that one, plus hopefully, it’ll drive the message home and make Spider-Man listen if he wasn’t before.

That was a couple of weeks ago.

Tony hadn’t heard anything else from Spider-Man, hadn’t even gotten a sign that the kid was around other than the fact that he took the plate along with the bandages. Which was okay. Tony prepared and expected this.

That didn’t stop him from worrying though. And, of course, his worry led him to the same place it always does; his workshop.

Every time he had another worry come up - like how he had no idea if the kid was still hurt, if the kid was alright now, or if he had gotten hurt all over again - Tony continued to add more and more to his project.

While he worked, Tony tried telling himself that Spider-Man not showing up in a couple of weeks was a good thing. It meant that the kid most likely wasn’t hurt and didn’t need Tony to patch him up. That thought was the only thing bringing him comfort.

Telling himself that working on his project was also a good “just in case” thing and that he most likely won’t even need to give it to Spider-Man in the first place helped comfort him also.

So, yeah, Tony wasn’t expecting to see the vigilante again.

Tony also wasn’t expecting someone to knock on his front door one random night.

Almost as soon as Tony heard the knock, he jumped up to his feet.

Several different thoughts began running through Tony’s head making him paranoid and switch between stopping halfway to the door and actually walking up to the door.

What if it was Spider-Man and he needed Tony’s help again? No, Spider-Man would have come through the balcony, he wouldn’t be knocking on the front door.

What if it’s Pepper? What if Rhodey is in trouble? No, Pepper wouldn’t come here and Rhodey still isn’t comfortable being out in public.

What if it’s one of the Avengers? What if they found him? What if Ross found out about him and what he did? About what he used to do?

Taking a deep breath in and steeling himself, Tony finally managed to push his body the rest of the way to the door, swinging it open.

Sure enough, Spider-Man was standing there in street clothes this time, holding his left arm in his hand.

“So, I, uh, I broke my arm.” Spider-Man greets as if the way his arm was limply laying wasn’t obvious enough.

“Yeah. I can see that.” Tony dryly says, still trying to internally calm down his racing heart now that he knew there was no threat. Tony stepped aside and waved Spider-Man in. “Come in, Spider-Kid. Let’s see what I can do.”

Spider-Man slowly shuffled inside, awkwardly walking over to the couch and practically collapsing once he reached it. Tony watched as Spider-Man’s breathing began to stagger, the adrenaline most likely draining from the kid now.

Tony gave the teen a sympathetic frown, gently taking his arm into his hands to look and feel where the break was and how bad it was.

“You’re gonna be okay, Bud. We just need to snap it in place. It looks like a clean break to me.” Tony tries to reassure. Tony continued to look all over the teen’s arm, trying to remember everything he learned about snapping a bone back into place.

It didn’t look like there was too much fluid building up, it wasn’t bleeding, and the bone wasn’t poking at the skin so it should just be a simple snap-it-in type deal.

“Ready?” Tony asks once he’s done analyzing everything.

“No?” Spider-Man hesitates, making a grin slip out of Tony.

“That’s the spirit,” Tony says, and that was the only warning Spider-Man got before Tony was snapping his arm into place.

Almost instantly, Spider-Man began to scream through his teeth, making Tony snap into action.

“I’m going to get you some water, just take it easy, Kid,” Tony says over Spider-Man’s deep breathing, quickly getting up and getting the kid a glass of water from the kitchen.

When Tony came out, the kid’s eyes were still closed, but his breathing was coming in short pants. Recognizing when a panic attack is about to start, Tony practically ran the rest of the way over to the teen and grabbed a hold of the teen’s chin so he had no choice but to look at Tony.

“Hey. Look at me. Breathe, one two three.” Tony begins to coach, smiling softly when Spider-Man followed his instructions, “There you go. You’re right here. Don’t go anywhere else. You’re right here.” Tony continues to soothe.

Spider-Man just stared into Tony’s eyes while he tried to calm him down, almost as if he would float away again if he looked away. Almost as if Tony’s intense gaze was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

Spider-Man’s breathing soon began to slow down, the teen eventually able to take in a long slow breath.

“Sorry.” He apologizes, his eyes slowly fluttering shut now that all of his adrenaline truly was gone.

“You can kick everyone’s ass except your own brains sometimes.” Tony sighs sadly.

“You get them too?” Spider-Man blurts out. All Tony could really give in return was a tired look, before agreeing because even just the thought of his almost daily panic attacks was enough to suck the energy out of him.

“Yeah.”

“Did they… Did they get better, though?” Spider-Man hesitantly asks, almost as if he was scared to hear the answer. Which should have been enough to tell Tony to sugarcoat his answer, but sometimes his brain and his mouth aren’t wired together.

“Not yet,” Tony says, being quick to amend his answer when he saw the teen’s face fall. “But that doesn’t mean anything for you, kid. You just keep working on it. And drink your water.” Tony instructs, smiling fondly when the teen did what he was told.

“You okay?” Tony asks after Spider-Man had a couple of sips and looked physically calmer.

“Yeah. I’m good. Promise.” Spider-Man honestly replies. Tony continued to stare at him for a little bit longer, debating on whether or not he should give the teen what he’s been working on recently.

“Well, are you ready for a surprise then?” Tony asks once he’s finally made his mind up.

“Surprise?”

“I made something for you. If you’re interested.” Tony clarifies, before grabbing the metal case that held Tony’s recent project.

“Really?” Spider-Man shouts excitedly, sitting up straighter on the couch before he begins to remember himself and quickly protests the gift. “Wait. You can’t give me anything! That’s-That’s too much!”

“Hush, child. Children should be seen, not heard.” Tony quiets, not really wanting to go through a whole song and dance just to get the kid to accept the case.

“Excuse you.” Spider-Man gasps dramatically, making Tony smirk before tossing the case onto the couch cushion next to the vigilante.

“Go on, open it.” Tony permits, trying to hold back his chuckle when Spider-Man just gave Tony a firmly disappointed look.

Despite being "displeased" with it all, Spider-Man still pulled the case into his lap eagerly, quickly opening up the top of the case.

As soon as the red suit inside popped up, along with all of the semantics that were surrounding it, Spider-Man gasped. The teen couldn’t take his eyes off of the suit, and when he did manage to look away, his eyes locked firmly onto Tony’s.

“Is this- Is this what I-” Spider-Man breathlessly stutters, Tony taking pity on the poor boy by cutting him off when it was clear that the teen’s brain had practically self-destructed.

“A brand-new, superhero-worthy Spider-Man suit, equipped with all sorts of anti-bad guy goodies? Probably.” Tony answers for the teen, a warm and proud feeling spreading through his chest when he saw the biggest grin form on Spider-Man’s face; although he made sure he didn’t show it, he refused to show his soft spot.

“Holy shit! This is so cool! This is literally the coolest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life; oh my God! Ned is going to flip!” Spider-Man gushes as he pulls the suit out and examines it.

“I just thought about you running around in your glorified sweats and I couldn’t sleep. So enjoy the suit, kid. It has its own AI and everything.” Tony nonchalantly says as if that wasn’t one of the biggest things to the teen.

“There’s an AI? Holy shit .”

“An AI who’ll - hopefully - help you be careful out there. She can help you navigate the city and deal with whatever shenanigans you get yourself into. The material of the suit itself should keep you - more or less - resistant to the kind of attacks you’ll be dealing with. It’s also fireproof, but I’d really prefer you didn’t go testing that out.” Tony begins listing off everything he put into the suit.

“Are you kidding? I’d never risk burning this. This is literally the best thing ever! I’m going to look so cool.” Spider-Man continues to gush making Tony snort at the teen’s clear excitement.

“Hell yeah, you are.”

Gently, almost as if he was going to destroy it then and there, Spider-Man folded the suit up and placed it back into the case, and closed it up.

“This is really awesome Mr. Stark and I really appreciate it but… are you sure? This must have taken a lot of time, and I don’t even know how much it cost-”

“It’s a multi-million dollar suit.” Tony interrupts, hoping that if he just quickly glossed over it, it won’t become a huge deal. “But I want you to have it,” Tony reassures.

“Did you say multi-million? As in more than one million? As in millions ?” Spider-Man gasps. “Mr. Stark, the most expensive thing I own is a forty-dollar sweater from this Star Wars merch site; and technically I got it on sale.” Spider-Man continues to breathlessly ramble.

Tony couldn’t help it when he threw his head back and laughed at the teen’s reaction. He’s never had someone react like that towards his work. The Avengers sure as hell weren’t even nearly half as impressed as Spider-Man was.

“Trust me, kid, I wouldn’t have made this for you if I didn’t think you deserved it.” Tony earnestly says, watching as Spider-Man stopped completely and widened his eyes, almost as if no one’s complimented him about this kind of thing.

Which, now that Tony thought about it, that was most likely the case. The teen probably hasn’t been told that he’s been doing a good job with everything for the same reason he comes to Tony’s apartment; because there’s no one else there to do it.

Tony once again decided that it was up to him to step into that role.

“I think you do good work, Underoos. And - more importantly - I think your hearts in the right place. With some more experience and some better tech, you’ll be able to do some amazing things.” Tony compliments. Spider-Man just blushed and ducked his head shyly in return, which managed to pull a fond smile out of Tony.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark. That’s… That’s really nice of you to say.”

“You’ll be one of the greats one day, kid. No doubt about it.” Tony confidently says, making sure his tone of voice left no room for disbelief. It must have worked because Spider-Man cracked a small smile in return.

Then he whispered a sentence that made Tony’s entire body seize right up.

“Like Iron Man?”

So many thoughts and questions began to race through Tony’s head.

The first question was: did this kid know?

No. He couldn’t possibly know. No one but the people in his old life knew. No one from the public knew or even had close to an idea.

The next question was why in the hell did this kid look up to Iron Man of all heroes? Why did he have to think that Iron Man was what he should be living up to?

Didn’t this kid know that Iron Man is the reason Tony now has nothing? No friends, no girlfriend, no company, no one to live with but the dust bunnies in the corner of his apartment.

Of course, he couldn’t possibly know all that, but that wasn’t going to stop Tony from trying to persuade his thoughts otherwise.

“Mr. Stark?” A tiny voice breaks through all of Tony’s thoughts. Snapping his head up, Tony realized that he had gotten too far into his head and quickly shook himself out of it.

“Nothing, kid. I’d just… shoot higher than the tin can.”

“Are you crazy? You can’t shoot higher than Iron Man! Iron Man is Iron Man! He’s the best.” Spider-Man protests. Tony wasn’t sure what his face looked like right now, but he knew it had to be a look of disgust because Spider-Man just continued to ramble about the ex-hero.

“Hello! The battle of New York? He flew a nuke into a wormhole and then the Avengers closed the portal on him - which was totally uncool by the way - and he still came back anyway. And he defeated the Mandarin after all those bombings happened and then there was that whole thing with the terrorist in Afghanistan and stopping that guy from Stark Industries and rescuing-” And Tony couldn’t help but groaning and rubbing his face when Spider-Man stopped mid-sentence.

Because Tony knew - could pinpoint the exact moment one of his identities clicked inside the teen’s head.

“You're Tony Stark. Oh, my God. I’m in Tony Stark’s apartment,” Spider-Man gasps, “I bled on Tony Stark’s couch. Oh, my God. How did I miss that? Holy-”

“Are you done?” Tony interrupts the revelation, glaring at the - once again - rambling teen.

“No. No, I am not done. I can’t believe I didn’t reconsider you before. Oh, my God. You’re the CEO of Stark Industries.” Spider-Man continues to freak out.

“Ex-CEO” Tony corrects, rubbing his temples to try and stave off an oncoming migraine.

“What?”

“I gave it to my old assistant Pepper. She’s better at it anyway. I told you, I’m just an over-glorified mechanic now.” Tony explains, causing Spider-Man to sputter in return.

“B-But why? You were the most famous inventor of all time until you just… disappeared.”

“If you think fame and notoriety are still the most important things in the world, you’ve got some growing up to do, kid.” Tony lecture. Although it wasn’t a very strong lecture with how tired and done with it all Tony sounded.

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way I just… I go to a super nerdy school and I’ve been into tech my whole life. So, I - uhh - I totally followed your whole career when I was younger. It’s why I like Iron Man, too. He made himself into a hero, you know? He saw that things needed to change and so he changed them himself." Spider-Man explains.

Tony just stood there and stared at the teen, trying to process everything he was just told.

Tony had to keep reminding himself that Spider-Man didn't know; that no one knew. No one knew about his secret identity and that it was just a coincidence that Spider-Man happened to look up to Tony and his alter-ego.

That didn't make it any better, though.

Tony hated the fact that Spider-Man looked up to them. That he wanted to be like them. The kid needed to shoot higher for something, needed a better role model than Tony and Iron Man. Which was the conflicting part because this kid really needed a mentor and the only "hero" he just so happened to stumble upon was Tony.

"I'm not the kind of guy you want to look up to, kid. Neither is Shellhead. Trust me." Tony voices out loud before turning and walking away. He figured the kid knew his way out himself. "Enjoy the suit."

* * *

It was until later that night when Tony's hunger got the better of him and he figured that Spider-Man had left a while ago and it was safe for him to that Tony left his workshop and came back out into the living room.

Sure enough, Spider-Man was gone when Tony reached the living room, and the only sign that the vigilante was in his home in the first place was the note sitting on his coffee table.

I think you're selling yourself short ex-CEO or not - Peter Parker

(Now you know my secret identity too. I only thought it was fair)

Tony didn't quite know what to do with that, but if Tony ripped the first part of the note off and kept it in his desk drawer - well - no one had to know.

* * *

It was another couple of weeks and, once again, there was no word from Spider-Man.

No, not Spider-Man. Peter Parker.

Almost as soon as Tony got his name, he went back down into his workshop and began researching anything he could find on the kid.

He found out that he went to Midtown, which in itself was pretty impressive, but he even managed to find all of the teen's robotics and decathlon awards, and his grades and GPA.

Okay, well, Tony didn't happen to stumble onto all of that, he probably did a little bit more hacking than he should have, but he was curious. Sue him.

Although the straight-A's and 4.0 really explain a lot about how Peter was able to get around doing all of this hero-ing and how he was able to go for so long without the proper resources. The kid was smart.

But, Tony also found some not-so-fun stuff. Like three specific death certificates.

He wasn't so shocked to find the death certificate of Ben Parker since Peter had already brought his Uncle up, but he was shocked to find death certificates for Richard and Mary Parker.

Something tight settled into Tony's chest when he found those and realized that the teen was an orphan just like he was; albeit a little younger.

After that, Tony stopped his stalking background check and decided that he would get the rest of whatever information from Peter himself.

Two days after he started his research, another knock came from Tony's front door.

Once again, Tony couldn't help but be paranoid at the sound, but quickly forced himself to relax when he reminded himself that the only person who comes to visit him is the Spider-Kid.

Sure enough, when Tony opened up the door, Peter was standing on the other side of the door, holding up a bag of cheeseburgers in one hand and a bag with a bunch of drinks and snacks in the other.

"There better not be mushrooms in that thing," Tony says in lieu of a greeting.

"Excuse you. This is an all-American cheeseburger. There's lettuce, tomato, onion, pickles, meat, and cheese and that's that." Peter scoffs.

"I've never respected you more, honestly," Tony says as he widens the door and steps aside so Peter could walk on in.

The teen gave him a big grin in return as he made his way into the apartment, quickly settling onto the couch like he had been coming over for years. Which considering the kid only really comes over when he's severely injured, Tony is beginning to feel like he's aged a few years.

After the kid hands out the food to both him and Tony, he began to make his way into the kitchen and pour them both a glass of water.

Tony couldn't help but watch with amusement, kind of shock, and touched at the same time that Peter was no longer afraid to make himself at home. Maybe it means the kid is going to start coming around more so Tony doesn't have to constantly worry about whether or not he's dead in an alleyway.

Almost as soon as Peter set down the glasses of water, he was sitting down next to Tony and practically inhaling his burger.

"So good. A-plus. Really made the robbery worth it." Peter talks around the bite of burger in his mouth, completely missing the incredulous and somewhat angry look Tony was giving him.

"You got these at a robbery?"

"When you see a Shake Shake being held up, you gotta intervene. And if the owner gives you free food as a thank you then," Peter shrugs as he sets his bottle of sprite down, "the friendly neighborhood Spier-Man would never be impolite enough to say no."

Tony couldn't help but huff and shake his head at the teen's antics and the audacity he had to actually look smug about it all.

"And we can't have that, can we?" Tony continues the light banter they have going.

"No, sir," Peter replies, both of them instantly laughing once they caught each other's eyes.

"So, fix anything today?" Peter asks as Tony settles down onto the couch right next to the teen.

"Neighbor downstairs had her car malfunction; took a look at that for her today. Nothing fancy. How's the suit.?" Tony quickly changes the subject, hating talking about himself more than he needed to. That usually led to very important - very secretive - stuff getting out by accident.

"It's incredible! Like, seriously, Mr. Stark. It's the coolest thing ever, and it works so well, and I've been getting so many compliments. Did you see me trending on Twitter? That was so cool!" Peter bursts out, almost as if he was holding all of that in until Tony said something.

"Yeah, I saw that. Might have contributed to a few on the conspiracy theories." Tony smiles the weird warmth in his chest once again spreading at the sight of the happy teen.

"Are you serious? Mr. Stark." Peter groans. Tony had to try and choke down his laugh at the sight.

"My personal favorite was 'Spider-Man steal Daredevil's suit and cuts off horns'" Tony continues to tease, earning a whining type noise in return. "Hey, you'll grow. Probably."

"I retract my compliments effective immediately." Peter dryly says, making Tony give the kid another smirk.

"Sorry, no takebacks. Can't erase this memory." Tony says as he taps his temple before finally reaching for his weird robbery burger.

"Hey, Mr. Stark?" Peter hesitantly asks, gaining Tony's attention. "Why'd you sell your tower to the Avengers?" Peter asks once he was sure Tony was paying attention.

Which... that wasn't a question Tony was prepared to get asked.

Tony stopped eating his burger and cleared his throat before actually answering. "They asked and I agreed. I was planning on moving SI operations anyway."

"So, it isn't true that you did some work for them?" Peter continues to question. Tony's heart instantly began to pound. He couldn't help but feel nervous as to where this line of questioning was about to go.

"Why do you say that?"

"Twitter." Peter shrugs before returning to his burger. And, of course, of course, Twitter would figure out viable information like that.

"You know, it's constantly surprising to me that more national secrets aren't revealed on the internet every day." Tony deadpans, causing Peter to gape at him.

"So you did?"

"I consulted on some of their tech. That's all. No biggie." Tony sighs, already knowing that Peter was going to make a huge deal about it and he was going to have to talk about it more than he already wants to.

"No biggie? It's a huge biggie! Did you work on their suits?" Peter rapidly questions, gasping when something dawned on him. "Is that how you were so good at mine? Did you work on the Iron Man armors?"

"Can't a man keep any secrets anymore?" Tony asks in the hope to be able to drop this conversation completely.

"Not if they involve the Avengers." Peter was quick to deny. All Tony could do was stare at this teen in annoyance.

What did this kid see in the Avengers that gave them all of his awe and respect? Didn't he know that the avengers are some of the worst people out there? Apparently not, and tony was going to have to be the one to tell him.

"Why do you even care about the Avengers so much? Because I'm telling you, they're nothing to be fanboying about. They were dysfunctional, aggressive, and uncooperative. They preached about teamwork but were the first to turn on each other when the going got rough. And when things got bad, when people started dying because of their actions, they decided their own self-righteousness was way more important than the will of the entire world." Tony began to rant, getting so into finally being able to let out all the pent-up rage that he didn't even notice when Peter's face began to fall.

"They were called 'Earth's Greatest Defenders', but in the end, what did it all matter when everything that mattered to them disappeared. When even their so-called family didn't matter more to them than their pride." Tony finishes spitting down, Peter looking down at his lap with discomfort and hurt in his eyes.

"Just because they weren't perfect doesn't mean they weren't still great. Everyone has their bad side, but they still tried their best." Peter tries to defend, making Tony nod when he realized he was going to have to break this down and make Peter see his point.

"Okay, but what if what's right and wrong stopped being so simple? A guy starts a fight in the middle of the street; that's wrong. So you break it up. Easy right? Aliens invade the Earth. That wrong, right? So you defeated them." Tony waited until Peter showed he understand before continuing.

"But, what if, before they were defeated, you saw that you only got rid of one percent of the threat. That beyond them was something infinitely more terrifying just waiting for the perfect moment to attack. What if you knew that threat was imminent. What do you do?"

"You build your defense. You prepare." Peter confidently answers.

"But here's the thing; what lines do you cross to prepare? What boundaries do you have to set? The Avengers were a group of superpowered people thrown together without any foundation so when questions like those popped up, they didn't have enough faith in one another to resolve them without breaking apart. So, tell me then, what were they really thinking about? Their hearts? Or their pride?"

"The Avengers split up because of the Accord, didn't they?" Peter asks, slowly getting to the root of the real problem.

"The Accords were just the catalyst. In the end, it was betrayals on the inside that made them irreconcilable and what made half of them go into hiding and the other turn into fugitive still playing a vigilante on the down-low." Tony huffs before crumpling up the take-out bag in his hands, just to have something to do with them and to make his next admission easier.

"I've been around too many superheroes to be blind to the costs of it. And no one lost more than Iron Man."

"You know what happened to him?" Peter gasps. Tony just gave a wry smile as he nodded.

"He lost the love of his life, he lost his team, he was betrayed by his best friend, he lost everything until all he had left was a suit. But what purpose did that serve? When everything he fought for had slipped right through his fingers." Tony vents, trying as best as he could to reel in his emotions afterward.

"That's terrible," Peter whispers as he shrinks into the couch.

Tony doesn't really say anything after that, too shocked with how much better he felt. He finally feels like the tight knot that constantly sat in his chest has loosened; even if it was just the tiniest bit.

Tony hasn't once talked about everything that's happened. He's never brought up his and Pepper's breakup, what happened to him during the Accords, or even what happened after he went after Steve. No one knew.

Except now for this random-ass kid. And even though he thought it was about Iron Man and not Tony, having someone actually know and understand surprisingly helped Tony.

Maybe it was time for Tony to accept what had happened and call Rhodey.

"If you...," Peter tries to begin before clearing his throat and trying again, "if you hate superheroes so much, then why- why did you make me a suit?" The teen finally gets out. And for the first time since Peter began asking him about superheroes, Tony actually felt confident and sure of his answer.

"I've met a lot of heroes since my time with the Avengers. I've met magicians and aliens and enhanced, but I've never met anyone like you. If the Avengers had half the heart you did, I think the world would be a different place right now." Tony certainly says, giving a small and soft smile when he saw the teen blush under the blatant compliment.

"I'd given up on superheroes. I guess the jury's still out now, Peter."

"I don't know if I deserve that," Peter whispers, shaking his head.

"You want to be as good as Iron Man and I'm telling you you're better."

* * *

After that, it's like Tony can't get rid of Peter.

The teen quickly began to pop in weekly, just to check-in; or at least that's what he says it is.

And Tony would deny it to his last dying breath that he actually enjoyed the kid's presence. If anyone asked, he was annoyed every time but accepted it anyway. But secretly, deep down, he really did enjoy having Peter's company every week.

Tony hadn't realized how long he's been alone until he finally had someone to interact with.

Slowly but surely, Tony begins to learn a bit more about Peter and what makes him tick.

Peter lives with his Aunt currently; although she knows nothing about his "extracurricular" and he preferred to keep it that way. He had three really close friends - Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones, and Harry Osborn; let's just say Tony was a bit - read a lot - dramatic when he found out Peter was friends with an Osborn. He also found out that the kid was in tenth grade, which didn't help with the guilt Tony felt for actually encouraging Peter's behavior; although to make himself feel better, Tony just kept reminding himself that Peter was doing this way before he dropped into Tony's life, and if anything he was doing everyone a favor by helping out.

Taking everything into consideration, Peter seems to be a typical teenager. But there's still something behind the scenes, Tony's noticed.

There's always something a little lingering - wanting - behind Peter's eyes sometimes. Something a little dark behind all the shy looks Peter gives when Tony compliments or praises something good Peter has done.

Tony hates it - no one that young should look that haunted - and is officially deadset on making it all go away one day, or at least making it better and easier.

Currently, Tony was working on a project in his workshop, waiting for JARVIS to let him know when the teen got to the apartment.

By now, Peter is no longer shy about just waltzing into the apartment through the balcony door, and Tony has since stopped caring and learned to just leave it unlocked so the Spider-Kid could come in, but he still was working on something extremely delicate and the kid was too light-footed for Tony's liking.

The last thing Tony needed was for his location to be outed just because he got startled by a teenager and blew the whole building up.

'Sir, Spider-Man is requesting access.' JARVIS finally chimes in, the heads-up causing a small smile to form on Tony's face.

"Great! Tell him I'm waiting for him and let him in, J." Tony adjures while patting Dum-E on the head and taking the smoothie the bot was offering.

And Tony had tried to pay attention to when Peter walked into the lab, wanting to see the kid's eyes light up when he saw what had to of been a wet dream for the teen, but that was until Dum-E started trilling and trying to go after the smoothie he had just handed over.

"Don't you dare," Tony stops, holding a finger up to keep the bot in place. "Step away from the smoothie, Dum-E."

Dum-E just continued to chitter, nodding his head while Tony insistently shook his. "Nope, you already perfected it without the motor oil. That's overkill. You trying to kill your Dad?" Tony continues to argue with the bot.

"Aww Mr. Stark, he's just trying his best, aren't you?" Peter coos, alerting Tony to his presence.

"Hey, you, knock it off or you'll positively reinforce this nonsense." Tony scolds, although the overly-fond look he was giving took away most of the seriousness.

"You into chem now?" Peter asks once he gets over to the worktable Tony was at and looked through all the magnifying glasses.

"Actually, I'm trying to make exploding webbing for you," Tony announces, "but the process isn't going as smoothly as I thought," Tony admits. Peter on the other hand was practically bouncing out of his skin with excitement.

"Are you for real right now?"

"Realer than real, kid," Tony replies with faux seriousness.

"This is so crazy. I'm science-ing with Tony Stark. Ned's going to lose it." Peter continues to marvel.

Tony couldn't help but grin at the teen's excitement, handing him a pair of safety goggles. "How is he anyway? Has he gotten over dying from the suit?" Tony questions, making Peter snort.

"No way. He went on about that for weeks, but he's valid." Peter answers.

"And school? No trouble in minor paradise?" Tony continues to question, adding that as his contribution to the darkness in the kid's eyes for the day.

"No different than normal." Peter shrugs, purposefully avoiding eye contact with Tony.

"I take it 'normal' isn't usually slap your knee fantastic?" Tony aims for light-hearted.

"It's nothing. Just high school." Peter brushes off while fiddling with a screwdriver. That sad look was beginning to return in Peter's eyes, making Tony's mentor - not parental thank you very much, he didn't have any of those - instincts go haywire.

"You know," Tony begins, picking up a wrench and fiddling with that also, "I used to get bullied too when I was younger," Tony admits, figuring that this was what this was.

"No, you didn't." Peter denies, scrunching his face up in disbelief.

"Genius kid with a smart mouth and at least four years younger than everyone else in his classes? I'd be more surprised if I wasn't pushed around." Tony snorts.

"That sounds way worse. My thing really isn't a big deal." Peter defeatedly says.

"If it bothers you, then it's a big deal. Spill, kid." Tony genuinely says, poking Peter in the side with the wrench to try and get him to start talking.

"Honestly, Mr. Stark, it's nothing, it's just this kid... Flash," Peter finally begins to open up, "He's just mad that I 'stole' his spot on the Decathalon team and he thinks that making fun of me will make me leave or something, but it won't. But it doesn't make it any less sucky, and I thought that all the stupid stuff he said didn't bother me, but sometimes..." Peter trails off.

"You hear the stuff he says when you're already feeling kicked around?" Tony finishes for the teen, his voice sympathetic.

"Yeah. Exactly." Peter agrees, finally looking up at Tony.

"Yeah, that's the way that kinda stuff goes. No one's immune to thing like that, Pete, no matter how much we say we don't care." Tony says, and his point must be getting somewhat across because the teen looked back down at his lap, lip firmly tuck between his teeth.

"With that said though, everything that Flash kid told you? Automatically tossed in a trash can based purely on the fact that nothing a kid named Flash says can be accurate in any way." Tony teases to ease some of the tension in the room, smiling a bit when it seemed to work and got Peter to smirk. "Sorry not sorry, that's just a fact. It's all purely bullshit."

"But what if it's not." Peter blurts out, dropping his head right into his hands. And that - the fact that Peter believes some of the things this asshole says - that doesn't sit right with Tony.

"I guarantee non of the things he says about you are true. You said it yourself, he's jealous that you got something he didn't; and with a name like that, he's probably used to getting everything he's ever wanted his whole life, so the second it doesn't go his way, he throws a tantrum. It's not even about you. Not really. It's all about him and his own insecurities." Tony calmly rambles, wanting anything for this kid to realize his worth.

"Yeah, but it still sucks! It sucks, and I hate it, and I wish he'd just leave me alone!" Peter shouts, taking Tony back a bit. He's never heard Peter yell about something before, and Peter must have realized that because he instantly began apologizing.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. I just- I'm just so frustrated. And I'm so over it, and I've never even done anything to him. And he just doesn't leave me alone."

"Hey, it's okay." Tony comforts, gently squeezing the teen's shoulder. "That guy's a jerk. Be upset. We can build a dummy right now and you can have at it after we tape his face on it." Tony continues to soothe.

"I don't think that'll help to be honest." Peter snorts.

The self-deprecating look in Peter's eye still lingered, sending thousands of alarms bell of in Tony's head telling him to fix it fix it fix it. Someone so good and kind-hearted shouldn't ever have this look, it killed Tony inside to see it. So, Tony did the only thing he knew how to do; he began to ramble.

"Peter, you fight crime as a hobby and still play Legos with your friends. You have a big heart and you're ridiculously smart. You're literally every parent's dream child and you're the only teenager in the world that's actually likable. You're killing it on all fronts. And if you want me to go down to that asshole's house and scare him with some avengers tech, I'm game, but if you want to do cool science stuff he'll never be able to do in a million years, I'm game for that too."

"I'm the only teenager you know," Peter responds, the watery tone in his voice telling Tony that his point finally got across, but it was just better to focus on something else at the moment.

"Excuse you, I'm a well-connected man. I know teenagers. And they're all terrible." Tony jokes, taking the bait and allowing the subject to change.

"Except me." Peter points out, finally cracking a grin.

"Except you." Tony agrees, poking Peter in the forehead. "You're a cool kid, Peter Parker."

Peter just groaned and pushed Tony's hand away before arguing. "Do you know how uncool it is to be called cool by a senior citizen?"

"Banned. Blocked. Unfollowed." Tony says as soon as the forbidden "s-word" left Peter's mouth, pointing at the door.

Although, it was hard to be mad when the kid's infectious laugh rang throughout the walls of the lab.

* * *

It wasn't very often that Tony thanked his mind. Nine times out of ten his mind was betraying him and either sending him into a spiraling panic or into a spiraling depression; there really wasn't an in-between.

But every now and then, Tony's brain will supply him with an idea that he can't help but be grateful a million times over. Putting an AI into Peter's suit was one of those times.

At one-fifty-three in the morning, Tony got an alert from JARVIS, saying that Peter's AI in his Spider-Man suit was trying to reach him.

Tony quickly sat up in bed and demanded that JARVIS put her through.

"Karen?" Tony calls out, only slightly cringing at the random name Peter gave the AI.

'Mr. Stark, as per the baby monitor protocol I am to inform you that Peter's heart rate is currently at 148 beats per minute.' Karen informs, making Tony's heart sink at the news.

"What? Why? Is he hurt?" Tony questions, quickly hopping out of bed and putting clothes on.

'Peter currently is unharmed, although it appears that he's having what you would call a panic attack.' Karen informs, making Tony curse.

"Is he on his way here?"

'Yes, he is approximately thirty-eight seconds away.' Karen says, and sure enough, by the time Tony ran out to the living room, Peter was flipping onto the balcony.

Tony opened up the sliding glass door before Peter even had a chance to, hating the scene he saw before him. He hated that the kid had to go through all of this so young.

"Hey, kid." Tony lamely greets.

"Mr. Stark. I can't." Peter rasps. Tony just gives the kid a sympathetic smile before lightly placing his hand on Peter's arm.

"Yes, you can, but let's sit down first," Tony says, gently leading Peter over to the couch.

While Tony made sure the sliding door was just and the curtains were closed, Peter all but flopped on the couch and ripped his mask off of his face, gasping as if the thin material was suffocating him.

Before Tony could even get over to the teen and help him, Peter began to struggle out of his suit. The teen's jerky movements were doing nothing to help him though, instead, making the suit stick even more to his skin.

All it took was one swift tug, and the next thing they both knew, the suit was ripping clean in half.

"Oh, my God. Oh, my God, Mr. Stark, I-I- the suit- your suit- I-" Peter began to gasp, Tony quickly brushing away his shock so he could walk in front of Peter. Honestly, the suit really was the least of his worries at the moment.

"Kid, hey, kid, listen to me." Tony tries to calm, grabbing Peter's face in both of his hands in an attempt to ground him.

"It's okay. You're okay. The suit's okay. Everything is okay." Tony firmly says. Peter just shook his head, effectively pulling it out of Tony's grasp. Tony's heart ached so deeply when he saw the tears pooling in the teen's eyes.

"No, it isn't. No, it isn't." Peter insists, dropping his head in his hands. "I messed up, Mr. Stark. I messed up really bad."

"Every single problem in the universe has a solution, Peter. We'll find it." Tony confidently says and his heart actually felt like it was shattering when he saw the tears begin to drip down Peter's wrists.

Figuring it was better to let Peter get it all out of his system and calm down before talking, Tony got up and made his way into the kitchen.

He started the usual tradition he and Peter had slowly developed, making sure a pot of coffee was beginning to brew and a kettle of water was boiling on the stove.

Once he was sure everything was being made, Tony went into his bedroom, grabbing a pair of sweatpants and a random shirt for Peter to get changed in. They might be huge on the scrawny boy, but anything had to be better than sitting in his boxers.

Returning back to the living room, Tony exchanges Peter's suit for his clothes before heading right back to his lab. He looked over the suit while he walked, looking over the rip to see how bad it truly was.

He still honestly couldn't believe that the teen ripped it in half. It was defiantly going to take some fixing, but at least it'll keep Tony busy for a while.

"It's a quick fix. Trust me, the machine will sew it right back up." Tony reassures Peter about the suit once he heads back to the kitchen once again.

There wasn't a response, not that Tony was really expecting it, so Tony just made himself busy by making himself a cup of coffee and a hot chocolate up for Peter. He even made sure to add extra marshmallows in the cup along with some whipped cream, hoping that even the small gesture would be enough to help Peter feel better.

Tony took his familiar seat in the armchair across from the couch, holding out the mug of hot chocolate to Peter.

"It's not the suit that's bothering you, is it?" Tony guesses as Peter begins to take the offered mug.

No one said anything for a while, which was fine. Tony was more than happy to just sit there and wait for Peter to calm down and gather all of his thoughts. He just sat there and allowed the silence, occasionally turning his attention onto his coffee every now and then.

Eventually, Peter took a tentative sip of his hot chocolate - which Tony considered a huge win - before clearing his throat and whispering, "There was a fire today."

Tony just looked at him, making sure the teen knew he had his full attention.

"Karen told me about it and I went there as fast as I could, but when I- when I got there-" Peter continues, stopping to collect himself before he fell completely apart again, "the fire was- it was so big, Mr. Stark. It was- I'd never seen anything like that before and I just..." Peter trailed off.

"You froze." Tony finishes for the teen, having a hunch that was exactly what was happened. He's been there himself enough times to know for himself.

"Yeah, I froze. But then people were yelling and someone was screaming about their sister and I just- I just ran in there. And it was so smoky and everything was on fire and it was so hot, I thought I was going to die." Peter says, refusing to look up at Tony.

"And then I heard her screaming. And I tried to get up as fast as I could using the elevator shaft, but when I got to the third floor, I didn't- my senses were going haywire and I couldn't- it took me so long," Peter chokes, "when I found her-" Peter tried again, gasping and covering his mouth like he was trying to swallow the words back down. Tony just sat patiently, trying everything to hide his shattering heart from the teen; the last thing he needed was to make Peter feel guilty for something else he couldn't control.

"When I found her, she was on fire too." Peter finally gets out, the tears fully coming out along with the words. "She had passed out from the smoke and I just panicked. I was so scared- I didn't know what to do, but Karen just started listing off protocols and I rolled her in the carpet to put the fire out and then I grabbed onto her and I broke through the window, and I got her down, but her face-" Peter spits out all at once, almost as if once he got the words out he wasn't about to stop.

"She was my age, Mr. Stark. And now she has to go to school with burns all over her body because I couldn't get to her in time." Peter whimpers.

Tony just stared for a bit at Peter in awe. How could someone so small take on the guilt of the world? This kid was beating himself to a pulp because some girl now had scars. He didn't even care that without him there the girl wouldn't even be alive right now.

Tony couldn't take it anymore; he couldn't sit here and listen to this kid destroy himself anymore.

Slowly, Tony sat his coffee cup on the coffee table and made his way over to the couch. Almost as soon as Tony was sitting down next to Peter, he was pulling the teen on for a hug without even thinking.

For a second Peter just sat stock still in Tony's arms, making Tony think that maybe this wasn't the best idea. He's a grown man hugging some random teen and - yeah - maybe they've been getting closer lately, but he still was thirty-some years older; Peter probably thought he was some kind of creep.

But then Peter suddenly wrapped his arms around Tony tightly, burying his face into Tony's neck and officially breaking down.

Tony just held Peter in his arms, allowing him to get his grief out. The poor kid's shoulders trembled with how hard he was sobbing causing Tony to look up at the ceiling to make sure he didn't start crying with the kid.

He felt so helpless just sitting there while Peter was going through all this turmoil. The kid really deserved so much better and Tony had no idea how to give it to him.

Eventually, Peter's cries began to tamper off and his breathing began to slow, his body finally crashing from the lack of adrenaline and all the emotional distress he had just gone through.

"You saved that girl's life." Tony finally says once Peter's breathing settled enough for him to pay attention to what was being said. "If you hadn't been there, it would have been too late. You gave her a chance, Peter. Nothing in the world is more important than that." Tony earnestly says, wanting nothing more than to have his message get across.

Peter was at least hearing him because he tightens his arms around Tony once the words were floating out in the air.

"You did your best, kid. That's all you can ask from yourself." Tony continues to drill.

"But what if your best isn't good enough?" Peter wavers and - shit - wasn't that the million-dollar question? That was the same exact question Tony's been asking himself since Afghanistan.

Tony just took a deep breath and gave the answer that he wished everyone else would have given him when he asked the same thing.

"Then we keep on trying anyway."

* * *

"Where did the Avengers go?" Peter blurts out one night while they were working on web formulas together.

Tony didn't mean to, but he practically froze at the question. He's been trying not to freeze up every time Peter brought up the Avengers - because let's be honest, the teen is constantly talking about them - but usually Tony could tell when a conversation was steering over towards that subject.

He didn't even know what to do when Peter just blurted these kinds of questions out.

"No one knows. That's why it's called being in hiding, kid." Tony tries to brush off, forcing himself to relax and get back to work; although he was no longer focusing on the task at hand.

"You worked with them though - you know them - you don't have any idea?" Peter continues to push.

"If I had to put money on it, I'd say they were in Wakanda, but the hell if I know." Tony huffs, tugging his goggles off and tossing them onto the workbench.

"Thor's in Asgard, though; that I can tell you for sure. And Bruce..." Tony trails off as he thinks about his long-lost friend. As he thinks about the past two years without him, about where he could possibly be, if he was even still alive. He honestly missed him, even though he tried his best not to think about it too much since it always led to memories about them.

"Were you two friends?" Peter cuts through Tony's thoughts, making the scientist look back up at the teen. Tony just stared a bit before huffing, multiple memories of him and Bruce flashing through his mind.

"Yeah, we were. We worked on some projects together. It was fun." Tony says, giving the bare minimum of information like always. Except, like always, Peter continued to gush and talk about the subject.

"That's so cool! Dr. Banner is, like, the biggest expert on gamma radiation ever! That must've been crazy!" Peter practically drools over this bit of knowledge, slowly getting Tony excited about all the good memories he and Bruce had.

"He was really good at the tech stuff, too," Tony adds, his smile slowly growing as he continued to think back on his time with Bruce. "And he was really funny. He didn't mean to be half the time, but there was just something about him."

"Do you think that... do you think that any of them will ever come back?" Peter hesitantly asks, once again bringing up a question that Tony constantly thought about to himself.

Tony stopped to think about it for a second, about what it would be like if the Avengers came back. On one hand, it would be great to have a backup if that threat from above came down, but on the other hand, Tony knew they wouldn't be much help anyway; they would probably be too busy arguing with each other to even save a single person.

"I don't know. A part of me hopes they do, a part of me hopes they don't." Tony honestly answers before turning towards the teen. "Do you?"

"The world needs the Avengers, Mr. Stark. It always has." Peter replies without even needing to think about it.

A sick pit of dread began forming in Tony's stomach when he realized that this was probably the answer most people were going to have towards the Avengers. That, yeah, there were several thousand people who hate the Avenger's guts and everything the Avengers stood for, but there's also probably several thousand people who look up to the Avengers. Who's counting on the Avengers to be there when another threat attacks Earth; and none of them were to be found.

They were going to let several thousand people down once again. That was enough to make Tony want to run for the hills again.

"I think they'll come back." Peter confidently says, breaking Tony out of his downward spiral. "They're heroes. They're the heroes. If something happens, there's no way they can just sit back. That's not what heroes do."

"Not everyone who wears a suit is a hero, Pete. Pretty sure Captain America said that." Tony says, repeating the - unfortunately - familiar words.

"Well, then he doesn't know what he's talking about because the Avengers are heroes even without the suits. I know it." Peter firmly says, a silence falling on the two afterward.

The weird warm sensation was spreading in Tony's chest once again at the thought of Peter actually thinking Tony was something worthy of the hero title; even if he didn't actually know that he was inadvertently talking about Tony.

"And I don't know if I can do it alone. What if something big comes against and it's just... me?" Peter questions in a small voice, not even looking up at Tony. Tony was kind of glad, though, that Peter wasn't looking at him because he knew that he wouldn't be able to give the comforting look the teen was looking for.

He didn't want Peter to know the truth; that he was terrified of that exact situation happening.

"Then we'll figure it out." Tony eventually answers.

"We? No offense, Mr. Stark, but you being on the scene would just stress me out more." Peter huffs, and despite the matter of the subject Tony couldn't help but crack a small and knowing smile, finding the fact that he could be out there with Peter and the teen would have no idea amusing.

"You'd be surprised, Pete."

* * *

To say they were all surprised three months later when a gigantic spaceship appeared across the sky was an understatement. Well, Tony wasn't as surprised as he was terrified.

Tony was at work when he just felt a shift in the air. Dread was quickly filling up throughout his body until he could no longer ignore the paranoia and had to look outside.

As soon as he got outside, a ring of sparks began to form, making Tony jump back a bit; especially when a man began to walk out of the sparks.

"Tony Stark? I'm Doctor Stephen Strange. I need you to come with me now." The man announces in a no-nonsense tone. Tony just continued to stare at the man in complete shock, unsure of what the strangest part of this whole thing was; the fact that the guy's actual name was Strange, that he just walked through an actual portal or the fact that he was dressed in a tunic and cloak.

"Oh, uh, I know you're Iron Man, by the way." Doctor Stephen Strange adds as if that was going to make Tony want to go with him even more than before.

"I'm sorry, who the fuck are you, exactly?" Tony questions, his heart sinking at the idea of someone knowing his alter-ego.

"We need your help. It's not overselling it to say that the fate of the universe is at stake."

The next thing Tony knew, he and Bruce were being reunited, another wizard was telling him some messed up version of the big bang, and now they were fighting aliens in the park.

The threat - the threat - that Tony has been worrying over for almost ten years is here, and Tony really didn't know how to feel about it.

Part of him was relieved - the wait was over and he no longer had to live with the anxiety of guessing what day it was going to happen - and part of him wanted to throw up and keel over because the wait was over - it was here. Everything Tony has been preparing for was finally happening.

All of a sudden, one of the big aliens with a hammer knocked Tony out of the air, slamming him to the ground and getting ready to bash his armor in. Tony made sure to turn his back to the gigantic hammer, hoping that would help with the blow a bit, but the blow never came.

Tony quickly whipped around, trying to see what stopped the alien, sighing a bit when he saw Peter clad in his Spider-Man suit, holding the alien's hammer back.

Tony doesn't even know why he was shocked about the fact that Peter was out there to help, they've literally had discussions about Peter helping against the next threat and his fear of not being enough.

Tony just hates that Peter has to get roped up into something so big at so young.

"Iron man?" Peter whispers in shock once he turned around and actually saw who it was that he saved.

"No time for intros, Kid," Tony says, pushing Peter out of the way of where the alien's arm was swinging.

"Y-Yeah! Of course!" Peter agrees, webbing the alien up so Tony could blast him with his repulsors.

"What's this guy's problem?" Peter questions.

"There's a wizard with a very important necklace and these guys wanna steal it." Tony dryly replies, watching as Peter got flung by a well-timed punch. Before Tony could even react completely and make sure the teen was okay, Strange was zooming past them completely unconscious and on a slab of floating concrete.

"Kid, that's the wizard. I'm going to need you to grab him, can you do that?" Tony instructs, still trying to focus and destroy the stupid alien in front of him.

"Yeah! On it! I won't let you down!" Peter assures, quickly swinging off after Strange.

Tony continued to blast the alien with his repulsors, getting more and more frustrated as time continued and he wasn't any closer to defeating the damn creature.

"Mr. Iron Man, sir? I-I'm being beamed up!" Peter calls after a bit, shooting fear all throughout Tony's body.

"Hang on, kid! I'm coming." Tony promises, zapping a statue in half, hoping that it falls on the alien would be enough to knock it out.

Thankfully, sensing the urgency, Strange's sidekick sucked the alien into a portal to some other place, giving Tony the chance to blast off in the air and chase Peter.

"Mr. Iron Man? I don't- I can't breathe." Tony hears Peter gasps, the fear building the higher they went. The last thing he needed was for the ship to go too far up into the atmosphere; his suit still could only fly up so far no matter how much he worked on it.

"It's the air, it's thinning out," Tony explains, mostly to remind himself that something needed to be done right then and there. "You gotta let go, Pete. I'll catch you." Tony says as a last resort.

Tony knew as soon as he said Peter's name, the kid would put two and two together, but he couldn't find it in him to care as he continued to push his suit to its limits.

"Mr... Stark?" Peter wheezes out before falling off the side of the ship. As soon as Tony saw that Peter was falling he commanded JARVIS to let loose the nanite Spider-Man suit he's been working on for the past couple of months.

Tony didn't let himself even breathe until he saw the nanites wrap around Peter and the teen was laying safely in Tony's arms.

"I got you." Tony breathes out, quickly flying them and landing back safely on the spaceship. Figuring that the jig was up, tony flipped his faceplate up and began looking Peter all over to make sure he was okay.

"Kid, you almost gave me a heart attack."

"Me? What about you? You're-You're Iron Man! You've been Iron Man this whole time and you never told me!" Peter accuses causing shame and guilt to wash over Tony. He never wanted to lie to the kid, but admitting who he really was just wasn't in the cards at the time.

"I know, and we can talk about it later. But, right now, I have to go grab Strange and you need to go home." Tony sternly says, making sure there was no room in his tone for arguing. Not that that ever stopped Peter.

"No way! I can't leave you here. I-"

"You've done enough, kid. And I can't let anything happen to you." Tony says as he ruffles Peter's hair before pulling away. "JARVIS?" Tony calls out, and before Peter could continue to protest, a parachute is bursting out of the back of his suit, causing him to fly backward and back to the ground.

Once he was sure that Peter was gone and wasn't going to head up to space with them, Tony turned back to the wall of the spaceship and began lasering a hole that he could get through.

Tony quickly began walking all around the spaceship, eventually finding the middle of it where Strange was. The weird Squidward-looking alien was ranting about the stone around Strange's neck, pushing sharp crystals into Strange's skin.

Tony's attention was ripped off of Strange when he felt a tapping on his shoulder, making him whip around and get his repulsor ready. Tony sighed a bit when he saw that it was only Strange's cloak from before, but it didn't do much to settle him. Especially when a familiar Spider-Kid began to slowly drop down in front of his face.

"Peter? What the hell are you doing here?" Tony all but screams.

The reality of the situation quickly began to sink in, leaving Tony breathless. Peter was here. On this spaceship. That was currently in space.

There is no going home after this, this is it. Tony was fully ready to die up in space, seeing this fight to the very end whether he makes it out alive or not. But everything changes with Peter here. He couldn't prepare to die when he has an actual child to look out for and make sure he gets back to earth safely.

"I couldn't just leave you! How could I do that?" Peter basically cries, giving Tony a pleading look; although Tony wasn't going to give in to it.

"Peter, this isn't a trip to Coney Island. This is a one-way ticket, and now you're-"

"This is a fight for the world. That's why you're here, aren't you?" Peter continues to push, making all of the emotions that were brewing inside of Tony bubble over.

"I'm here for you. I'm here because I've known this day was coming for years and it's been taunting me in the back of my mind for ages, and when Bruce and Strange found me I knew I had to do something, but I also knew that it couldn't be you." Tony rants, running his hands through his hair and taking a deep breath in, trying not to blow up too much at the kid. "You've been talking so much about being worried about doing things on your own, and I knew if you saw this ship, you'd come running. And I couldn't let that happen. But, now you're here anyway and this is just another prime example of me being a Class A screw-up."

"I thought I'd given you this whole hero shtick, you know. After everything happened with Steve and the others, I couldn't do it anymore. And, now, I finally feel like I have a reason to put this suit on and believe in something and now you're here risking your life, and do you see how this is a problem?" Tony stresses, needing Peter to see it realistically instead of having his hero-complex clouding his judgment.

"Mr. Stark," Peter begins, his expression faltering as he tries to hold it together long enough to get his point across to Tony, "that's how I feel about your life too, you know. And I know you want to protect me, but who's going to protect you?"

And, damn, what was Tony supposed to say to that?

He was so far from being used to having a team that actually wanted to have each other's backs instead of every man or themselves. If he had someone this determined on his team, including Strange - who was also extremely stubborn - maybe this could work. Tony would just keep as close of an eye as he could possibly have on Peter.

Anything to get the kid back home to his Aunt after all of this.

After a few moments, Tony relented, pulling Peter close and brainstorming a plan with the teen to get Strange free. For once, the kid's pop culture references were coming in handy, because they were able to suck the alien out through the wall and save Strange.

Now they were on an express route to Titan. A whole 'nother fucking planet. With Peter right by Tony's side.

This is going to be a shitshow. That was all that went through Tony's mind on a loop until a few hours later when Peter finally nudged him in the shoulder.

"Why didn't you tell me you were Iron Man?" Peter finally asks the question Tony was preparing for since they got on this stupid ship.

"I was done with it. I tried to save the world and it cost everything. So I tried to run." Tony admits.

"But if you hated superheroes so much, why did you help me?" Peter asks in a tiny voice, making Tony's heartache once again over the fact that the teen still didn't understand what Tony saw in him. As if Tony hasn't been trying to drill it in the past couple of months.

"Because you're someone who deserves the title." Tony smiles, figuring It was time to tell Peter the truth of how he knew about Spider-Man before even meeting him.

"I'd been looking into you before you crashed into my window. I keep tabs on all the new heroes that crop up, just to make sure they're coloring between the lines, so to speak. I guess maybe I was just trying to make myself feel better like the world wasn't going to die without us punching our way through all our problems. I felt like the city was in good hands, and then I met you, and I knew it was." Tony says, sparing a glance at Peter and having to look away when it looked like the kid was about to start crying.

"The Avengers disappeared because of all sorts of reasons. Thor left to find infinity stones, Bruce ran away because he was afraid of the 'monster' inside of him, Natasha needed a family and I wasn't enough, Clint broke the law, and Steve and I lost all trust so he left and took everyone with him. And when they left, I couldn't look at the suit anymore." Tony continues to word-vomit, finally catching Peter's eye.

"I lost sight of what made me put it on in the first place until you came in. The world is in danger and I can stop it. So I have to do something about it." Tony can't stop the smirk from tugging on the corners of his lips after that bit. "Sound familiar?"

Peter just gave a watery smile in return. "A little."

"I've always been better when I have someone to fight for. I want to protect the world, but I also want to protect you from all this," Tony waves his hand towards the window that showed nothing but empty space, "you don't deserve to be here, Peter. You should be out living teen life, worrying about Spanish tests and girls, and I'm going to make sure you go home to it." Tony promises.

And even though it was a gigantic promise, Tony was willing to give his life to see it through.

"We'll both go home." Peter firmly says, his tone of voice leaving no room for argument. "Because we both deserve it. And I'm sorry about everything that happened with the Avengers, but I'm not going to go anywhere. It's my turn to be there for you now Mr. Stark."

And what the hell was Tony supposed to say to that?

All Tony could do was ruffle Peter's hair and try to push aside his breaking heart with only one thought running through his brain.

I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure you don't have to.

* * *

Just being on Titan was enough to have the hair on Tony's body standing on end. Just the reminder that they were in space, that this is the same place Tony saw in his nightmares, was enough to have his anxiety through the roof, but the dread in his body only got worse when Thanos arrived.

The mad titan was exactly that; mad. Almost as soon as Thanos landed on the planet, he was raving about his lost home on the same planet they were standing on; although Tony couldn't care enough to listen to his whole "tragic backstory villain spiel" and apparently neither could everyone else because Stephen was quickly rising with magic swirling around his hands.

Taking that as his cue, Tony blasted off in the air, throwing an entire metal column right on top of Thnaos' head. In retaliation, Thanos began to attack Tony with thousands of black projectiles, which was apparently enough to fuel Peter's fury because the teen began to launch webs into the mad titan's eyes.

Tony tried everything he could while everyone else began to fight to keep an eye on Peter and make sure the teen wasn't getting too deep into the fight. He didn't want to get in the middle of what Peter was doing so he didn't accidentally get him hurt, but it was impossible not to step in once Thanos grabbed the teen by the throat and crushed him into the ground.

Tony instantly saw red and was no longer accountable for his actions. He quickly began to blast Thanos, throwing a bunch of explosives all around him, seething, even more, when he threw Peter away like he was nothing.

Thanos used one of the stones to redirect all of the explosives back at Tony, causing Peter to get amped up once again and run back over to where they were. The teen webbed up Thanos' gauntlet to limit his use of the stones, once again getting thrown to the side.

Tony grabbed a huge chunk of the spaceship and threw it right in Thanos, causing him to tumble to the ground.

Once everyone realized this was the exact moment they needed, they jumped right into action. Strange wrapped the gauntlet up in his magic, Quill threw in a device that pulls Thanos' other hand apart so both his arms were spread out, and Peter began to web up Thanos' chest to try and keep him down.

As soon as Tony was sure Thanos was under control, he flew down and grabbed onto the gauntlet, fully ready to begin yanking on it.

"Sleep." Mantis commands after sitting on Thanos' shoulders, holding her fingers over his temples to make him fall into the trance.

"Peter, get over here. We gotta be quick, she can't hold him much longer." Tony instructs once Thanos for sure stopped resisting it all. Peter dropped his webs and ran over to where Tony was, both of them pulling on the gauntlet with all of their strength.

"Not so strong now, are you?" Quill gloats as he begins walking up to everything, making Tony roll his eyes.

"Alright, toot your own horn later, space-boy, come help us pull this thing off." Tony grits, the gauntlet still only moving an inch off of Thanos' hand.

"He has my girlfriend, I want to know where she is," Quill explains, making Tony's frustration reach its boiling point.

"He won't be answering anything right now, the second we have this thing, though, you'll be able to as him whatever you want. Come on, already!" Tony screams, knowing if something didn't happen right now, this whole plan was going down the drain.

"Quill, I can't hold on much longer." Mantis gasps.

Finally realizing that he needed to give it up, Quill clenched his teeth and reluctantly began helping Tony and Peter yank on the gauntlet. It slowly began to move further, but Tony knew he was going to need a bit more manpower to get it completely off.

"Hey! Blue!" Tony shouts, gaining Nebula's attention. "Wanna help out?" Tony rhetorically asks.

Nebula quickly got the message and ran over to them, helping them all give one last pull. The gauntlet finally came off, causing all four of them to go flying backward.

For a while, Tony just laid on the ground with the gauntlet wrapped firmly in his arms, just trying to process what had exactly happened.

"We did it," Tony whispers in disbelief, "holy shit.

The victory was short-lived, though, because Strange's voice quickly rang through. "Stark! We can't let him get hold of it again."

Knowing exactly what Strange was telling him, Tony got up on his feet and chucked the gauntlet up in the air, grabbing Thanos' hand to help hold him down afterward. Strange didn't waste any time to fly forward and grab the gauntlet; disappearing in sparks of orange once it was all in his clutch.

For a moment, nothing happens. No one really dares to move, trying to figure out if they really did it or not; if it really was that easy.

Tony was looking over his shoulder when it happened - when Quill began to question Thanos once again about his girlfriend - looking Peter up and down just to reassure himself that Peter was still there with him and that he was successful in keeping the teen safe-ish.

All of a sudden, a fight begins to break out, Tony turning back around to see Quill and Drax shooting their guns to try and stave off Thanos' fury.

Thanos - having realized that his gauntlet was now gone - was going on a rampage, tossing everyone who tried to attack him away like they were nearly a piece of paper. He even managed to throw Mantis directly into the ground so hard that the gravel underneath her splintered.

"Stay back, Peter. I mean it." Tony sternly commands. He spent all day making sure the teen made it out of this alive, he wasn't going to risk everything now that they were so close to being sone with all of this.

Tony had his faceplate materialize back over his face, taking a deep breath before going in on Thanos.

Tony made the ovular knife he built within the suit appear out of his wrist, slashing at the mad titan before him. While he was doing that, Tony made all of the missiles loaded in his back shoot at Thanos so he wouldn't be aware of the rest of the attacks coming his way.

Taking Thanos' confusion as his opportunity, Tony threw a souped-up widow's bite at Thanos, making him crumble to his knees. Tony didn't waste time in punching Thano's through some of the rocks there, creating a punching match between the two of them.

Eventually, Tony was able to get a strong enough hit in, sending Thanos to the ground right in front of Nebula. The poor, blue girl didn't even hesitate before taking her sword and stabbing her father clean through his heart, and ending the fight once and for all.

Tony loomed over the purple body, panting and trying to hold himself up now that the adrenaline was leaving him.

Before he could stumble to the ground, Peter was right there, holding him up and giving him a look of adoration and raw love.

"You did it, Mr. Stark. We did it." Peter says, and all Tony could do was pull the teen in for a tight hug and let out a short huff of disbelief.

They did it. It was officially over.

Tony's nightmare that has been living with him, breathing over him, controlling his life, for the past six years, was finally gone.

They did it.

"Yeah. We did." Tony breathes out, still shaking his head in disbelief. "We did it."

"Now let's go home."

* * *

Tony was in trouble almost as soon as he got back.

Rhodey and Happy were both waiting for him once he and Peter got back to his apartment, both men looking worried beyond belief.

Rhodey just lectured Tony about how stupid he was going into space alone and how worried they all were while Happy silently agreed and wrapped up all of Tony's injuries.

Rhodey was still lecturing Tony even after Happy finished bandaging him up, making the scientist huff and pull his oldest friend in for a hug. That managed to successfully stop Rhodey from berating him anymore and just left him thankful that Tony was there, alive in his arms.

Since everyone was a bit more settled, Tony was able to finally introduce Rhodey and Happy to Peter, only slightly regretting it when Rhodey pulled Tony to the side and demanded to know if Peter was his secret love child or not.

Eventually, everyone left, needing to get back to responsibilities that the battle only made worse, but Tony was a bit surprised when Peter came back the next day; he figured the kid's Aunt would want him to stay in the apartment for months on end considering he disappeared for the whole day of the battle.

Peter explained that there were quite a few people injured by all the flying debris, though, so his Aunt has been working overtime at the hospital trying to get everyone taken care of.

Of course, that sent Tony into overprotective dad mentor mode - despite him still being bandaged up on the couch - making sure that Peter was comfortable and had everything he needed; even though the kid was adamant that he was able to care for himself for a bit while his Aunt was gone and he only really wanted to check and see how Tony was.

Before they could really even get settled, though, Pepper was barging into the apartment completely unannounced.

Tony just stared at his ex-girlfriend, who stared back, confused about why she was there until she began to shake her head.

"You wonderful idiot." Pepper finally says, plopping down on the couch next to Tony and grabbing his hand.

"I'm so glad you're okay. When I heard about everything that was going on here I just knew that you were going to get involved with it and I just had to get on the next plane and come out here to see if you were okay." Pepper admits, stunning Tony into silence and prompting her to continue.

"I always knew you weren't going to stop until everything that was haunting you was taken care of, and as much as it killed me having to watch you constantly put yourself into the ring of fire, I'm so glad to be able to see you become the man I knew you always were," Pepper says, gently taking Tony's hand into hers.

"I'm so glad to see you be able to rest, now."

Tony wasn't even sure if he could say anything to that, his throat closing in response to all of Pepper's kind words and with the realization of how much he truly missed her presence.

It's not until later on in the day - several hours later when he and Pepper ran out of things to catch up on and Pepper had sent him to bed - that Tony realized Peter had left.

Although, Peter didn't allow too much time in-between for Tony to begin missing him, because the teen was back the very next day and was adamant about taking care of him.

"Kid, I'm fine, I promise." Tony exasperatedly says as Peter brings out an omelet and a cup of coffee made exactly how Tony liked it.

"Any more of this overbearing nonsense and I'll have to go find another bad guy's ass to kick." Tony threatens once Peter begins to change his bandages. Although, Peter must not have appreciated the faux threat because he glared right at tony as soon as the words left his mouth.

"Don't even joke," Peter says before settling down on the couch next to Tony, stiff as a board.

Tony just continued to stare at Peter, watching as the teen would glance at him before looking away and fighting his shirt, only to repeated the process.

"What?" Tony huffs.

"Nothing! It's nothing!" Peter tries to deny it, deflating a bit when he saw the unimpressed and unconvinced look on Tony's face.

"Okay, it's not nothing, but it's not a big deal," Peter relents a little, hunching in on himself as he asks his question. "I was just wondering if... if this means Iron Man's back."

Which, out of all of the questions Peter had about Iron Man, this was the easiest one for tony to answer.

"Yeah. I'm back." Tony replies without hesitation. "I used to think it was about the suit, that that was the special thing. The heroic thing. But it isn't. I am Iron Man, and I always will be." Tony honestly says, letting Peter in on what he was thinking about for the past couple of days.

Looking over at the teen, Tony saw Peter smiling so wide at the conformation that Tony was almost positive the kid's face would split in two. The reaction just made Tony huff and roll his eyes, fully ready to dismiss everything he had said.

"Plus, someone has to keep an eye out on you. I have a heart condition, you should know that by now." Tony teases, making Peter fake groan.

"Oh, my God, you just want to babysit me!" Peter pretends to complain, the happiness shining in his eyes giving his true feelings away.

"What can I say? You're a handful, Parker." Tony continues to tease, grabbing the cup of coffee Peter had made for him. "Sorry to cramp your style." Tony apologizes, despite not actually feeling sorry.

"Nah, you fit just right, Mr. Stark."

* * *

Two Months Later

* * *

'Mr. Stark, it appears, Peter's vitals are entering dangerous levels.' Karen chimes in, making Tony put down his soldering iron.

"Pull up his vital readings for me, will ya, baby girl?" Tony asks, sighing when he read over Peter's vital signs. "Put him through for me, please, Karen."

"Hey, Mr. Stark!" Peter greets as soon as Karen connects them, trying to keep a smile on his face to convince Tony that he was alright.

"You can quit the charm, I see your oxygen levels decreasing by the second," Tony replies woodenly, completely unimpressed with the teen at the moment. Of course, Peter just continued to chuckle awkwardly, still trying to convince Tony that everything was hunky-dory.

"It's fine. Everything's fine! I'm just- you know - on the back of a helicopter. But it's chill! Haha, get it." Peter jokes, wincing when there was no response.

Finally, realizing that if Peter was already that far into it, he wasn't going to be able to let the whole mission go, Tony sighed.

"Bring 'em down, Spiderling, and then come over so I can check on you." Tony eventually relents.

"Yes! Okay! Gotcha!" Peter agrees, nodding so hard to show his understanding Tony was surprised his head didn't pop clean off.

"Be careful, kid," Tony warns.

"Always, Mr. Stark!"

Tony sat there for a second after the call ended, rubbing his face and letting all his worry flow out with the deep breath he released.

"Karen, connect with JARVIS and give me a live feed of the fight," Tony commands as he begins putting his tools away, knowing that he wasn't going to be able to focus on anything else other than making sure Peter was safe.

‘Will do!’ The A.I agrees, a holographic video popping up right after.

Tony didn't tear his eyes off of the video for even a second, watching every movement to make sure Peter was doing okay; he even had one of his suits on standby just in case Peter needed him to step in and help.

Once the fight seemed to be wearing down, Tony made his way out to the living room and began ordering some take-out, knowing for a fact that the spider-kid was going to be starving and attempting to eat him out of house and home if he didn't do so.

Timing it perfectly had Tony paying for the take-out just as Peter was coming in through the balcony.

"Is that Thai? Yes!" Peter cheers once Tony turns around, making the older man tut.

"Ah, ah, ah, first, injury report."

"I'm fine! Promise. Even ask Karen." Peter groans, Tony looking the kid up and down just to be sure.

"Fine, I'll believe you. But I will be checking later." Tony relents, only because he watched the video and didn't see anything too life-threatening occurred. "Now, go grab some plates; I'm starving."

"Where's Miss Pepper? She's usually home by now." Peter points out while doing what he was told.

"She has her hands full with the whole 'Iron man is revealed to be yours truly' thing." Tony frowns, shaking his head as he takes the offered plate. "I swear Stephen did it on purpose; dropping us in the middle of the city like that."

Peter just snorted before responding, "I really don't think that was what he was thinking about. I feel like it was more the infinity stones he had? The ones he had to scatter to keep the entire universe safe? Remember that?"

"Details." Tony brushes off as they began to dig into the food and pile their plates as high as they would go.

As they did so, Tony couldn't help but begin to think about everything. About every single little thing that he had now all because of one little thing.

How his biggest nightmare - the thing that constantly dictated every decision in his life - was finally over, how he and Pepper were finally able to talk things out and get back together, how he was happily Iron Man and people actually knew and were happy about it. How he was no longer so lonely that he had no idea how he was going to get by day by day. All because of one little thing.

All because some random ass kid from Queens broke into his apartment and almost bleed out on his couch.

Tony couldn't hold his laugh in at the realization even if he wanted to.

"What?" Peter questions, making Tony laugh even harder at the defensiveness in the teen's tone.

"Nothing. It's nothing. I'm just remembering that you broke into my place and then tried to offer to buy me a new couch."

"Hey! I was stabbed and I was tired and, in my defense, you have the same exact apartments!" Peter defends before looking back down at his plate and mumbling, "And I totally would've bought you a new couch."

Looking at the teen, Tony couldn't feel any more grateful than he did right there. Peter saved him in more ways than one and Tony was almost positive the kid had no idea about it; which didn't sit right with Tony.

"I was dying when you met me. I know I didn't look it, but deep down, where everything counted, I was a mess. But you inspired something in me, kid. And I think it's important you know that. I wasn't alright, and now," Tony gave the stunned teen a small smile, "well, I think I'm doing pretty okay."

Tony didn't even have time to prepare before Peter was launching himself at him and wrapping him in a tight hug.

"You changed my life, Mr. Stark. Even from way before I met you. And I never say it, but thanks for always being in my corner. You've never let me down. Ever. And you're the only- the only one who gets it. Really gets it, I mean." Peter rambles in return, Tony holding the teen as close as he could.

"Jesus, when did this get so mushy." Tony jokes. Just because everything else has changed and Tony was getting better, doesn't mean that he was getting better with feelings and emotions.

"Well, you started it." Peter laughs as he pulls away.

"Hush you. And hurry up and finish, I have a cool project in the workshop waiting." Tony dangles the offer, making Peter perk up instantly.

"Do we get to make things explode?"

"Of course we are. What do I look like to you, a heathen?" Tony replies as if suggesting any other type of project was completely preposterous.

"Okay! Okay! I'm almost done."

"God, finally. Then I'll get the hot chocolate started and-" Tony begins to say.

"-I'll make the coffee." Peter finishes, making Tony smile once again.

Later on in the day, when they've made enough explosives to blow NATO out of the water, Peter decided that them actually managing to get a couple of lines of code written was a good stopping point.

Tony watched as the kid began to put on his backpack, deciding that it was now or never to give him the envelope he's been holding onto for weeks now.

Peter just stares at Tony curiously, which meant that Tony got to see the exact moment what was in the envelope clicked in Peter's head.

Peter quickly began to rip the envelope open, sucking in a quick breath of air when he pulled out a key.

"I figure it was time to stop breaking in whenever you want to come over. Consider this an official open-door invitation." Tony shrugs, hoping that if he remained nonchalant Peter won't make it a gigantic deal.

"Mr. Stark, that's-"

Tony instantly held up a finger to stop Peter from finishing his sentence, knowing exactly what the teen was about to say. "If you say it's too much I might have to throw out all your hot chocolate."

Peter just laughed at the fake threat, knowing Tony wouldn't even try to do anything of the sort. "You wouldn't. But what I was going to say before you just assumed you knew everything was finally. Scaling the building every time was getting really lame."

"You know what, I take it back. Give it here, Parker." Tony teases, pretending to hold his hand out expectantly. In return, Peter let out a cackle as he jumped away from Tony, practically booking it out of the lab.

"No take-backs!" Peter yells, turning back around right before walking out the door completely. "And I'm coming over early on Tuesday to help you with your dinner party thing, don't forget!" Peter reminds.

"Well it doesn't matter, does it? Just let yourself in." Tony says, his chest warming at the smile the teen gave him in return as he left Tony alone once again in his workshop.

For several years, Tony had been alone. He knew he was going to be alone the day he decided to disappear and to run away from all of his problems until they all eventually caught up to him. He was prepared to be alone once everything fell apart.

But now, as he stood there all alone in his workshop, for the first time in a very long time, Tony felt anything but.

Tag List: @spideyspeaches @lost-lunar-wolf @joyful-soul-collector @i-love-my-selfinserts @thatcrackheadsadbitchtm

#peter parker #tony stark #irondad #fanfiction #irondadremix

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teenwolffan-with-nolife · 4 years

Text

The Witch and The Wolf Pt.25

Word Count: 3,513

Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Noah Stilinski, Chris Argent, Peter Hale, Allison Argent, Lydia Martin, Jackson Whittemore, Isaac Lahey, Gerard Argent, Reader

Pairings: Derek Hale x Witch!Reader

Warnings: angst, small fluff, slight panic attack, cliffhanger

A/N: skip this whole part it’s terrible i just wanted to finish the season up hopefully season three won’t be as bad as this season and season one

Masterlist Series Masterlist

“I put out an APB on Stiles, we have people looking for him. His car is still in the parking lot, which means...” Sheriff Stilinski paused, looking down as he took a deep breath.

“He’ll be okay, Mr.Stilinski,” you said softly.

“If any of you hear from him, let me know, please,” he begged.

You, Scott, and Isaac nodded your heads as he sighed, leaving.

“We’ll split up, we’ll all look for Stiles, okay?” Scott asked, opening up Stiles’ locker.

Holy shit, Erica and Boyd

“Oh my god, I forgot. Shit! Erica and Boyd are in trouble, I gotta go,” you remembered, your eyes widening.

“What? Where? What happened?” Scott asked, alarmed.

“They're in trouble. In the woods,” you debated whether or not to tell him it was Argent, before deciding not to.

“Okay, so we’ll go look for Stiles. We’ll call you, okay?” Isaac asked.

You nodded, waving to them both as you ran off.

---

You ran in the woods, alert of your surroundings as you looked around, looking for Erica and Boyd, looking for anything.

You walked further into the woods, feeling your hope die as you grew worried, unable to find them.

You sniffled softly as the wind blew, making you shiver.

You heard something snap as you paused, looking down. There was an arrow on the ground.

You picked it up, examining it, finding another one like it.

You looked at the initials engraved, as the tip of the arrow was silver. Silver, engraved. Argent.

You grabbed the arrow, running away, making your way to Argent’s house.

---

You rang your doorbell, banging your fists on the door.

Chris opened the door, giving you a blank look.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Explain this,” you held the arrows pieces, throwing them at his chest.

He looked away from you, exhaling.

“Where are they?” you asked him, clenching your jaw.

He ignored your question, walking into the house as you followed him.

“Stop walking away and tell me, now!” you yelled, yanking his arm.

“They’ll be okay if you give us Derek,” he said calmly.

“Are you joking?! What the hell happened to you? They’re all innocent, Chris. What the hell?!” you yelled.

He ignored your gaze, looking down.

“Look at me right fucking now!” you yelled, your eyes glowing purple.

“It wasn't my choice,” he began as you scoffed.

You paused, thinking back.

Arrow, it was an arrow

Argent never used an arrow, his weapon of choice was always a gun. Who uses arrows?

“Allison,” you gasped.

“I can't do anything about her, ever since Victoria died-” Argent started.

“What? Victoria’s dead? Oh my god,” you knew you would be lying if you pretended to sympathize.

She always made you uncomfortable, the two of you never got along to begin with. You felt bad for Argent.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you said.

“Well, it doesn't matter now. I’m losing Allison to Gerard too now,” he rubbed his head.

“Chris, look what she’s doing. She’s hurt two innocent wolves,” you started.

“She’s a hunter, it happens!” he yelled.

“No, it doesn't happen! Chris, you see it but you don't want to admit it. Gerard is turning her into Kate. He’s using Victoria’s death and twisting her into someone else, someone she’s not. Someone like Kate,” you said.

“Kate and I were the same,” he started.

“No, you’re not. No matter what, you would never burn down the Hale house. You would never hurt a supernatural creature that didn't deserve it. You would never hurt me and Derek. You know Derek didn't kill Kate. His uncle did. Deep down you know something's wrong with all of this,” you said, looking up at him.

“You should go,” he said softly.

“Please, do the right thing,” you begged him.

You heard noises from the basement as you looked at the door.

Argent looked confused slightly, as you walked toward the door.

“(Y/N),” he said, walking behind you.

You ran down the stairs, your eyes going wide in shock as you saw Erica and Boyd tied up by their wrists, hanging from the ceiling, while Stiles laid on the floor.

“He’s human,” you said softly.

“He’s human! Open your eyes, Chris, see what’s happening!” you yelled at him as you ran to Stiles’ unconscious form, holding him up. He had a bruised lip and a cut on his cheek as you checked his pulse, making sure he was at least alive.

Erica let out a muffled cry, looking at you as her body was shaking.

“Intermissum,” you recited a spell, breaking off Erica and Boyd’s chains, as they both collapsed to the ground, pulling off their chains and the cut tape around their mouth.

You looked at Chris, glaring as he looked away, walking back upstairs.

Erica and Boyd immediately ran to you, wrapping their arms around you tightly as you hugged them back.

You kissed each of their foreheads, holding their hands.

“Are you okay?” you asked them.

They both nodded.

“Good, you guys need to leave. Go to the Hale house, okay?” you said, holding Stiles up.

“Thank you,” Erica sniffled.

You smiled softly, giving them both one last hug before they ran off.

Time to get Stiles home

---

You saw Stiles shuffle from the corner of your eyes, as he groaned, sitting up.

“Stiles, you okay?” you asked, pulling into the driveway.

“My head hurts,” he said softly.

“Here, I’ll help you in,” you walked to the other side of the car, opening the door for Stiles.

“I’m fine, I don’t need help. I just need to talk to my dad,” he hopped out of the car, standing in front of you.

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“Yeah, thanks,” he said.

“Of course. I’m gonna tell Scott that you’re okay,” you gave him a small smile as you sat back into your car, driving off.

---

“Yeah, Stiles is okay. He’s at home now,” you replied to Scott, as you drove in your car.

“Me and Isaac are going to the hospital. My mom said that there's something wrong with Jackson’s body,” Scott explained.

“What happened?” you asked.

“Uhm, can you meet us at the hospital?” Scott asked.

“Yeah, sure,” you took a quick U-Turn, driving to the hospital.

---

“Scott?” you ran into the hospital, seeing him.

“Yeah, my mom and Isaac are with Jackson,” Scott explained.

“Let's go,” you started walking forward as Scott linked his arm with yours, pulling you aside as you raised an eyebrow.

“What?” you asked.

“I have a plan. You can’t tell anyone, okay?” Scott started.

“What? What is it?” you asked.

“Okay, look. I smelt it on Gerard the first time I met him. He’s dying, (Y/N). That’s why he's doing this. He wants Derek so that Derek can turn him, not to avenge Kate. He wants to be a werewolf to save his life,” Scott explained while you stared at him in shock.

“How do you know? Gerard hates werewolves,” you said.

“I know, but I’ve been working with him… secretly. Sorry,” he said softly.

“Oh, it’s not a secret, kid. Derek knows. He’s the one who told me,” you shrugged.

“Oh… okay well I still need your help. You have to get Derek to bite Gerard,” Scott begged.

You gave him a blank expression.

“Did you take a lacrosse ball to your head?” you raised an eyebrow.

“I switched his pills. He’s filled with Mountain Ash,” Scott said.

“Scott, that’s genius. How the hell did you come up with that?” you laughed softly.

“I’m not an idiot, you know,” he replied.

“I never said you were! Okay, what do we have to do now?” you asked.

“Just don’t tell anyone. First, we need to get Jackson’s body out of here,” you walked to the morgue with Scott.

---

“Can you do a spell to slow him down from doing whatever he’s… doing?” Isaac asked as he and Scott carried Jackson’s body.

“I can try. There’s no guarantee. He might be immune like Matt was,” you explained.

“How was he immune?” Scott asked.

“I have no idea. Something called Hawthorn. I didn't know about it till that hunter used it at the rave,” you explained.

“Oh… well can you try?” Scott asked.

“Minuere,” you recited a spell softly, your eyes turning purple as you gasped slightly, feeling a shock go throughout your body.

“Crap,” you jumped back.

“What? What is it?” Isaac asked.

“Nothing, it should've worked. I don't know how long it’s gonna hold or what’s gonna happen next,” you replied, taking a deep breath as your body ached in pain. You ignored it.

“Let’s just get him out of here,” as the three of you walked to the parking lot, you saw bright headlights blind the three of you as you rolled your eyes, seeing a black van. Which always belonged to hunters.

Instead of seeing a hunter, you saw as Chris walked out of the car, looking at the three of you.

“Chris,” you stared at him.

“You were right. I’m losing her. And so are you,” he looked at Scott.

“Will you trust us to fix this?” Scott asked.

Chris nodded softly.

“So you’ll let us go?” Scott asked.

“No… my car’s faster,” you smiled softly, as Scott and Isaac three Jackson’s body into the backseat of Chris’ car, the four of you driving off.

---

“Where’s Peter?” you immediately asked Derek, as he stood in front of you, Isaac, Scott, and Chris.

“What is he doing here?” Derek glared at Chris, ignoring your question.

“He's helping us,” you said.

“I’m here for Jackson. Not you,” Chris said.

“Somehow I don’t find that very comforting,” Derek replied.

“Get him inside,” Derek motioned to the abandoned warehouse next to all of you.

---

“Where’s Peter?” you asked Derek again.

He looked at you, while you grew annoyed, staring back at him, still not replying.

He stood on top of Jackson's body, unzipping the bag.

“Whoa, what are you doing?” Scott gasped, looking cautiously at Derek.

“We were gonna save him,” Scott said.

“It’s too late for that!” Derek yelled.

“No! Stop, no we’re gonna save him. What the hell?” you yelled at Derek, your face dropping.

“What about...” Scott started.

“Think about it! Gerard controls him now! He’s turned Jackson into his own personal guard dog! Jackson’s just gonna get more powerful. Gerard’s planned this since the beginning,” Derek yelled, looking at you.

“No, Gerard wouldn't do that. If Jackson’s going rabid, then Gerard would put him down, not keep him,” Chris started.

“You’re right. Nothing that dangerous should be left alive,” you jumped as you saw Gerard walking to all of you.

You tensed up as you saw Derek’s claws in the air, as he tried to kill Jackson. Jackson opened his eyes, sticking his claws into Derek's chest as you gasped.

“No,” you gasped, running to Derek before Isaac grabbed your arm, holding you back.

You watched as Jackson threw Derek aside, jumping up.

You ducked quickly, hearing a slight whistling noise as an arrow flew into Isaac’s chest.

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed.

You saw as Allison stood behind Gerard. You clenched your jaw, helping Isaac up as he leaned on you, quickly taking him to safety.

Someone was definitely gonna die.

---

“Premere,” your eyes glew purple as Jackson hissed, in kanima form as he kneeled in front of you. You felt the blood drip from your bruised lip.

You felt yourself go slightly dizzy as you used your powers to hold Jackson.

You couldn't kill him, but that didn't mean you couldn't hurt him a little.

Shit! you tried to dodge the arrow Allison was shooting at you, but failed, crying out as it went into your thigh.

You continued to stand, focusing to keep your powers on Jackson.

You exhaled shakily, trying to keep your balance.

Allison shot another arrow, as you ducked down once again, missing it.

Your bit your lip as you took a deep breath.

This wasn't going to hold for long.

You stumbled backward before falling on your back as you groaned, your spell breaking as Jackson took off across the room, running to Derek.

Don’t do it, don't look down you ignored your thoughts as you looked down at the arrow sticking out of your thigh.

“Fuck,” you groaned.

Allison walked to you, holding two knives in her hand.

“Are you gonna kill me? Allison, what are you doing?” you asked softly.

She ignored you as she stood over you.

“I know that you’re in pain, I know your mom died, but that doesn't mean you have to kill your friends. That doesn't mean you have to be on Gerard’s side. He's trying to make you a bad person, you’re not a bad person,” you begged Allison, looking up at her.

“You don’t know anything. It’s all Derek’s fault that she’s dead. He bit her,” Allison spat.

What?

“So does that mean you’re gonna kill Scott? You love him,” you said.

“Biggest mistake of my life. You don’t understand,” she said.

“All I know is that Gerard is crazy, there’s something wrong with him. He’s twisting your mind,” you said.

“You’re lying. My mom left me a letter-” she started.

“Was it your mom? Or did Gerard make you think that?” you asked.

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“Gerard twists people’s thoughts all the time. How do you know he’s not lying about your mom?” Allison froze, as you looked into her eyes.

Her eyes went wide as Jackson’s claws wrapped around her neck, pulling her up as she struggled for air.

“(Y/N),” Derek ran to you, falling on his knees.

“I’m fine,” you winced, ignoring the arrow as you gripped onto Derek’s hands, pushing yourself up.

“What are you doing?!” Allison exclaimed, looking worriedly at Gerard.

“He's doing what he came here to do,” Scott said.

“Then you know,” Gerard said.

“What? What’s he talking about?” Allison asked shakily.

“He’s dying,” you answered.

“I am, I have been for a while now. Unfortunately, science doesn't have a cure for cancer yet. But the supernatural does,” Gerard looked at Derek.

You glanced at Scott, who nodded at you. Now or never.

“Derek, do you trust me?” you whispered.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Bite him,” you said.

“Are you insane?!” he whisper yelled.

“Do it, please,” you begged.

“No,” he said.

You looked at Allison, as she struggled to breathe, Jackson’s claws wrapped firmly around her neck.

“Impetu,” your eyes glew purple as you used your power on Derek, forcing him as Gerard smirked, pulling up his sleeve.

Derek growled, his eyes glowing red as he gave you a look.

His fangs stuck out of his mouth, as you used your magic to make him bite Gerard.

Derek fell to the ground as Gerard yelled out in pain, before laughing.

“Are you fucking crazy?! What the fuck?!” Derek yelled at you.

You reached for him, pulling him up before wincing slightly, your leg aching.

Gerard froze as he began coughing, black blood began spilling out of the bite. His body was rejecting it.

He shakily pulled out his container of pills, crushing them as he saw them filled with Mountain Ash.

“Mountain Ash,” he yelled, looking at Scott.

It worked

You laughed softly, around as everyone looked at you and Scott, confused.

“Scott had a plan,” you explained.

You saw the blood dripping out of Gerard as he fell to the ground.

Jackson released his grip on Allison as you quickly elbowed him before pulling Allison to you.

You kept your arms around her tightly, as she sniffled, burying her face in your neck.

Before Jackson could fight back, you heard a car screech as you saw Stiles’ car, driving quickly and running straight into Jackson.

“Yeah!” Stiles cheered before Jackson jumped on top of his car as he screamed, Lydia, sitting in the passenger's seat.

Stiles and Lydia quickly ran out of the car, as Lydia stood in front of Jackson, holding a key out.

Tears streamed down her face as she looked at Jackson.

Jackson stared at Lydia, before reverting back to himself, backing away from her. Derek and Peter ran to Jackson, sticking their claws into his chest as Lydia cried out. Lydia held Jackson as she cried shakily.

“Derek…” your leg was aching, blood dripping from your wound as you bit your lip tightly, holding back your pain.

They weren't supposed to kill him

“Do you still…” Jackson started.

“I do,” Lydia nodded, hugging him tightly as you saw Stiles’ face drop.

You felt your heart ache slightly for Stiles before Allison gasped.

“Shit! Y-Your leg, I’m so sorry!” she gasped.

“I’m fine,” you shook your head.

“There’s literally an arrow sticking out of your leg,” she scoffed.

It hurt like hell but you knew it would hurt more if you took the arrow out.

“What the...” you heard Stiles gasp as you turned back to Jackson and Lydia, your eyes going wide.

Jackson was alive, his eyes glew blue. He was a werewolf.

---

“How’s your leg?” Derek asked as you sat up in your bed, standing next to you.

“It’s fine,” you replied.

“So, you had a plan,” Derek smirked, crossing his arms.

“Yeah… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you...” you started.

He put his hands around your face, stroking your cheeks softly.

“I’m not mad at you,” he said.

“You should be,” you sighed.

“What's wrong, really?” Derek asked softly, sitting in front of you as he held your hand.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you said.

“Fine, but if something is wrong, you can tell me anything. You know that,” he said softly, kissing your hand.

“I know,” you replied softly.

“Can I ask you… about Victoria,” you started.

“I should've told you. She tried to kill Scott and me, I did it to save his life,” Derek said.

You nodded softly, before resting your head on his shoulder.

“Knock knock,” you heard an annoying voice walk into your apartment.

“Derek, I love you but I will kill him if he doesn't leave right now,” you glared at Peter.

“Really? No love? Even after everything?” Peter fake pouted.

“You mean after you hid? While we were all fighting for our lives? And then you attempted to kill Jackson? Don’t act like you're all high and mighty,” you rolled your eyes.

“Feisty,” Peter smirked.

“Get out,” Derek pointed to the door.

“Just thought you’d wanna know, your little wolves ran away,” Peter said.

“They left two days ago,” Derek said.

You tensed up, looking at him.

“You mean they’re not at your house?” you asked shakily.

“You saw them leave,” Derek turned to you.

“No, they… they should be there,” you stood up shakily.

“You’re injured,” Derek tensed up, holding your hand as you stood up.

“It’s fine. They're supposed to be there,” you said.

“Okay, fine, we’ll go there, just hold on,” Derek helped you to the door, closing it behind you.

---

Your eyes watered as you looked at the empty house.

“I… they’re supposed to be here,” your voice cracked.

“They left,” Derek said softly.

“No, I was at Argent’s house. They were there. I-I told them to come here. Where are they?” you raised your voice slightly.

“Maybe they just left, just breathe,” Derek put his hands on your shoulder as you noticed something on the front door.

You limped to the door, looking at it cautiously.

It wasn't a spiral, although it was similar.

“Why do you think Derek was in such a rush to build his pack? The alpha pack is coming for him,” Peter said.

“What if they took Erica and Boyd?” you asked shakily.

“It's not… no,” Derek started.

“It's my fault they’re gone. Oh my god,” you said shakily, tears streaming down your face.

“It’s not your fault. (Y/N), we’ll find them,” Derek said softly, stroking your face.

“They…” you froze, crying softly.

You gasped for air, feeling your chest tighten as you clenched your jaw, crying out shakily.

“(Y/N)?” Derek’s eyes went wide as he held onto you tightly.

You held his hand, tears in your eyes as you tried to breathe, your vision blurring.

“Can’t…” you tried to breathe, your face red as you cried.

“What is it?” Derek asked.

You cried loudly, while Derek shushed you, pulling you into his arms tightly.

“She’s having a panic attack,” you heard Peter’s voice from behind the two of you as you tried to hold back your cries, failing.

“Leave, now,” you heard Derek growl at Peter before he walked out of the house.

“Hey, shh, (Y/N), look at me. Breathe,” Derek put his hands on either side of your face as you took deep breaths, feeling your chest aching.

“They’re gone,” you cried out.

“No, it’s okay, (Y/N/N). They’re okay. We’ll find them,” Derek wrapped his arms around you, while you cried in pain, falling to the floor.

“We’ll find them, (Y/N). I promise you,” he pressed his lips to your forehead, caressing your back.

“We’ll find them, I promise.”

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writefightandflightclub · 4 years

Text

Wicked Game (Nathan Bateman x reader)

Summary: Interning for an eccentric billionaire certainly makes for some unusual moments. On this occasion, you are woken by Nathan blasting Wicked Game (listen to the song for the vibe) in the middle of the night. You’re just doing your best, honestly, not to fall in love with him. It should be an easy task, but there’s something about this sexy, robot-fucking oddball giving you a dancing lesson that has you wanting to go all-in.

Author’s note: this is a very quick one inspired by an ask from @spider-starry about Nathan teaching reader to dance. I went for mildly creepy rather than cute vibes, idk (Nathan is odd but captivating, after all). But I wanted to (try and) recapture just a little of the vibe from the original dance scene.

Warnings: TEEN. Potential spoiler from the movie. Blood, injury, mention of prior wound and scars, swearing, mentions of alcohol. Mild sex reference. Shirtless Nathan is a warning. Nathan is a warning in himself. Dancing.

GIF: @cracked

The noise. That god awful noise. What is it?

Your hand reaches out from beneath your duvet to flick on the lamp, and you peel one eye open at a time, groaning softly beneath the blanket before peeling that down from your eyes too.

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you It's strange what desire will make foolish people do

Is it...? No, it can’t be.

You had learned to expect the unexpected, while interning with Nathan, but this? This takes the biscuit.

Chris Isaak’s Wicked Game is blaring through the speakers in your bedroom at the ungodly hour of - you squint at your phone by your bedside- 2 am.

No, I don't wanna fall in love (this world is only gonna break your heart) No, I don't wanna fall in love (this world is only gonna break your heart)

You peel the blanket down a little further and slam your fists down to your sides in aggravation, the assault on your senses an unwelcome departure from slumber.

“Nathan fucking Bateman,” you curse under your breath, lying there huffing and sighing, your body as stiff and tense as a board as you let the song play out.

It finally ends and you burrow back into your pillow, and yet, Chris Isaak seems to have other ideas; the song just starts up all over again.

You listen to it three times through. Text him “Nathan!” three times to no avail. And then, you finally chuck off the duvet and track out through the darkness, as intrepid as you are angry, into the main living space.

He’s probably drunk again, but honestly, you brace yourself because you never quite know what you’re going to walk in on where Nathan is concerned.

The sight which befalls you is surreal, and a little creepy, to say the least.

Nathan is arm-in-arm with Kyoko, shirtless and barefoot. The robot is dressed in a little slip set. At first, your reaction is to shield your eyes, in case he’s banging her - or, about to.

At second glance, you realise that he’s... dancing?!

This is some next-level aloof billionaire eccentricity, right here.

Nathan is sweeping Kyoko around the floor, in an oddly impressive display of grace and footwork, his strong arms and muscled torso poised and proud as he easily manipulates her around the floor. The whole “dance floor” is bathed in a red, softly pulsing light, which only emphasises the contours of him.

What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you

You fully intend to interrupt so that you can simply get him to turn it down and clamber back to bed, and yet, you are somewhat captivated. By the bizarreness of the situation, as well as the movement of him, lithe and powerful and -dare you say it- majestic. By the intensity in his dark, focused stare. The way he moves is seductive, sensual, enthralling, and you can’t help but watch him from the shadows.

“Wanna dance?” he says with his back to you, meaning he already saw you a good minute ago and didn’t let on. What’s more, he says it so casually, as if any of this could be considered normal. (The billionaire you live with in an underground house has perfected an AI / human dance routine to Wicked Game, and he’s asking you to join him at 2 am? Yes, exactly what you expected from your summer, naturally) .

Clearly, Nathan saw you standing there ogling. Oh, brilliant. Like you needed to provide him with any further evidence that you’re attracted to him.

You shake those thoughts out of your head as Nathan dips Kyoko with one arm, in a move that looks far too well-rehearsed, and try to remember why you’re stood there in your pajamas in the first place.

All you can muster is to flap your hands next to your ears and yell “the noise!” over the music, as the song loops all over again.

“Sorry. Not used to having people around. Forgot the speakers hook up to your room.”

That’s an unlikely oversight for a man so detail oriented, you reckon.

“Wanna dance?” he asks again, with far too much normalcy. “Tear up the dance floor with me?”

“Why?” you ask, realising he has already succeeded in distracting you -miraculously quickly- and that you’re longer on track to berate him for the noise.

“Kyoko’s too good. You’ll make mistakes,” Nathan says plainly, releasing Kyoko’s grip and rubbing her arm, whispering to her to step aside. Then, he extends the frame of his arms in your direction, as if he might cradle you against his shirtless body next.

In case you were wondering how you differ from Kyoko, the blood pumping around your body at the sight of him like that certainly serves as a reminder, that you are very much human, and that his body can affect yours it ways it never can hers.

What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you

Maybe this is a dream. You certainly feel like you’re sleepwalking, as your feet travel towards him of their own accord, and the red light and the deep, slurring croon of the music give everything an other-worldly feel.

“Are you drunk?” you ask as his arms slot around you.

“No more than usual,” he answers, positioning you closer to him, tucking you into him and his arms forming a perfect, sturdy frame around you. You’ve never been this close to him, and quite frankly, it’s a little more intoxicating than you bargained for. “Are you?” he asks as you practically swoon against him, losing your footing already.

“No,” you say bashfully. “I just can’t dance.”

He ticks up a satisfied eyebrow, beginning to sway you gently against him to help you feel the rhythm. “Good. Routine’s getting a little samey with Kyoko. I like new variables in the equation.”

The proximity is making you nervous, but you wouldn’t move away from him for the life of you. Plus, despite his eccentricities, and somewhat intimidating, cool demeanor, Nathan somehow manages to put you at ease. Perhaps the surrealism of the situation helps with that too. You can almost pretend it isn’t happening.

“So, when the chorus kicks in, you shimmy your hips like this,” he says, gyrating his hips expertly against you.

And I don't wanna fall in love (this world is only gonna break your heart)

“Oops,” you apologise, stepping on his toes already and fumbling your footwork. You are tripping over your own thoughts as well as your feet, and to be honest, you think you can be forgiven, as this hot man presses up against you.

“That’s okay,” he smiles - not softly, but like a hyena- an improvident glint in his eyes. “Then you spin...” he says, coaching you through the moves... “and... pose.”

You move through the steps with trepidation, and when you’ve rotated through the spin, twirling beneath the fingers of his raised hand he tugs you back into his chest.

No, I don't wanna fall in love (this world is only gonna break your heart)

“How’s this?” you ask, self-consciously winding your hips in time, as his hand slips subtly further down your back.

“Good, honey,” Nathan praises, and you think you might burst into flames.

With you

You can’t help but trace your gaze languidly over his chest. Over his muscles. Over his smoothness. Over the deep, ridged scar where -or so you hear- one of his AIs stabbed him in the chest last year. You have to resist reaching out to smooth your fingers over it. In fact, you have to resist reaching out with your lips to kiss it better, so help you.

This song, this atmosphere, his body heat, are making it difficult for you to keep your... urges in check.

His bare skin is warm and solid beneath your hand. His eyes are intense and boring into you, all long lashes and deep dark brown beneath his glasses. His eyes are the colour of earth, and there is more than you can fathom buried in their depths. The way he’s looking at you makes you want to dig. To get to the bottom of him, but you feel like you could fall so deep into the pit of him and still never solve him.

Even in this moment, you fall a little deeper. Deep enough that you might not be able to clamber back out.

It's strange what desire will make foolish people do

Then, he dips you, like he did Kyoko, his broad hand firmly supporting the arch of your back as your arm clings to his neck, his other arm tugging up your thigh to wrap around his waist. His lips hover just inches from yours, that hot, muscled body over you leaving you breathless. You can feel the latent potential of him as his muscles ripple to hold you in position.

You gulp and look up at him, completely helpless in the face of your desire now. Your desire is as red as the glow cast throughout the room. If he kissed you now, you’d be done for. Hell, you already feel done for. The bare flesh of your thigh is pressed against him, skin-on-skin, and he’s warm and taut and feels powerful up against you.

“You always look so cute ‘n’ smell so good when you go to bed?” Nathan asks casually as he holds you, and the realisation that you’re sexy-ballroom-dancing with your shirtless, robot-fucker of a boss while wearing skimpy sleepwear suddenly dawns on you. (Yes; more of Exactly How You Imagined Your Summer Going.).

Your lips part and you expel a small, involuntary whimper. Of desire, of tension, of nervousness.

The scenario appears to dawn on Nathan around the same time too, his throat bobbing around a hard swallow as that little noise you just made registers, his lips parting and his pink tongue skimming out to whet his plush lips.

“Different to dancing with a robot?” you ask, trying desperately to puncture the sexual tension before you fall all the way into his eyes, and, instead, your voice comes out far more fucking wanton and husky than you’ve ever heard it. You are nothing but breath and lust in his arms as his eyes tell you that yes, you’re different. That you make him feel... different.

But you both hold back, even though Nathan’s eyes are practically teeth, devouring you.

I never dreamed that I'd love somebody like you And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you

In a final attempt to re-calibrate and hoist yourself out of this pit, you launch your body to standing of your own volition, and your face collides spectacularly with Nathan’s.

“Ow,” you each say at the same time, your forehead having smashed against Nathan’s nose and lip as you rose up a little too eagerly.

Red appears.

Well, that’s one way to divert attention away from your burgeoning desire, you suppose.

“Shit! Nathan, I’m so sorry!” you exclaim, your hands flying to your face in regret. “Are you okay?” you fuss, but he simply looks down at his hand in surprise -no, more like... neutral interest- when it comes away from his face red. And then he... smiles.

“You’re bleeding,” you say in shock, wondering if he still hasn’t registered that fact properly, but Nathan simply grins more widely at you, like a hyena after a kill.

He grins at you with red-stained teeth, and he’s at once grotesque and captivating.

“Shit. They tell me robots are dangerous,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose, “ and here I am ballroom dancing with a human and bleeding all over the fucking floor.”

He’s still smiling, and for some bizarre reason, you begin to smile along with him. As if any of this is normal.

“What’s so fucking funny?” you ask him, searching his intriguing eyes.

You never did like normal anyway.

He simply smiles lopsidedly, blood still coating his lips. “Kyoko’s never done that.”

Something tells you he likes the new variable in his equation.

(This world is only gonna break your heart)

Nobody loves no one.

Nathan grabs your hand, and you think he might about to ask you another question.

He opens his red mouth and sucks in a breath.

#nathan bateman #nathan bateman x reader #ex machina #ex machina fanfic #nathan bateman blurb #nathan bateman imagine #oscar isaac

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whumpinggrounds · 3 years

Text

Jasper Falls

earlier this week when i was trying to work on something for LCJ, my brain said what about instead we do THIS

so here we are??? idk what this is yet but i have the sinking sense it is the tip of a very large iceberg.

CW: collapse, referenced lab whump, nonbinary whumpee, semi reluctant/incompetent caretaker, exhaustion, uhhhhh idk what else lmk if i forgot something :)

“Jasper?”

The kitchen is silent. Wilder’s actually not sure why he woke up, but now that he is blinking into awareness, he wants to check if Jasper’s in bed. There’s no reply yet, and Wilder wonders if they’re asleep. He hopes so, but he can’t help doubting. He’s been here for weeks, and somehow has only seen Jasper asleep a handful of times. “Jasper?” he calls again, a little bit louder. Once more, there’s no response. Cautiously, Wilder props himself up, peering around the room.

This late, the moon provides the only illumination in the dark room, but the light pouring in from the high windows is enough to show Jasper’s cot by the door. It’s empty, blankets folded with machinelike precision at the bottom. Biting his lip, Wilder considers for a moment rolling over and going back to bed. There’s more than enough reason for him to ignore Jasper’s absence. He’s tired. He has to be up early in the morning. Judging by the angle of the moonlight through the windows, it’s the middle of the night. Even Master Aeron must be asleep at this hour.

Yet apparently, Jasper is not. It could be nothing. It’s probably nothing. Even if it’s not nothing, it’s none of Wilder’s business…but something in Wilder’s stomach is bothering him. He can’t shake the feeling that something might be wrong. Lying back down, he waits there for a moment, wondering if he could sleep even if he wanted to, and if he should try. Then he heaves an unheard, long-suffering sigh.

Groaning, Wilder hauls himself out of bed.

On sleepy, stumbling feet, Wilder makes his way to the kitchen doorway. The dining room beyond is dark, but the moon is bright enough to illuminate the hallway, so he forgoes a torch as he creeps towards the lab door. On every side loom fathomless shadows, and the cold stone beneath his feet is enough to make Wilder shiver and think longingly of his blankets. Still, he edges toward the door. It’s a bizarre, half-asleep whim, but he can’t shake the feeling that Jasper needs him.

At the barest touch of his fingers, the heavy steel door to Master Aeron’s laboratory swings open without a sound, doubtless thanks to Jasper’s continuous oiling. Not for the first time, Wilder finds himself reluctantly, profoundly grateful for his counterpart’s obsessive devotion.

Inside the lab it’s dark, all flames extinguished. The moonlight silvers everything, from the stone floor to the glassware lined up on the heavy oak tables. In some of the vials, liquids change color, bubbling and swirling in the semidarkness. Wilder glances at them covetously, out of the corner of his eye. Then he wrenches his gaze away. He’s on a mission right now.

Behind the first table, there’s nothing, but Wilder can see that beyond the second, there’s a dark lump stretched out across the floor. Pulse rate picking up, Wilder steps around the second table’s bulk and finds Jasper sprawled across the stone, limbs splayed around them as if they’ve fallen from a great height. Heart in his throat, Wilder leans down to take Jasper’s should in his hand and shake them gently. “Jazz? Hey, Jasper, you okay?”

It feels like an eon before those brown eyes crack open. When they do, Wilder swallows at the depthless exhaustion he sees there, the way their face remains slack and sallow, no life animating their features. The slitted eyes blink a few times, never opening more than halfway, and even when Jasper’s gaze settles on Wilder, their focus remains hazy, indistinct. Wilder’s heart sinks, seeing them so desperately weak.

“You can’ be in here.” Jasper’s words are so slurred, they hardly sound like speech. “Needa…stay out…”

Setting his jaw, Wilder shakes his head. “Not gonna happen. Jasper, you need help.”

“No’…not fr’m you.”

Wilder grits his teeth and tries to pretend that doesn’t bother him. “I’m the only one here,” he reminds Jasper, keeping his voice level, calm, businesslike. “Now c’mon. Let’s get you up off this floor and into your bed.”

“Leave…leave me.” Jasper is clearly trying to sound authoritative, but at the best of times, that’s a losing game. Their current position, limp-limbed with their cheek pressed to the floor, doesn’t help much. “Can…c’n handle myself.”

Wilder crouches down beside them, rests one hand on Jasper’s shoulder. “I’m here, though. You don’t have to do that.”

For a moment, Jasper is stone still, and Wilder gets to look at the stunned expression on their face. Then they shut their eyes, block him out. Turning their face fully into the floor, Jasper draws in a few hitching, unsteady breaths. The sound echoes off the floor.

“Okay,” they say finally, just when Wilder is about to remove his hand from their shoulder and try another tactic. Their voice is little more than a whisper, but at least it’s coming steadier now, and clear. “Help me up.”

Relief lightening his limbs, Wilder glances critically over Jasper’s prone position. “Right. Can you roll over on your own, or do you maybe want some help with that?”

Another unsteady, amplified breath, as Jasper faces the ground once more. “Help,” they grit out, eyes sliding away from Wilder’s inquiring gaze. Even in the dim moonlight, Wilder can see the flush in their cheeks. It makes him feel tenderly towards his companion, though Wilder isn’t sure why. Then again, nothing about his soft spot for Jasper makes sense.

“I’m going to count to three, and then I’ll roll you over, okay?”

Jasper makes no reply, but Wilder can see them gritting their teeth again, as if in anticipation of pain. It only strengthens Wilder’s resolve to be gentle.

“Okay, that’s one, and two, and three…”

Slowly, Wilder slides one hand under Jasper’s shoulder, and the other under their hip. Every movement considered and careful, he lifts them up and then adjusts his grip to let them down gently onto their back. They sigh as he does, a long release of air that Wilder knows is relief. Pulling back, Wilder pauses, eyes stuck on Jasper’s left arm.

There, in the crook of their elbow, previously hidden where it was pressed against the floor, is a deep, mottled bruise. It’s visible even in the unlit, nighttime darkness of the lab. Taking Jasper’s bicep gently in one hand, Wilder uses the other to follow the vein, suspicion confirmed by what he finds. Right in the crease of the elbow is a puncture mark. Wilder catches his breath. Glancing up, he finds Jasper looking pointedly away, blush once more giving away their shame.

“Master Aeron took your blood?”

He hates how confused his voice sounds; how clear it is that he doesn’t have any idea how this world works. Jasper shrugs as best they can, flat on their back on the ground, except that it looks more like a defensive hitch of their shoulders than the dismissal it’s meant to be.

“He needed it for a potion.”

Biting his lip, Wilder nods, wondering if this is really something he should be agreeing with. Not that Master Aeron shouldn’t have access to the material he needs, but…but he’s clearly left Jasper much too weak. “How much did he take?”

“Don’t know.” Now Jasper is struggling to prop themselves up on trembling arms, and Wilder suppresses a sigh. All they need right now is for Jas to slip and concuss themselves when they hit the ground again.

“Just – here.” Once more, he slips a hand under Jasper’s back, this time lifting his fellow apprentice up slowly to a sitting position. “Let’s hang out here for a second, okay? Don’t want you to get lightheaded again.”

In response, Jasper just mumbles indistinctly. Taking a quick peek under their mop of long, curly blonde hair, Wilder notes with a wince that their eyes are squeezed shut. “You feeling sick? Dizzy? Talk to me, Jazz.”

“Don’…fucking…call me Jazz,” Jasper spits. They’re trying to sound angry, but their hands are in fists pressed against their thighs and their arms are shaking all the way up to their shoulders. They’re hanging on by a thread, that much is clear.

Sitting back on his haunches, Wilder considers the trembling figure in front of them. With a few small adjustments, he sets Jasper up so they’re leaning against the leg of one of the big oaken tables. Then, Wilder straightens and slips away, back down the hallway. He leaves the lab door open just a crack behind him.

In the kitchen, Wilder grabs one of the little clay cups from underneath his cot and scoops some water out of the bucket by the stove. Long, careful steps carry him back to the lab, and distantly, he’s proud of himself for not spilling a drop.

When he squats down next to Jasper once again, he wonders for a minute if they’ve dropped back into unconsciousness. Their head is tipped back, their arms slack at their sides. Closer examination, though, reveals their brow is knit, and each breath comes with forceful focus. Far from unconscious, they’re fighting to stay awake. Shaking his head, Wilder takes their hand, squeezes it lightly. Slowly, their eyes flutter open.

“You came back?”

“Of course.” Wilder smiles at Jasper, and they just stare back at him, expression still blank of anything but mild confusion. “Got you some water. Here.”

For a long moment, Jasper just stares at the cup in front of them. When they reach out to take it, they do it with both hands, and still, water sloshes over the rim. Brow furrowed with focus and determination, Jasper brings the cup to their lips and takes a few small sips. Some of the tension smooths out of their face, and Wilder is unaccountably relieved.

Glancing up, Jasper gives them a strange, unreadable look, and that’s when Wilder realizes that without really thinking about it, he’s tucked in next to them, lending an extra surface to lean against. Deciding to stick it out, he shoots them a small smile, and is rewarded when they look away, corners of their lips tugging up.

They drink the rest of the water slowly, savoring it. When they’re finished, Wilder takes the cup. “I’ll put this back. Give you a second. When I get back, we’ll get you on your feet.”

Jasper nods their acquiescence, but when Wilder ducks back in the door, he finds them swaying erratically at the edge of one of the tables, clinging to it for dear life as they try to force themselves up all on their own. “Jazz! I mean, shit, sorry, Jasper, whatever.” Wilder darts forward, slinging one arm around their waist to help them stabilize. “Jasper, you shouldn’t wait until I’m out of the room to try standing.”

His tone is meant to be only gently chiding, but Jasper looks sharply down and away, avoiding his gaze. “Sorry,” they rasp, and in that single word, in their weary, desolate voice, is the most emotion they’ve shown all night. Their tone is thin with exhaustion, on the edge of defeat.

Staggered by their vulnerability, intentional or not, Wilder takes a moment to respond. “No…um, no, it’s okay, Jasper. Just, I don’t want you to fall again.” Jasper nods dully, and Wilder heaves a sigh. He needs to get them into bed. They both just need to get to bed. “Can you put your arm around my shoulders?”

Wilder is a few inches taller than Jasper – 5’8 to the blonde’s 5’6, probably – so he keeps his grip around their waist tight as he helps them toward the lab door. He doesn’t trust the arm loosely wrapped around his neck to support Jasper if their legs give out, and their stumbling, rubbery gait seem more and more likely to end in a fall, with each step they take together.

When they clear the threshold of the lab, Jasper stops, swaying in place, so unsteady on their feet they almost drag Wilder over. “Needa shut the door,” they remind Wilder. With one hand, Wilder pulls it shut carelessly – a little too carelessly, as it turns out. The steel door meets the frame with a muffled bang, and Jasper flinches at the sound.

It startles Wilder too, and they wince, hoping that Master Aeron didn’t hear it in his chamber. “Sorry.” He’s not used to the weight of the lab door, the swing of it. That’s not his fault. Still, as they wait there, hanging in the tense silence of the early morning, the guilt bubbles up fast in Wilder’s gut. “I’m sorry.”

Jasper makes no reply, just stares into the dark hall, not breathing.

The apprentices wait, trapped in the hallway in front of the laboratory door, but moments pass and no black cape swirls out of the shadows. Master Aeron’s voice doesn’t ring through the hall, and the old man’s glaring yellow eyes don’t advance down the corridor towards them. Letting his breath out in a gust, Wilder starts nudging Jasper forward again and, pliable as a child, they go.

It’s a journey of a few steps down the hallway, through the dining room, to the kitchen, where, thankfully, Jasper’s bed waits for them just on the inside of the door. Jasper is still wobbling on their feet, but Wilder could release them here, let them navigate on their own the way to their cot.

Instead, Wilder helps Jasper down to a sitting position on the edge of their bed. Bearing up their weight as Wilder helped them down the hall has only made him feel more protective of Jasper, especially because he felt the way they trembled against him. Now he watches for that shiver, sees it in Jasper’s fingers as they rest their hand against the bed. While they take on the laborious work of swinging their legs up onto the bed, Wilder picks up the blankets at the end of the cot. He only blushes a little as he drapes the fabric over Jasper.

In all the dim kitchen, the most moonlight falls squarely on Jasper’s voice. If it were someone else, Wilder would worry that the light might keep them up, but Jasper is so exhausted that Wilder doesn’t think an army bugler could keep them awake right now. Instead, all the moonlight does is cast their features in sharp pale relief, so he can see the guarded expression on their face as he, well. As he tucks them in.

“Why’re you doing this?”

The question is flatly posed, all emotion stripped away. Still, the words themselves reveal more of Jasper than the other apprentice would probably like. For his part, Wilder shrugs.

“You needed help.”

“Why’d you even come looking?”

“You weren’t in your bed.”

“Why do you care?”

Frowning, Wilder considers the question for a moment. “I guess…I don’t know. I didn’t want you to be hurt. I…” He shrugs, decides to take the leap. “I like you, Jasper.”

Jasper turns their face away, expression impassive. When they speak, their voice is a desperate attempt to be cold. It sounds more like a plea. “You shouldn’t…you shouldn’t like me. I don’t like you. You’re just…you aren’t…”

Aren’t worthy? Aren’t useful? Aren’t good enough at magic? Jasper has intimated as much before, but tonight, with the cold revealing moonlight on the both of them, Wilder has insight that he didn’t before. Tonight, the harsh words don’t get to him the way they usually do, mostly because he thinks he understands something that Jasper has been trying desperately to hide.

“But I don’t believe that,” he tells Jasper, even though he knows the other apprentice hasn’t yet said all they meant to say. “And I don’t think you believe any of that, either.”

So, why do you keep saying it? Why are you so mean to me? The questions hang, unspoken, in the air between the two. Jasper just shuts their eyes, blocking out the moon, and Wilder, and whatever it is they refuse to say.

“All right.” Wilder’s voice is soft. “All right, Jasper. Get some sleep.”

They wait until he’s almost across the room, and then when they speak, their voice is so quiet Wilder almost, almost misses it. “Wilder?”

“Yeah?”

“You can, um. If you want, I mean, you can…you can call me Jazz.”

Across the room, in the shadows, Wilder puts a hand over his mouth to cover his smile. “Okay then, Jazz.” He makes sure his voice sounds warm.

Okay.

#whumpblr #whump writing #nonbinary whumpee #incompetent caretaker #reluctant caretaker #lab whump #kinda #not really #blood #collapse #blood draw #caretaking #exhaustion #defiant whumpee #ocs #new ocs #jasper and wilder are gonna need a tag i just know it

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shamelesslypoetic · 4 years

Text

Not Today

Wordcount: 1.5k

Pairings: Blink and you’ll miss it dukexiety. Logince, could be read as one-sided but I think of it as returned ;)

Warnings: Embarassment, some self-deprecating thoughts, vague ending, Roman being a gay train wreck you can't look away from

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

‘Fashionably late’ was Roman’s latest statement these days and though Logan didn’t necessarily like it Roman thought he must still have some sense of agency against the increasingly hindering crush he’d developed in the past few months.

Right now, however, he couldn’t help but agree as he ran out of theatre practice to the cafeteria, desperately trying to catch some time with Logan before his next class. His heart pounded in his chest, skin prickling with nerves as he glanced down at his wrist and promptly disregarded the clock, it was all gibberish and he only wore it because Logan had got it for him anyway.

The bustling cafeteria pulled the theatre loving geek in with all its colorful chatter and smiling faces, the laughs behind them bubbly and inviting.

This school was his home, and had been for as long as he could remember.

Still, in favor of finding some random group to hang out with, his eyes scanned around the crowded spaces for one person in particular, bumping shoulders good-naturedly and ignoring a scowl here, a biting retort there until he finally found his target.

The impossibly cute and endearingly rambly Logan, sitting alone in a far table with his closed fist propping his cheek up and a book open in front of him, had his eyes closed. Roman’s heart swelled at the sight, workaholic stupor having forced the object of his affection into an unplanned nap. Logan always pushed himself to such states and then some. That determination and sharp intelligence etched itself across the bruised quality of his amor’s eyelids and it was enough to knock Roman off his balance. He sank into the bench and started yammering away to quell the force of the longing inside him.

“Hey there, sleeping beauty!” Roman trilled loudly, the arm sliding against the table pushing a food tray away as he bumped the other sophomore’s shoulder.

Logan started, letting out a very dignified yelp as his eyes snapped open and his shoulders rose in alarm.

“Hold on, your glasses are smudged,” Roman noted, squinting. “Lemme just...” He raised his hands up as Logan barely had time to turn and took the glasses off his face. He delicately held it between his hands, words pushing out of him in a flurry far too passionate for the present situation, especially seeing as one of the would-be participants of the conversation had yet to manage a word in the wake of his crazed Chemistry partner.

“Ro-Roman?”

Roman blabbed on, acutely aware of his companion and trying not to show it with every ounce of his Disney adoring being, going off, piling on the words blocking his ‘I love you’ from exploding out of him. “Classy guys such as yourself can’t be seen like that, no siree.” Roman trained his gaze on the thick-rimmed square frames in his hands rather than the strong tea brown that typically looked through them.

“Roman?” Logan said again, impatience trickling into his voice of elegant fountain pens on parchment paper.

“But don’t worry I gotcha,” Roman continued a train of thought from earlier that he was sure his chemistry partner hadn’t quite caught as he cleaned the lenses, but the glittering sing-song coming out of him just wouldn’t stop. “Nerds gotta look out for each other, right Lo? Of course I’m right who would you possibly sacrifice this ravishing company for--”

Logan persisted, “Roman!”

Roman turned his head as he let go of the edge of his shirt, “Whaaaat?” His drawl broke off into a flustered noise between confusion and awe as he fully alighted on the bare face and the slightly skewed necktie. “Whoa-uh...”

“Roman you startled me!” Logan said but Roman wasn’t listening, too lost in sharp edges and a jawline spawned from a knight’s sword, accented by arching, sweeping eyebrows and perfect, dark eyes. The wannabe actor’s breath caught in his throat as his mouth fell open and an itching blush quickly creeped up his nose. His hand trembled in pure gay disaster style as he took in the exasperated face in front of him once more, eyes hungrily tracing every dimension as if he could learn all the edges, as if he could fold the memory into his brain to call it whenever he wanted if he stared long enough. And yet, he was afraid if he got any closer like he so wanted to that wherever his skin touched the other’s it would come away hot and colored bright crimson. Just like the blush across his face.

Logan gave Roman a weird look as he felt his face redden, wordless in stark contrast to the way he’d just been chatting away with all the conviction of a hummingbird that somehow managed to learn human dialect.

“Why are you staring?” he asked, a hand cautiously coming to Roman’s arm. “Is there something on my face?”

Roman didn’t answer, far too transfixed and a note of worry knotted the other’s words, the elegant, incredibly sophisticated voice all Roman could now hear. Everything else, the chatter, the bustle, fell muffled under Logan’s melodic words, all but white sound to the theatre enthusiast.

“Roman?” Logan said again and tightened his hold on the boy’s arm, the feverish skin underneath poking out from the cuff of his letterman jacket’s sleeve.

Logan slid his hand down to check Roman’s roaring pulse and a rolling shiver coursed through Roman the way the cool assured hands felt holding him. It was too much. The press of skin without any space to spare, the absent sweeping of Logan’s thumb, the way it fit so perfectly on Roman’s vien as if it were already carving out a place there. Too much for Roman’s frail gay heart.

Before the older of the two sophomores could say anything more, his glasses shot across the air and Roman slapped them onto his face with a force that had Logan reeling backwards, hold on the other faltering as he sputtered, “Ah!” he gave a sharp cry, blinking rapidly.

“Roman, what the fuck!?”

The word Logan would normally never use for its rudeness escaped him by his temper and Roman finally stirred which was arguably worse than the state of frozen horror as his mind chanted shit shit shit shit! and the frantic, uneven thu-thump carried on against his ribcage.

“I, I gotta go!” he stammered, grabbing his bag from the bench and neglecting the unicorn notebook falling from it.

Logan stared at him, a purple blossom appearing on the slope of that perfect pointed nose, hitching Roman’s breath as he held onto his bag’s strap.

“Sorry, Specs, I’d love to stay but I’m gonna be late for my next class at this rate, and not even fashionably so!”

Shut up, shut up! The last of his common sense hissed as he backed away, bumping his hip against the table and wincing more at Logan’s incredulous face than the impact. “Love these get-togethers, babe!” OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE!

Roman could see it now, the hole he’d dug himself, gaping wide in the middle of a graveyard where he’d soon be put out of his ineloquent misery and then buried, never to be seen embarrassing himself again. “O-Okay, see you around, bye!”

He ran, because really what else could Roman have done, when all compliments and flattery drifted from him every time he found himself in front of someone so damnably handsome, when he was confronted by feelings he normally only mimicked?

So, blind and deaf to all around him, his feet carried him to the Chemistry lab, early for once. The Chemistry lab!

Roman mentally prepared his will, his plushies would go to Princess and his writings would be published with not an extra edit and he’d have to tell someone to apologize on his behalf for teasing the emo in seventh period about his crush on his twin: Remus. Who would have nothing, because he’s a stinky bastard.

Roman steeled himself with little more than sheer pride as he took a seat. But then he ended up folding his arms on the metal desk and putting his head down. He pretended to sleep for the whole period.

Which is not to say that his skin didn’t warm as Logan took his place beside him, that he didn’t want to apologize for such stupid behaviour, that when Logan told him -- “Sorry, for, for yelling at you back there, I can have the worst temper and you...you tend to...exaserbate that.” -- he didn’t sheepishly smile but none of it mattered, not even when Logan slid the notebook toward him with a whispered, “You forgot this.”

Why? Because he was a coward. For all his bravado and pomp, he was an utter fool for Logan and a coward on top of it.

He’d tell him in time. He’d tell him pretty poetry and have flowers in his hands, he’d scour the shops for Logan’s outlandish favourite of gladiolus and preferably also take him out somewhere nice, that new diner perhaps or stargazing in that meadow on the outskirts of town. He’d tenderly hold his face and ask if that’s okay and then he’d lean in and kiss him, slow and sweet, chaste and gentle. A bit far reaching and maybe even presumptuous. But feigning sleep gave plenty of time to daydream.

One day Roman would tell Logan that it was his own otherworldly looks that turned his dramatic classmate into a bumbling, savage mess. But not today.

Today, Roman would apologize. And that would have to be enough somehow.

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

A/N: Another one based on art by @sleepy-starling because I'm unoriginal. Hope you like it and that the words are treating you well whether you're reading or writing them! ^^

#ts roman #ts logan #roman sanders #logan sanders #logince #fluff #friends to lovers #highschool sweethearts #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #implied logince #og post #my writing #art inspired fic #dried ink

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gallickingun · 4 years

Text

hofortendou x nishinoya || gallickingun matchups

@hofortendou : first off conGRATS !! i’m so glad to see that your blog keeps growing! also i would like to participate in your matchup event! i would like a male match from haikyuu 🥰 i’m (she/her) 5’4”, short-ish haired brunette with big hazel eyes (i’m talkin’ tim burton scale) and covered in freckles. I do digital art both as a hobby and for uni, i play video games, watch too much anime, i longboard when i can or if it’s a particularly nice day out, and i absolutely love plants, like they’re all over my apt. if i had to give myself an aesthetic i’d say a mix between art mom n grunge, i think? i usually wear a hoodie and shorts/sweats bc i work from home but i’m a sucker for cropped jackets/shirts w mom jeans and docs when i need to actually get dressed. i like to learn new things and am v organized but not overbearing w it, my personality is very open minded, intro-extroverted and humor based but i’m literally baby and WILL cry if you raise your voice at me. that being said i’m v affectionate and love me some tenderness. if i had to look for anything in a partner it’d be sympathy and humor, for sure. and i would love to go do something fun like roller skating or walk around a fair for a first date, something memorable and not super basic, y’know? ty and ily moe ❤️

Thank you so much for participating! I really hope you like this! And thank you again for supporting me, it means the whole entire world 🧡

Warning: Slight NSFW ahead! Under the cut~

― Noya supports going out or staying in - whether that’s trying a new Thai place, or watching anime on the couch. Sometimes you gotta paint the town red, other times you have to chill out on the sofa! ― He’s affectionate as all get out, absolutely adores and requires to touch you at all times. Hand in your pocket, hand in your hand, hand on your waist. Once you two get comfortable enough with each other, he’ll kiss you in public if you’re okay with it, he’ll hold your hand at all times, and will definitely make sure that everyone knows the two of you are grossly in love. ― I think your aesthetics would go really well together! Noya canonically loves the color black, so I think that your grunge aesthetics would go together, even if you both like to switch it up from time to time.

☁ Nishinoya absolutely adores you. To the point where you’re not sure sometimes if he’s genuine or not. Whether you’re fully decked out in a complete face of makeup and a full snazzy dress, or lounging around the house in one of his old jerseys and some joggers.. that man is going to remind you how beautiful you are.

☁ He definitely wants to kick your ass in video games, though. He has a radical competitive streak, no matter what the activity is or if he’s done it before. It will be his first time playing Mario Kart and he’ll jump up and down on the couch, mashing buttons and squealing at the top of his lungs every time he gets thrown off the track. If it’s more FPS style games, he talks too loud and pretends to know what he’s talking about by using slang that he’s heard from his other friends who play video games a little more.

☁ Noya loves it when you wear crop tops - sweatshirts, tanks, tees, etc. - he likes to sneak his hands along your waist and up your shoulders. His thumbs run along your ribs and he pulls you in closer all the time, nuzzling your nose and whispering sappy compliments and corny pick up lines and raunchy one liners. He ducks his head into your neck and as he’s pressing kisses to your skin, his fingertips are searing into your waist, and you feel completely lightheaded at being so overwhelmed by his closeness.

☁ He gets loud from time to time, but when you shy away from him or possibly even tear up, he’s immediately bringing his voice down a few octaves and rushing forward to apologize and comfort you. His hands find your face and his voice is gentle, eyes warm as he looks across at you to

☁ There is a pretty heavy praise and worship between the two of you - Nishinoya loves to kiss your lips and tell you how pretty your eyes are and how good you take him and how beautiful your body looks while he’s fucking into you slow and deep. He’ll whisper with his nose against your temple, his lips against the shell of your ear, “Such a good girl, damn, you’re gorgeous. Look so pretty when you’re taking me just like this,” and then he makes your pussy cream with his fingers sneaked between your hips to find that precious bundle of nerves.

☁ On the same hand, he loves it when you whimper praises into the thin air between your bodies. You whimper, gasping out, “N-Noya, love your cock, please, fill me up, I-I want more.” And oh, does he deliver. Somehow he’s able to keep stretching you out and filling you up, even when you both think your cunt has sucked him in to the base. You tell him in blundering babbles how strong he is and how safe you feel with him, and the sound of you doting on him with your words is what makes his cock twitch just before he coats your walls white.

☁ At least once a month you two have a veg out on the couch night. Noya orders dinner, you put together a blanket nest, and you two snuggle down into the corner of the couch and watch whatever reruns or new anime is on that you’ve both decided to watch. He’ll ask you a million questions if he’s never seen it before, even if you haven’t seen it before, because he’s just so curious to know how it ends even though he doesn’t really want you to tell him.

☁ Nishinoya wants to do everything you love, no matter if he’s truly interested in it or not. It’s important to you, so it’s important to him. However, he really has a short attention span, so unless it’s something super stimulating, you’ll need to be willing to redirect him whenever necessary. You might need to stop for food in the middle just to break it all up.

☁ Affectionate? Please. Nishinoya can’t keep his hands off of you. If you’re in the same room together, he’s stood next to you, hand in your back pocket or arm around your shoulder. Everyone knows you two are together from the moment you set foot anywhere because he’s kissing your forehead or you’re leaning into his bicep or you’re holding each other around the waist. Sometimes the others have to remind you that you’re in public, even though Noya is just giving you a lil’ forehead smooch.

☁ Noya is a pretty joking guy, even though he does have his serious moments. He and Asahi are really close and he knows how to joke with him, so he learns from that and uses it to determine how far he can go with you so far as sarcasm and banter. He nudges your ribs and giggles in your ear and tells too many jokes sometimes, but you love it. There are times when he takes it too far, though, and the first time you get upset because of something he said, he’s apologizing for days and latching himself onto you like a koala. You have to tell him a dozen times over that you’re okay, so long as he doesn’t tell that joke again.

"It’s hot! And I’m not getting any better at this!” Noya groans, dropping back on the concrete so he’s laid out, sprawled limbs spread out every which way. He drapes his arm over his face to cover his eyes from the beating sun, his lips pulled into a pout, “Please, can’t we eat?!”

You chuckle, squatting beside him to tickle the little sliver of skin that’s peeking out from under the hem of his shirt from where he’s caused it to ride up by moving his arms around. “C’mon, Yuu, you’re not going to quit on me now, are you?”

Noya groans, rolling onto his side so he can rest his cheek against the tops of your knees, “But it’s hot and I’m hungry. We’ve been at this for hours!”

“It’s been twenty minutes.”

“Well-”

“It’s fine, babe,” you tell him, running your fingers through his hair, pulling gently at the brunette strands with your digits. Another chuckle shakes your chest and he turns his head to look at you, thankful that your body is blocking the direct sunlight, “I don’t want to not learn, honey, I just forgot to eat breakfast. Maybe we can grab something, go for a swim, and then try again?”

You do as he says, finding a food cart to grab something small to eat and scarfing it down on a picnic table that’s centered along the pavilion that overlooks the beach. You hold hands underneath the table, your palms rested on Noya’s knee. He’ll play with your fingers, squeezing your knuckles and following the curve of your palm down to your wrist. It feels that sometimes he’s even checking your pulse to make sure that you’re still okay, still with him. As if he cannot believe that this isn’t some sort of dream that he has the ecstasy of reliving every day.

As you drop your tee shirt to reveal your bathing suit, you can’t help but notice Noya’s eyes are all over your frame. He comes up behind you before you can turn around to admonish him for undressing you with his eyes in front of everyone here on the beach, and his arms wrap around your waist, head tucked into your neck. When he speaks, his voice is husky and it sends a jolt of electricity directly to your core, “We could always just go home-”

“You promised, Noya!” You whine, circling your hands around his wrist and tugging playfully. He groans and bares his teeth to your shoulder, sucking one harsh time before releasing you, “Only because I’m completely whipped for you, babe.”

Your feet hit the water and Noya is flying past you into the waves, screaming at the top of his lungs before he plunges into the sea. You can’t contain the giggles that part your lips, covering your mouth with your hand as the waves crash into your shins. You’re meeting him halfway, floating in the ocean water up to your shoulders, your body folded at the waist beneath the crest of the waves, “You’re so dramatic, Yuu.”

“You wouldn’t have me any other way, would you?” he asks, eyes still burning with that familiar flame as he tugs you by your hips so you’re straddling his waist beneath the water. You gasp as he rolls his hips up into you, the feel of his thick length hardening against your thigh, “N-Noya-”

“Shh,” his voice is accented by the feel of his middle finger slipping your bathing suit to he side, “Keep quiet, baby girl, and I’ll make sure we both feel good.”

Your voice is lost in your throat, irises swallowed by your pupils when the first languid stroke of his fingers finds your innermost folds. Nishinoya pulls your chin with his free hand, tilting your head so he can kiss you on the mouth, eliciting a gasp from the back of your throat, “That’s not quiet, baby. Try again.”

The way you gulp and nod your head makes him chuckle, but he can’t keep himself from you, and before you know it, he’s devouring you from both ends.

Please check HERE to see if I’ve done your matchup already. Remember, I will also post your matchup with the tag: “#emoji-matchup”, using your emoji in place of the word, so if you can remember your emoji, you can search my blog for that tag to see if I have completed it already!

#nishinoya yuu #nishinoya matchup #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! matchup #hq matchup #nishinoya yuu matchup #nishinoya hq #nishinoya haikyuu #morgan does matchups #hofortendou #💌 matchup

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eldritch-araneae · 4 years

Text

Stagnation

“Moonjumper has returned and took Hat Kid under his control, using her against Snatcher. The Ghost of Subcon emerged victorious, but aftermath showed how little he knew about himself as Hat Kid is desperately trying to save him!”

Thank you Nox ( i forgot to ask you username, I’ll add it later!) for beta reading and editing! <3

Warning: This story contains illness depiction, display of severe pain and suffering.

-----

You are worried.

You step into dark woods, looking for your best friend. As you walked, images of the serious fight with him that happened two days ago are still lingering in your mind.

It wasn’t even your fault. You don't know exactly how it happened, but before you could react, you felt strings wrapping around you, taking you under control. That part of the memory is hard to recall, like a hazy dream—like you were watching the fight through tissue paper. Then suddenly something woke you up, and you found yourself fighting Snatcher. Your body moved against your will, throwing attacks you never knew you could use!

You were able to stand on thin air—you were able to teleport! You were summoning bright arrow projectiles that moved incredibly fast and homed in on your shadowy friend. He managed to dodge most of them, but some left nasty cuts all over his body. One arrow even went right through his abdomen! Snatcher was covered in yellow wounds as his inner energy seeped through them.

You wince at the memory, but it wasn't even the worst part.

The worst part was when you unleashed a truly devastating attack that unleashed a massive explosion in the space near him. Snatcher saw it coming, but he was too slow to get out of explosion range in time and got hit. Screams of intense pain shook the air; his right arm and side were cracked badly.

You come to a slow halt in the woods, sniffing as your eyes start filling with tears.

It was a miracle both of you emerged alive and victorious. A combination of Snatcher’s determination and you warning him about the upcoming attacks managed to keep him from dying (again). Eventually, Snatcher managed to sever all the red strings that controlled your body, ending the terrible fight. The attacker, someone who Snatcher referred to later as “Moonjumper,” suffered a rebound from the power he expended and was forced to retreat.

The aftermath was, to put it delicately, unpleasant. The entire area where you were fighting was destroyed; the trees were broken, and great furrows were gouged in the soil. Thankfully, it was just a small section of the forest; still, the damage was likely irreversible.

Snatcher was in awful shape—in fact, he looked absolutely terrible. You were afraid to touch him for fear of adding more pain to what he was experiencing already. Somehow, he still managed to smile, relieved that you were no longer under his enemy’s control.

You helped Snatcher to get to his tree, and after flopping into his chair, he assured you that he’d be okay. You’ve seen him healing while he sleeps, but something told you that he would need more than that this time.

Despite your initial relief at the fight being over and Snatcher not being dead (again?), the guilt that later consumed you was terrible. Even though it wasn’t you fighting him, even though you were being controlled against your will by that “Moonjumper” person, you couldn’t help but feel that this was all your fault.

You had tried to sleep earlier, but sleep was impossible. You were so caught up in feelings of guilt and worry that you ended up getting out of bed after a few hours to go check on your friend. But on your way to his tree, you passed the area where you had fought and...everything came rushing back.

So now you’re just standing in the middle of the clearing, biting your lip and trying to pretend that there aren’t tears streaming down your face.

“Kid! Please help!” A Subconite’s voice shocks you out of your thoughts. Their voice sounds desperate. You get a terrible sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach—you can already tell what’s wrong. The minion crashes into the clearing, landing on their face. They pop up instantly, looking panicked.

“Boss is not getting better!”

You knew it!

You give them a curt nod to show you heard them and activate the sprint hat, heading off in the direction of Snatcher’s tree, running as fast as you can.

Soon you reach his tree and bolt inside. You see Snatcher, still in his chair. He seems to be asleep, with his eyes closed tightly, but his pained expression suggests otherwise. You take a careful step towards him and peer at the dark wounds scattered across his spectral form.

Wait...dark?

Upon closer inspection, many of the shallower cuts healed, including the big stab wound in his abdomen. But the cracks from the big explosion… they don’t have his yellow glow anymore. Instead, they’re a necrotic black and oozing along the ghost’s damaged arm and side.

For some reason, you reach out and lightly brush a hand over one of the cracks, which you instantly regret. Snatcher jolts, letting out a pained whine.

“I’m so sorry!” you apologize instantly. Why did you think that was a good idea? He looks like he’s in even more pain than he was two days ago!

He cracks open his tired eyes to look at you.

“Hey, kiddo...” he breathes weakly. “Looks like it’s taking more time than usual.”

“Snatcher, this is really bad!” you exclaim, motioning to his wounds. Something about it is familiar. You could swear you’ve seen this black rot somewhere before.

“Ugh, tell me about it…” he winces, letting out a shuddering sigh. ”I can’t feel my right side, or move my arm. The pain got so much worse...”

You stare at him for a few moments, then you reach out and take his good hand.

“We are going to my ship.” You gently pull his hand.

Snatcher opens his mouth to protest, but quickly closes it. You can tell that he knows it’s not just a regular injury. It’s hurting him a lot more than he’s letting on. It’s clear that he has no idea what are you going to do, but a silent understanding passes between the two of you: it’s better than nothing.

So Snatcher slowly rises from his chair, wincing and gasping from the pain, and giving you a nod.

You nod back and activate the magic that connects you to your ship, and, in a few seconds, you are standing in the main room. You carefully lead him to your bedroom. Upon entering, you drop his hand and look around, trying to deduce where he can rest until you notice him on the floor. He’s laying on his back, completely still.

The floor is covered in soft carpet, but it’s not the best place for a sick person to rest. You might at least try to move him onto the pillow mound.

“That’s better.” he croaks, relaxing for a bit before you could say anything. It seems like being in this position hurts him a great deal less. You walk over the mound, grabbing a few pillows and carefully placing him under his head.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, closing his eyes. “Do you know what's happening to me?”

“Not exactly, but I have an idea!” you jump into the pillow mound and squirm into your secret fort. Your gaze falls onto the small bookcase stuffed with your favorite books. Quickly scanning though titles, you find what you’re looking for, grabbing the book and emerging back to your room.

Snatcher stares at the book. “What’s that you’ve got there?”

“‘How to Treat Injuries and Sickness of Energoids,’” you reply, opening the book as you settle near him.

“Energoid?” Snatcher tilts his head.

“That’s what you are!” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the universe. Well, it is obvious for you; for him, though…

“Kid, I’m a gh—”

“Yes, and ghosts are energoids, scientifically speaking. You are made of energy! And what’s more, you are an energoid with an inner core!” you interrupt him, pointing at the middle of his chest, where you can feel his warm core pulsing when he hugs you. Snatcher stares at you in surprise, while idly drawing circles on his chest with his good hand. He sighs, not arguing with you about it.

“I think I saw something is this book before that looks like the black rot that you’ve got.” You flip through the pages, scanning for symptoms matching Snatcher’s. In few minutes you finally stumble upon something that looks similar.

As you read carefully, your heart drops.

“Kid, don't leave me in the dark, yeah?” Snatcher's voice startles you. You look at him worriedly. Right, he must have at least some idea of what's going on.

“A-alright...it’s called Stagnation.” You pause, looking at him again. He frowns, and yes, this sounds like nothing good. You take a deep breath and proceed to read the information presented in the book.

“Stagnation is a condition that prevents inner energy from circulating inside an energoid’s body. It’s usually caused by massive damage that destroys the connection between injured areas and the core.

“When this happens, the energy exchange between the affected area and the core ceases, forcing the remaining inner energy near wound become stagnated. In this scenario affected wounds cannot be healed. The stagnated energy begins oozing thought the wound, “rotting” outer energy layers (that still responds to the core) in the process and causing intense pain.”

You stare at the book, than look at Snatcher. Now you can see that cracks are indeed bigger than before...and they’re spreading, albeit slowly. Now properly horrified, you continue to read.

“If Stagnation is left untreated, the best-case scenario is that the energoid’s core will shed stagnated body parts. It’ll stop illness from spreading, but the patient won’t regenerate those lost parts. In the worst-case scenario, the Stagnation will spread, taking over the entire body. The core will decay, resulting in...in death.”

Your eyes are wide with shock and horror. You turn to Snatcher; his expression matches yours for a moment before he winces in pain, shutting his eyes. You grab his left hand, holding it tight.

This is awful! If you won’t do something, Snatcher either will lose his arm and side permanently, or die!

“I’m so sorry, Snatcher, it’s all my fault!” you are crying, feeling like the worst person alive for hurting your best friend so badly.

“Stop!” he hisses. “It wasn’t your fault! You were under HIS control!”

Snatcher lifts his arm you are holding and pulls you to his chest, then places it onto your back, rubbing comforting circles. You feel his core racing under you—he’s as scared as you are.

You sigh heavily. You know you were under someone’s control, but you still feel guilty. You had no idea you were capable of such destruction! If only you had known...

“Is there a treatment?” Snatcher sounds almost calm despite the pain and the urgent situation. You sniff, wiping your tears with your sleeve, and look into the book once more.

Thankfully, the treatment is written right there!

“Treat—” a sob interrupted you. You muffle it into the back of your hand and keep it there until you’ve composed yourself. ”Treatment for Stagnation includes using Beacon Needles and rest. It’s advised for the patient to not move too much as the needles repair their inner energy network.”

“Beacon Needles...” you repeat, this sounds so familiar.

A memory surfaces in your mind.

Between your visits to Earth, you went to other planets to collect scattered Timepieces. One planet was inhabited by advanced water based energoid species. They were very nice, giving you Timepieces without fight or bargain. One of them was curious about you, asking about your adventures and places you’ve been as they were intergalactic adventurer themself.

At some point you told them about Subcon and Snatcher.

“Wow, this guy seem reckless if you ask me.” they hummed.” I hope he has Beacon Needles in case of bad situations.”

“Beacon Needles?” you tilted your head, curious what they're talking about.

“Yes! Like these!” they pulled out the case their inventory and open it. Inside was a set of needles: one is big, resting in the middle, surrounded by ten smaller ones. Each one had a small panel on top with white crystal inserted into it. The middle one had few small buttons. You assumed this is how you turn on the device.

“No, I never seen anything like it when I visited him.”

“I see.” they said, closing the case and suddenly handling it to you.

“What?” you look surprised as you took it.

“Your friend must have a set of those, or he’ll die very easily.” they sounded dead serious. You stare at the case for a moment. Well, it won’t hurt. But...

“What about you?”

“Oh don’t worry, child. Those needles are common, it’s not a problem for me to get another set.” They winked at you. “Now, let me explain to you how they work!”

“Thank you!” you smiled.

You reach into your pocket dimension and pull out the case. You open it and see the same set of needles. You can’t believe you forgot about them! You were going to give the case to Snatcher as soon as you arrived, but then you got caught in this accident and well…

You shake your head, no time for moping!

You take the biggest one into your hand and push the button. You hear a sound and the crystal top lights up, signaling that device is turned on.

Hopeful smile appear on your face - Snatcher has a chance!

“Whoa, kiddo, slow down! Do you know how to use them? What they even do?! ” Snatcher rumbled nervously about unknown device in your hand.

“Of course! The person who gave me this explained everything.” you moved closer to Snatcher, showing him the needle. “Those needles beacons the inner energy from the core to areas where your core cannot access anymore.”

Snatcher looks closely at the device, his face is partly suspicious, party curious.

“So, what are you going to do?” he asks, concern filling his voice.

“This one is main needle, it receives the energy from the core and redirected it to smaller ones. It need to insert it close to your core as possible.”

“And by “inserting” you mean piecing it through my body?” Snatcher points out, wincing again.

“Oh…!” you didn't realise it, even though those things are literally big needles! You have you poke them through his outer energy layers. It’s gonna hurt! Unless…

You grab the book and flip through the pages to find anything about energoid’s anesthesia. Peck, you probably should have looked this up first to elevate his pain!

Soon you stumble across it.

“Anesthesia can be performed with various methods: using electromagnetic pulse, using any sense based magic spells or the patient themself can reach out for their core and temporarily shut down their senses.” you read it out loud.

You frown, you don’t have anything to produce EMP or know any magic spells...

“Snatcher, can you do it? I don't have anything else!”

“I have no idea!” he hissed again, both at pain and frustration.” I didn’t know I could do something like it,... but I guess I could try.”

He closed his eyes and concentrated. You sit in silence for a few minutes that seems like an eternity. Then Snatcher sighed heavily, shaking his head.

“You know what, do it now!” he suddenly said with resolve in his voice.

“What?!” you yelled, surprised by the volume of your voice.”But it’s gonna hurt! You are in pain already! Can you try aga—”

“We have no time, kid!” he interrupted you.” By the time I’ll figure this out, I’ll probably lose my arm or worse!”

You sniff as new tears are gathering in your eyes. You don’t wanna bring him any more pain, but you have no choice.

Snatcher moves his left hand, then places index finger on his chest, right below his mane. “Here.”

You’re holding the needle with both hands, gently placing it’s sharp tip on the spot and getting ready to push it inside. You look at Snatcher one more time. He slowly nods, bracing himself.

You took a deep breath and push...The needle didn’t go inside. You try a couple more times, but for unknown reason you don’t have enough strength to break thought surface tension. You growl in frustration as you keep trying. Snatcher moved his arm, hovering it close to the needle.

“Let me hel—AUGH!” he yelps.

“AGH!” you squeak.

The needle suddenly went inside, startling both of you. Only the crystal part remains outside. In second later it picked up onto Snatcher’s core energy, now the crystal is burning with blue flame.

“Snatcher, how are you?” we placed your hand on his forehead in an attempt to comfort him.

“I..well, I expected it to hurt a lot more to be honest.” Snatcher said with relief. The blue flame dancing on his chest, it looks so pretty! Curious, you carefully reached toward the flame, it’s so warm and it doesn't burn?!

“Yeah, the soul flame doesn't burn anything on it’s own. I need to will it into destruction.” he explained, noticing your puzzled expression.

You smile again, no wonder Snatcher’s hugs are so warm and nice.

Sadly, you are not done. You reach for the case, taking smaller needle into your hands.

“Now I need to insert small ones into your wounded parts…” you winced, looks at his oozing injuries.”It’s gonna hurt... a lot! ”

Your expression somber as you move to his right arm. Like before, you gently place it’s tip in top on wounded surface, but this time Snatcher gasped in pain. Again, you look at him in silent question if he’s ready.

“Do it kid.” he grimaces, bracing himself for the worst.

“I’m sorry, I will be quick!” you said and pushed the needle into his palm. It went inside much easier...But scream of pain shook the air in the bedroom. You turn around to see Snatcher squirming in pain, gasping for air. His tail hitting the floor with such force you feel it might break you if you’ll be in its way.

You quickly get up and rush to the left side, then you sat and hugged his head. He’s trembling like leaf in the wind, breathing heavily as you try your best to comfort him. In a minute he calmed down a bit, but his expression was filled with pain.

Peck, peck, peck! It was only one, but you have nine to go! This is gonna be absolue torture. You nuzzle his face, repeating “sorry” over and over.

“Ke...p goin…” he breathes, his voice shaking.

You stand up and take the entire case, walking to the right side again. You set case on the floor, taking the next one. You set it above where his wrist would be. Then push. You try your best to not listening to Snatcher's agonized wails and his tails smacking the floor. You wait for him to calm down before inserting another one. You kept repeating the same process, until you reached his shoulder. The next needle does in. Suddenly, you noticed how silent room was.

You eyes widened in fear, panic is filling your mind.

Did he died?!

No, if he died his body would disintegrate, leaving the empty core behind. You place your hand onto his chest to check the pulse. His core still beating, so he must have passed out from all this pain.

Poor Snatcher...but at least he won’t feel anything now.

With that you proceed to his right side, inserting remaining needles. When you finished, you stood up to take look at the whole thing. You can see the main needle burning bright. Small ones started to picking up the signal from it as well

Looks like it’s working! Now you have to wait, but for how long?

You walked to the book and open it again. Maybe there’s something you can do to speed the healing up.

The book says you can make it easier if you put the patient near their element or provide the right temperature.

Snatcher is fire based energoid. While you can’t put him in fire, you can surround him with warmth!

In few minutes, Snatcher was covered in multiple layers of warm blankets, only the top of his head and closed eyes are poking out of them.

That’s all you can do right now. Hoping for the best, you collapse into your bed, completely exhausted.

In the next two days, you kept checking on his arm. Healing is slow, but you can see that most of stagnated energy were renewed, filling cracked surface with yellow glow again. The cracks closest to the main needle are almost healed.

“Kid?” muffled voice got your attention. Snatcher was looking at you with sleepy eyes.

“Hey,” you said softly, moving closer to him.” How are you?”

“Better, it’s not hurting so much anymore.” he lets out a content sigh.

Yes, he is getting better, you can't help but smile widely

“That’s great!” you barely can hold your excitement, but do it anyway. You don’t want to overwhelm your friend.”You probably should go back to sleep.”

He sinks into blankets, then look at you again.

“I‘m hungry…” he mumbled, sounding embarrassed.

Oh...oh right, Snatcher needs energy from outside sources, especially now as he recovers from heavy damage. Yes, energy beings have to eat too. He eats souls right? But how you will get one? You don't want to go around and kill people to be honest, but what can you do?!

A sudden realization hits you...Snatcher used to be an organic lifeform before he become what he is now! You rush towards the table and spot another book, “Classification of Energoids”. Soon you’ve found an info that confirms your thoughts.

There is a specific type of energy beings, that used to be different lifeforms until they went into conversion. This process can be triggered by various reasons, mostly in order to survive.

Now to think about it, Snatcher, scientifically speaking , didn’t die in the cellar, but “evolved” or something like this. Same goes to other ghosts in Subcon: dwellers, who are energoids with outer cores; Snatcher’s minions - energoids wearing material shells; Vaneesa is like Snatcher as it seems.

All of them used to be different lifeforms!

One of the distinctive traits that those guys have is the fact they can keep relying on previous energy source after the conversion, despite being made of energy themselves.

That makes things much, much easier!

You close the book and run to the kitchen. You look for a pie that Cooking Cat made you for today in the morning. Quickly you take it and return to the bedroom. You offer it to Snatcher. Confused, his gaze darts between the pie and you.

“You can consume food!” you exclaimed happily!

“What? No way!” he looks at pie in disbelief, it smells delicious.” Is your smart alien books says so?”

“Yep. Try it!” you’re insist.

With a groan, he wiggles from the blankets and takes the pie from you. He hesitates for a bit before taking a bite. His eyes widen in surprise.

“Fhat’s delifious!” he spoke with mouthful of pie. You giggle at his reaction, looks like can feel it’s taste as well. Then he swallowed it and froze in place.

“Okay, that was weird!” he said, staring at the pie like it about to reveal all the secrets of the Universe.”It felt like it just turned into energy immediately...”

“Yeah, it’s because energy and matter are the same thing and convert into one another.” you explained.”So it’s totally normal!”

Snatcher shrugged and continued eating the pie.

“Isn’t this amazing, you don’t have to eat souls anymore!” you can’t resist but comment on this. That made Snatcher choke, even thought you have no idea how, but it happened!

“Is this what you planning, huh?! To turn me in your friendly neighborhood ghost?” he sounded irritated, but you can hear mirth in his voice. You start giggling, he’s such “soon-deh-ray”!

“First you infect me with morals, making me soft, now this!” he keeps complaining as he devours the rest of the pie while you’re laughing on the floor. You missed those interactions so much, you are glad he’s getting better.

After finishing the pie he falls back to sleep.

You keep repeating the same cycle for a week now. Once in two days Snatcher wakes up and eat the food you bring him, then falls asleep. He finally had bacon in centuries, that actually made him cry for a bit. Then he ate some of your food, surprisingly liking the tentacle burger. You brought him some food from the Metro as well.

Needless to say, when he discovered he can consume normal food, he became excited to taste something new! You can tell how much he missed eating normal food.

Even though now Snatcher don't know what to do with intruders. The food is more satisfying, he says he doesn't want to eat souls anymore. But still he doesn want intruders to walk around Subcon like they own a place!

“Oh, I know! You can make you contractors to bring you new food~!” you grinned at him, this plan sounds perfect to you!

“Of course, what if they’ll try to poison me?” he huffed in annoyance.

“Psssh, come on, Snatcher, anything converts inside you, even poison. It won’t affect you at all.” you’re giggling again. You can’t help, but his ignorance on this subject is so amusing sometimes.” Peck, you can even drink acid and you’ll be totally fine!””

“Language, young lady!” he said in stern fatherly tone. He is acting more like guardian rather than friend lately. That makes you happy, you don't have anyone to take care of you after all.

After a short pause he spoke again.“You know that’s actually good...even though I’m not sure if I ever be willing to find out what acid tastes like.”

You both burst into laughter.

You also didn't forget to drop in Subcon; making sure that this Moonjumper person isn’t tyrin to take over the forest, telling Snatcher’s minions that their boss is recovering and will be back soon. They were so happy to hear good news!

You woke up and stretch.

It’s been two more days after this fun acid conversation. Still in pajamas, you want to check on Snatcher. You have a feeling he’s gonna be fully healed soon.

You get up and see something that instantly wakes you up.

Snatcher is sitting on the floor, stretching his right arm! You don’t see any cracks anymore as he moves it freely. You noticed Beacon Needles being placed back into case- Snatcher must pulled them out himself.

Noticing your footsteps, he turned around to see you. His grinning at you.

“Hey, kiddo, check this out!” with those words he ignites his hand, brilliant blue soul fire is burning bright. He can use magic with this hand as well!

Snatcher is officially recovered from Stagnation!

You jump into his arms, he catches you and cradling you close to his chest. You both are hugging each other tight, relieved that this nightmare was finally over!

“Thank you so much!” he whispers into your ear as he affectionately caressed the back of your head.”I don’t know what I would do without you!”

“I’m so happy you’re okay!” you’re almost crying, nuzzling his neck.

You both sat like this for a while, then Snatcher pulled away bit. Then he pickled up “How to Treat Injuries and Sickness of Energoinds” from the floor.

“Can I borrow this book?” he asks, waving the book in his hand. “Looks like there is a lot of things I need to learn about myself.”

“Of course! And I can give you “Classification of Energoids” as well!” you beamed at him. Good thing you taught him your language.“Alright, let’s get some breakfast!”

“Yep.” he responded and placed the book on the table. Then he floated, still holding you in his hands, towards the kitchen.

Finally, both of you can relax.

#a hat in time #au of convergence #au of au yes #lol #my fanfics #snatcher #hat kid

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aliceslantern · 4 years

Text

Beyond this Existence: Atonement, chapter 5

Ansem always had a penchant for strays, so it's not at all surprising when he takes in the orphaned child Ienzo. The boy's presence changes everything, far more than Even is willing to admit. Ienzo's brilliance seems promising, but the arrival of a young Xehanort pushes the apprentices onto a dark, cruel, inhumane path which will affect the future of the World. And even once it's all over with--once Xehanort is dead--they still must pick up the pieces, forgive one another, find a way to atone for their atrocities, and struggle to accept the humanity which has been thrust upon them.

Or: Even's journey from BBS through post-KH3

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

“How is he? Has he yet stabilized?” He recognizes the deep voice almost instantly. Lexeaus. Ah. So I lived.

He can’t open his eyes, can’t, in fact, move at all. But the moment he’s conscious pain invades, his innards feeling vaguely liquified.

A second voice, hoarse, almost inaudible--”No. Not yet.”

“You needn’t speak, Ienzo. I know it’s still painful.”

Ienzo?

“I’m fine,” the second voice mumbles. He doesn’t sound fine; he sounds very ill, or worse. “You should--” A cough, one not full of phlegm but inflammation.

“You’ve been taking good care of me. I’m back on my feet. You, on the other hand, need to rest. And to avoid talking for a little while.”

“Okay.”

A warm hand grasps his wrist, taking his pulse. A pen scribbles numbers. He must've been given painkillers; he sleeps.

This time he's able to open his eyes.

He recognizes the space instantly; it's his old med bay, in Radiant Garden. Why on earth is he here, not in his sterile, pristine facilities at the castle?

Lexeaus had called Zexion Ienzo.

Oh dear.

Was it possible? Had they--regained hearts somehow? Had they found the answers in Kingdom Hearts? And how was he still so injured if it's been that long?

He hears the door creak and slits open his eyes.

He sees the boy--the young man--rummaging in his cabinets. He looks much the same as he ever did, though, he notes, the boy (Ienzo?) Is dressed in white, apprentice garb. The boy turns and Vexen quickly shuts his eyes again.

The boy clears his throat. "I'm not sure if you can hear me," he says, haltingly. His voice is much clearer, and certainly the same timbre as Zexion's, but it carries something soft and alive in it Vexen's never heard. "Even… it's me, Ienzo. I'm sure the old names are a shock to hear."

Old?

"We're human again. We found out… once a person’s Heartless and Nobody have been vanquished, they reform in the place they were split, whole. But with our Nobody's injuries. Which is why you're so hurt. I… I've no idea what truly happened to you, but you're rather unstable. You and Dilan both. But I'm tending to you."

Human?

"If you could speak… open your eyes… twitch your fingers… the EEG machines are broken and I've no magic. I'm not even sure you're in there."

Human and powerless.

"I--" He exhales thickly, and Even (the name fits again like a glove) realizes he's upset. Twelve years of emotion battering him, he presumes, child to adult in one instant. The concern wells up in him, consumes him; the pain sears him, and he's no idea whether or not it's physical.

---

Again, Even wakes. He can feel motion returning to him bit by bit, and he can close his fingers into weak fists. The physical pain is less potent now, but instead one thing floods him, sickly and constant.

Guilt. Rivers of shame, streams of remorse. Guilt for the way he stopped caring about Ienzo, guilt for all he did to the people of their experiments, agony about Ansem. Darkness can only excuse so much.

"Hi, Even."

Ienzo's back. Even can't bear to speak to him, though he's sure he can. He feigns unconsciousness, slitting his eyes open for glances of the young man.

Ienzo looks pale, thin, the boyishness gone from his face, but the change makes him look unhealthy. His hands, when they feel Even's pulse, are clammy, oddly warm without gloves. Even can't remember the last time he's actually seen them. He's aching to look the boy in the eyes. He chances it, once, while Ienzo fusses with the bandages on his chest; gone are Zexion's steely, empty blue eyes. The humanity is back, soft, opening.

He can tell from a glance that Ienzo is in agony.

More horrifying yet, he can just see below Ienzo's collar when he leans over--thick bruises surround his windpipe, along with an angry red scar.

He'd had difficulty speaking.

Who dared do this to him?

Unconsciously, the boy pulls his collar up. Even forces his eyes shut. "I'm afraid there's a lot to catch you up on," Ienzo says in that same frighteningly gentle tone. He explains about Xehanort, about the time travel, about the vessels, the hearts the Nobodies are regrowing, the Organization's real goal, the Keyblade War from the old times. "I… I could really use your help, Even. I know I was so dreadfully cold to you. I… I am sorry. You were always kind to me when I was small. You were there when Master Ansem was not--" His voice catches. "Excuse me, I am feeling unwell."

Even hears him sit and chances another look. Ienzo sits with his head in his hands, rocking slowly, trying not to cry.

No, boy, cry. It's alright.

"I… forgot how much this hurts," he says, with a dark laugh. "I am… so unsure of who I am… you'd doubtless find it fascinating. Can you imagine the psychological journals, Even? What happens when you try to give a twenty-year-old man an eight-year-old's heart?" A sob. "I'm so sorry. I… am trying to pull myself together. They need me. But I could never let them see me like this."

Cry it out, little one.

For a time, Ienzo does just that, a sound that makes Even's heart (heart) ache, triggering another vein of remorse.

I should have protected you.

"I'm sorry," he repeats. Even shuts his eyes again. He feels Ienzo take his hand. "This is most unbecoming, isn't it? I bet you'd say I'm making a disgrace of myself. I have to… check on some things. Get some rest."

For a long while Even lies reeling. His physical pain lessens into a throb, while his heart seems to grow heavier and heavier with regret, the I should'ves and that's my faults. Ienzo and Ansem take center stage, his abuse and dishonesty towards them pounding in time with his heart.

Ienzo comes and goes every few hours. Even is too much of a coward to talk to him.

"It's… bizarre," the boy says. "Your body… is healed. Why aren't you awake?" Even hears a click, sees bright light; he wills himself to flinch as little as possible as the boy forces his eyes open. "Even, if you're pretending, it's alright. We can work through this."

Don't move. Don't move.

"If only we had a replica for you… or one in general…"

Why do they need one?

"I miss my old friend. Come back soon."

He's gone again, and Even aches for him. The loneliness is nearly as potent as the guilt.

He can't lie like this forever. He needs to make a decision, needs to talk to the boy, needs to begin to figure out where to go from here--

"You're so full of shit."

It's the voice that startles him. Braig. Of course the man is back too. He opens his eyes. Unlike Ienzo, he's in the Organization coat still.

The true vessels.

The fool.

Even stares at him. "Is there a reason you're here?" His voice is hoarse from disuse, but clearer than he thought. "Perhaps to put an old man out of his misery?"

Braig smirks. "You wish," he says. "I've been watching these tender scenes play out between the two of you. Who thought Ienzo would be such a softie? To think, he was wanted."

"By Xehanort, I presume?" He spits.

"Who else?" Xigbar shrugs. “He's good. So quickly. A heart and instantly everything changes. But there's no point getting rid of him. Xemnas is sentimental. Who would’ve thought?"

So callous. Even scowls.

"How's humanity feel?" he asks, with a smirk. "You look like death. Bet you feel like it too."

"Is there a reason you're here?" he repeats.

"Let's just say I have a proposition for you." He scowls a little. "We could use you. He could use you."

A spark, an idea. "Why should I? What do you have to offer me?"

"We're closer than ever to Kingdom Hearts. If that doesn't intrigue you, I don't know what will." Xigbar comes closer, his footsteps almost silent. "Would you rather stay here? Crappy place, overworked and underappreciated… reminders of the past everywhere. Doesn't it just hurt. "

He has to restrain himself from rolling his eyes.

"If you can barely look at Ienzo…" He clucks his tongue. "Why don't you think about it? I got the impression you never liked humanity anyway."

"Nor you," Even says softly. "This life just doesn't suit creatures like us."

Xigbar smirks and disappears into a dark corridor.

---

An idea comes to him slowly, fettered by guilt and headaches, and Ienzo's surprisingly loose tongue. Zexion was verbose but careful; Ienzo talks almost constantly, with little ability to stop himself.

"I'm… almost at my wit's end," the boy admits. "I'm inundated by what we did… I knew it, factually, but Zexion made my memories so cold. To feel it…" He rumples the curtain at the window. Even's glad he doesn't look at him; it means he can watch him. "How could we? I… I don't understand how we made the leap. Was it all the influence of Xehanort, or darkness? Why did they let me--do this?"

The weight of it might just choke him. They'd started this darkness, made it spread faster than it would've naturally; they upended a balance just to see what would happen, with little care who or what was lost.

I took an oath.

Even's a bloody hypocrite.

"I've been trying to help them," Ienzo says. "Sora, the restoration committee. They've been so terribly gracious about it. It truly is the least I can do. I've given them everything that I had, but you classified and encrypted so much. They have a right to know what really happened. Maybe if they know… their outside perspective can help us put a stop to it. I… wish you were here, Even. There's so much you never told me, things that could be of use. We… need a light. I don't understand a whit of your research, the small bits I've managed to decrypt. I wonder if this reformation process has given me some form of brain damage." A wry laugh. "These emotions do make me feel… much clumsier. Doesn't help I've been using you as a captive audience. But the others… truly cannot understand what it is I'm going through. I wish I were able to find it fascinating. Mostly it is hampering my ability to be of use."

He's silent a long time. When he speaks again, it's much more quietly, to himself. But Even's always had good hearing.

"If I can break the code… find Roxas… it could change everything. But the bodies… I need to know what Even knew."

He hears Ienzo leave. Slowly, Even sits up. He feels weak from being so still for so long, but otherwise functional.

It all makes sense. Everything.

Yes. This would be how he can atone.

---

Xigbar returns soon after. Even's already sitting waiting for him. "I'll go," he says tiredly. "Seems to be the only way to further my research. I've no need for such... paltry emotions."

Xigbar's grin is killer.

---

The transformative process is just as painful the second time. Again the emptiness. He feels his mind wander, tempted again by darkness, by the ability to set bonds aside, but he reigns himself in each time. Thinking of Ienzo, his devastation, of his betrayal of Ansem's trust. He doesn't feel quite hurt anymore, but it weighs heavily on his conscience. No matter.

He can fix this. He will fix this. No matter the cost.

He acquiesces to the New Organization’s demands, because they, too, need replicas. All the more excuse to perfect what he knows, to leave the most flawless in stock for Roxas and for Xion--though he can barely remember the latter. All he has of it-- her --are his own reports. But if she were with Roxas long enough, she’ll be important. More convenient yet, Xemnas wants her, her easy mimicry of power.

There are too many familiar faces in this New Organization--Organization Rehash, Larxene calls it, and Vexen can’t help but agree. Xigbar, Saïx, Xemnas, the four neophytes.

Saïx is initially welcoming to him, and visits him again.

“To what do I owe the pleasure,” Vexen says evenly.

“I wonder if you feel it too,” the man says.

“Feel what, nostalgia? That’s all this Organization is.”

“You gave up your new life. That says a lot about you. Was this truly about research?”

Vexen turns, sorting the lies he could tell.

Saïx knots his hands. “I gave mine up too.”

Vexen rolls his eyes, turning back to the new replicas, still forming in their chambers. “Yes. And?”

“I wish to… put an end to this nonsense. I sense you may feel the same.”

Vexen looks at him, his gold eyes (so like Vexen’s own, now--he tries not to think about it more than necessary) somewhat unreadable. Is this a trick? Are they trying to lure him out?

Saïx leans in a little, drops his voice. “Let me help you,” he says softly. “Together, we can put an end to this Organization.”

Vexen feels the gut punch; caught. Yet, he reads earnestness in Saïx’s tone.

“You were once my teacher,” he continues. “I know what you’re capable of, and vice versa. I think--if we’re careful and clever--we can give the other side what they need.”

“How am I to know you won’t merely turn me in to Xehanort?”

“It matters not to him whether you fill out the ranks so long as he gets his bodies. Not since you and Demyx have been… ah… retired. He’s spread himself too thin, shattering his heart so. He wouldn’t notice a thing.”

Vexen inhales.

“I don’t want to be this way. I don’t want this to be my legacy. I’m sure you feel the same. We must end this suffering.”

“And how do you propose we do that?”

Saïx smiles. “Simple,” he says. “We do what he asks--and have a third party ferry a replica over to Radiant Garden. One whose movements are hardly ever noticed--because that’s the way he likes it.”

Vexen has an idea where this is going. “...Do I even want to know who you have in mind?”

The smile becomes even larger.

---

Demyx agrees to meet him in Radiant Garden. To be so close to Ienzo but unable to contact him is a sensation that sits oddly in his breast. Vexen explains it as simply as possible, but Demyx’s reaction is relatively theatrical.

“What? ” He’s making much too much noise--Vexen clamps a hand over his mouth.

“Quiet, you dunce,” he hisses.

Demyx swats his hand away. “But dude, why would you pick me?”

“I cannot let the chosen catch wind of this, understand?”

Immediately he gets defensive. “Oh, I see, it’s because I got benched.”

This is more frustrating than he could have hoped. His tone is much shorter, and louder, than he intended. “I got “benched” too.”

“What! Hey, quiet.” Now it’s Demyx’s turn to try to silence him.

They both look around and see nothing, though admittedly this is meaningless. Vexen turns away, trying to think.

“Okay, man, look. Real talk? Backstabbing those guys would be stupid.”

Vexen rolls his eyes. As if this life is truly worth anything.

“If they find out, we’re yesterday’s toast. I mean, what’s in it for me?”

Vexen wonders if this angle is the right one. “Forgiveness.”

He seems genuinely surprised. “Huh? For what?”

“Men like us--in the pursuit of science, we sometimes make terrible mistakes. Lose sight of our mission to help people. But now I can help someone with my research. Now, I can atone.”

The boy’s been listening with interest, a calculating gleam in his eyes. But what he says next is only further disappointment. “I’m not a scientist.” He turns to leave, with a dismissive wave.

Something very like panic overtakes him--if the chosen heard of this--”Wait, wait, wait!” He grabs Demyx’s shoulder. The younger man shrugs him off with ease.

“C’mon, dude. I’m useless, I’m chicken, we’re not friends. I can count the amount of times we’ve hung out on one hand--less than one hand. I didn’t even know you in the old life!”

Enough of this. For a moment, Vexen wishes he had more patience with Demyx in the past, if only to make this encounter easier. “Fine, fine. But listen.” He pulls the boy close. “This is Saïx’s doing.”

Demyx’s eyes widen almost comically. “Huh? No way.”

Good. He has his interest. “It’s true. The whole thing was his idea.”

“Huh… no fucking way…”

“He wants to atone too. But, he is one of the chosen, so his hands are tied. Hence my actions on his behalf, hence my need for you to act on my behalf should all go awry.” He’s listening intently, Vexen notes. He could use Xehanort’s callousness towards Demyx to his advantage. “As you said, we are far from friends. No one would ever suspect you.”

“So I’m not doing any fighting?”

“Correct. And more importantly, no benchwarming.”

He smiles, and Vexen knows he’s won. “Yeah baby! Sign me up! Yes! Demyx time.”

Vexen sighs heavily. This certainly would be interesting.

---

He’s more than a little alarmed when he catches wind that the “chosen” are seeking Ansem. Apparently, the man’s been spotted in Twilight Town. Xehanort’s Heartless intends on intercepting him. The man is too dangerous.

Vexen doesn’t hesitate. He’s abandoned Ansem once; never again.

He’s been mostly ambivalent to his status as a Nobody, but it does grant him a certain strength he didn’t have before. He’s able to stop Xehanort’s Heartless, to let Ansem escape. It comes to him, in a flash--the chosen hardly ever watch him, now that they’ve gotten their bodies--perhaps he could let Ansem know, to get the word back to Ienzo and the others. Perhaps he and Demyx could rendezvous, with the replica. Ienzo would need his help. Doubtless the reunion would be… dramatic, but he knows the boy is capable of completing the task at hand.

It’s time to shore up. Time to stop being a coward. Time to apologize.

But he is glad that, as a Nobody, he cannot feel much.

Ansem looks as though he’s aged much, much more than twelve years, despite the fact that he could not age in the realm of darkness; it seems as though there are many more years between them than merely five. He’s with some teenagers, those friends of Roxas, those assisting, albeit in a very tertiary manner.

Even struggles to find the words, to assuage them all he means no ill will. “My dear Master,” he says slowly. “You are safe.” It’s a lame, tone-deaf beginning. Because they are anything but.

“Who’s there?” one of the teenagers yells.

In a shockingly even-keeled voice, Ansem asks, “Even, is that you?” A beat. His expression barely changes, all coldness and indifference--not that Vexen anticipated anything more. “So, those Nobodies were your doing.”

Vexen lets the Dusks appear. Then, very deliberately, he bows. “I have been waiting for this,” he admits. “Gave up a normal life in order to plant myself in the Organization. And when I heard Xehanort had gone looking for you, I realized it was my chance to find you as well.” And keep you safe. “For you see, I, too, wish to atone.”

Ansem’s expression is closely guarded, but he very nearly smiles. “Is that so?” he asks slowly.

“How could I not? To be human for those days again… made it all so real.”

The teenager who’d yelled gave him a once over. “You’re one of them, aren’t you,” he spits. “Sora told us about you.”

Vexen ignores him. “I wish to help. I… realize you have no reason to trust me.” He chances taking a few steps forward. “I also realize any apology I offer could never possibly be enough.”

Ansem is silent for several moments. “Am I not at fault, as well?” he asks.

“You…” He wants nothing more for these teenagers to disappear. “You still didn’t deserve the fate you received.”

His eyes are empty--so empty. He turns to the children. “Thank you for all your help, but this man will not harm me. Come, Even. Apparently we have much to discuss.”

Vexen wills the Dusks to disappear. They walk for a long time in silence, the two of them, in this perpetual sort of twilight.

“We cannot return to the mansion. It’s being watched for now,” Ansem says. “Keep your voice low.”

“We seek to take down the new Organization,” he says. It’s beyond odd to be this close to him.

“We?”

“Myself. The man you knew as Isa.”

Ansem smirks. “And how do you propose to do this?”

“In these intervening years… I did perfect the replica program. More or less.” He doesn’t feel pride any longer. “We have a… third party willing to deliver one directly to Radiant Garden, for Roxas’s heart. To Ienzo.”

Ansem’s calm exterior slips, for just a moment. “How… is my boy?”

“I did not see him for very long,” Vexen says. “He is… well. Whole again.”

“You hesitate.”

“Of course I do.” He takes a breath. “He’s received his humanity after years of numbness. The adjustment… I fear it’s not been easy. But I have faith. His brilliance has only grown with him.” He sighs. “With this replica, and our ally, I wish that you, Master, will go to him.” Ansem says nothing; his face is stony. “I realize the feelings you have are complicated. But he needs someone to help him, and I must keep my cover.”

“...Yes. Quite.” He nods. “However could I face that poor boy?”

“With the warmth and grace you’ve always had,” Vexen says softly. “Once this is all over… humbly, I would like to return as well.” If he survives the process. “That is, if you’ll have me. I wish to do nothing more than to ease the pain I’ve caused. I should like to regain your trust.”

Ansem nods once. “This is a good start.”

---

It pains him, to not be present for all this, but his own feelings and notions are irrelevant. He dresses the replica in a coat to protect it, wraps it up further in a blue blanket--almost like an infant.

Demyx arrives--on time, for the first instance that Vexen’s ever witnessed. “So, here we go, right?” He’s smiling.

“...Quite.” He touches Demyx’s shoulder. “I must… thank you for doing this.”

He shrugs. “I’ve been thinking about it. It’s not right for Xehanort to use us for his own stuff, you know? It kinda bites.”

Vexen chuckles. “Indeed. I’m afraid I must ask one more thing of you.”

He rolls his eyes, but his tone is affable when he says. “For pete’s sake, what now?”

“You and I must lie low, once this is through. We must wait and hope for Xehanort’s defeat.”

Demyx glances down at the replica, in its swaddling. “...And then what?”

“Whatever you like, I suppose.”

He bites his lip. “Yeah… that might be nice.” He hefts the replica over one shoulder. “This thing is hollow, huh?”

“Not for long. You know where to go?”

“Yeah, get the old man. I hear you.”

Vexen sighs. “Good luck, Demyx.”

For just a moment, before he disappears into darkness, Demyx smiles, and it’s the most genuine expression Vexen’s ever seen him wear. “You, too.”

---

He can’t be certain that Ienzo receives the replica, can’t chance checking. He goes to an anonymous world, hides in the wilderness. He waits, and to a degree he prays. Weeks pass. He wonders if he should chance contact, should see how things have gone--between Ienzo and Ansem, and along with Dilan and Aeleus, there shouldn’t be any issues with the procedure.

Then he feels an ache in his heart--the heart he doesn’t quite have. The piece of Xehanort. Without hesitating, he returns to Radiant Garden, knowing that he will not have the ability to travel for long.

Because it’s withering, and dying; he can feel the sickly pain, the feverishness, inexplicable agony in his whole body. It must’ve worked. They must’ve beat Xehanort.

It’s all over. At last.

#beyond this existence: atonement #even (kingdom hearts)#vexen #ienzo #aeleus #ansem the wise #demyx #beyond this existence #xigbar #saix

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imhereforbvcky · 6 years

Text

Make Me Believe - Part 7

Senior Year: F is for Finals and Feelings and Failure

Masterlist - Series Masterlist - Part 6 - Part 8

Summary: You keep meeting Bucky Barnes in unexpected places around campus and he keeps acting like you know each other, like you’re dating. As your friendship grows, you find yourself wishing he’d do more than pretend.

Warnings: swearing, drinking, 2 idiots doing their idiot routine

Word Count: 1900

Bucky dragged you down the block with your arm locked under his as you approached the club. The thundering music reached your ears long before you spotted the serpentine queue of patrons waiting to slip inside.

“Bucky, no,” you groaned.

You were not a huge fan of clubs, generally, but this club in particular was at the bottom of your list. It was flashy and gimicky, and way too expensive. Worse yet, every other night was a theme night, each one more ludicrous than the last.

“Oh yes,” he chuckled, holding your arm tighter and pushing forward. “It’s perfect. It’s too laughable to take seriously. We need to lighten up. This is our new friend-date spot.”

You sighed, ceding the point. One more night. “What’s the theme tonight?”

“Tight and bright,” he grinned, spinning you with a flourish out from your spot tucked into his side. Suddenly the vibrant outfit made perfect sense. Your brightest yoga pants fit right in with the line ahead and the light sweater Bucky had picked was already glowing violet under the club's ultraviolet haze.

“How come you’re not in dress code?,” you demanded as you came to a stop outside the door. With tequila still heavy on your tongue and buzzing in your fingertips and toes, you nearly stumbled into him.

“Don’t need to. How many times have I told you, make friends with bouncers.”

“Uh never? You said bartenders.”

“Okay fine, befriend b-people. Bouncers, bartenders…” he trailed off, trying to think of another.

“And Buckys,” you smirked, tapping his nose with the tip of your finger.

He laughed and took your hand before stepping to the door. The bouncer knew him immediately and they shared a short, loose hug and a few casual words. After a quick scolding about dress code, he let the both of you through.

It was like stepping through the wardrobe into Narnia. If only Narnia was a bad 80’s fantasy. The lights were dim and there was artificial fog rolling low on the floor. Brightly colored laser lights flashed across the room in erratic patterns. Everything was plastic and fiber optic.

Exactly how you remembered it: flash and gimmick.

The patrons wore very little, thin and short neon spandex dresses, tight denim in light washes that glowed violet under the blacklight. The staff wore even less, illuminated by the glow of the bar, or the play of light off the fog. One bartender leaned forward with a tall royal blue drink complete with swirly straw and a bright red maraschino cherry.

Another wandered past in roller skates and spandex shorts, holding a tray of jello shots. He stopped and offered one to you and Bucky. You reached for your wallet, but before you could withdraw the cash, Bucky had embraced the man and stood laughing over something shouted in his ear over the rumble of the club.

“Don’t worry about it, honey,” the man waved you off before disappearing into the crowd.

“You really do know everyone.”

He shrugged and guided you deeper into the fray where you danced and drank until you forgot every last one of the million reasons you shouldn't.

After a full night of sugary drinks in jello cups and fake syringes and plastic test tubes, the pair of you were beyond drunk. You stumbled into the cool night air, tucked under Bucky’s arm, nearly doubled over laughing. You’d danced and laughed and drank until you were dizzy and couldn’t tell which of those three was the reason.

“‘M tired, and it’s so hot. ‘M skipping my run with Steve tomorrow,” Bucky slurred as you pointed down the sidewalk in the direction of his apartment.

“Tha’s fair,” you agreed, “Think I sweat off more per ounce than I drank.”

Bucky snorted his disagreement. “We had a lott of jello shots. Jello’ssstill alcohol.”

“But I dinn’t drink it; I ate it,” you argued, stumbling into his side. “‘Cause it’s a solid.”

“Is it?” His face scrunched up in thought. It made you giggle and want to lean up on your toes and kiss his crinkled nose. “Or is it a non-newtonian fluid?”

“Nooo, ‘cause issa square.”

“Oh yeah,” he frowned.

“C’mon, engineer, you should know this!” you teased, pinching his side.

He laughed and folded over, dragging you down too with his weight across your shoulders. This was where your heart lightened, where it became so difficult to let go. The laughter came easy and the trepidation faded to a shadow with every squeeze of your shoulders, the warmth of his laughter in your ear.

“Notthat kind,” he defended. “Mechanical doesssn’t care ‘bout jello. But Tony would know!” he lit up with excitement. “Let’s call Tony!”

“Bad idea, Bucky!” You snatched the phone from his clumsy fingers and smiled softly at his pouting. “It’ss 1:30 in the morning an’ you’re gunning for an internship at his dad’s company.” You pointed at his chest with a clumsy jab. “Plus, you know I’m right.”

“You’re so smart,” Bucky mumbled, squeezing you tight to his side. He kissed the top of your head and you laughed, too drunk to be upset, too happy to realize you should know better.

You really should know better.

Surely, this was merely the high before the next crash that would break your heart all over again.

“Я тебя люблю,” he muttered against the crown of your head. (I love you.)

“Hmm?” you giggled.

“Но ты мой друг,” (But you're my friend.) he complained dropping his cheek against your hair. “Но ты больше чем просто друг.” (But you're more than just a friend.)

This was how you knew Bucky was well and truly drunk. He had a penchant for languages that astounded you. There was no foreign language requirement for an engineering degree, but Bucky had somehow managed to take on three, that you knew of. Meanwhile you and Steve struggled through French together, barely remembering simple verb conjugations while Bucky was nailing case endings in multiple alphabets. Clever bastard.

“Bucky I can’t understand you,” you chuckled as you made it to his doorstep.

“Что мне делать?” he asked, warm palms braced against your cheeks. (What should I do?)

It felt clumsy and strange but the way he was staring at you, had your brow furrowed, trying to see. Confused and drunk and entranced you shook your head slowly, trying to convey again that you couldn’t understand a word he said.

He looked down at you with big serious eyes and a deepening frown. There was a strange sadness to the turn of his lips and the softness in his eyes. As if, by shaking your head, you'd answered his question without meaning to or even knowing how.

“Но я думаю... я влюблен в тебя.” (But I think… I'm in love with you.)

You pursed your lips, watching the odd play of earnest feeling and drunken glassiness dance across his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re saying, Buck. Let’s just get you into bed.”

Upstairs, Natasha woke to the shuffle of clumsy drunken feet and the hush of giggling voices below Steve’s window.

“Everything okay?” Steve asked, seeing her shift upright and peer out the window, down onto the stoop where you and Bucky approached the apartment Bucky shared with Steve.

She sighed but didn’t lay back down, watching, listening. “Our idiots are here,” she whispered.

“They patched things up; that’s a good thing,” Steve mumbled. He winced at the light from his phone as he checked the time. “Bucky’s been a pain in the ass for weeks.”

“It’s not a good thing for her,” Natasha complained. She remained pressed to the window, listening, making sure they made it inside when she heard it. Bucky and his stupid mouth. She froze for a moment. “ ‘M gonna kill ‘em both.”

The following morning Bucky stumbled out of bed with the acidic bite of nausea on his tongue and the pulse of a hangover deep in his skull.

His first coherent thought was, Never again. Followed quickly by, How the hell did I get home?

He finally made his way downstairs, still scrubbing the water from his freshly showered hair. Steve stood across the counter from Natasha. Bucky didn’t bother to greet either on his path to the coffee pot.

“You seen Y/N?” he asked as he poured a cup. “Thought she would’ve stayed here last night.”

His eyes flicked up to his friends and he finally registered the hostility brewing icy and dark. Natasha stood resolute. Her glare beat against him like an early winter’s sleet.

“She slept on the couch, I think,” Steve explained around a mouthful of oatmeal. “Left an hour ago. Not even she can withstand the wrath of Romanoff for that long.” He grinned, clear blue eyes darting to his partner’s. She didn’t spare him so much as a glance for his playful jab.

“Ты идиот,” (You’re an idiot.) Natasha seethed quietly before taking a quick spoonful of grapefruit.

“What?” Bucky returned her glare.

“У тебя есть чувства к ней.” (You have feelings for her.)

“What are you talking about,” Bucky focused too closely on his cup.

Natasha rolled her eyes and let the spoon fall heavily onto the edge of her plate. Its loud clank rang through the apartment like a shot.

“You know exactly what I'm talking about,” she leveled at him. “She might not understand your second hand Russian but I do.”

“I don't even remember coming home so…”

She only glared. Not accepting his excuses, however true they may be. You don’t fall in love with someone over one drunken night. To her, the pertinent facts remained unchanged. He was lying and they both knew it.

She hadn’t so much as mentioned his return the night before; he did because he knew exactly what she was talking about.

“I thought you weren’t going to interfere?” Steve smirked, leaning his hip on the counter.

Her sharp gaze snapped to Steve for a moment before she finally pointed an angled hand toward Bucky in frustration. “He’s in love with her.”

Steve laughed while Bucky sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead, too hungover to parry this attack.

“Well obviously. Have you seen them together?” Steve chuckled between sips of black coffee. “They’re like an old married couple. Best friends my ass.”

“You have to tell her,” Natasha scowled at Bucky.

“I have to tell her nothing,” he sighed, leaning his head back against the wall with his eyes closed.

“But you’ll say it in a thousand ways she can’t understand? Confusing the both of you? Keeping her close enough to make you feel just good enough? You never say what’s important when it counts, do you.”

“I tried! She’s with that Quill guy!” Bucky defended. “If I tell her now I’m just the asshole who poisoned that and ruined this.” He gestured to himself, shaking his head in defeat.

“Идиот.” (Idiot.) Natasha shook her head with a deep frown while Bucky threw his hands out in frustration. “Bы оба” (Both of you.) “He broke up with her at the end of last term, Bucky!”

Even hungover as hell and stinging from the pain of this conversation, his attention snapped at her revelation.

“What?” he rasped. “Why didn’t she tell me? What happened?”

“You, Bucky.” The crease in Natasha’s brow deepening as she wondered how he could be so goddamn dense. “She wouldn’t give you up.”

Next Chapter >>

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky college au #bucky fanfic #make me believe 7 #mmb 7

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jjongorable · 6 years

Text

Love Untouched

pairing: OT6 rating: PG-13 word count: ~6.6k written for dyNamite fic fest

Hakyeon doesn’t want to let the years to go to waste. But if the other members decide they don’t want to be with him anymore, then who is he to hold on to something already gone?

ao3

The way Hakyeon kept his hands tightly clasped behind his back was unusual but not enough to make Sanghyuk think anything was wrong. Neither was the way he took three large, unnecessary steps to avoid bumping into Jaehwan who was entertaining Wonsik with a poor imitation of some actress or other.

It wasn't until a few days later, when Sanghyuk caught Hakyeon's hand hovering over a sleeping Hongbin’s head in his lap, that he had a passing thought that maybe something was a bit off. But it was gone as quick as it took for Taekwoon to come plop himself in Sanghyuk's lap and softly demand his full attention. Then, Sanghyuk's caught up in small lips and strong thighs, only thoughts of Taekwoon's tongue travelling places it probably shouldn't pushing out any worries he might have had before. Sanghyuk can only concentrate on so much at one time, and Taekwoon likes to give his all.

...

It's late when Sanghyuk comes home one day to Hakyeon alone in the kitchen. He's shirtless and glaring at a pot on the stove. Sanghyuk just came from exercising and he's hungry and worked up and Hakyeon’s back muscles are contracting in all the ways that Sanghyuk loves to run his hands over just to feel how Hakyeon moves. Sanghyuk makes his way towards him silently, coming right up behind him before speaking.

“Smells good.” Hakyeon's startled jump is almost satisfying enough to Sanghyuk, but he still expects more as Hakyeon turns around to glare at him.

“It's just boiled water.” Hakyeon responds, and Sanghyuk wants so bad to kiss the confused frown off his face but he takes a step away from Sanghyuk, turning away to open the spice cabinet.

“I didn't mean the food, hyung.” Sanghyuk lowers his voice to a level where Hakyeon would have to be incredibly dense not to know what he’s getting at. But Hakyeon is anything but stupid.

Sanghyuk comes up again, wraps an arm around Hakyeon’s waist and pulls him till there’s not even a centimeter of space between their two bodies. He relishes in the way Hakyeon melts into his chest, a small sigh escaping his lips. He’s cute like this, somehow tiny against Sanghyuk’s larger form.

“How was your day?” It's Sanghyuk's roundabout way of asking if there's anything wrong as he feathers light kisses up and down Hakyeon’s bare neck. He rests his lips just over Hakyeon’s pulse and feels it beating just a little too quick. It’s the reaction he wants.

There’s a strain in Hakyeon’s voice as he tries to answer. Perfect. “It was fine. I finished my schedule early.” Sanghyuk brings a hand up to brush through Hakyeon’s hair. It’s still wet from the shower he must’ve taken when he got home. “No one else is home yet so I thought I'd start dinner.”

“Or,” Sanghyuk stops messing with Hakyeon’s hair and trails his hand down his arm instead, lets Hakyeon’s disappointed whimper soak into every pore of his skin. “You can let everyone make their own meals when they get here.” Sanghyuk knows he’s got Hakyeon in the headspace he wants as he whispers in his ear, making sure his breath hits all the right places that will make Hakyeon turn around and finally kiss him breathless.

But Hakyeon coughs in an effort to clear his throat and steps out of Sanghyuk’s reach. “No, I don't mind.” He’s pointedly avoiding Sanghyuk’s eyes and focuses intently on the pot of water on the stove.

“Hyung – ”

“Jaehwan will be home soon.” Sanghyuk hears the intent in the hardness of Hakyeon’s voice, but he doesn’t want Jaehwan. He wants Hakyeon, and he can’t keep his lips from forming a pout that Hakyeon can’t even see.

“You should go shower.” It sounds less like a suggestion and more of an order to Sanghyuk and his pout deepens. He doesn’t keep the whine out of his voice either when he says ‘okay’ and saunters out of the kitchen.

Sanghyuk didn’t want to wait for Jaehwan to get home. Especially not when his body still wanted Hakyeon. The memory of his bare back flush against Sanghyuk's chest remained and the sound of his soft whines still echoed in Sanghyuk's ears as he lets the hot water help him relieve his tension.

Sanghyuk makes sure to make his moans extra loud for Hakyeon. And when he comes out to find Hakyeon sitting on their couch, a pillow pressed firmly in his lap and his face flushed, that’s when Sanghyuk really lets it settle that there might be a problem.

***

Taekwoon fold his arms and stares at Wonsik from across the room with a look he hopes shows that he saw what happened and that he is unimpressed.

Hongbin pokes at Taekwoon’s elbow, making him drop his gaze. Hongbin’s eyes are wide, but it’s not like this is anything new. Quite frankly, Wonsik’s antics at interviews have gotten old and he really should know better.

“Did you see that?” Hongbin whispers and he almost sounds like he’s in disbelief. Which is odd to Taekwoon, because if anyone would be understanding of Wonsik’s ways it’s Hongbin.

Taekwoon looks away and tries to catch Wonsik’s eyes again. More glaring is in order. “I did.”

“Why would he –”

“I don’t know.” Taekwoon run his hand through his hair and stand up a little straighter, full height to make himself more intimidating. “I’m gonna go check on Hakyeon. You go find out what turned that idiot stupid today.” Taekwoon jerks his head in Wonsik’s direction before heading to the restroom. It’s where Hakyeon choked out he was going when the director told them they’d be taking a five-minute break.

It’s been three minutes since and he still hasn’t returned which is not a good sign. Meanwhile, Wonsik is joking with Jaehwan and the MC as if he wasn’t just the biggest ass of the day.

“Fucking Wonsik.” Taekwoon mumbles, just as he reaches the door to the men’s restroom. He hesitates a bit, unsure in what state of despair he’s going to find Hakyeon. But after a second of reminding himself that he won’t know till he opens the door, he walks in.

Hakyeon is at the sink, washing his hands, seemingly fine. He jolts a little when he sees Taekwoon’s reflection in the mirror, but he smiles nonetheless. It’s his leader smile, the one he uses when he knows the members are worried about him. The one that makes them all worry more rather than less because they’ve been with Hakyeon long enough to know it’s bullshit.

“You know he didn’t mean it.” Taekwoon doesn’t want to beat around the bush and he knows Hakyeon understands what he’s talking about anyway with the way his smile falters and he ducks his head. “Wonsik just doesn’t think sometimes. Most times.”

That pulls a small laugh out of Hakyeon as he dries his hands and it makes Taekwoon’s heart a little lighter. When Hakyeon is close enough, Taekwoon reaches to stop him from walking out, pretends that he didn’t notice how Hakyeon made the tiniest movement to get away before allowing Taekwoon to kiss his forehead.

“I’m sorry he was an ass.” Taekwoon waits for Hakyeon to grab onto his elbow like he always does when they’re like this, but he doesn’t. He just steps back out of Taekwoon’s reach and tucks his hands behind his back.

“It’s fine, Taek. I get it.” Hakyeon doesn’t look him in the eyes as he rushes out the restroom door, Taekwoon at his heels.

“Get what?” Hakyeon walks back to his place on set, ignoring Taekwoon and plastering that beautiful fake smile back on his face. Taekwoon wants to hurl a bottle at his head.

“We’ll start again.” The director calls and Taekwoon is forced back to his place beside Hongbin who seems to have had much better progress with Wonsik by the look on his face. When the interviewer is focused on another member, Taekwoon turns to Hongbin.

“What did Wonsik say?”

“About what?” Taekwoon fixes him with a hard look and Hongbin starts, remembering at the moment what Taekwoon asked him to do. He looks at Taekwoon with pouty lips and wide eyes, already trying to weaken him to his apology. “I’m sorry, hyung. I forgot to ask.”

Taekwoon sighs. “Useless. All of you.” Useless Wonsik and his useless mouth saying useless things. And useless Hakyeon saying more useless things and then running away when Taekwoon asks him to explain himself. Useless Hongbin forgetting to do what Taekwoon asked him to do. Useless Jaehwan and Sanghyuk for not even being around. Useless. All of them.

“You don’t mean that.” As he speaks, Hongbin rests his hand on Taekwoon’s thigh just a little too high to be deemed as friendly if picked up by the cameras. Meanwhile, Taekwoon tries not to run his hands over his face, because he knows that would only upset the makeup artists. But he’s so frustrated he’s definitely going to have to find a way to release the stress. And he decides that Hongbin is going to help him.

“Yes, I do.” Taekwoon chides before placing a hand on Hongbin’s neck, squeezing just hard enough to make him squirm in his seat.

***

Jaehwan wakes the members up with a kiss every morning. And every morning he looks forward to hovering over Wonsik’s lips until the feeling of being watched wakes up his target, and arms are pulling Jaehwan down, and their lips meet in tiny chaste pecks. Jaehwan keeps them shallow and clean because he knows how much Wonsik likes to cuddle and go too far in the mornings. Even so, Jaehwan still loves waking him up first.

After Wonsik, it’s Sanghyuk, of course, same room privileges and all. But if it was up to Jaehwan, he would leave him for last. Because Sanghyuk is all heavy limbs and harsh teeth and tight grips in the morning, so by the time Jaehwan gets to move on he’s always sore in one place or another.

Then there’s Hongbin who, ninety percent of the time, is always up before Jaehwan, always in some state of half-readiness. Hongbin prefaces his kisses with a hug, makes sure Jaehwan is all warm and cozy and massages anywhere Sanghyuk might’ve gotten to. Jaehwan likes coming to Hongbin just after he’s showered, when his skin is still sticky with heat and the smell of his body wash is the strongest. He’ll kiss up Hongbin’s neck, breathing in his scent, before tracing his jawline up to his cheek and finally his lips. While Hongbin stays, hands kneading wherever he’s decided they’re needed and making sure Jaehwan feels taken care of.

When Jaehwan leaves Hongbin, muscles relaxed and mind more awake, he makes his way to Taekwoon’s room, almost always certain that he will have to prepare to use excessive measures. There’s nothing more Taekwoon hates than having his sleep disturbed, but Jaehwan believes he’s mastered the perfect way to alleviate Taekwoon’s displeasure upon awakening. It comes in the form of deft hands teasing at exposed skin and strategically placed limbs that prevent any moving that Jaehwan won’t allow. So that when Taekwoon finally peeks his eyes open and becomes aware, the first thing he registers is how he’s caught, and his only escape will be to promise, with slow, lingering, sleepy kisses, that he’ll get out of bed as soon as Jaehwan lets him free. Which he does, for the most part, because if he doesn’t then Jaehwan won’t ever get to Hakyeon.

Hakyeon, like Hongbin, is always bright and bushy eyed by the time Jaehwan comes in to finish his rounds. Jaehwan himself too, is as awake as he’ll ever get before noon. So, usually he greets Hakyeon with words instead of physical touch. It’s nothing more than a simple greeting and a report on how everyone else is. Hakyeon is most often at his desk flipping through his planner and paperwork only a leader would have to deal with. And Jaehwan likes to fit himself onto Hakyeon’s thighs and nuzzle into his warmth before Hakyeon draws him in to his favorite kiss of the morning. Hakyeon’s kisses are the validation and intense affection that Jaehwan only needs, only desires from Hakyeon. And Hakyeon’s hands are the most secure in the way they hold Jaehwan against his body and eases out the tension in the way Hongbin can’t.

Except today, Hakyeon isn’t even in his room when Jaehwan peeks his head through the door. A lazy search finds him sprawled across the common room floor, hands working to highlight something in his planner. This is a first.

“Hakyeon?” Jaehwan only gets a hum in response.

“What are you doing here?” Jaehwan tries to rub the last bit of sleep out of his eyes because Wonsik wasn’t particularly cuddly today, and Sanghyuk didn’t roughhouse him. Hongbin was rushing into the shower when Jaehwan came, and Taekwoon was extra compliant. So, in other words, Jaehwan didn’t get the morning awakening he was so used to, and this is only going to add to his strange reality warp. He’s accustomed to one person being out of character, but not all of them. And especially not Hakyeon.

“I just felt like it this morning.” Hakyeon answers, still not looking up from his planner, and Jaehwan starts to feel a craving for attention nagging at the back of his mind. He goes to sit next to Hakyeon’s feet on the floor, wiggles his heels a little. But Hakyeon continues studying his calendar and Jaehwan isn’t used to vying for Hakyeon’s attention and affection. “Is everyone else awake?”

“Yes.” Jaehwan watches Hakyeon for a bit before stretching out beside him, stomach up so that he can see Hakyeon’s face. “Hakyeon.” The whining slips into his voice partly because of his need and partly because he knows Hakyeon can’t refuse him then. But Hakyeon simply shifts to the left, putting more space between them before he looks at Jaehwan and raises a questioning eyebrow.

Jaehwan believes he’s an excellent reader of body language, but he doesn’t know what to do with the information his brain is trying to process as he leaves Hakyeon alone, without his good morning kiss.

All he can think is that there’s something wrong.

***

“Back already?” Bewildered, Hongbin pauses fixing the collar on his shirt and gives his full attention to Jaehwan, who’s standing in front of him again for some reason. “You usually take longer with Hakyeon.”

“I think something’s wrong.” Jaehwan mumbles and Hongbin immediately knows this is serious because Jaehwan’s voice is normal, not at all played up. Hongbin also notices that he’s shaking slightly, so he moves to take hold of Jaehwan’s shoulders, anchor him in some way.

“Wrong?”

“With Hakyeon.” Jaehwan starts wringing his hands together in the way he does whenever he’s thinking too hard about something. “He didn’t kiss me this morning. He moved away.”

“Maybe it’s just a bad morning.” Hongbin runs his hands down Jaehwan’s arms to grab hold of his hands, bends a little so that he can catch Jaehwan’s eyes. He can see that Jaehwan’s already far into his own mind.

“He wasn’t in his room where he knows I normally go to find him. And he was on the floor in the common room like he was hiding.” Hongbin nods when Jaehwan takes a breath during his rambling, even though he isn’t sure Jaehwan is even looking at him. His eyes are unfocused and staring beyond Hongbin’s shoulders. It’s concerning. “And when I found him he moved away.”

Hongbin nods again, keeps nodding because he doesn’t know what’s the right thing to say in the moment. “He’s allowed to want some space, Jae.” He throws out, unsure. The others don’t usually come to him with things like this. And what if there really is something going on with Hakyeon? How is Hongbin supposed to fix it? He feels like that’s territory for Taekwoon and, well, Jaehwan.

“But he would just say so. He normally just says so.” Jaehwan’s shoulders tense and he nods once, as if he’s made up his mind. “No. There’s something wrong.”

Hongbin sighs, soundlessly so that Jaehwan won’t hear. “I’ll ask Taekwoon about it later. Okay?” Hongbin catches Jaehwan’s eyes again, squeezes his hands. Jaehwan makes a noise of agreement, low and not at all convincing. So, Hongbin does all he thinks he can at the moment and pulls Jaehwan fully into his arms. Only once Jaehwan has stopped shaking does Hongbin speak again.

“We have a schedule.” He kisses the top of Jaehwan’s head as he steps back. “You need to go get ready.”

Jaehwan nods and turns to leave, but Hongbin moves faster to catch him at the door. Hongbin kisses Jaehwan deeply, more urgent than their regular morning one. When they pull apart, Jaehwan blinks up at Hongbin.

With a slight pat on the butt, Hongbin pushes Jaehwan out the door.

“To make up for Hakyeon,” He says and Hongbin considers it a win that Jaehwan leaves smiling.

…

Hongbin doesn’t talk to Taekwoon about it. But in his defense, he really had set out to clear up the situation, but Wonsik is a terrible distraction. Yes, it’s all Wonsik’s fault and his shiny new toys he’s always parading around the dorm. How was Hongbin going to stand even a small chance against the new desktop gaming system Wonsik shuffled in with later that day. It had Hongbin’s name written all over it, and when Wonsik had presented it to him, well, Hongbin is weak-minded it seems.

But really, he did try, and you can’t blame him that it ended up slipping his mind completely.

It’s not until he’s resting in his heat box of a room about four days later that Hongbin remembers, sort of.

Hongbin’s state of semi-consciousness is disturbed to full awareness when he hears heavy footsteps entering his room and feels a weight settle on his bed. Hongbin takes stock of how much the bed has dipped and guesses who his visitor is before they actually speak.

“Has Hakyeon been acting weird to you lately?”

Hongbin opens his eyes when Sanghyuk starts to knead the muscles in his legs. He almost doesn’t want to speak, just lie here and let Sanghyuk massage all his pain away. “Lately?”

“Like the past month or so?”

“I don’t know.” Sanghyuk makes his way up to Hongbin’s thighs and Hongbin’s sure that he’s one press away from moaning aloud. “I haven’t really seen him around too much.”

“Well, I think there might be something wrong,” Sanghyuk has stopped his ministrations, his hand stilled atop Hongbin’s knee. His voice has acquired a seriousness that has Hongbin’s whine of protest dying in his throat.

Something wrong? Hongbin racks his brain for where he has heard that exact phrasing regarding Hakyeon recently and he curses softly, sitting up fully to face Sanghyuk.

“Actually, Jaehwan came to me a few days ago talking about something being wrong with Hakyeon.”

“What did you think?”

“I just told him I’d talk to Taekwoon about it.”

“Did you?”

Hongbin runs a hand through his hair, frustrated at himself for letting this get away from him. “No. I forgot.”

Sanghyuk squeezes Hongbin’s knee, causing him to wince. “Dammit.”

Hongbin takes Sanghyuk’s hand in his, if only to get him to stop attacking his kneecap. “You said a month? This has been going on for a month?”

Sanghyuk nods, dropping his head to his chest. “At least.”

“Fuck.”

***

The first day Wonsik goes 24 hours without being the recipient of Hakyeon’s overly-affectionate touches, he’s apprehensive. He thinks there must be some grand scheme in the works. The last time this happened, it was around his birthday and everyone had started to ignore him so that he would think they had forgotten. Of course, he’d found them out soon enough and everything went back to normal. Which meant at least one member always had their hands on him at one moment or other. And by “at least one member,” Wonsik really just means one member. And by “one member,” Wonsik really just means Hakyeon.

When weeks have passed, his apprehension morphs into elation. Something somewhere has finally gotten through to Hakyeon and Wonsik doesn’t have to keep bringing it up at inappropriate times and making a big spectacle of it. Even though he knows it upsets Hakyeon, even though he knows that it’s how Hakyeon shows how much he cares. Even though Wonsik gets stink eyes from the members when he pushes Hakyeon away for the nth time only to go cling to someone else instead.

Wonsik knows this isn’t how their relationship works, that this isn’t how he should go about dealing with things. Taekwoon tells him that if he just talked to Hakyeon about it then they could work things out. Together. Like they’re supposed to. It’s the importance of communication and all that.

Except Wonsik doesn’t know what he should even say. It doesn’t make sense why he cringes away from Hakyeon’s touch on some occasions and not others. It doesn’t make sense to him why, as Sanghyuk says, Wonsik gets to touch whomever whenever he wants but doesn’t extend that courtesy to Hakyeon. He also doesn’t get why it’s only with Hakyeon that he does this.

So, he just chooses not to confront Hakyeon about it because Wonsik wouldn’t even know what to say and how would he even start. If he can’t understand it, how can he expect Hakyeon to?

“You sound stupid.” Wonsik whines when Taekwoon flicks his forehead and buries his face deeper into Taekwoon’s neck to avoid any more assaults. But also, because Taekwoon is warm and it’s easier for Wonsik to talk about his mistakes when he doesn’t have to look someone in the face. “And I bet you’re the reason that this is even happening.” Taekwoon continues, shifting on the bed so that Wonsik can fit better against his side.

“That what’s happening?” Wonsik fusses with his bottom lip, tightens his arms that are wrapped around Taekwoon. He doesn’t want to hear it’s all his fault.

“Do you even remember the last time Hakyeon has willingly touched you?”

“Uhm.” Wonsik knows that the fact he can’t think of anything off the top of his head means it’s been a long time. Too long.

“Exactly.” Wonsik feels a weight at the top of his head and shakes his head to get Taekwoon to massage his scalp. His long fingers working through the strands in exactly the way that Wonsik loves. “Neither do I.”

Wonsik feels a heat behind his eyes that means he’s about to cry and his voice wavers when he asks, “What do we do?”

“He’s obviously not going to say anything. Which means we will have to confront him about it.”

“Do you think he doesn’t want to be with –” me, Wonsik wants to end with, but that’s too hard to say. “us anymore?”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“But you said –” Taekwoon scoffs as if Wonsik’s worries are foolish. It doesn’t make him feel better, though.

“There’s a reason he’s separating himself, but I can assure you that’s not it.” Taekwoon gently pulls Wonsik’s face from its hiding place in his neck, so he can look him in the eyes. “Hakyeon loves us. All of us.”

Wonsik nods because if there’s anyone he trusts most to tell him the ins and outs of Hakyeon, it’s Taekwoon.

“I love him, too.” And Wonsik means it. Has meant it for a long time.

Wonsik lets Taekwoon wipe at the tears that finally start to fall. “I know,” he says.

“I’ll fix it, Taek. I promise.”

Taekwoon shakes his head. “We’ll fix it.”

Wonsik curls back into Taekwoon’s side and decides he’s not going to dwell too much on the how at the moment. They’ll figure something out, the five of them.

***

By day five, Hakyeon is ready to just give in, to tell the others what’s been bothering him. He’s such an advocate for communication, but it’s much harder when the topic is something he’s had nightmares of for as long as they’ve been doing this. Hakyeon doesn’t want to let the years to go to waste. But if the other members decide they don’t want to be with him anymore, then who is he to hold on to something already gone?

By day 12 of Hakyeon’s “make the members finally confess they don’t love me anymore” plan, he’s frustrated because none of them is acting like anything at all is different. Even when he hasn’t touched any of them in almost two weeks, save for Jaehwan’s morning kisses. But that’s more for Jaehwan than himself because Hakyeon knows how Jaehwan relies heavily on his routine. They all talk to him still, reach for him, it’s not like they’re avoiding him. But something just feels different. Hakyeon feels them pulling away and he wonders if it’s best that he gets away first.

They’re just dense, Hakyeon thinks. Except he knows this already. It’s why he stresses just talking things out with each other in the first place. But if he can be a hypocrite about anything, this would be a good choice.

Day 18 comes and goes and Hakyeon is about ready to rip his hair out. He misses how Taekwoon’s long legs feel straddling his hips, how his nimble fingers caress his face before he leans in and whispers how much he loves Hakyeon against his lips. Hakyeon misses Jaehwan’s expertly timed distractions whenever Hakyeon has been drowning himself in script reading and coordinating with their managers, submitting plans to the CEO, just trying not to fall behind. Jaehwan always comes at the perfect time to help Hakyeon unwind, usually in the form of amateur massages and fruity drinks. It’s Hakyeon favorite way to relax now. His second favorite is probably with Wonsik, in his studio, listening to him curse at the screen for hours until Hakyeon decides enough is enough and takes his mind off melodies and mixing. But now he can’t have any of that because, well, he’s not sure if he’s allowed to anymore.

Day 24 finds Hakyeon crying in the shower, though not for the first time in the past three weeks. It’s hurts when he has to wake up at the break of dawn so he can leave before Jaehwan rises. It’s like a punch in the gut when he feels the need to leave the room because Hongbin and Sanghyuk are getting too comfy on the couch and Hakyeon is afraid for them to see how much he wants to join them, right in the middle like how it always was. But Hakyeon thinks everything has changed.

So, when on Day 31 Hakyeon loses it for the first time in front of one of them, it’s hardly a surprise to himself. He’s more impressed with the fact that he’s managed to keep it together for this long.

…

Hakyeon is on the couch watching a drama, a throw pillow clutched to his chest. It smells mostly like Wonsik with a tiny sprinkle of the cologne he brought Taekwoon a couple months back. It’s a testament to who sleeps in here the most. Wonsik because he’s always home late, Taekwoon because he’s too lazy to move to his own bed. Hakyeon brings the pillow to his face and takes a big whiff. Despite living under the same roof, he thinks it’s about as close to the two he’s been in a long time.

“What are you doing?” Hakyeon starts when he hears Hongbin’s voice, throws the pillow to the side and stares.

“Smelling the pillow.”

“Oh.” Hongbin shrugs and sits on the other end of the couch. Not close, Hakyeon thinks, of course. “I thought maybe you were trying to suffocate yourself.” He says with a smile thrown in Hakyeon’s direction, but Hakyeon turns away, upset that it still pulls a reaction from him.

“Sitting up?”

“Not every method is the same. What are you watching?”

Hakyeon looks back at the tv, having forgotten it was even on. “I –” He thinks back to just a few moments ago when Hongbin wasn’t being a distraction to his lonely thoughts, and realizes he wasn’t paying attention even then. He was just moping over a pillow. “– don’t know.”

“Typical.” Hongbin stretches the word out for as long as it takes him to maneuver so that he’s now laying horizontal across the sofa, head placed unceremoniously in Hakyeon’s lap and eyes trained on the television.

It would be easy, so easy, for Hakyeon to just give in, to take his hand and brush Hongbin’s fringe just a little to the left so it’s out of his eyes. But the fear that it will make Hongbin uncomfortable is much bigger than Hakyeon’s want to feel Hongbin’s skin beneath his fingertips. So, as gracefully as he can, Hakyeon shifts so that Hongbin’s head falls off his lap and he stands, breath quickening when Hongbin glances up at him concerned, if also a little confused.

“Are you okay?” Hongbin starts to sit up slowly, hands reaching out for Hakyeon who jerks away. But that only makes Hongbin frown even more.

“I’m fine.”

“Hakyeon –”

“I’m fine.” It’s all Hakyeon can manage not to just talk to Hongbin. To tell him that no, everything isn’t fine and he’s losing his mind because he thinks he’s losing the five people he loves the most in the world. And no, it isn’t fine that he wants nothing more than to walk straight into Hongbin’s arms, let him take away all the doubt and sadness and pain. But Hakyeon’s room is just down the hall, and he thinks it’s better than the alternative of being pushed away. And his body is already halfway there, even if he’s leaving his heart just some little ways behind.

“Stop walking away!” Hongbin screams behind him and Hakyeon pauses. Hongbin rarely raises his voice in the dorms, and never at Hakyeon. But no, Hakyeon can’t stop because he feels himself falling apart and he’s not ready to talk about it. Not now. He hasn’t figured out his whole speech yet. But when he goes to take another step he feels a hand on his shoulder and Hongbin’s soft voice begging him. “Please.”

“I – I –” Can’t. I can’t.

“Please tell me what’s wrong. What’s been wrong.”

“There’s nothing wrong.”

“Okay. But Hakyeon, you know you can talk to me, right? I mean, any of us. We love you.”

“No, you –”

“What’s going on?” Hakyeon spins around to see that not only Taekwoon has joined them in the hallway, but Wonsik as well. And it’s just perfect. Hakyeon already stood little chance against one, and now there’s three. But he’s already held out for so long, and his bedroom door is right in front of him. He just has to reach out and turn the knob, enter, and shut everything else out behind him.

“Nothing.” He says, for what feels like the millionth time today, except that’s not right. This conversation couldn’t have been going on for even two minutes yet.

“Hakyeon –” He watches Taekwoon wrap an arm protectively around Hongbin, wonders when Hongbin had even moved that far away from him. And for some reason it feels like a slap in the face.

“There’s nothing wrong! Okay? Nothing.” Hakyeon’s resolved himself, a hand already opening his bedroom door. All he has to do is step in, push this conversation off to another day. “Can you guys please just –”

“Is it because of me?”

Hakyeon stills. “What?”

“The reason you keep avoiding everyone. It’s because of me, isn’t it?”

“Wonsik –”

“Please tell me what I did so that I can apologize.” Hakyeon glances between the three of them, lets his eyes rest longest on Taekwoon before looking down at his hand, the one resting on his doorknob. Wonsik sounds so small, not anything like the strong, caring, resilient man Hakyeon’s watched him grow to become. Hakyeon hates he’s let it get this far.

“Shikkie, no. It wasn’t anything you did. I just – I just feel like you don’t want to be with me anymore. Any of you.” Hakyeon feels himself shaking at the confessions, at finally having said it out loud. With a stronger voice he continues, “Like, you don’t want me to touch you or kiss you or love you anymore. So, I thought –”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous” Taekwoon says at the same time Hongbin shakes his head profusely and repeats “No” like a mantra. Wonsik just stares back at Hakyeon, eyes wet but hard, like he’s trying hard not to cry. And, also like maybe he wants to punch Hakyeon.

Taekwoon’s fast to break the spell, moving to take Hakyeon by the shoulders and look him straight in the eyes. “Where did you even get that idea?” He whispers to Hakyeon, still loud enough for the others to hear, but low enough that Hakyeon knows Taekwoon isn’t upset with him, that this won’t be a screaming fight.

“Well. You all go around saying how much you hate when I touch you all the time.”

“Touch us too much, Yeonnie.”

“Well, I didn’t think –”

“There’s always a line, hyung, but Christ.” Hongbin saunters forward, grabs one of Hakyeon’s hands and kisses his knuckles. “How could you possibly believe we wouldn’t want to be with you anymore?”

“I don’t know. I just had his feeling. It just seemed right,” Hakyeon catches Wonsik’s eyes further down the walkway. It looks like he’s been slowly backtracking. “that you all were starting to hate me.”

“Hate you?” Hongbin is nearly unhinged, Wonsik is still silent.

“Can we maybe move this conversation to the couch?” Taekwoon’s tone and the way he ushers both Hakyeon and Hongbin down the walkway makes Hakyeon think there wasn’t any room for argument. When Taekwoon grabs Wonsik’s hand on the way and pulls him along, Hakyeon realizes it was Taekwoon’s way of stopping his escape.

All of it makes Hakyeon feel slightly out of place and off-kilter. It’s usually his role to gather all the members together for a meeting, his role to think rationally and get everyone on the same page. It feels wrong, somehow, pushing it all off on Taekwoon just because Hakyeon couldn’t work up the courage to be the one to end it all.

Back in the common area, Hakyeon finds himself once again on the couch, clutching a pillow to his chest. He takes stock of everyone in the room and dread rises in his stomach when he thinks about having to do this all over again.

"Where's Jaeh and Hyuk?"

"They had some bet and Jaeh lost so he’s taking Sanghyuk out somewhere." Hongbin answers.

Taekwoon looks around the room as if it’s his first time really noticing that two of them weren’t here. "We can wait for them to get back?" He throws out expectantly. Except what good would that do, Hakyeon ponders, to just sit in silence when he can already tell at least Wonsik is near exploding at him.

"I mean, the cat's already out the bag. But I think, moving forward, it will be best with everyone here."

“Okay so we’ll just –” Whatever Taekwoon is about to suggest is interrupted by a single sob from Wonsik, where he’s sitting on the floor by Hongbin’s feet, head in his knees. And when he speaks, they all have to lean a little closer to hear what he’s saying.

"Please. Please, you can't leave us. I love you. We love you so much. I don't know what we would do -"

"Whoa, whoa. Shikkie wait.” Hakyeon lowers himself in front of Wonsik, rests his hands atop Wonsik’s arms wrapped around his legs. He’s shaking. Hakyeon feels like his palms are all that’s responsible for keeping Wonsik from breaking apart. “Calm down."

"He's not leaving. It was just a misunderstanding.” For the first time of the night, Taekwoon sounds unsure as he looks over Wonsik’s bowed head to Hakyeon. “You're not leaving us, right?"

"I guess, I'm not?” Hakyeon can’t keep the uncertainty out of his own voice as he flits his eyes around the room, not looking at anything or anyone in particular. “If you guys want me to stay? To keep being with you?"

"We never said otherwise." Hongbin’s smile looks like he left off the idiot for Hakyeon’s benefit.

"Hakyeon, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I just say shit and I don't think how it affects you. Fuck, I'm sorry.” Wonsik finally looks up and his red eyes and earnest expression are just enough to convince Hakyeon. At least for now. “I love you so much"

"I know. I know, Wonsik. Thank you.” Hakyeon kisses his forehead and really smiles for the first time in what seems like forever. “Please stop crying, you know how I get when you cry." And it’s almost funny how, at the beginning of all this, Hakyeon was sure he’d be the one in need of intense comforting.

"Cha Hakyeon,” Taekwoon says, taking his hand and standing them both up. His free hand comes up to trace Hakyeon’s jawline, then holds it in place so that Hakyeon can’t look anywhere but in Taekwoon’s eyes. “You are the most beautiful, understanding, caring person I know. You're always there for us. I love you and I want to keep loving you. All of you. And I’m sorry for making you feel like that might not have been true." Hakyeon lets himself melt into the kiss that follows, soak in as much of it as he can because it’s been so long, too long. He almost thinks he’s dreaming.

Hongbin clears his throat. "Me too. What he said."

Hakyeon laughs behind his hand and damn near jumps on Hongbin on the couch, straddling him. “What he said?” He mocks, and before Hongbin can answer, Hakyeon wraps a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him nearer till their lips are close but not touching. “Kiss me.”

Hongbin complies before the words have even fully left Hakyeon’s mouth and it’s, gods it’s everything he wouldn’t let himself have for a whole month, and for what? He starved himself of affection only to find out he was wrong in his assumptions and that, yes, he should’ve just said something sooner. Much sooner, it seems, by the way Hongbin whines into his mouth, his fingers tight around Hakyeon’s waist. And somehow there’s also hands on his back and in his hair and it’s a bit overwhelming after going so long without.

Hakyeon pulls away and takes a breath. “Can we just –” He licks his lips, already wet and swollen, and climbs off Hongbin’s lap to sit beside him. He looks between all of them, Hongbin on his right and Wonsik and Taekwoon standing in front of them. He grabs them each by a hand and drags them to the couch, motions so that they know to sit. “I want to cuddle,” he says, getting a smile even out of Wonsik. That feels nice, being the one to make them all happy.

There’s barely enough room for the four of them, but Hakyeon is determined to make it work. He and Hongbin never turned off the tv from earlier, so they settle in to watch whatever drama rerun is playing.

Hakyeon doesn’t know how long it’s been since they’ve tangled themselves on the couch, but his legs are near asleep by the time the front door opens and Jaehwan and Sanghyuk walk in.

It takes a couple seconds for Hakyeon to make his way out of the web of limbs, but he’s made a beeline for the entrance before either Jaehwan or Sanghyuk have their shoes all the way off.

Jaehwan doesn’t have time for a greeting before he has an armful of Hakyeon, but his reaction is immediate, tightening his arms around him. Jaehwan looks up to the mass on the sofa and raises an eyebrow.

“Uhm? What did we miss?”

#vixx ot6 #vixx fanfiction #vixx fanfic #wontaek #chasang #leobin #kenbin #leohyuk #hyuken #neo #my fic #my writing

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ask-dancer-jimin-blog · 6 years

Text

Snowfall (jikook)

Name: Snowfall Rated: T Pairing: Jikook Summary: Jungkook was ready to give up living having spent two years in a hospital and it took falling in love with Park Jimin to know that life was worth living for if he could see him smiling at him so prettily, eyes turned into pretty crescents and bubbling laughter filling his dull life

Warnings: attempt at suicide, angst with a happy ending

It was amid a chilly morning in Busan that a young man had gazed longingly out the window. The sun seemed to shine brightly, or at least looked as though it was desperately trying to, it’s efforts in vain as only glimpses of its warm rays filtered through the gray clouds beginning to embrace the city. The young man let out a soft sigh, breath slightly shaky and weak. He clutched onto the dull green covers over the plain thin white sheets with as much grip as he could, letting himself fall back onto the pillow.

“Good morning Jungkook-ssi”, a voice chirped, far too bright and familiar to the young man’s liking. His gaze never faltered from the sky outside, merely humming in acknowledgement before she continued. “You’re up quite early, but no worries. Why don’t we have get your check up over with, so we can get you a nice breakfast?”

He finally broke out of his trance, turning to the young woman in her dark blue top and matching blue pants walking in with a moving table, beeping machine following along with extensive chords sliding along the marble floors. Jungkook followed the movements as thought trying to distract himself from the true reality of his situation. But it was inevitable, she was at his side in seconds a bright smile at her face, rehearsed. And everything hit him again like it did every time.

The white walls, the heavy smell of medicine and disinfectant, the machines, the syringes waiting to yet again plunge into his skin. The inevitable fact that he was dying in a hospital in Busan and had been here for almost two years, stagnated, not getting better or worse. “I suppose that’s what has to be done. No options left when you’re dying”, he had murmured softly, and it was then he saw her expression falter for a few seconds, almost seeing the sympathy in her gaze.

She regained her previous smile quickly, pretending she hadn’t heard him as she gently pried his arm from under the sheets to check his pulse.

~~xXXx~~

“Please, I’m begging! Give us a few more days. We’ll pay for this month’s expenses, but we just need a bit more time”, Jungkook had heard his mother beg. He felt sick, not because of his actual illness, but because of the burden he was being to his family. He cried silently, feeling helpless and pathetic. What could he do? He couldn’t tell his mother that he didn’t need to be here. He could barely even move, much less help them someway.

“Mrs. Jeon, we understand your son is very sick, but there are more people who are just as sick if not more who are able to pay. It’s our job, but we’re just put in a tight spot. The treatments and checkups, and attentions all come at a high price.” Jungkook could tell that was the doctor speaking and he sounded annoyed and frustrated. The more he spoke, the more the black-haired male clenched his eyes knowing each word was surely making his mother miserable. He knew just how fragile and sensitive she could get and the man telling her that her son was disposable, was surely breaking her heart.

“I hate this. I hate myself”, he sobbed rubbing at his tired eyes hearing the pleading of his mother, heavy on his conscious.

“Jungkook honey, you’ve been awfully quiet these past days. Sweetie, is something wrong?” his mother had asked him on her visit. She looked tired Jungkook had noted, dark circles under her eyes, and she never seemed so aged to him as she did now with her wrinkles much more prominent and exhaustion evident. She had pulled a chair close to the side of his bed, ruffling his dark black hair, coaxing him to speak. He shook his head to assure her, but they both knew he wasn’t fine. In fact, he felt much more tired than other days.

“It hasn’t snowed yet, has it? Is it winter yet?” he asked, and she had retracted a bit, looking at him, truly seeing him. His clammy pale skin and frail body and the lack of shine in his eyes. Her eyes brimmed with tears because she understood what he had meant. The questions simple enough, but spoke volumes of his feelings. Even in his current state, he refused to be a burden and his mother knew he felt that way. Jungkook had been in the hospital for so long never allowed to go outside, time itself was unknown to him. He could never tell the time or day or season, only being able to guess from gazing at the mere window in the small room; the only room his family could afford.

She brought him into her arms again, trembling, and apologetic. “No, it hasn’t snowed yet, but it will soon. And the first snowfall will be beautiful just like you my sweet boy”.

“No.” She let their foreheads touch as she looked at him curiously, her eyes still red from crying, waiting from him to continue. “It will be beautiful like you, my warm and kind mother”.

~~xXXx~~

And Jungkook had lived that way, everyday having to bare through the same routine. It was tiresome, lonely, and boring. He was already accepting the fact that he was okay with dying. If anything, his mother would be saved, given the rest she needed from working so much to pay for his hospitalization. Upon his mother’s request, he’d been allowed to wander around the hospital in a wheelchair. He took this opportunity to both make a decision and take advantage of this chance. This was it.

Today he would stop being burden. He smiled to the nurse as she gently laid a blanket over his legs. She seemed caught off guard, but returned the smile. She would never understand why he’d smiled that way. She would never have realized what he was planning. He’d missed his mother and Busan. Miss the crisp air that would hit his face when he was young and running along the beach. His mother’s warm laughter and bright smile as he pointed to the seagulls crying and squawking as the waddled or flew around. The sun hitting his skin.

However, even if he chose to live, he’d never get to experience that. He’d be stuck here, in a timeless place forever or until his mother couldn’t convince them to let him stay anymore. He rolled out, passing a few other patients along the way. He was determined, much more so when he saw the open way towards the staircase. It was easy enough to just use his remaining strength to wheel at a high speed and let himself fall deep down.

He didn’t hesitate, he grasped onto the wheels, letting his fingers grasp on the rubber. He licked his lips once then twice as he looked around for any onlookers who could catch on to his plan. It would be easy to do it, and no one would suspect anything, but an accident. He’d accidentally rolled to far, with little strength to stop his fall. Finding no passerby, he began a slow pace, casually looking around as though he was exploring, innocent enough. He slowly increased the speed not a subtle as before, mustering a bit of courage and determination he had left. He was at full speed now, feeling his freedom at the tips of his toes, but suddenly it was gone. In a blink, it was replaced by softness and light aqua green scrubs.

“Woah there!” a sweet voice giggled. He looked up, eyes wide at the sight. He was mesmerized and in a trance of the cute young man blocking his way. Ethereal could be the only way to describe him. Soft blonde locks, cute button nose, and eyes a honey brown that turned into crescents from the dumbfounded expression on Jungkook’s face. From his attire, Jungkook could tell he was also a patient. “You seemed in a hurry. Eager to explore?” he continued to speak, and his lips were the prettiest shade of pink that Jungkook almost forgot that moments ago he was about to commit a grave sin. He heard the male speak again as he crouched down slightly to get a better look at him.

“Huh?” Jungkook could only say, eyes wide in surprise as though a deer caught in the headlights.

“I said my name is Jimin. Park Jimin. And yours, cutie?” he asked and Jungkook blushed profusely, shocked that someone could have that effect on him.

“J-Jungkook. J-Jeon Jungkook”, he murmured shyly, looking away. He heard that sweet bubbling laughter again and yet again he was reminded of the beaches of Busan from his sandy blonde locks to that refreshing laugh and smile. Even his crescent eyes reminded him of the moon on a warm night.

“Now Jungkookie, I know what you were about to do, and I don’t think it’s a wise decision on your part”, he spoke up as he literally skipped to grab on the handles of Jungkook’s wheelchair and turn him into the opposite direction of the staircase.

“Hey! Let go, Jimin!” Jungkook protested, at most it was weak, his resolve melted by the latter’s positivity and sweetness, but he had to try. Try to regain back his will and his purpose. Jimin ignored him, humming happily as he led them past the hospital rooms and towards the elevator. Jungkook simply huffed letting himself relax because it seemed that no amount of protesting would work on the blond. “Why do you even care?”

“Because life’s too short, to simply end it in self-pity and anger. Once you feel your life slip away through your fingers and you realize you did nothing to savor the bit of life you did have, you’ll leave this world with nothing but regrets. Why live so sadly, when you can do what you can to enjoy your last moments, right?”, he said losing a bit of the cheerfulness from before. Jungkook looked up at him, but said nothing. He felt those words meant so much more to Jimin than to him, but somehow, he felt they hit him deep in his heart like a pledge.

“Jimin”, he spoke softly. He wasn’t really calling him, and he didn’t mean to really say anything, but he wanted to test the name out on his lips. Like he knew he’d be saying it a lot and it felt nice to know someone was there when his mother couldn’t. It was reassuring and safe and…warm

“It’s hyung to you, brat. Don’t think I can’t tell you’re younger than me”, he laughed quietly and the tension before had unraveled into a comfortable one. Teasing and playful. They found themselves on the roof soon enough, confusion written all over the younger’s face.

“How come we’re here?” he asked the blonde who scoffed.

“How ungrateful! Your hyung did you a favor and got you some fresh air. The least you could do is be thankful”, the other chastised playfully before wheeling him towards the edge near the railing.

“I don’t think we can be here, hyung”

“I know, but breaking the rules occasionally is okay. I bet you missed this. The fresh air, I mean”, he mumbled and Jungkook couldn’t argue with that as a small smile finally reach his face. “You’re cute”.

They stayed like this in silence, looking at the city below them, could hear the faint sound of the waves from the beaches from afar. It was nice. And just like that the two of them gasped in awe at the small flakes of snow that began to fall, cold but welcomed by them both. They looked at each other, breaking in joyous laughter as they looked up and greeted the first snowfall together. It was a moment neither would ever forget.

~~xXXx~~

“Jungkookie?” Jimin had mumbled in between bites of his blueberry muffin as he sat at Jungkook’s side. The black-haired male turned to him, not realizing he’d been ignoring the blond for a while, his attention set on the window. He at least had the decency to look ashamed, but Jimin had dismissed his embarrassment with a wave of his hand. “Don’t be embarrassed, kookie. I was just wondering why you’re always looking out that window?”

Jungkook felt warmth reach his cheeks at the nickname. He was still shocked at the ease in which Jimin had wormed himself in his daily lifestyle. According to Jimin, the days were finally getting warmer and spring was finally upon them. That was two months ago. Two months since Jimin stopped him from ending his life. It became a routine that Jimin would visit him at all time, or stick by him. At night, when the nurses gave less rounds, the blond would crawl into his bed, whining about his own being cold and lonely.

“You’ll pull at my IV shorty!” Jungkook had giggled at the incessant amount of wiggling Jimin was doing while trying to accommodate both of them into the same cramped bed. The blond glared at him with a cute pout, but said nothing more as he laid his body flush against the younger’s, snuzzling his face into his side.

“Shut up, you’re like my personal human heater. And I’m not that short! You don’t even look tall”, he whined, and Jungkook hummed as he wrapped his arms around him being careful of the blond’s own IV on his wrist. It was domestic, and it was home.

“Jungkookie! You’re ignoring me again”, the blond whined, crumbs stuck on his lip. Jungkook unconsciously reached to take the crumbs of his lips and put his thumb in his mouth humming at the sweetness of the dessert. The furious blush and playful smack to his shoulder was rewarding enough before he began to organize his thoughts. “Y-You idiot! D-Don’t do t-that.”

“Sorry, hyung”, he wasn’t sorry at all. “But to answer your question… I really don’t know. I just feel like I’m waiting for something, but I’m not sure what? It’s strange, isn’t it?” he chuckled bitterly. He felt softness at his cheek and he realized too late that Jimin had kissed his cheek softly and was already retracting with a bashful smile. He looked as though he had done the action without realizing.

“S-Sorry…it’s just you were too cute…a-and I… I just really like you, Jungkookie. I’m not asking you to return my feelings b-but I just…ah”, he was rambling, tiny hands waving in front of him defensively, red bright on his chubby cheeks, fluffy hair going up and down as though he’d been caught with his hand in a cookie jar and was trying to defend himself. It was endearing, and Jungkook waited no longer to pull him by the collar of his ugly patient top and pecked his lips with his own softly.

Jimin was dumbfounded, blinking rapidly in a daze when Jungkook retracted just as quickly, fidgeting with his fingers like a love sick high schooler. They were both men in their twenties and here they were acting like newbies. “I l-like you t-too”, he confessed, both males laughed awkwardly before they smiled at each other lovingly, goofy smiles plastered on their faces. The beginning of a love, without thinking of the consequences. It was a blissful moment, no words needed to be said after, a fact that they were together unspoken but well known.

“And just so you know, I don’t think it’s strange. I think I too was waiting for something, but we both wait for different things, don’t we?” Jimin had finally broken the comfortable silence slipping his hands into Jungkook’s own, their fingers lazing. It felt good. It felt right, how perfectly their hands fit even when Jimin’s was tinier.

“Yeah? What were you waiting for?” Jungkook had asked patiently. He had seen something in Jimin’s eyes as though he was hiding something dark, something he never thought he’d tell him. He rubbed his thumb on Jimin’s palm a sign that he didn’t have to say anything, that he was merely curious. That everything was okay. But then Jimin looked at their hands with a soft smile. His gaze seems to take in that one moment as if memorizing it. He eyes wander to look at Jungkook, his expression morphing into pure unaltered adoration and love, before his eyes yet again became those charming crescents the younger fell in love with every time. He kissed his lips once again, sweet and chaste, and pure before responding without an ounce of hesitation.

“I think…I was waiting for you”.

~~xXXx~~

It was in the following days that Jungkook noticed two things. One, he was recovering. His mother had gushed in happiness and he too took notice of the color that his complexion had taken, no longer possessing pale skin, his body beginning to regain its weight. It was a miracle the doctors had said. How much progress he’d been having when a mere two years ago, he seemed on the brink of death. Second, his hyung had seemed a bit off in the prior weeks.

“Jungkook-ssi, you seem to be very cooperative. The nurses have even pointed out how much brighter you seem these days. They say there’s only two things that can get a man to be this well-off. Food or a woman. We both know the food here is not the best, so we’ll go with a young lady. Who’s the lucky gal?” the doctor chuckled as he scribbled down a few notes of Jungkook’s progress. Even his mother brightens up at the doctor’s words as she looked to her son with a teasing and knowing smile.

Jungkook blushed much to his own chagrin before he smiles. “Not a girl, but his name’s Jimin. And I cherish him very much. He’s made my stay here bearable”, he chirped, and his mother smiled at him warmly. She was at ease knowing her son was in good hands especially if her son was in not only better health, but also high spirits. She was grateful to see the shine back in his eyes, hope and love filling them until even the sun couldn’t compare to them.

“Well that’s lovely”, the doctor had smiled as well, giving them a final greeting before heading out. And speaking of the devil, or better yet, an angel in Jungkook’s opinion, he saw the familiar mop of sandy blond hair pop in the doorway before the cute cherub face of his boyfriend came into view.

“Jungkookie! I came to vi- oh my! I’m s-sorry! I didn’t know you had a visitor. I’ll c-come back”, he apologized profusely, and Jungkook was shocked that his mother had beaten him to stop the blubbering blond from leaving.

“No! Come in. You must be the Jimin my Jungkook seems smitten about”, she responded kindly as both males blushed furiously. Jimin waddle inside, and if Jungkook hadn’t been so nervous and embarrassed, he would have cooed.

“Y-Yes I suppose…I’m Jimin. Nice to meet you”, he bowed respectfully.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Jungkookie’s mother Jisoo”, she giggled, teasing them both with the pet name Jimin had faithfully called Jungkook.

“Moooom”, the younger whined as Jimin and his mother had broken into animated conversation. Even so he was content to see them getting along so well and for once he felt everything was going right. Jimin was the hope and spark he was missing to finally get better. Jimin was all he needed. It wasn’t long before, Jungkook had slipped into a peaceful slumber, his chest rising slowly up and down. Jimin looked his boyfriend with adoration as he slipped his hand into his hair softly as though he was afraid he would hurt him.

“You love him, don’t you”, Jisoo had interrupted him. It was too late to feel embarrassed, so he chose to nod, his eyes glistening as tears threatened to fall.

“More than you’ll ever know”, he muttered softly.

“oh, believe me, I know. You look at him the same way I looked at his father. Complete devotion. I understand that it hasn’t been long since you two met, but its obvious when someone loves the other. You offered him happiness and joy he had lacked for so long. What did he offer you?” she asked him caressing his cheek gently like a mother to a son. She had completely accepted him, affection felt through her warm hand on his face. He placed his hand over hers, tears finally cascading down his face.

“Hope…Hope to live.”

Her smile had only downturned a fraction, analyzing him slowly. His complexion was familiar, bony hands, and bags hidden well through the makeup she realized he was wearing. A sick young man.

“Oh, Jimin”.

~~xXXx~~

“Hyung, are you okay?”, Jungkook asked the blond one day, but froze at the sight before him. He wanted to speak up, to move forward and pull the blond into his arms, but he was frozen in horror unable to move a finger from the entry way. Lately, Jimin had stopped visiting as often, less were the nights where he’d crawl in his bed to nag at Jungkook and hold him close. Less were the bright smiles, replaced by strained and pained ones, ones that never reached his eyes.He looked tired, awfully so, but yet he always held Jungkook’s hand gently and lovingly. And he saw now the reality of what Jimin had been hiding from him.

This time around, the younger had decided to visit him. His heart broke seeing the blond struggle to stand. He groaned, holding back grunts of pain. He finally managed to stand on his own feet, but it looked so utterly painful. He took a step, a cry escaping his purple, feverish lips before he stumbled and fell forward. He sobbed and Jungkook broke from his shock and ran to him, tears already threatening to spill from his lips. Jimin coughed, heavy and hard, struggling to breathe. His eyes were wide when he saw Jungkook at his sides.

He was so broken and helpless and so unlike the self he always showed Jungkook. He felt helpless and stupid. How could he not realize that his boyfriend had been in so much pain, had been this sick. “H-Hyung…oh my god…hyung”, he sobbed as Jimin weakly clutched at his shirt, blood painted on his lips.

“J-Jungkookie…please…I’m sorry. I don’t want to die”, he cried and Jungkook shushed him as he cried out for help. Begging someone to come aid the blond in his arms. The younger realized just how small the elder was, how fragile he was.

“Kookie. Kookie…Kookie”, the elder repeated in a mantra, afraid that his life could slip away at any moment and that Jungkook would be gone if he stopped speaking.

“I’m here, hyung. I’m here, love. I’m not going away…Please someone help!” he yelled in an almost rage. The nurses ran in, pulling a reluctant Jimin from Jungkook’s grasp. Jungkook however much he begged, was asked to leave, that his presence would only alter the already distraught and anxious patient.

Jungkook didn’t believe in a higher being, but that night he’d prayed that Jimin live. Begged that his health go back to the way it was if that’s what it took for Jimin to get better.

“Please, if anyone is above there. Please let him stay. Let him stay with me”, he sobbed and not even his mother could console him once she’d gotten news about the incident. She kept him company all night, he was hysterical and wanted to rush over to the other male’s side. To his Jimin. But the doctors had informed that he was in intensive care until further notice.

“Tell me he’ll be okay. Please”, Jungkook had begged to know, wanted to be assured so that his conscious could be at ease. The doctor lips were in a tight line.

“Its not in my hands anymore, Jungkook-ssi. We’re doing all we can, but it’s up to Jimin-ssi to fight off his illness. We can only hope that he can resist the strong medication and treatments”, he explained, proper and professional, but the younger could tell that Jimin was in critical condition and that death could knock at his door any moment. For a moment he lost all hope all over again.

~~xXXx~~

Two weeks gone by and Jungkook was still on edge. He didn’t know anything and anyone he asked always responded by saying that they were not authorized to speak of his health because of confidentiality and the patient’s parents.

However, today he was finally released from the hospital. “Wow, who knew I’d finally get to see you out of this place. I knew in my heart that you would make it through this”, Jisoo had hummed happily, clutching tightly onto him as he finished placing on for the first time in three years a set of normal black jeans and white t-shirt.

Three years. Today, a year ago was the fateful day he’d met Jimin. The day his life changed completely. He clutched onto the small bouquet of white lilies he’d asked his mother to buy him. She noticed his sad expression, knowing well he was not fully content about his recovery at the moment. “He’ll love them. He always did say lilies were his favorite especially the white ones, like snow.” She tried to ease him, give him courage.

It worked it seemed, a hopeful smile at his lips. And he ran, ran towards the one he’d longed for. Wanted to thank him for giving him happiness and hope. For giving him his unconditional love and care. Thank him for being him. His lovely Jimin.

He saw the blond’s room in his sight. “Jimin!” he yelled running into the room trying to catch his breath, lilies tightly against his chest as lovely as his boyfriend. He gazed up after fixing himself, bright smile on his face, but it fell just as soon.

He felt himself pale. No, this had to be a mistake. He wasn’t gazing at his boyfriend, not his beautiful smile, not his glowing eyes, but an empty bed. No monitor, no body, no nothing. Empty. Just like Jungkook’s heart as it shattered into a million pieces, the bouquet of lilies falling limply on the floor. He fell on his knees in disbelief. He was gone. And he was too late. Never got to tell him the extent of his feelings, tell him just how much he meant to him.

The tears fell before he could tell. Heavy like his pain, heavy like his regret. He was still shocked not processing what was going on until he broke, kneeling forward until his fists and forehead touched the floor and he sobbed loudly.

“No…please…anyone but him. Come back please”, he begged to no one, the nurses didn’t dare comfort him or ask him anything simply going about their business and cleaning the room and fixing the sheets, surely for a new patient.

“Oh my god! What’s wrong, Jungkookie?” he heard a familiar speak laced with concern. He felt small petite hands on his back and he whipped up so fast in disbelief, stray tears still falling down his face. Jimin was there, alive and well and beautiful. He was just fine, perfect even and glowing. “What’s wrong? Are you in pa-”

He didn’t manage to finish before Jungkook had tackled him onto the floor, lips pressed against the blond’s in a bruising and deep kiss. Jimin hummed, arms automatically going around the black-haired male’s neck. He couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe that Jimin was here in his arms and he was now kissing him, longing evident. “Jimin, y-you’re here”, Jungkook muttered breathlessly kissing all over his face, his nose, his cheeks, his eyes, and his lips.

“Of course, I am. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were that worried and oh gosh, I feel horrible. The empty room must have alarmed you, baby”, he began to ramble again like the first time he’d confessed to him and then he noticed Jungkook stare at him blankly. “W-What? Why are y-you looking at me like that?”

“Say it again”, Jungkook was breathless, he loved Jimin’s new pet name. The blonde was confused. “Call me like that again.”

“Baby”, Jimin caught on, realizing he’d said it like it was natural. Jungkook pecked him once again on the lips so many questions lingering.

“How? How are you here? I swear I thought I’d lost you. One moment, you were dying, and I was so scared…I thought I’d never get to see your beautiful face again”, he was so relieved as he grabbed Jimin’s face between his hands, fearing he’d disappear again.

“Kookie, I’m sorry. The doctor could only explain it as that downfall before the break. Like a fever that gets really bad before it suddenly goes away. I had been having a good recovery, but all the medicine and treatments were taking a toll on my body. I had a fallout, but as soon as it came down, I got better and stabilized. And here we both are ready to get out of here”, he grinned.

Jungkook was glad this was all over. He reached over for the abandoned lilies and was rewarded with the most bashful smile on Jimin’s face as he pulled them against his chest and sniffed at them, content and so happy. “Come on, there’s one more place we need to see before we leave”, Jimin had a glinting his eyes as he guided Jungkook to the only place they’d gone very weekend after the first snowfall when they met. The rooftop.

It was cold, but neither cared as they held hands and neared the railing to look over the city. “Jungkookie, I have a confession to make”, he began softly, even a bit fearful. “That day we met…I was intending to do the same thing you were planning on doing with that staircase”.

The younger was at a loss of words. No way. “You mean you were planning to”, he didn’t dare finish his sentence once Jimin nodded in affirmation.

“Yeah…I was planning to jump from right here. This place exactly. I was angry, upset, and depressed. I was dying. My personality was terrible. Everyday was a fight with the nurses, aggression was the only thing I could do to cope with my situation”, he explained grimly as if regretting his actions. It was evident in the way he slumped his shoulders as Jungkook listened intently. Jimin gazed at him once before he looked back at the city as if recalling the day, they’d met.

“What was the point of getting treatment when I was going to die anyway? But that day I was set on making it all end. I sped my way towards the elevator, and I hadn’t seen you until your chair crashed into me. It was ridiculous to me. I was faced with such a cutie, the glint in your big eyes told me of your purpose. I saw myself, but I also saw you were younger and you seemed in worse condition than me, and yet I was complaining more. I noticed the purple on your arms from the needles, that hopeless look in your eyes and all I wanted to do was hold you. Tell you that it was going to be okay. I couldn’t let you do it, but if I was going to give you that advice I might as well follow through myself as well”, he chuckled a few tears ready to escape.

Jungkook clutched tighter onto his hand. Knew this was something Jimin had kept with him for a long time. “We were both young, spent a good few years from our teenage years to adulthood here all pointless because we were stuck on the idea that we could die. But after I saw you I knew I had to do something. And you brought out a side of me I didn’t know was there. I was never as happy as I was when I was with you and getting to see your eyes light up when were together, that cute bunny smile bright and on display made my heart race. In that moment more than ever…I wanted to live. You made me want to live and fight to live. I didn’t lie when I said I had been waiting for you. It was all because of you”, he finally turned to Jungkook.

He was looking at him properly, oh so grateful. “All because of you…Jungkook…I love you”, he finally muttered and Jungkook felt the air leave his lungs. He let his hands reach Jimin’s eyes to wipe the tears as he tried to hold back his own. They were a mess for all the right reasons.

“Idiot, I should be saying that to you. The only reason I wanted to live was to see that smile and those cute eyes of yours, and your perfect self, smiling at me. Because I wanted to see you holding onto to me when I woke up in the morning, wanted to see you crawl late at night in my bed holding my hand. All of that and more. I love you too so much, Park Jimin”, he mustered the courage to say before their lips met again this time for much longer and much sweeter than the others. And as they stayed closed like this, hands laced together, tears of joy falling down their cheeks, they felt the snow begin to fall. The first snowfall of yet another year, and many more that were to come because they were leaving this place, leaving all the pain and hurt behind. Together.

Jikook one-shot present for my friend Jen from our VANTES secret santa event

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