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heyyyharry · 3 years

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Drivers License

(inspired by drivers license by Olivia Rodrigo)

Word count: 2.5k

And you're probably with that blonde girl Who always made me doubt She's so much older than me She's everything I'm insecure about

This song is so sad and it made me cry so I had to write something about it 🤧

“I love the song.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N chewed on her bottom lip, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. “But?” she asked her producer, who was on the phone. “You don’t sound like you love it.”

“Of course I love it, Y/N. It’s just–” Came a pause. “Do you really want this to be the next single?”

“What do you mean? You love it but it’s not good enough to be a single?”

“It’s too good, Y/N,” her producer said. “It’s very...personal.”

“That’s why I want to put it out, Gray. It means a lot to me.”

Gray was quiet for another moment. “The media and his fans are going to come for you.”

“I don’t care.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Alright. I’ll call you back.” Gray sounded defeated but she could still sense a smile as he told her, “Good job, kid,” before hanging up.

Y/N put her phone away, tossed her head back and heaved a sigh. She was well aware of the trouble she’d cause by releasing this song. It’d be like showing the whole world her diary. She’d written plenty of songs on her previous albums about her relationships, too. There had been witch hunts simply because the men she’d written songs about had fans who worshipped them and refused to see them as anything less than perfect. She wasn’t perfect, either. If she were perfect, she wouldn’t have written a song about an ‘almost’ relationship. She’d know her worth and not have chased someone who didn’t and would never want her. She knew that now. So this song would be the last thing she’d give this person. The last goodbye that she never got to say.

“What are you smiling at?”

“Nothing.”

“Let me see,” Y/N giggled and tried to grab his phone as he pretended to fight her off.

“Alright, alright.” He laughed, reached out to turn the music in his car down and handed her the phone. “It’s the memes your fans made about you not being able to drive,” he said, suppressing a grin.

Her jaw dropped. “I hate you!”

“I’m sorry. It slipped out,” he said, laughing again. She could listen to his laugh on replay. She loved his music, but his laugh had to be her most favourite melody. “To be fair, you talked a lot of shit about me in that interview, too.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” she scoffed at the smug look he was wearing. “At least I didn’t tell the whole world about your imaginary friend that you had until you were thirteen. You spilt my secret.”

“Not a secret anymore.”

She playfully smacked him on the arm. “My lawyer will hear about this.”

He pouted, pretending to be upset. “Guess we’ll never work together anymore.”

“Acting is not for me anyway.”

Y/N gave Harry back his phone. He took it but didn’t break eye contact as his brows knitted. “Stop saying that. You were great in the movie.”

She rolled her eyes sarcastically. “Oh please, have you been on the internet?”

“You mean my fans’ reactions, right? Just ignore them.” He breathed. “I mean, I love my fans, but they could be too much sometimes. Just look at all my previous relationships. I can’t even breathe around a female without them sending her death threats.”

“Yeah,” Y/N let out a nervous laugh, hands folded together resting on her knees. “Speaking of relationships,” she ventured, “are you talking to someone new?”

She wasn’t looking at him yet she could feel the heat from his gaze as he told her, “No. I already told you, Y/N. Right now there’s just you.”

Harry turned, putting both hands on his steering wheel. Was he nervous as well? Had she ruined the moment by bringing this up?

He took a deep breath, confirming her assumption. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m just not ready for a relationship.”

It was the same line he’d told her times and times again, and she wished she could just tell him how much she loathed it. And since she couldn’t say anything, she just nodded and focused on the rings on her fingers.

“I do care a lot about you, though,” he added, his voice heavy with emotions.

Her friends had told her that men would say things like this, and most of the time they barely meant half of it. However, she’d known Harry for years. Their relationship had only changed since they’d been cast for the same movie earlier this year. She was confident that she knew him better than her friends or anyone else. Surely, he’d meant all the things he’d said to her. The problem was, he just wasn’t ready for a relationship.

“And I don’t want to lose you, Y/N,” he said, now looking at her again.

She turned slowly and met his thoughtful green eyes. She offered a single smile as a way to tell him she wasn’t upset, even though she was, a little bit. “I don’t want to lose you, either,” she admitted.

His dimples reappeared. “I feel like it’s rare for people like us to find a connection like this, and I’ve never opened up to anyone the way I have to you. But I think now isn’t the time for us to take the risk of ruining this. Right now we’re still trying to figure out our own lives, you know?”

She nodded again, not knowing what to say.

They sat quietly for another moment, and it was he who broke the silence. “How come you never learn to drive?”

She could feel her cheeks glowing red. “I never had to drive myself.”

She’d been famous since she was fourteen, so she’d always had people driving her places. Whenever she told anyone that reason, they’d either call her spoiled to her face or give her a judgemental look that made her feel self-conscious. She didn’t have a dad or siblings, her mum didn’t know how to drive, either, and she was too afraid to ask anyone to teach her for she feared they’d judged her.

“I could teach you.”

Y/N whipped her head up and blinked blankly at him. “Really?”

“Of course,” he chuckled. “I have a cousin who didn’t learn to drive when he was young because of his anxiety and I taught him. I could teach you.”

Trying to hide her excitement, Y/N smiled. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” His grin widened even though he was the one doing her a favour. It was moments like this that reassured her that he wasn’t like the other guys who’d broken her heart. “When you got your driver license,” he said, “you can drive up to my house on your own.”

“We can even go on road trips,” she said happily, already imagining the many scenarios in her head.

He seemed equally elated, which made her heart swell. “Yeah! Wanna do it now or–”

“Let’s do it now.”

“Yeah, okay.” Quickly, he unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. She climbed into the driver seat and watched him settle into the passenger side. That afternoon was the first time she’d learned how to drive. She would always remember that.

“Y/N, you’re up next,” said one member of the backstage staff who handed Y/N her mic and ran off to check on the backing vocalist.

Y/N felt her heart thumping in her chest as she clutched the microphone to her chest and sucked in a deep breath. She looked to her right, peering at her reflection in the full-length mirror. She looked beautiful. The makeup team and her stylist had spent three hours on this look and made sure that she was flawless.

Would he be watching the show tonight?

Had he even listened to the song?

It got to number one on the iTunes chart today. He must have listened to it. If not, he must have heard it on the radio or someone must have sent it to him. The whole world knew the song was for him, and everyone was talking about it. So even though he didn’t care anymore, even though he was happy with his new girlfriend, he must be wondering. Because when she’d heard that he’d written a song about her, she’d been so excited to listen to it. So could it be that he was wondering as well?

“This is Y/N performing her latest single DRIVERS LICENSE!”

Y/N took a deep breath as she got a nod from the stage director. She stepped out, soaked in the stage lights while the audience applauded and cheered for her. She stood at the centre of the stage as the band started playing and the noise in the audience died down. As a habit, she searched the front rows for his face despite knowing with every fibre in her body that this would be the last place he’d be tonight.

I got my driver's license last week

Just like we always talked about

'Cause you were so excited for me

To finally drive up to your house

But today I drove through the suburbs

Crying 'cause you weren't around

She could see it even now. Them driving through the quiet night. From her house to his and back. Just the two of them. The kisses they’d share at stoplights when there was no one else around. The way he’d place his hand on her thigh just because he wanted to. In retrospect, she should have realised that he wouldn’t ever do that to her in public. Their relationship, if she could call it that, had been almost nonexistent. Maybe that was why it’d been so easy for him to move on. You couldn’t feel remorse leaving behind something that didn’t exist. How unfortunate. It’d been real to her.

And you're probably with that blonde girl

Who always made me doubt

She's so much older than me

She's everything I'm insecure about

Yeah, today I drove through the suburbs

'Cause how could I ever love someone else?

She’d thought to herself that if he could write a song about someone he’d never dated, it was worth staying with him despite not actually being with him. She could not expect that a few months after that song had come out, he would be seen driving around with another girl. The girl he’d told her was only a good friend. This girl was older and perfect in every way. Y/N wouldn’t choose herself either if the choices were between her and that girl. But she couldn’t bring herself to hate the girl. It wasn’t the girl’s fault that Harry had chosen her. And it wasn’t Harry’s fault that Y/N refused to see the red flags through her rose-coloured glasses.

And I know we weren't perfect

But I've never felt this way for no one

And I just can't imagine

How you could be so okay now that I'm gone?

Guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me

'Cause you said forever, now I drive alone past your street

Y/N wrote this song a week after she’d got her drivers license. She’d blast sad music in her car and cried as she drove past his house, wondering if he was still up and thinking of her whenever he saw headlights passing his street. The heartbreak had been confusing to her as they weren’t even together. It was funny how the whole world had believed in them, except for him. He’d told her he loved her, so why weren’t they together now? He’d said he wasn’t ready, so why was he holding hands with someone else on the street? Was it because of her? Was it something that she’d done? Was there something wrong with her? Why couldn’t he choose her? Y/N had pondered over those questions for months until she came to accept that there didn’t have to be a reason for someone to leave you. They simply lost feelings or found someone else. No one owed you an explanation.

Red lights, stop signs

I still see your face in the white cars, front yards

Can't drive past the places we used to go to

'Cause I still fuckin' love you, babe

For months, he'd been a ghost living rent-free in her head. She saw him in every face and every crowd, and she could even, in this moment, hear the sound of his laugh somewhere in the audience. She could hear him telling her he was proud of her, that everything would be okay. And the worst part was that, without her, he was still doing fine. He wouldn’t see her everywhere he went. He wouldn’t think about her when he was lying in bed and couldn’t sleep. He wouldn’t wonder if she missed him. Because he didn’t miss her. And he would be saying the same things he’d said to her to his new girl.

Sidewalks we crossed

I still hear your voice in the traffic, we're laughing

Over all the noise

God, I'm so blue, know we're through

But I still fuckin' love you, babe (Ooh, ooh)

There on the stage, she received sympathetic looks from the people in the front row as she cried her heart out to the lyrics. He might be at home this moment, watching the show with his new girlfriend, and seeing her cry on live television. Would they laugh at her together? Would he turn to his girlfriend and say he was sorry for how he’d treated Y/N and promised to never hurt his girlfriend the same way? The most heartbreaking thing, Y/N thought, wasn’t him leaving, but seeing him treat someone the way she’d wanted to be treated and realising that he’d been capable of doing it all this time, just not with her.

I know we weren't perfect

But I've never felt this way for no one

And I just can't imagine

How you could be so okay now that I'm gone?

Guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me

'Cause you said forever, now I drive alone past your street

Putting all her feelings into this song had made everything seem so much simpler and clearer. And at the end of the day, Y/N believed that the whole purpose of songwriting was to get closure. Perhaps, one day, when she listened to this song again, she wouldn’t be sad anymore.

Yeah, you said forever, now I drive alone past your street

“Good job, Y/N.”

“Thank you.”

“Love the song! You’re amazing.”

“Thank you.”

Y/N faked a few more smiles then shut the door of her dressing room and slumped into her chair in front of the vanity.

All alone, she looked right at her reflection and took a deep breath.

Her phone buzzed and lit up with a new text message.

Harry: Congratulations on your no 1 :) xx

She pondered over the words, picked up her phone, and deleted his contact.

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blindingdutchy · 3 years

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lamentation | FIVE

{peter parker x fem!reader AU}

based on All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven

SERIES MASTERLIST

word count: 4,111

warnings: mostly fluff, some angst toward the end, mentions of injury

18+!!! minors stay away!

You didn't get much work done with Peter during the weekend. Following your emotional outburst over the argument between the pair of you, Peter stayed at your house surprisingly late into the night. You both seemed to agree the project could wait for a different day, and instead of working you spent the evening talking. While you didn't have much to talk about, Peter had a seemingly endless supply of subject matter to keep you both entertained.

Already you could tell that you were growing attached to him, probably far too much and far too soon, but there was no stopping it any longer. He made you feel good things and gave you a sense of normalcy you'd been craving for so long; there was no way you were giving that up any time soon. If he hurt you in the end, you'd deal with the pain because at least you got a bit of relief in the present.

That Friday evening had been one of the best nights of your life, regardless of how mundane or even boring it probably would have seemed to your younger self. You learned a lot about Peter, more than he'd already forced you to know in the weeks leading up to that night, and you answered all his random and silly questions about yourself. You learned that his favorite colors were red and blue, totally un-ironically, and that he'd gotten his abilities the summer between the eighth and ninth grades.

You also learned that Peter was just as stubborn and competitive as you used to be, and something about that knowledge sparked some of the old flame back into you. So, chasing after the fire that used to warm you, you made a deal with him. If he could prove to you that the Avengers were not as bad as you thought they were, then you would willingly do your speech in favor of the superheroes.

"You--you what?" Peter sputtered, laughing so hard he had to clutch his stomach with both hands and gasp for air, "You really cut the hair off of all of your sister's dolls because she beat you at checkers?"

You snorted, a harsh sound that made your nose ache as you laughed along with him, "Yes! She knew how competitive I was, and she took that risk by challenging me. I never lost a game of checkers again after that."

He slipped into another torrent of giggles much to your amusement, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a beautiful smile that made your own chuckling soften as you found yourself mesmerized by the sight of it. Peter Parker was certainly a very breathtaking spectacle to behold, and you had to wonder why he wasn't so much more popular in school. You knew why, everyone could see the relentless torment that Flash Thompson unleashed on him, but it still made no sense to you.

What was there to dislike about Peter? Just days ago you'd been beyond annoyed by him, and weeks before that you'd been entirely uncaring of his existence, but already that all seemed completely nonsensical to you. Now that you'd let him in, given him a chance, it seemed impossible to ever not like him again.

Wheezing breathlessly, Peter chortled, "I can't even judge you. One time, when Ned and I were thirteen, he bet that he could finish a LEGO set before me. He was going to beat me, and I may have accidentally knocked it off the table so he had to start over."

"So," you finally gasped as you stopped laughing, "so, what you're saying is, you're just as stubborn as I am and we're definitely never going to agree on this project?"

His chuckles slowly died out as he nodded, "I guess so."

You knew what he meant to say, and that was the fact that he didn't feel he was being needlessly stubborn in this situation. This wasn't about competition to him. No, this was about him not seeing himself or his colleagues in a negative light; he couldn't fathom the distaste you had for them.

As much as you disagreed, you could understand that. You could understand how he would see the people he worked alongside as good people. It made sense that he would have a different perspective when he was the one out saving civilians from big and small horrors alike, rather than being the one to suffer the consequences of the destruction that happened as a result.

Along with your understanding, you also didn't think that Peter was a bad person. You couldn't possibly imagine him causing harm, intentionally or not, and maybe that was why you said what you did next. Maybe that was why you proposed, "I'll make you a deal. If you can prove to me that the Avengers are not who I think they are, then I'll take your stance for the speech. Give me a reason to speak positively of them, and I will."

Even now, as you made your way toward your locker at school on Monday, you weren't entirely sure what had made you decide to propose such a thing. You were pretty certain that you were setting Peter up for failure. In your eyes, there wasn't much of anything that Peter could say, do, or show you that would change your mind. Nothing would make what had happened to your sister okay or forgivable.

Yet, he clearly did not feel the same way. Peter looked as if he was walking on sunshine that morning as he pranced along beside you, a triumphant grin on his face as he whispered, "I have a plan."

"A plan?"

He grinned wider as you looked at him curiously, "Yes, a plan. To change your mind."

Quirking an eyebrow expectantly, you waited for him to elaborate as you gathered your things from your locker for class. He never did, only continuing to practically vibrate with excitement beside you in silence. "Are you going to tell me what this plan of yours is?" you prodded.

"No." When you looked at him in confusion he continued, "If I tell you what it is, you're not going to have an open mind. You're going to think of all the reasons it won't change your mind, and then it won't."

Suddenly, you were the one chasing after Peter instead of the other way around. All day you found yourself glancing to him suspiciously and following him around much like he had you in all the weeks leading up to your budding friendship, and it was a big change of pace for you. You felt a little pathetic following him like a lost puppy, but you were nosy and wanted to know what his plan was.

No matter how much you pried, though, he didn't budge. In Calculus he ignored your staring and whispers with a far too smug smirk on his face, though you secretly liked the way it looked on him. Who would have guessed that Peter Parker could be arrogant?

In Gym class he teasingly ran faster than you could keep up the moment you asked again, only slowing down once you begrudgingly promised to leave the subject alone. Though he did tell you he wouldn't run faster than you anyways because people would probably get suspicious if he suddenly turned into a track star. He had to play the roll of the un-athletic nerd regardless.

At lunch he didn't sit with you for the first time since he'd started joining you. He'd waved at you from where he sat with his friends, Ned and MJ, but you found yourself leaving the cafeteria rather than joining him. You weren't ready to take that next step yet; being open with Peter was hard enough, and you weren't ready to have to talk to two more people. Still, you tried to pretend it didn't bother you despite the little sinking feeling you felt in your stomach.

He still sat with you in Speech class, which you were relieved by. Ms. Lovell left everyone to work with their partners on their project, warning the class sternly, "You may have until the end of the semester, but don't slack off now. I'm only giving you two other class periods after now to work on this."

Peter quietly joked, "I bet she just forgot to grade our homework from last week."

When the woman sat down at her desk and pulled over a stack of papers, uncapping her favorite red-glitter pen that she always graded with, you both fell into a fit of giggles that you had to work very hard to keep quiet. It only took one glare from the teacher to have you ducking behind your book to hide how red your face turned, both from embarrassment and repressed laughter. You did, however, notice to fleeting expression of shock on her face to see it was you giggling in her class.

Not much work was done during that class, though for you and Peter the work couldn't be started yet. You still hadn't decided on a stance, and until Peter either succeeded with his plan or failed as you expected, a decision wouldn't be made. Instead, you both whispered to each other about whatever random thoughts seemed to pop into your heads in the moment.

"People are staring at me," you acknowledged, glancing around the class timidly at the sight of many students giving you curious stares, "is there something on my face?"

Peter laughed, though he quickly disguised it as a cough, and responded, "No, they're just confused."

Confused, you furrowed your eyebrows and looked at the boy with the warm brown eyes who was grinning at you proudly. "Why?" you asked, shifting uncomfortably. You were used to people giving you strange looks, but these were different. They weren't looking at you as if they were pitying you, or as if they were waiting for you to finally break down and go crazy. No, now they were looking to you with wonder and interest.

He bit the inside of his cheek, a pensive expression blossoming over his face as he thought of how to say whatever he planned to tell you. For a moment you admired the way his ruffled eyebrows furrowed, his lips pouting slightly as he pursed them in concentration. Only when the strange, old fluttering in your heart and your stomach started to erupt did you look away and wrinkle your nose.

You didn't want to admit it, but you knew exactly what that feeling was. It was a feeling you hadn't encountered since before the incident, and it was a feeling you didn't want to experience now. So, you told yourself it was just nerves over having a friend again, and squashed the stupid butterflies down as hard and as fast as you could.

"Well," Peter finally started, eyes wide and a little nervous as if he expected you to potentially be offended by his words, "you haven't exactly... talked to anyone in awhile."

Suddenly, it clicked. People were staring because you weren't the reclusive, closed-off, depressed girl you had been for the past thirteen months. They were staring because you seemed... happy. "Oh." you nodded, the sound feeble and slightly broken, "I guess that makes sense."

People were staring at you because you were the girl with the dead sister who they'd been waiting to witness implode, and suddenly you were talking, and laughing, and smiling. You were talking, laughing, and smiling with Peter Parker, no less. They were looking at you because you seemed fine.

Were you fine? Peter shot you a few concerned glances as you seemed to slip back into the repression you'd been living in for so long, but you gave him a small smile as if to say, "I'm okay." You were okay.

For the first time since she died, now that you really thought about it, you truly felt okay. You felt good. You felt happy. Sure, you were terrified of the little flutters you felt whenever you stared a little too long at Peter's face, and you still felt all the bad things you'd been feeling, but now you had good things to balance them out.

It would have been so easy to slip back into that cycle of beating yourself up again. That little voice in the back of your head was still there, the one that sounded like your sister but so different at the same time, that told you that you didn't deserve to have friends. You didn't deserve to make new friends, or feel those butterflies that meant something more, not when she couldn't do those things ever again.

It would have been easy, but you didn't want that for yourself anymore. If you did that, if you pushed Peter away because of her, then you would be left with all the bad feelings and more of them. You didn't deserve that. So, you took a deep breath, and gave a more genuine smile, and met the stares head on. She would have wanted you to be happy, and you deserved to be happy.

After school, Peter left you with a swimming mind and a million thoughts of what his plan could be. He didn't mention anything, and you wondered how long you would have to wait for whatever it was to come to fruition. What could it be?

You spent the afternoon in the family room, an action that seemed to startle and befuddle your parents who watched you like hawks. Though they didn't say anything, only greeting you casually as if everything were totally normal, you could practically hear the gears turning in their heads. You could imagine their thoughts of, "Who is this alien that looks like our child?"

As confused as they were, eventually the decided to just go with it. Your mom curled up on the sofa with you, and your father fell into his recliner just like old times, and the three of you watched a movie in a comfortable silence. Well, mostly comfortable. Nobody dared to look at or acknowledge the empty middle cushion on the sofa where she'd always sat, or your mother's empty lap that she mindlessly kept brushing her hands over as if waiting for your sister's head to be laying there waiting for her hair to be played with.

Nobody dared, until you did. You weren't entirely sure what compelled you to do it. It seemed as if you were urged to do lots of things you thought you never would these days. But, after half an hour of watching your mother's twitching hands, you laid your head on her lap and closed your eyes to avoid seeing her face.

After a moment, her fingers brushed through your wind-tangled hair and you felt peace. She had always been the one to do this. She had always been the one to burrow her way into your mother's lap, begging to have her scalp massaged or her back traced delicately, and now you understood why. It was comforting for more than one reason.

On one hand, it was just physically relaxing. But, on a more complex level, it gave you a sense of closeness you hadn't realized you'd been longing for. You felt closer with your mother who worked through the tangles in your hair with her fingers, gently scratching your scalp with her manicured fingernails. You felt closer with your sister, too. It felt as if you had a small piece of her to hold onto in that moment, and it was comforting.

By the time the movie ended, you were nearly asleep and the sun had set some time ago. Your mother was the first to break the silence, softly rousing you, "(Y/N), honey, do you want dinner?"

You did, but before you could answer, your phone rang loudly. Glancing at the screen and seeing it was Peter, you nibbled your lip to hide a smile and stated, "Yeah, I'll be down in a minute." They didn't protest as you raced up to your bedroom to answer the call.

"Hello?"

"(Y/N)! Hey!" Peter practically shouted, though his voice cut out with what sounded like a windstorm. "Can you hear me?"

For a moment the audio cut out and you wondered if the call dropped, but then the crackling wind returned and you questioned, "What are you doing?"

Abruptly the sound ended, and he was breathing a little heavily as he responded, "Sorry, I was swinging--"

"Peter! Are you really on your phone while doing that?"

He laughed, "Calm down! My suit, well, Karen, the AI in my suit, is connected to my phone. Completely hands free--I promise."

Your mind flashed back to that night on the roof, the night he'd stopped you, and you remembered how he'd asked a woman named Karen what he was supposed to do. Now it all made sense. You'd been a little curious about who Karen was ever since that night, and now that you knew it was some sort of artificial intelligence that Peter had given such a human name to, you had to laugh.

"Why are you calling me, Spiderman?" you joked.

There was some quiet rustling, as if he were moving around, and he spoke quieter, "I'm on patrol. I just--maybe this is stupid, but I just thought if maybe I could show you the good things I do you'd see that we don't just destroy stuff."

It went silent for a moment before he continued, "I can't exactly take you with me, because that would be stupid, but you could listen."

You hesitated in responding. A part of you wanted to tell him that it was a stupid idea, for multiple reasons, but you decided against it. How would he ever prove anything to you if you didn't give him the chance?

So, you swallowed your protests, and said, "Okay."

"I'll warn you now it's usually pretty boring. A lot of nights I just swing around for awhile and go home without seeing anyone or anything."

That was strangely relieving. You hoped that tonight would be one of those nights; not because you didn't want him to have the chance to really enact his plan, but because you worried for him. What if having you metaphorically there with him distracted him? What if you distracted him and caused him to get hurt?

For awhile, it was a boring night. You and Peter went back and forth, taking turns telling stupid jokes to see who would crack and laugh first, and inevitably he won. He had an endless supply of disgustingly cheesy science puns that left you in stitches every time, even if you'd already seen the joke before on one of his many t-shirts.

You got him to laugh too, though, with all of the dead-pan anti-jokes you may have been secretly googling as you told them. Sometimes the wind would return, alerting you that he was swinging around the city, and every now and then he'd almost forget you were listening as he gave little exclamations of exhilaration in the moment. It was cute, even if the shouts nearly blew out your ear drum every time.

It was a boring night, until it wasn't. One moment the wind was making your phone speaker cut out, and the next it was eerily quiet and you had to pull your phone away to see if the call had dropped. Putting the device on speaker phone, you questioned quietly, "Peter?"

"I'm still here," he whispered, "I see something. Be quiet for a minute."

You listened and waited with baited breathe, probably panicking more than enough for the both of you, as Peter started speaking to Karen. He asked her to start something he called enhanced reconnaissance mode, and you were bursting with suspense and curiosity. What did he see? What was happening?

It felt like an eternity before he acknowledged you again, "Okay, I see a woman cornered by some guys. I think they're trying to... to attack her."

He didn't have to say the word for you to know what he meant, and you felt your stomach explode with anxiety and fear for a woman you couldn't even see. "What are you going to do?" you asked.

"I'm gonna web 'em up, and wait for the police with her." he stated, "I won't be able to talk for a bit, okay?"

And then, everything changed. One moment the wind was back as he swung down to the scene, and suddenly Peter was in full Spiderman mode and almost unrecognizable to you. He was sassier, playful even, despite how serious you knew he really was as he antagonized the bad guys.

The banter didn't last long. You heard the woman scream in terror as a loud ruckus rang through your phone, and Peter groaned. Was he hurt? Did he get hit? There were more thuds and dull smacking sounds, Peter and the men alike grunting and shouting out loudly as she continued to break the atmosphere with her screaming.

You wanted to call out for him, to make sure he was okay, but you were paralyzed in fear. What if you called his name and it distracted him, causing him to really get hurt? But, what if he already was hurt and forgot you were there to potentially call for help?

The fight lasted awhile, before finally the woman's screaming ceased as Peter told her, "Hey, hey! I got them, I got you. It's okay. Everything's okay."

"Peter?" you whispered.

"Everything's okay. It's going to be alright."

He was speaking to you, though he had to phrase it in a way that it sounded as if he were just speaking to her. You didn't believe him that everything was fine, though. It was easy to hear just how winded he was in the way his voice was strained, weaker than before.

Peter was hurt, and you were terrified. His plan was just as stupid as you'd thought it to be. Not because he didn't prove anything to you, because you were happy he'd saved the woman and he had shown you a good thing he did, but because he'd forced you to witness his pain and suffering yet again. You'd had to witness him actually get hurt this time, and the woman's screams still echoed in your ears.

It brought you back to that day. Her screams reminded you of the chaos following the building's collapse, reminded you of how hoarse and sore your throat had been from screaming just like that. Screams of pure horror and panic.

Only after the police finally left, thanking Spiderman for his help, did Peter drop the faux strength and softly whimper, "Shit, that really hurt."

"My window is open."

With that, you hung up and left him to decide what to do by himself.

Your mother quietly knocked at your door, opening it slowly as she poked her head into your room, "Dinner is done if you still want to eat."

Forcing the best smile you could manage, you muttered, "I'm actually not feeling very good. I think I'll just go to bed." You wished you could say you hadn't seen the disappointment written all over her face, clearly let down by you pulling away again, but she nodded nonetheless and shut the door as she trudged away again.

You laid in bed for hours unable to fall asleep, listening to every noise outside with hitched breathe. Was that little knock Peter? Was he at your window? By the time your phone told you it was nearing sunrise, you gave up. He wasn't coming, and you tried to ignore all the horrible thoughts that consumed you.

What if he was so injured he couldn't make it to you? What if he was out on the street somewhere, hurt badly and in need of help? You cursed yourself for hanging up, but you couldn't bring yourself to call him back. It was a strange battle of worry and anger, with anger winning out in the end and stopping you from reaching out.

You were angry at Peter for his stupid plan, causing you to think of all the awful things he seemed to keep at bay during the daytime. You were angry at those men for hurting him. Mostly, you were angry at yourself for being so stubborn. Why were you being prideful and letting the anger stop you from making sure he was alright?

You: are you alive

Peter Parker: yes

Peter Parker: go to sleep

Peter Parker: see you tomorrow?

You: yes. good night.

SERIES TAGLIST {ask to be added}:

@msmimimerton @zendayasfwb @sweet-symphony

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matthewtkachuk · 4 years

Text

feel something pt 7 - jj maybank

On the outside, you’re a kook princess with a seemingly perfect life and a perfect family. The expectations are suffocating you, to the point where the only thing you feel is numb. You’re chasing different coping mechanisms in order to feel something. Until a chance encounter with a certain blond pogue you know you’re supposed to hate gives rise to a different kind of feeling.

Warnings: angst, toxic behaviour, poor coping mechanisms, drug usage, mentions of sex, mentions of suicidal ideations (brief), Rafe being a grade a asshole, shitty parents, abuse

Pairings: JJ x reader (eventually), Rafe x reader (slight)

Words: 3.1k

A/N: dealing with the aftermath of our runaway reader. They say you don’t kiss and tell, but some people just can’t help it. Special s/o to my babe @ohfreyfrey for her help with the end 😇 I heard yall like cliffhangers…

series masterlist

The next day, the potential consequences of your actions set in even further. This isn’t some Romeo and Juliet fairytale, you’re y/n y/l/n, your life was never going to be a fairytale. Plus, that play ended with them dying and you weren’t really into that. Taking a page out of Sarah’s playbook, you start ignoring the larger group, only speaking to Sarah and occasionally Kie. You know you’re avoiding your problems and your feelings for the blond pogue, but the alternative is terrifying.

You’re imagining allowing yourself to completely fall for him and the thought is paralyzing. It’s like handing JJ a loaded gun, showing him exactly where to shoot to kill, and then trusting him not to. You haven’t trusted anyone in a long time. Not since your parents first put their hands on you in anger, not since Jacob Kane touched you inappropriately at a party without your consent, not since Sarah Cameron dropped you without warning. It really scares you, the thought that you were willing to risk that again.

Your parents also scared you. Even if you could get the courage to fall into the unknown without JJ, you couldn’t be open with your relationship. It could never get back to either of your parents, or there would be hell to pay. You were expected to marry rich and marry well. But the thought of spending the rest of your life with a Rafe Cameron or Topper Thornton or Kelce Smith or Jacob Kane made you physically ill. Your parents tolerated your behaviour thus far (if you could consider daily screaming matches and bruises and marks tolerating), but you knew lowering yourself to date a pogue would be the last straw. You didn’t know what they would do, but you knew it wouldn’t be anything good.

It’s two days before the texts start rolling in.

maybank: hey

maybank: just wanted to see if you were ok

maybank: did i do something wrong?

maybank: please talk to me

maybank: i can’t stop thinking about that kiss

maybank: y/n

You don’t know who gave JJ your number but you’re sure it was probably Sarah, who didn’t know when to let things be. You know the smartest thing to do would be to block him, but every time you go to click the button, you hesitate with your thumb poised over your phone and you can never do it. A part of you, one that’s honestly pretty big likes that he’s thinking of you too. It wonders if he feels the same way you do. You’re not stupid, you can acknowledge that he at least likes you a little, if that kiss was any indication. You had felt alive under his touch, with your lips pressed together. That night you had gotten drunk and stoned in your locked bedroom, trying to chase that high but you were right. Nothing would ever come close.

You’re sitting on your bed, staring at the text messages that you have memorized from the number of times you’ve read them when your door is thrown open. You look up in shock, you had definitely locked that to avoid your parents. Chick is grinning at you brightly, holding up a bobby pin to show she had picked the lock. You don’t really acknowledge her presence, only scooting over on your bed to give her room to sit with you. “Sarah’s really worried about you, you know,” she states, and you just shrug. The two of you sit in an uncomfortable silence for a minute or two, before she snatches your phone out of your grasp. You gasp and attempt to pull it from her hands, but she’s a lot smaller and a lot quicker, jumping off your bed and running towards your en suite, ready to jump in and lock the door if necessary. Understanding your odds, you resign yourself to the fate of your little sister reading your text messages and finally figuring out what’s wrong with you.

She looks up at you and gasps your full name, middle name and all, “JJ Maybank??” she screeches. You shush her quickly, not wanting to open that can of worms with your parents just yet. It’s probably a waste of time, if they’re even home they’re likely nowhere near the bedrooms, but still you want to be cautious. “JJ Maybank is the reason you’ve holed yourself up in your room and avoided everyone for four days?”

“Chick,” is your only response, tilting your head as you look at her, eyes silently begging her to stop.

“What’s the big deal, y/n? So what, you kissed a pogue, haven’t you kissed like a hundred boys?” she asks.

“Don’t slut shame me,” you tell her grumpily, “and I haven’t kissed like a hundred people. It’s just…” you trail off, unable to find the words. Or maybe you can find them, you just don’t feel like sharing with your baby sister that you’ve fallen ass over feet over JJ Maybank.

“Oh my god,” Chick says, as something like realization sparks in her eyes, and she stands up even straighter than before and exclaims, “you’re in love with him!”

“What?!” You look at her in disbelief, that was quite a jump from a kiss to love. Your tongue trips over itself as you quickly protest, “Absolutely not Chicklet, that’s actually insane!”

“Is it?” She asks, hands on her hips looking much older than her thirteen years.

“You can’t be in love with someone you’ve only known a few weeks,” you tell her drily, unimpressed with the conversation. Sure, you’ll admit that you’ve got feelings for the pogue, but love? Chick is crazy, love is crazy. That’s not what’s going on here.

“I mean, technically you’ve known him for years.” She rebuts your point.

You sigh deeply, “Okay fine, then you can’t fall in love with someone you’ve only been interested in for a few weeks.”

“So you admit you’ve been interested in him for a few weeks!” She shouts triumphantly, “Wait until I tell Sarah.”

“Chick,” you warn her, “don’t you dare.”

“Your friends are worried about you y/n! I’m not going to lie to them!” She tells you.

“Sarah and Kie will be fine, if you tell them they’ll just go even crazier than they are,” you tell her.

“They’re not the only ones worried, Sarah said they’re all worried. Especially JJ.” She explains, causing your heart to constrict at the mention of JJ worrying over you.

Brushing over the feeling in your chest, you can’t help but ask, “Even John B?” Chicks face falls a little at that, confirming your suspicion that John B still doesn’t think very highly of you. “Right, well tell Sarah and whoever else cares that I’m fine alright.”

“y/n” she says slowly, and the pity in her tone causes your heart to ache. Huffing dramatically, you slide down and under the covers, throwing your comforter over your head.

“I’m fine Chick,” you tell her, voice muffled. You regulate your breathing as you hear her steps near your bed, before she drops what you assume is your phone on your nightstand and then leaves the room, door clicking softly shut behind her.

While you’re talking with your sister, JJ is on the other side of the island in a house that is a lot smaller and less taken care of but has experienced a lot more love, having a similar conversation with the best friend he considers more of a brother.

“What is your problem? You’ve been moping around for two days like someone ran over your dog or something,” John B confronts JJ who hasn’t moved from his spot in the spare bedroom except to eat and use the washroom. JJ can’t really explain, doesn’t want to really explain. He doesn’t need to hear it from John B again about how you are the worst of the worst kook princesses and just messing with him. JJ knows it isn’t true, not that the two of you have ever spoken about it, but from that moment at Midsummers to now, he’s felt something starting between the two of you. Despite initial misgivings, he was wrong about you. Like, really wrong.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” JJ grumbles. Truthfully, he can’t get you out of his head. He had asked Sarah for your number and then proceed to not only text you, but text you five times while being left on read each time. JJ didn’t text girls, he hit it and quit it and dodged texts like it was his third day job. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was worried about you. Having been on the receiving end of a parent’s fist on more than one occasion, he wasn’t sure if you were even okay.

He thinks of how you pressed against him, the way your chapped lips felt against his, the soft feel of your hands on his jaw. He thinks of the satisfaction of finally having you in his arms, the slight lilt of hope in his chest that maybe he wasn’t alone in how he felt about you. But then he thinks of the way you froze, saw the panic in your eyes, and felt the ache in his chest as you ran from him.

“Something obviously happened between you and the princess.” John B astutely observes.

“Don’t call her that,” JJ snaps, frustrated. It’s not really John B’s fault, but the mention of the word ‘princess’ just reminds him of when you told him to call you by your name. Reminds him of that afternoon together, when you had firmly cemented your place at the forefront of his mind. When his initial attraction (and yes he was very attracted to you) had blossomed into admiration of your confidence on the waves and your kindness when dealing with Chick. When he had poked at you and entered your personal space and flustered you to the point you threatened to send him through the windshield.

John B throws his hands up. “I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with Rafe’s property,” John B tries again. JJ glares at him, body tensing up with unbridled rage thinking of the possessive way Rafe looks at you.

“She’s not-“ He has to pause to unclench his jaw and his fists, swallowing before continuing “she’s not his property John B.”

“She might as well be, the way she hangs off of him. Or are you blind?” His best friend replies.

JJ shakes his head in frustration, pulls his snapback off his head and wrings it in his grasp, “You don’t know what you’re talking about John B.”

John B gives his best friend his best incredulous look, eyes widening comically and head tilting as his hands move away from his brain to mime an explosion, complete with side effects. “Have you actually gone insane? Like, are you feeling okay dude?” John B reaches for his best friends forehead, to pretend to take his temperature, but JJ slaps his hand away.

“Fuck off,” JJ mutters when he tries to do it again, and that’s when John B realizes things are serious.

“C’mon man, what’s going on?”

“I really like her man,” JJ sighs heavily, “like really like her. I don’t know what’s going on, I don’t like girls. I mean, I do, but not like this man. I can’t stop thinking about her. I worry about her and I wonder if she’s okay. She drives me crazy, but like, in a good way. And then I kissed her, and I think I fucked it up.”

“For the record, I think this is a bad idea and I reserve the right to tell you I told you so when shit blows up,” John B warns, JJ rolls his eyes but nods, indicating for him to continue. “But, I have to ask. Did you tell her any of this or did you just mack on her and hope her wealthy parents bought her the ability to read minds.”

JJ’s silence is telling. He pulls out his phone, unable to stop the small pang of disappointment that you haven’t yet responded to any of his text messages. He can’t help but send another text, texting etiquette or whatever be damned, he’ll text you as many times as it takes for you to reply.

maybank: i just want to make sure you’re okay

seen 2:34 pm

JJ tries to not let the disappointment take root in his chest, recognizing that you need time to deal with what happened, acknowledging the many times he has gone ghost on his own friends, but the insidious feeling takes hold of him anyway. Walking away from John B, he reflects on his best friend’s advice and realizes there’s a lot he needs to tell you.

“C’mon y/n/n, you have to get out of this room,” Sarah tells you. You’ve let her into your house, realizing that you can’t just shut her out completely without her resorting to desperate measures (like enlisting your little sister in her quest for knowledge). It may have been a mistake because she’s spent the last few minutes trying to convince you to go out to a kegger.

“I don’t want to go,” you tell her, despite the fact that your base state of being has been stuck on ‘I could really use a drink’ since that kiss.

“Because you don’t want to see JJ? Because you kissed him?” She asks, sympathetically. You gasp, Sarah has been over for twenty five minutes, and you had assumed her silence on the matter meant Chick hadn’t snitched.

“I can’t believe Chick told you, you can’t trust anyone, not even your own blood,” you said dramatically.

“Chick didn’t tell me, John B did.” Sarah replies, and you’re confused at first, and then you groan.

“Oh my god, I bet he had a lot to say,” you tell her, and she winces a little. You nod to yourself, “Great, that’s great. Is JJ just telling everyone now? Does everyone know?” You can’t help the annoyed look that crosses your face, despite knowing the annoyance is just a deflection.

“Well, I’m sure JJ told Pope, and I may have let it slip to Kie.” You groan audibly, burying your head in your hands. “Listen, y/n, I was sworn to secrecy,” you roll your eyes, knowing Sarah can’t keep a secret to save her life, evidenced by the first half of her statement, “but, JJ told John B that he really likes you.”

You groan louder, “that’s worse!” but your words are muffled by your arms.

“You wanna repeat that in English that the rest of us can understand?” Sarah responds sassily, and you just groan again. She gives you a minute to mull it over before she’s grabbing you by your upper arms and shaking you.

“Hey, get off of me you psycho,” you twist in her grasp, swatting at her hands.

“Tell me what you’re thinking!” she exclaims, still wrestling with you

“I really like him!” You admit. She pauses, grip slackening long enough for you to slide out from underneath her.

“Okay, I’m failing to see the problem here,” she replies sassily, hand moving to her hip.

“Sarah, my parents! Their expectations, The Lecture, it can never happen.”

She nods in understanding, considerably more somber than before, before replying, “fuck them.”

“Sarah, come on you know it’s not that easy,” you protest, but she shakes her head and repeats herself.

“Fuck. Them.”

“Yeah, and then what? I don’t get my trust fund until I turn eighteen next year, and you can bet they’ll take it away from me if I stray away from the perfect daughter before then. And what about Chick? You don’t think that they’ll take it out on Chick if I just up and leave?” It’s not like you hadn’t thought about it, throwing it all away and starting fresh somewhere new. But you didn’t think they would let you go that easily, and you could never leave Chick behind.

“Then we’ll get my dad and Rose to do something,” Sarah continues to protest, but you shake your head.

“Sarah, stop. It’s never going to work, your dad and Rose aren’t going to go against my father.” She sighed in defeat, realizing that you weren’t going to budge. At least not yet.

“Will you please just come to the kegger? Me and Kie can run interference for you.” She pleads, Cameron pout on full display and you roll your eyes before muttering fine. Her excitement makes you smile a little, for the first time in a few days.

You don’t know why you agreed to come. There’s an anxious feeling in your chest as you take in all the moving bodies with red solo cups in their hands. You’re not sure if you’re looking to spot JJ or hoping you don’t spot him at all. Maybe it’s both, you think as you take a small sip of whatever swill is in your own red cup. You don’t know whether you would kiss him again, run away, or maybe both like the last time.

Lost in your thoughts of the blond, Rafe’s hand is on your waist before you even comprehend that he’s appeared at the party. “Heard you’re officially with Maybank now,” his grip is tight, but you’re able to peel his hand from your body.

“I’m not officially with anyone!” You let your many frustrations out on Rafe, without even a hint of guilt. “God Rafe, when are you going to leave me alone? I don’t owe you shit.” You see hurt flash in his eyes, but you frankly don’t care anymore. He is persistent to a fault, and you want to get it through his thick skull for once.

There’s a small crowd around you, mouths gaping, more than one person is on their phone, likely frantically texting everyone your business. You roll your eyes and push past them, dropping your cup on the first surface you find on your way back to your car. You don’t stop to tell Sarah you’re leaving, but you figure she’ll get the memo when she hears about your run in with Rafe, if she hasn’t heard about it already. You’re upset and frustrated, and so supremely grateful that neither your parents nor Chick are home as you stomp up the stairs and throw yourself on your bed. You didn’t need to add Rafe’s gross possessiveness to the inner turmoil running through your head.

It’s a solid twenty minutes of you just staring up at the ceiling before your phone buzzes with a text message. Figuring it’s probably Sarah and you owe her at least a brief explanation, you unlock the phone. But it’s not a message from Sarah. At the bottom of a string of unreplied to messages is a new text:

maybank: i’m outside, we need to talk

Feel something tag list (ily guys sm): @thoughtsofthestars @dreamsndior @duskangxl @agirlwholovescoffee @previouslyforgotten @http-cherries @softtfordrew @gigi-june @httpstarkey @meaganjm @oopsiedoopsie23 @margaritatimebaybee @iamaunicorn4704 @5am-cigarette @kahnacademyforfun @rudths @llvinlavidaloca @arianabrashierstuff @realistic-breadstick @tattered-masterpiece

Everything tag list (yall are rockstars!!): @velyssaraptor @danicarosaline @copper-boom @x-lulu @prejudic3 @ohfreyfrey @downbytheouterbanks / @gforgenevieve @ilovejjmaybank

if you want to be added to either tag list, just shoot me an ask/message/comment love you guys!! shoot me an ask if u wanna talk about this part or literally anything i love you guys thank u for the support

#jj obx #jj x you #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n #jj x y/n #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank angst #diverdcwn writes #feel something

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thr-333 · 4 years

Text

Mismatch- Part 21

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month

Patrolling with Gotham’s vigilantes is somehow the least chaotic part of their day, emphasises on Least!

First< Previous > Next

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

“So you want to explain how you let the Joker go?” Sparrow asks Red Hood, as they pour over plans.

“It happens,” Red Hood shrugs, but she is willing to bet he has a similar expression to Songbird right about now.

“Right, i just want to know how ,” She pushes more, getting Songbird to blush more

“Hey!" Songbird interrupts, getting the attention of the rest of the Bats with them, "I’m good at tracking people,”

“Thats nice,” Nightwing says, gearing up to search for the Joker with Red Hood.

“What I mean is I should come with you while Sparrow goes in the opposite direction,” Songbird turns to glare at her, “Far away,”

“Why would you want that,” Sparrow leans into his space, getting her face pushed away, “I’m just asking a professional question,”

“I have known you for little over a week nothing you do is professional,” Robin tsks, still sour about getting put on Patrol with her instead of going after the Joker.

“Well that’s simply not true,” Sparrows's voice comes out mumbled as marion smooshes her face.

“Right so you will follow the lead Nightwing has,” Batman pushes Songbird towards Red Hood, the greatest detective not notices the growing blush, “You three are patrolling together,”

“What could go wrong,” Red Robin sighs, resigning to patrol with both her and Robin.

“Try not to fall through any windows,” Sparrow calls, as they move to swing in opposite directions,

“Ha ha...I make no promises,” He mutters, heard through super hearing, before shouting, "See you later Captain!

Marinette leaves with Robin and Red Robin. The two bicker until oracle alerts them of three people attacking a girl in an alley a block over. In a matter of seconds of their arrival the three were disarmed and unconscious. Marinette goes to comfort the victim Alya?!

“Al- are you alright?” Sparrow reaches out to help her up.

“Yes, I’m fine thanks,” Alya dusts herself off, finally looking up, “Um, who are you?”

“Sparrow, working in Gotham temporarily,” She says professionally, hoping beyond hope that Alya does not recognise her.

“Right,” She surprisingly misses the chance for an interview, “Listen I need to talk to Batman, is he here?”

“Sorry miss he’s in another part of Gotham what seems to be your issue?” Red Robin answers for her.

“I need to talk to him about something really important,”

“Sorry, but if you’re looking for an interview Batman is very busy,” Sparrow brushes her off, of course she would be salivating to interview Batman.

“What? no-I’m,”

“We have to go, the police will be here soon,” Robin cuts her off, leaving with a Tt.

“Wait!”

“How annoying,” Robin spits, as they leave Alya behind in the alley.

“How did you know she wanted an interview?” Red Robin asks instead.

“Just know the type,”

“HEY!” Alya calls, chasing after them in the street below, “Just wait a minute!”

“Do you think we should stop?” Sparrow asks, feeling guilt claw at her.

“No,” Robin speeds up.

“Please! I really need to talk with you!” Alya begs, “It’s about Paris!”

“Paris?” Robin exchanges a knowing glance with Red Robin.

“We should stop,” Red Robin decides, they come to a halt.

They wait on the edge of the building, so Alya can see their shadows at the top. Alya starts sprinting up the fire escape.

“Tha-Thank you,” She pants, leaning over.

“What's this about Paris?” Robin demands, somehow glaring down at her despite being significantly shorter.

“The Akuma attacks!” Alya explodes, as if it's the most obvious thing, probably is, “Have you heard of Ladybug and Chat Noir? Hawk Moth?!”

“The situation in Paris has recently come to our attention,” Red Robin answers cordially.

“Well it’s been like this since I was thirteen!” Taking them both aback slightly, “And it's only getting worse every day,”

“The heroes of Paris have proved to be capable,” How did Red Robin even know about them?

“That's not what I mean, it’s the emotional toll,” Alya is still out of breath, Sparrow stands off to the side, joining in would only risk her identities, “Do you know what it’s like to be afraid to feel negative emotions? To have to constantly be happy otherwise you could kill your whole family!”

“I’m sure your heroes can handle it,” Robin concedes, bitterness hanging from the tone.

“They can but they shouldn't have to!”

Alya takes her aback with another out burst, stepping towards the Bats.

“I was… I used to be called in by them from time to time, and let me tell you,” Alya pauses, she was probably still mad about getting benched, loving her position as Rena Rouge, “It’s terrifying,”

Now that... that is a surprise.

“Not even the hero part… most the time,” Alya rubs her arm, “But you can’t get Akumatized again otherwise Hawk Moth will know, he can target your friends and family,”

At least she finally understood the need to keep secret identities.

“Ladybug hasent called me in in years,” Alya admits, actually looking shameful, "I don’t know how I messed up,”

Thats the problem

“But I know that I’m glad Ladybug never gave me the miraculous again,”

Wait... WHAT!

“It was so stressful having all of paris, sometimes the world, depending on you,” Alya looks on the verge of tears, “At first I though it was fun because I had Ladybug who seemed so strong and unstoppable, someone I could look up to, for always being there, always put together, she didn't seem to have a weakness,”

That- That could not be further from the truth

“Not that I don’t still respect her, it’s just different now,” Alya backtracks, “I saw it, sometimes, the uncertainty there, it made me think she’s just like me, scared, but she doesn't have anyone stronger to protect her, she’s all alone,"

I have Chat Noir!

“I look up to her so much more now, it’s not a fun job and I know she’s afraid she cant protect everyone, so Hawkmoth needs to be defeated,”

Alya looks every inch the confident reporter Marinette had first met. The one before Lila came and sapped all her strength and independence.

“Ladybug deserves to live in peace,” Alya decides, almost glaring down the other two, “Will you please help her?”

“We already have plans of going to Paris soon to assist,” Red Robin informs.

“You do?!”

“Thank you,” Alya burst into tears, while Marinette is still reeling from the new information, “Thank you so much,”

“How about we escort you back to your hotel?”

They carry Alya to the hotel, swinging through the night. They see her in and set up a watch across the building. They report into Batman, granting permission to stake out for a while. They watch as Alya is talking with the group, including Lila in her room. Marinette could feel the irritation radiating off the other two at Lila’s nonsense.

“Is this necessary?” Robin glares down at the window they are watching through, “She didn’t have any valuable insight,”

“She was a hero in Paris,” Red Robin sighs, evidently glaring just as much, “That's something,”

“And she clearly got the boot for being incompetent,”

“You don’t know that,” Alya had actually been a great fox, but when Marinette could no longer trust her as a civilian, she knew Alya could never wield another miraculous, “Which is why we are watching, follow every possible lead, especially when they’re scarce,”

“Hey listen,” Red Robin nods towards the speaker, connected to the bug he planted on her.

“Marinette really needs to think things through,” Lila whines, all three go to turn it down at the same time, “It’s like she wants the class to get in trouble,”

“But Marinette protected us from Scarecrow,” Rose squeaks out.

“And Marion!” Nino adds, as if they didn't just commit treason in Lila land.

“Of course, it’s just they know all this trouble is following them around and they’re still-” Lila pauses long enough for everyone to be on the edge of their seats, “No never mind,”

“What is it Lila,”

“Well…” Lila plays like she isn't going to tell them everything that never happened, “I was talking to Marinette in the elevator and I told her I felt really unsafe and scared that another villain was going to attack,”

“Mari-Marinette started yelling at me about how I was trying to ruin her trip!” Lila's lip quivers, so painfully obvious she can see it from here, “She said if I felt unsafe I should just stay behind or go back to Paris!”

“Do you feel that unsafe Lila?” Mylene asks, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Wha-”

“Yeah if you’re that scared you should tell your parents,” Kim encourages, enthusiastic, but concerned, “I’m sure you’ll feel better back home with Ladybug,”

“You guys don’t understand,” Lila almost shouts, losing grip on her perfect persona, “Marinette wasn't worried about me; she just wanted me out of the way! Because- well I don’t know why! I think she can just be really cruel sometimes,”

“That little disgusting worm!” Robin makes a grab for his katana.

“Yeah so I hacked the security footage and they have never been in a room alone together,” Red Robin reports, scrolling through a video feed, “Let alone an elevator,”

“Let’s just go,” Sparrow grabs them both by the arms, “I think we’ve exhausted our information,”

She practically drags them off the roof, a few blocks away. Robin’s pacing looking for something to stab. At this rate it’s probably going to be Red Robin, who’s been tapping away at his screen the whole time. Sparrow finds her saving grace, spotting a park down below.

“Let’s go,”

She drags them despite their protests down to the playground. Robin is grumbling the whole time, so she sits him down on the swing, and pushes him. Red Robin starts laughing and may or may not be filming.

“I am perfectly capable of pushing myself!”

“Really have you ever been on a swing before?” She leans over, getting in his face.

“Tt, of course not,” He looks away, “So childish,”

“Well that just means a child can do something you cannot,”

It's really Red Robins laughter that truly breaks him.

“... do not push me,”

“Alright, how about I show you?” She hops on the swing next to him, “Like this,”

Robin copies her form as Red Robin keeps filming, shouting out scores in the negative numbers.

“So help me I will stab you if you don't!-” Robin tips off balance and falls off the swing backwards, “ RED ,”

“That was very good for a first time,” Marinette helps him stand back up, “Keep it up and you might be able to go toe to toe with the three year olds one day,”

They spend the rest of patrol getting chased around the park by Robin, both hurling out insults and condescending reassurance.

Marion had not run into any buildings yet thank you very much. He had ran into a cell phone tower.

“Are you alright?” Red hood lands in front of him.

Marion glares at him upside down, hanging off the bars, as if this wasn't all his fault,

“Fine,” And because he can’t possibly be anymore embarrassed, “Just like you,”

“Of course I’m fine,” He crosses his arms, Marion definitely doesn't give him the once over, “I didn’t just run into a cell tower,”

He’s an idiot!..... He’s perfect

It does not help that Nightwing bursts out laughing.

“Little wing… no,” Nightwing gasps through his laughter.

“What are you-” Red Hood stiffens up, “oh,”

Mayday! Mayday! Abort! Abort! BACK TO PARIS!!! Wheres the Rabbit Miraculous!!!

“Oh,” Red Hood leans in, inches away, “Hell yeah I am,”

Sorry to inform you Marion has now died, Red Hood is indeed a murderer

Unfortunately before Marion has another opportunity to embarrass himself Oracle calls in and they both swing off. Leaving Marion to catch up. They eventually stop for a break without crashing into another building… it was a light graze ok?!

“I swear you and Sparrow are my new favourites,” Nightwing scarfs down another macaron.

“Careful golden boy,” Red Hood warns, stealing a macaron from Nightwing, “You’ll get a lecture form the Bat,”

“Batman can fuck off,” Marion shoves one in his mouth, “He probably lives off protein shakes and brooding,”

“Oh my-,” Red Hood cracks up, “I don’t think I've ever heard you swear,”

“What can I say,” Marion leans back, looking over Red Hood, “You bring out the best in me,”

“I think I’d rather bring out the worst in you,”

… No Marion is not blushing, he is not stuttering, he has everything under control thank you very much.

“Are- are you actually going to eat that?” Marion chokes out, Red Hood still holding his stolen macaron.

That turns out to be the worst possible thing he could have said, because Red hood actually takes off his helmet. There is a domino mask underneath but this is the first time Marion is seeing his face.

“Songbird are you ok?” Nightwing asks.

“I will never be ok again,” Marion falls back across the roof, “Ok is a state before perfection and I can never feel anything but joy after seeing that,”

“Ummm,” Nightwing looks awkwardly between the two.

“You’re pretty,” Marion turns, curling around to look at Red Hood.

“Not handsome?” And fuck he’s smiling, fuck.

“No,” Marion says harshly,“Gorgeous,”

Red Hood looks completely shocked. And god he can actually see his face! And expressions! This is wonderful!

“Yes… well,” Nightwing clears his throat, “We should probably move on,”

“Jealous?” Red Hood teases.

“No, let’s just go,” Nightwing stands, Marion sighs and sits back up.

“It’s alright Golden boy,” Red Hood punches him in the shoulder as he stands, “Plenty of people still think you’re pretty,”

Marion has to stop himself from ripping the helmet out of Red Hood’s hands when he goes to put it back on.

“That’s not what this is about Hood,”

“Sure it’s not,” Red Hood winks at Songbird just before he puts the helmet back on, as if that didn’t cause him cardiac arrest.

They continue along their search equal parts flirting with each other and teasing Nightwing.

“Oi! Shelly!”

Marion looks behind him, mid-swing to spot a familiar taxi driver,”

“Norris!” Marion spins around, landing in front of the man.

“You’re patrolling with them?” Norris nods towards the other two hiding in the shadows, “Where’s your sister?”

“Yeah! Decided on a codename, it’s Songbird actually,”

“Nah,” Norris leans against the hood of his car, “Shelly suits you better,”

“Hell yeah it does!”

Bruce waits for the others to finish up patrol in the Batcave. He has to talk to them about the twins at some point, the sooner the better, before they go back to Paris. It’s just so hard. Would they even accept someone new into the family?

“Father!�� Damian shouts the moment he enters the cave, “I demand you adopt Sparrow immediately,”

“What, why?”

“She is a good warrior,” From Damian that is very high praise .

“And helps you skip patrol,” Tim adds, going directly for his after patrol coffee.

“You were complicit in that Drake!”

“You skipped patrol,” Bruce sighs, partly disappointed, partly curious Damian was usually excited for patrol.

“Not really we were watching that student from Paris we told you about,” Tim states, Bruce nods along, “They were talking to another student in the class who is-”

“A filthy liar,” Damian spits, “I have meet them once and know Marinette is far more honourable than that,”

“Lila?” Bruce guesses, thinking back to the fair, on the other hand at least Damian doesn't seem to hate them.

“How did you know?” Tim asks, taking the reports from the desk as he downs the coffee.

“I was with them the other day-”

“Father if you are planning to adopt them I insists you adopt Sparrow first,”

“We’re adopting Sparrow?!” Dick calls, as he walks in with Jason, “Cause we should also adopt Songbird,”

“Are you so offended you would go this far to thwart me?” Jason recites theatrically, “You should really learn to control that jealousy,”

“What happened?” Bruce grows suspicious watching Dick glare.

“Songbird flirted with me,” Jason grins, perhaps a little too widely, “And ignored Dick,”

“I’m not jealous, just worried,”

“Thanks,” Jason looks away bitterly, tone getting harsher.

“That's not what I meant Jason,” Dick cringes, having ruined his good mood.

“What did you mean then?” Jason bites out, making Dick recoil.

“Enough, I’m not adopting them!” Bruce shouts, making everyone pause.

“... That’s probably the first time you ever said that,”

"Alfred!" Jason jumps, Bruce tenses at him reflexively reaching for his gun, "Where the fuck did you come from!?"

"I think you will end up adopting them one way or another Master Bruce,"

"What do you mean," Bruce asks as Alfred takes Tim's coffee.

"Well I think it's time everyone retires for the night,"

"ALFRED! what do you mean!"

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

Taglist:

@technicallyburninggarden @fusser90 @misslenamooney @superbwhispersconnoisseur @biodad-bruce-month @nalu-ismyjam @the-one-woman-army @rosesandsailboats @blackmagicforever @zeneralla @ivymala07 @tired-butterfly @tired-butterfly @Ranger-gothamite @A-star-with-a-human-name @enchanted-nerd

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calitraditionalism · 3 years

Text

Arc Three: Chapter Thirteen

(AO3 counterpart here.)

The five witnesses glanced at each other, unsure. Darkpelt, Redheart and Mistface stood together, with Darkpelt taking the lead. Her tail danced about merrily and her ears were perked. It looked a little like she had spotted particularly fat prey and was preparing to catch it.

“So,” she said, “this whole StarClan thing, right? Real puzzle, isn’t it?”

Mistface gave her a very dry look (though he wasn’t bothering to hide his smile). Redheart’s eyes rolled skyward for just a heartbeat.

“Seems a difficult thing,” Darkpelt went on. “We’ll have to consider our options carefully when we approach this topic.”

“What options?” Beetlefoot said. “All we can do is run.”

“Incorrect!” Darkpelt’s grin broadened. “As you all may have guessed, I’ve been doing some real hard thinking on this particular topic, and just now broached my newest theory to our deputy and…” She turned towards Mistface. “I’m trying to find a nice way to call you ‘smarter than your assumed looks would imply’.”

“Get to the point, Darkpelt,” Mistface said. “Now ain’t the time for jokes.”

“That is true, at least.” Darkpelt shook her head in self-admonishment and returned her attention to her audience. “Anyway, my theory posits as such: the false StarClan eats souls, as we all know. This would imply it needs a way to sustain itself. Which-“ She leaned a little forward. “-implies further that it is, in some form, alive. And if it’s alive, it can be killed.”

Greyleaf stared at her. For perhaps the first time since meeting Redheart in the waking world, his heart leapt with a sudden excitement. His mind immediately was working furiously away at this idea, many thoughts shouting over each other with plans and what information he’d collected over the years.

"You think that's possible?" Flyfang's eyes were wide.

"I'm quite certain it is," Darkpelt said. "Anything can die. What makes this so different?"

“I-“ Laurelclaw shuffled his feet, halfway between nervous and eager. “Well, I would like to think so, but how does something like that die?"

“That’s the puzzle part,” Darkpelt said. “It’s not going to die like a cat. It’s not built like us. It relies on souls and belief to get anything done.”

Littlepaw’s ears perked. “Belief?”

“Belief,” Darkpelt repeated. “That’s the key. It’s a mental game. This thing’s power is all in the mind.”

A realization hit Greyleaf in a full-force tackle. He stood up, tail straight out and bushy. “It’s a psychic monster. It relies on your thoughts and beliefs to be effective.”

“Therefore-“ Darkpelt almost wiggled in excitement. “Therefore, if there’s a way to take it on, it’ll be all in our heads.”

“Take it on?” Beetlefoot repeated, looking bewildered.

“We don’t need to flee from it.” Darkpelt’s paws kneaded at the ground. “We need to figure out how to attack it within itself – within our minds, in our sleep, perhaps.”

Greyleaf couldn’t help a rush of adrenaline in his blood himself that made him want to jump up and down. “It can take a dead soul and it can lie to us, but that’s all it can do. There’s a weakness somewhere that we can find just in a dream.”

“Yes!” Darkpelt nodded fervently at him. “Precisely!”

Mistface spoke now. “Thing is that we ain’t seers, and even seers don’t got the power to force StarClan to meet them wherever or whenever they like. So we gotta march up to its den and make it acknowledge us.” He looked at Redheart. “Which is how we’ve made a new plan.”

“The plan so far – young as it is – is this.” Redheart’s voice was level, but there was an intensity behind it that belied her excitement. “We want to head north and get to the Lighthouse. That place is the most direct link to StarClan – it will have to respond to us there. Once there, if everyone who comes with us dreams at once, we stand much more of a chance of defeating it through what means are possible.”

Darkpelt flicked a paw in Mistface’s general direction. “Your theory so far, my lad?”

Mistface, of the three, was the only one talking like he was conversing the weather. He tilted his head, eyes contemplative. “Just a theory, mind, but Redheart explained to me a little of what this thing is like. Nightmarish.” He looked almost sadly at Greyleaf. “Can’t even imagine it in my head without a little panic.”

Greyleaf offered a weak smile in return.

Mistface breathed in slowly and continued. “But what I gathered is that this thing’s just as much land as it is a monster. It shows seers landscapes same as it does ghosts. That can’t all be simple illusions – it ain’t that original. My guess is that, if we are to destroy it, we gotta approach it like we’re destroying a forest or a field.”

“How do we do that?” Flyfang asked. She was halfway to eagerness, but she still sounded hesitant. “We can’t just claw it to death.”

Mistface smiled lazily at her. “We’ll just have to get creative, won’t we?”

“That ‘we’, by the way,” Darkpelt added, “refers to whoever wants to come with us. I’m putting my paw in on this plan, and so are Redheart and Mistface. You all are free to leave, and maybe you should. I won’t lie and say we’re guaranteed to stay sane and in good health on this quest, but-“

“I’m in,” Greyleaf said.

Mistface beamed.

“Don’t know why I even pretended to ask you.” Darkpelt’s laugh was like her elation had filled her and had nowhere to go but forcibly out. “That’s four. Warriors, your thoughts?”

“Think carefully,” Redheart said. “You’ll be traveling with me and Greyleaf, and we’re both wanted. Even besides StarClan and whatever risks we face with it, you could be arrested for assisting us and trying to escape the Territory.”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Flyfang said. “I’m coming with. As if there’s another option.”

Laurelclaw nodded at Flyfang. “Same for me. You- you might need a little muscle anyway, if someone tries to stop us.”

“Look at you actually offering to fight,” Beetlefoot said wryly. “We’ll probably need it.”

“Then you’re with us?” Mistface asked him.

Beetlefoot nodded as well - curtly, but with a spark in his eyes. “Any way I can help, I will. This is too important to decline.”

Littlepaw jumped to her feet. “I’m coming too!”

Every adult looked her way. Greyleaf could see on their faces that they’d all completely forgotten the apprentice. He had too, to be fair, but it was still a little funny.

Redheart frowned a little, tone careful. “Littlepaw, I can honor your enthusiasm, but I don’t think we can keep you with us from this point on. It’s been dangerous enough for you just in these past couple of days. The leaders will be looking for us-“

Littlepaw shook her head violently. “Let them. I’m not quitting here.”

“Littlepaw-“ started Flyfang.

“You’re going!” Littlepaw looked at her, outraged. “And the only reason you’re not my mentor is because we didn’t do the ceremony! You can’t just leave me behind!”

Laurelclaw tried next. “It’s dangerous for all of us, nevermind you, you know? We don’t know what StarClan can do to us. I mean, I’m sure it’ll tell everyone to chase us down if it catches wind of what we’re doing. We just don’t want you to get in trouble with us.” He cowed a little when Littlepaw glared at him. “Legal or physical, I mean.”

“He’s not wrong,” Darkpelt said. “Heading straight into the wasp’s nest may have some dire consequences for us, if we get there before the Clan gets us. We have absolutely no idea of how much it can hurt us until and when we get to the Lighthouse.”

Littlepaw stood as tall as her tiny stature would allow, tail lashing and eyes fiery and determined. “You don’t get it. I have just as much stake in this as you do. Not because of my family and my own life.” She paused, swallowed, and continued, a little shakier and angrier at the same time. “I helped propagate the lie of StarClan. I helped this thing deceive everyone. It deceived me! I bought into its crap and I told everyone what it told me, and they bought into its crap too. You can’t just send me home and expect me to forget everything I’ve learned, and everything I’ve helped it do.”

“No one blames you for being fooled,” Redheart said soothingly. “That isn’t your fault.”

“But it’s going to be my fault if I don’t do something about it,” Littlepaw countered. She gave everyone a defiant, fiery stare that was so uncharacteristic on her pretty face that Greyleaf almost wanted to draw back a little in alarm. “So you can take me with you or I can follow you the whole way to the Lighthouse, no matter how hard you try to drive me off. Either way, I’m part of this, and I don’t care what I need to do to help stop StarClan, with or without your approval.”

There was a silence. The adults now looked at each other, silently debating back and forth. Greyleaf regarded Littlepaw with sympathy. He understood her fear of that helpless frustration at being put aside and forced to do nothing with this horrible knowledge in her head.

“Let her come with us,” he said. “It’s only fair.”

“Getting an apprentice in trouble with the leaders, though…” Laurelclaw said anxiously.

“It’s her choice.” Greyleaf nodded to Littlepaw. “And I can’t make her live with what she knows and be unable to do anything about it.”

Mistface hummed. “She is right. We ain’t her mentor. Or her mother, for that matter. Let her do what she wants.”

Redheart had her head down, eyes narrowed in thought. She looked up again after a moment and said to Littlepaw, “My caveat is this: we can make Flyfang your mentor right now, and she will have the final say in what you do. If she says no, then you go home.”

Flyfang and Littlepaw blinked in surprise, looked at each other, and then smiled at the same time.

“Sounds fair to me,” Flyfang said. “Littlepaw?”

“Let’s do it,” Littlepaw said. “And don’t disappoint me.”

Flyfang poorly restrained a chuckle and looked at everyone else for confirmation. Without a word, the rest of the cats stood and moved to allow Flyfang, Littlepaw and Redheart some space. Greyleaf was grateful for how oddly light-feeling the moment was.

Redheart took a step forward, completely clear of Mistface and Darkpelt, and raised her voice a little, enough for it to be heard clearly in the thick woods.

“The apprentice before us has reached a turning point in her life,” she began. “She has chosen to leave behind the path of seerhood and turn to warriorhood. We honor her decision with this ceremony. Littlepaw, as an approved deputy of the Clan, I thank you for your service as a seer-in-training and change your status to warrior-in-training.” She looked warmly at Flyfang. “Flyfang, you have already taken charge of Littlepaw’s education and protection these past months. You will be her official mentor from here to her graduation and naming ceremony. I ask you to pass on your skills as a fighter and hunter to her.”

Flyfang and Littlepaw faced each other and touched noses. Greyleaf could see excitement and nervousness fluffing Littlepaw’s fur. He waited, not sure whether to hope for Flyfang’s approval or Littlepaw’s dismissal. From the tension in the air, everyone else was thinking the same thing.

“And with that…” Redheart’s eyes turned serious again. “Flyfang, it’s your call. Will she come with us?”

Flyfang looked down at Littlepaw, a flurry of emotions passing through her face. Littlepaw’s tail trembled a little.

After what felt like an eternity, Flyfang said to Redheart, “She will.”

Littlepaw bounced twice before catching herself and standing stiff and serious. Greyleaf couldn’t help a sigh of relief, odd thing though it was to be relieved about. The other adults relaxed and exchanged looks again, some worried, some optimistic.

“Then that’s that.” Redheart smiled at Littlepaw. “Your mentor has the final word.”

“Not that it would have made a difference,” Beetlefoot muttered. “She was going to follow us.”

“But now I don’t have to,” Littlepaw said, grinning. “So when do we head north?”

“Preferably as soon as possible,” Darkpelt said. “We’re losing cats daily. We ought to put a stop to this swiftly as we can.”

“We leave as soon as we’ve eaten,” Redheart said.

Everyone brightened at this. Greyleaf could feel the same thrill he had in his heart from the others. Having this plan – even the slimmest spider-silk of hope – it felt like having a reason to live. As the group of renegades started chatting to each other about possible trails and ideas, Greyleaf and Mistface simultaneously got up and met each other halfway.

“We’re savin’ Mama,” Mistface said, quiet enough for only Greyleaf to hear him. “She ain’t goin’ to that thing.”

Greyleaf nodded firmly. “It’ll have to get us first.”

Mistface’s features were calm, but Greyleaf could see, deep in his green eyes, a steadily burning determination. Greyleaf smiled grimly, feeling that determination roaring away in his own heart.

Hang on a little longer, Mama, he thought, hoping it could reach her somehow.

Just a little bit longer.

We’re coming for it.

You’ll be safe soon.

#warrior cats #steorra #arc three #chapter #chapter thirteen #darkpelt #greyleaf #mistface #redheart #littlepaw #laurelclaw #beetlefoot #flyfang

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huntergatherercreator · 3 years

Text

The Takedown | Part Fourteen

Pairing: Mob!Tom Holland x Detective Reader

Summary: NYC has a new drug lord determined to wipe out any and all competition in order to grow his empire. You're going undercover to stop him.

Warnings: Mentions of weapons, swearing

Part 14 - 1,536 words

Rain lashing in across the bay meant the Tribeca was deserted, everyone having retreated to the safety of the nearest building. It would make surveillance difficult. I’d gotten used to the crowds of people stumbling from clubs and bars that helped me blend in as I worked my way around the borough. Walking into Hell’s Kitchen was a suicide mission on a good day. It would be worse with no cover and almost zero visibility due to the rain.

Anything could happen while we were there. I stuffed my fisted hands further into my pockets to chase away the chill creeping in.

I considered calling it off but the thought alone of having another fight with Holland was exhausting. His stubbornness was going to get us in trouble out here, along with his pride. Then there was the reaction he’d ignited in me just hours before. I blew a deep sigh out, watching my breath mist slightly. I had to keep it together. I’m a cop, and he’s a mobster and my job is to get him and his men off the streets for good.

A small part of me knew that as much as I tried to shove down the interest my body held for him that it wasn’t all physical. I felt like I’d cracked open a door to him when I realised his main weakness, and the inside had held a mirror.

How many nights had I spent working cases into the small hours of the morning, searching for the information that was missing, putting the puzzle pieces together until I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I’d walked more steps during an investigation than a beat cop in a month. I was never sated until I had enough evidence to fully convict a perp. I’d like to say that I rested then, but that was only because the Captain would withhold a new case until I’d stopped turning up to work in the clothes from the night before.

I clung to each case because I needed the hit that came with the resolution, the easy breath that came after a guilty charge was delivered. It gave me purpose, and stopped me spiralling in the months after what had happened. That’s how I recognised it so well in Holland.

The newspapers had been calling him ruthless, sadistic, evil after they found a body strung up at the docks and almost a dozen others floating out to sea. In a way it had been but I knew every move he’d previously made was calculated and weighed up to suit his interests. Now that Rivera had gotten under his skin he was slipping and I could already tell it was going to end badly. I just needed to have him reigned in long enough to give me a shot at Rivera.

Movement at the bottom of the stairs caught my attention. Completely nondescript and dressed in a plain waterproof jacket the man tipped his head at me before continuing along the street. I followed carefully, hood up and head down most of the way as he led me through a series of back alleys. Eventually he stopped at an open fire exit. Light and steam spilled into the alley, the clangs of a busy kitchen emanating back to me along with the smell of freshly cooked food. My stomach clenched as my mouth started to water. I’d been too tense to eat after Holland had left. I’d taken the extra time to go around my contacts, putting feelers out for information that would help get this over with as quickly as possible. I didn’t want to have to spend more time than I needed to with him.

The man glanced back, checking I was still there before heading inside. Unzipping my jacket, my fingers lingered over the gun I’d brought giving me a boost of confidence. If I was about to walk into a trap I was prepared. Stepping into the kitchen no-one moved to block me, no-one even batted an eye. They were either too busy with the dishes they were preparing or this was a regular occurrence. Unease flared. If it was the latter did this mean it was a regular haunt for Holland? I eyed the room, finding the man guarding a door at the other end of the kitchen.

On high alert I joined him and he ushered my into a section of the restaurant that was almost in darkness save for the dim glow of small wall sconces around the room. A dance floor took up most of the space, the tables surrounding it all had upturned chairs except for one tucked into the back corner. I could see Holland’s silhouette as he leaned against it and my pulse spiked, mouth drying up.

“I wouldn’t try his patience if I were you,” the man warned, voice surprisingly gentle. Before I could retort he disappeared back into the kitchen. The click of the door closing echoed and I stood for a long moment, letting my eyes adjust to the low light. I scanned the dark corners and shadows to make sure we were actually alone before carefully heading in his direction. He pushed off, moving to meet me halfway across the floor.

The closer he got the clearer his outfit became and I almost faltered. Instead of his usual perfectly tailored suit he was donned in dark jeans and a black t-shirt topped with a leather jacket. With his rain dampened curls and freshly shaven face he could have easily stepped off the set of a magazine shoot. I distracted myself by doing another sweep of the room, giving myself time to take a few deep breaths before risking another look at him.

He’d folded his arms, the leather of his jacket clinging to them leaving no illusion that he was more than equipped to fight his way out should this end badly. Not that I ever imagined he’d need to stoop that low. I was willing to bet he had more than one gun hidden beneath his jacket, and I already knew how willing he was to use them.

“Why are we here?” I eventually asked. The tense silence radiating off him was starting to make me nervous.

“I needed to make sure you wouldn’t be followed.”

“You should know by now that if I was, I’d already know,” I scoffed. When he didn't snap back a response I studied him. His jaw ticked as he looked me over. “You wanted to make sure I wouldn’t try to ambush you,” I realised. With a frustrated sigh I pinched the bridge of my nose, eyes squeezing shut as I fought the urge to walk away.

“Until I trust you Joe will bring you to a different meeting point each night.”

Dragging my eyes back to him I mimicked his stance. “That doesn’t help me trust you. How do I know he won’t be leading me to a quiet spot to get rid of me as soon as I get you the information you want?”

“You don’t. So I suggest you prove you’re more use to me alive.” His cheek twitched as if he was trying to fight a smile.

“I have nothing to prove to you. I have my own reasons for wanting Rivera gone,” I snapped. A soon as the words were out I realised my mistake. He strode towards me so fast I almost tripped up trying to back away. The edge of a table hit my legs, halting my retreat. He gripped my upper arms, dark eyes filled with outrage boring into me.

“Do you have a personal vendetta? Are you using me?” he growled.

“Don’t act like that’s not what you’re doing. We both have the same end goal.” I shoved against him, trying to stop his fingers biting into my arms but he only tightened his hold. I bit the inside of my cheek to stop a whimper escaping. I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

Without warning he released me and backed away, hand raking through his hair a few times he scowled at the floor before collecting himself.

“I want to know everything you have on Rivera. Then we’re going to Hell’s Kitchen to find the bastard.”

Not trusting my legs to hold me up for much longer I tipped over the closest chair and sank into it. Leaning forward I clasped my hands, focusing on them for a long moment while my breathing evened out. Telling him everything we’d gathered on Rivera wasn’t possible but I could throw out enough to keep him on side for the time being.

“He pretty much runs Hell’s Kitchen, distributing drugs and gun running shipments they bring in through the cruise ship ports.” The surprise on his face was quickly replaced by narrowed eyes.

“That’s not possible. It’d be too easy to get stopped.”

“Not if you own one of the companies,” I offered.

“Do you have proof?” he demanded. I shook my head.

“He’s covered his tracks well on the legal side, but I’ve seen them offload a few times. It’s definitely how they’re getting their supplies, or some of them at least.”

“Then that’s where we start.”

Taglist:

@spideylovin @lukesbabylon @panicattheeverywherekid @keep-bears-wild @unbelievableholland @tomholland-mcu @whattheheckparker @stargazerholland @gorillaglue23 @marvelpeters @weirdowithnobeardo

Part 15!

#Mob!Tom #mob!tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland

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staarshines · 4 years

Text

The Force Awakens Chapter 1: Secret Ties || P.D.

| The Force Awakens Masterlist |

Warnings: TFA Spoilers

Word Count: 2.7k

After following Poe Dameron to the planet of Jakku in order to retrieve a map that supposedly leads to Luke Skywalker, a series of unthinkable events ensues and you’re left, stranded on a planet you know next to nothing about. After finding Finn, the stormtrooper you and Poe escaped with, BB-8, the droid who holds the map, and Rey, a girl who is surprisingly strong with he Force, you four embark on a mission full of long-lost family members, life-threatening situations, and tricks played by the Force. A mission that will change the fate of the galaxy.

[A/N]: The cliffhanger I leave you guys on is arguably worse than “I’ll Come Back” ch3 but anyway-

A light knocking jolts you out of your serene state of sleep. Stealing a quick glance at your alarm clock, it shines a bright 01:57 back at you. Probably just the new recruits playing pranks. Again. You’re too tired to tell them off, instead burying your head back into your pillow and allowing sleep to overcome you once more.

But there’s more knocking, and this time, harder.

“These kids are really pushing the fucking limit,” you mutter, tiredly getting out of bed and slamming your combination panel, ready to yell at a bunch of rookies while they scurry away. Instead, you see Poe, which brings a smile to your face.

That smile doesn’t even last a second, the expression on his face wiping it off yours almost immediately.

“I know that look. What happened?” you question, grabbing his hand to pull him into your room. He steps back as if you’re a stranger and not his best friend of four years.

Awkwardly dropping your hand back to your side, you take a step towards him and rest your weight on the doorframe, trying to read his expression to get a clue as to what he was about to say next.

“I just came to say goodbye.” Your raised eyebrows cause him to elaborate. “Leia briefed me an hour ago. We have intel on the map that leads to Luke Skywalker.”

“Luke?” you blurt out, eyes widening. “All right, give me ten.”

“For what?” You scoff at his question, motioning to the shirt and shorts you were wearing.

“Does it look like I’m going to be flying in this?” He shakes his head in confusion, and you automatically know you’re missing something.

“You’re not coming.”

“Says who?”

“Leia.” You groan at the mention of her name, massaging your forehead.

“You’re listening to Leia? Where’s Poe and what have you done with him?” He doesn’t even crack a smile, which causes alarms to go off in your head. “Exactly how dangerous is this mission, Dameron?” you inquire, standing up a bit straighter than you had been before.

“Either I come back in a couple of days… or I don’t come back at all.” You inhale sharply at the last part of his sentence, already starting to feel your anxiety heighten.

“And why the hell am I not allowed to go?”

“She said that you’re in more danger than I am there, or else she would’ve sent the both of us.” You roll your eyes, growing increasingly frustrated with Leia.

“Of course she did,” you mumble under your breath.

“I know there’s something you two are hiding from me.” Oh. So that’s why he’s being so moody. You wait for him to say something, but apparently he’s waiting for you to address his theory—which isn’t entirely incorrect—because you two just stand in an uncomfortable silence. “Okay then. I’ll be back soon.”

You’re at a loss for words as he walks off without anything else. No hugs, no promises, no jokes. He just… leaves.

Deep in your thoughts, you retreat back into your room and sit down on the edge of your bed, holding your head in your hands and bouncing your leg anxiously.

You have to go. You have to go help him and make sure he doesn’t fucking die.

But Leia said you couldn’t.

Fuck what Leia said. Since when do you listen to her, anyway? Isn’t Poe more important than a decision you know is wrong?

You could die. He won’t do anything to Poe, but only the Maker knows what will happen if he gets his hands on you.

Poe wouldn’t let him do anything to you, and that’s just a fact.

He’d kill Poe if he tried to protect you. Think about that.

Your emotional and logical sides battle it out in your head as you clench your fists, sighing and letting your emotions win over. Taking off your shorts and slipping on a pair of pants, you leave your quarters and head down to Leia’s office.

You don’t even bother to knock, typing in the combination and nearly barging into her office. She gives you one glance up from one of her many datapads strewn across her desk, almost literally buried in work.

“This is about Poe—”

“No.” She raises her eyebrows, shifting her attention from her reports and other general duties to you, leaning back in her chair. “This is about why you won’t let me go with him.” She groans, rubbing her eyes tiredly.

“You know why you can’t go.”

“What, do we not even take his name anymore?” You’re not quite sure why you snapped, but maybe it was because of the fact that she was sheltering you. And you weren’t one to enjoy that.

“He could hurt you.”

“He could hurt Poe,” you point out, unwilling to lose this argument. “He could hurt anyone. I’m not at any more risk than anyone else is.” That’s a lie.

“Have you lost your mind? If you encounter him, you’re at more risk than anyone else in this galaxy is.”

“You mean my loyalty is.” She starts to talk but closes her mouth, realizing you weren’t wrong. “My loyalty is strong with the Resistance. Both you and I know that.”

“The Dark Side is tempting.”

“I’ve been trained.”

“You quit in the middle of your training!” The way she retorts shuts you up for a moment, because she’s not wrong.

“I’m stronger with the Force than him. We both know that,” you counter, tired from lack of sleep and the fact that she’s restricting you from this when it’s quite literally your right. Whatever she said, you were going. That was final.

“He’s had more training than you.”

“That evens it out!” Your breathing is quick from how swiftly you two are throwing remarks back at each other.

“You’re not going.”

“Whatever you say,” you mutter, throwing your hands up in fake defeat. Getting up from the chair, you make it one step away from her desk before she calls out to you.

“I just said you’re not going.” You stop in your tracks, glancing wearily over your shoulder.

“I’m not,” you lie straight through your teeth, shaking your head.

“You lie like your father.” You crack a smile but pull your lower lip in between your teeth, willing it away.

“You know I can’t just let him go alone,” you try to explain, turning around to face her. “Plus, I may lie like my father—which is actually a compliment—but I’m my mother’s daughter.” She smiles at your last sentence, waving you away hurriedly.

“Get out of here.” You grin, grabbing one of the spare datapads on her desk before leaving.

Exiting her office, you turn your attention to the datapad in your hands, typing in BB-8’s callsign and chewing your lip impatiently, already starting to feel the blood coursing through your veins. The ‘pre-mission high’, as most Resistance members had dubbed it. Lots of them hated it. But you?

You lived for it.

“General?” you hear him beep through the datapad.

“No Beebee, it’s me. I need a favor.”

“I’m about to leave for a mission with Poe. He didn’t tell you?”

“No, no, he did,” you cut him off hurriedly, needing to cut to the chase. “Listen. I need the coordinates.”

“Poe told me you’d try this. General Leia strictly instruc—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Forget about that. Transmit his graph coordinates, at least.”

“Well, right now, his graph coordinates are the Resistance base which is located on the planet of D’Qar—”

“Just shut up with your wiseassery and just send me his grid coordinates, will you? We’re really rubbing off on you,” you remark with a groan, even though you’re smiling in real life. Damn, he was becoming a carbon copy of you both. Wouldn’t it just be easier to find the coordinates from Leia’s files? “You and I are most of his impulse control. Do you really want him to be reckless on a mission this dangerous?” You hear silence over the line and silently pray that he’ll give in.

“Jakku. I-Thirteen in the Western Reaches, Inner System. I just sent the exact coordinates to your X-Wing.” A wide grin spreads across your face and you repeat the planet name a couple of times to make sure you’ve got it.

“I’ll see you there, buddy,” you tell him before ending the call.

You land your X-Wing right next to Poe’s, scanning the makeshift camp and deciding to check out the main tent first. Slamming the button to open your cockpit top, you hop out of your ship and land effortlessly on the coarse sand, quickly dusting it off of your pants and heading towards the camp, blaster ready to engage within a second.

Peeking around the corner of the tent and through the torn-up curtains, you breathe a sigh of relief when you see Poe and run in, catching him off guard with first, you being there, and second, a bone-crushing hug.

“You fucking idiot,” you mutter, pulling back and giving him a light slap upside the head while holstering your blaster with the other hand. “Giving me all that last words shit and then telling me not to come with you.”

“Wh—I didn’t give you any last words! How the hell did you even get here?”

“Oh, I don’t have an X-Wing. I used a speeder.” He shakes his head and you wink at Beebee, watching him nod back eagerly. If droids could convey facial expressions, you’re sure he’d be grinning right now.

“Now is not the time for sarcasm. And I’m the idiot? You’re the one who somehow managed to make it here against Leia’s orders!”

“Forget about Leia’s orders,” you mutter, shifting your attention to Poe’s hand. “That’s the map, isn’t it?” The data drive encased in cloth heightens your worry for some reason, but it takes a couple of seconds for you to realize that it’s not the drive worrying you.

It’s him.

He’s here. He’s here, and he knows you are, too.

Fuck.

“We have to go,” you state resolutely, feeling like you’d just been punched in the gut.

“We’re going,” Poe tells you mildly, concerned at your sudden change of emotions.

“No, I mean we need to go. They’re here.”

“Who’s here?” The older man who had presumably given Poe the map asks, gaining both of you two’s attention. Before either of you can answer, the roaring of a transport catches all four of you off guard.

“They’re here.” You run outside with Poe and BB-8 on your heels, only being able to see faint lights. Poe whips out his macrobinoculars, observing the lights for a second before grabbing your hand and making a run for it, catching you completely off guard. “We gotta go!”

“Wow, I definitely didn’t understand that from the sound of the fucking transports!” you scream back, matching his pace and ridding your hand of his when you both break away to get to your respective X-Wings. Before you can even reach yours, a blast catches the center cockpit, making the entire thing burst into flames before your very eyes.

“Fuck. Fuck!” you scream, turning back around and sprinting for Poe’s, but the Maker nor the Force must be on you three’s side tonight, because a blast hits his left engine perfectly. You don’t know what to do now, trying to bury your panic under the fact that you needed to get the three of you out of here or else the galaxy would have no hope.

The connection has gotten stronger; so strong, in fact, that you can feel his emotions. Anger. Anger clouded his mind and when it got to you, it turned to unruliness in the heat of the moment.

Running scenario after scenario through your mind, you can’t find a single one that allows you three to escape safely with the map in the Resistance’s hold. The only thing you can think of is sending BB-8 off with the drive.

While you two get taken as war prisoners.

“What the hell are we going to do now?” Poe yells at you, practically tripping over his own feet because of how fast he’s running towards you, trying to get away from the flames that now coat Black One. Adrenaline is rushing through your bloodstream and you use it to your advantage, knowing exactly how to manipulate your emotions in such a high-risk scenario because this is the millionth time you’ve been in one. You note the blaster sniper rifle at his side, knowing you two would have to fight as hard as you could even though it would do no good in the end.

“Give me the map!” He throws it to you and you catch it dexterously, dropping to your knees next to BB-8 and motioning for him to open a compartment. He rolls back, a bit surprised at what you’re doing. “You take this! You take this and you get as far away from here as you can! Do you hear me?”

“What about you guys?” he chimes, watching you place the drive in the compartment he’s ejected.

“We’ll come back for you! Go!” Poe yells from beside you. You give BB-8 a reassuring little scuff, smiling sadly.

“So much for impulse control,” he beeps, rolling off as fast as he can. You snicker a little bit, getting back up and biting your tongue when the gravity of the situation hits you yet again.

There was no way you two were making it out now.

“What the hell does he mean by imp—” A blast whizzing right in between you both causes you both to duck to the ground.

“That doesn’t matter right now! Let’s take these troopers out!” He nods in agreement and you both crawl up just behind a sand dune. You grab your blaster from your holster and prop your arms up, beginning to aim for stormtroopers and shoot them. Poe does the same thing with his blaster sniper, obviously having more luck than you.

A black suit catches your eye and you’re pretty sure you’re imagining things until the figure turns around and you see the helmet.

It’s him.

You’re so shocked the grip on your blaster loosens and your jaw drops just at the sheer sight of him, even though he’s masked. You can feel him sense your surprise and he starts scanning the area because he knows you’ve seen him.

You never did learn how to control your emotions through the Force.

“What is it?” You don’t answer Poe’s question, too deep in shock to even register it. It’s been years. “Listen to me. What is it?” He shakes your shoulders with one hand, pulling you out of your momentary trance. His eyes dart all over your face as he tries to read your expression, tries to figure out what you’re thinking.

“It’s him,” you whisper, pointing to the figure who was now circling the man who had given Poe the map. You two are too far away to hear what they’re saying, but in an instant, the older man is struck down by the raw lightning of the Dark Jedi’s lightsaber.

All you do is flinch, knowing he can do a lot worse than that. Poe jumps up and over the dune with his sniper, bewildering you for a second before you’re right on his heels and yelling at him not to shoot.

But you’re too late.

Kylo whips around with an outstretched hand, stopping the blast mid-air and immobilizing both you and Poe. Four stormtroopers run towards the both of you, breaking off into groups of two and kicking out your legs from underneath you, Poe’s two guards doing the same with him. They cuff you and presumably do the same with Poe, and even though you know it’s impossible to shake out of First Order Cuffs, you still sure as hell try.

You both are led to Kylo and forced to your knees in front of him, only making your anger and fear increase and mix together to make a lethal poison, ready for you to unleash on anyone.

He removes the Force Hold and finally allows you both to breathe correctly, earning heaves of effort from both you and Poe. You don’t even give him the satisfaction of a look from you and Poe does the same, eyes fixated on the sand. Kylo crouches down in front of Poe, and you can see Poe glare up at Kylo out of the corner of your eye.

“So… who talks first? You talk first? I talk first?” You would’ve laughed had it not been for the shock of the situation, knowing you both are either going to die or be taken aboard the dreadnought in the outer atmosphere. Most likely the latter.

“The old man gave it to you,” Kylo speaks from his helmet, voice sounding almost mechanical.

“It’s just very hard to understand you with all the—”

“Search him.”

“—apparatus.” He groans as the stormtroopers pull him up rather roughly, and you hold back a wince. They begin to pat him down but obviously find nothing.

“Nothing, sir.”

“Put him on board. Keep her here,” Kylo instructs, immediately alarming Poe.

“No. No. Not without her.” The stormtroopers give no heed to his demands, forcing him to the transport. “What are you going to do with her?! Let her go!” he yells back, trying so hard to break from their hold that you’re scared he’s going to dislocate a shoulder. His yells fade as they take him into the transport, leaving just you and Kylo. You’re still on the ground, but you decide to look up at him and give him a glare of defiance just for the sake of making sure he knows you’re not going to break.

He crouches down once more, his head becoming level with yours. There’s silence for a few moments, like he’s making sure it’s really you. As if the biological connection through the Force isn’t enough.

“It’s been a while. How’s mom?”

Masterlist

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Permanent: @becausewhyknotme, @criminal-cookies, @theladyoffangorn, @officialtonystarkprotectionsquad, @justmebeingtheweirdmeiam, @fantasticcopeaglepasta, @talk-geek-to-me, @letsmellowjello, @thescarletknight2014, @wemisshim3000, @arabellathorne, @brooklynsmorales, @marvel-dameron

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Poe Dameron: @yougottakeeponkeepinon, @seekerofmagnificentmysteries, @poe-damnnn-eron, @lapilark, @peterhollandkait, @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol, @ghoullflower, @twomoonstwosuns, @writefightandflightclub, @lady-sloan, @poes-stardust, @legamelo, @xremember-me-notx, @softly-sad, @imtheoutgoingsidekick-baby, @yourbucky084, @fanfiction-trashpile-replies

“The Force Awakens” Taglist: @pizzahutmonkeybutt, @nerd-without-a-cause, @princekooks, @itspdameronthings, @um-chile-anyways, @lil-lex1

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron fic #poe dameron imagine #star wars fic #star wars imagine #my writing #100

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riversofmars · 3 years

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Answers at last! Well, I saw answers... :D

Chapter 7: So We Meet Again

The Library, 52nd Century

“Sorry, am I interrupting something?“ A male figure appeared in their midst. Dark hair and beard, stout frame, he took a twirl, looking around, delighted at the surprise and shock on everyone’s faces.

“It’s can’t be…“ River mumbled, trying to catch up with what was happening. How did he get in here? He was not part of the memory.

“It’s been a while, Professor Song.“ He turned to face her with a wide grin, baring his teeth.

“He’s not the Doctor, is he?“ Anita spoke slowly. She had learned enough about Time Lords during their extensive research to understand about regeneration and River had shown her pictures of all her husband’s faces. That man was not one of them and even on first impressions, he seemed in no way similar to the man she herself had met. He certainly didn’t look at River like someone would look at their wife, he looked at her like she was prey.

“The Doctor? Oh, don’t be ridiculous.“ He nearly burst out laughing as if it was the funniest thing he had heard all day. “Been there, done that, just wasn’t my cup of tea.“ His voice turned to a snarl, it seemed to change ever so slightly; he shushed himself.

“No, this is another Time Lord.“ River said, balling her hands to fists, trying to maintain her composure.

“Of course you get it, you’re clever like that.“ He mused, tilting his head. “I’m difficult to forget, didn’t we have he best of times.“ He interrupted himself, his voiced higher and more excitable. He smirked with a mad sort of glee in his eyes. “No, no, shut up, it’s my turn now!“ His voice turned normal as he snapped angrily. Anita and CAL exchanged confused and worried glances, fearing they might be dealing with a mad man. River, however, already knew for a fact that they were:

“You’re the Eleven.“ She circled around the room slowly, coming to stand protectively in front of CAL and Anita. She didn’t know whether he was really here or just a projection, but she couldn’t take the risk. She had to keep them safe. They had no idea who they were dealing with.

“The Thirteen, actually, but who’s counting.“ He retorted graciously and took a little bow.

“Must be getting pretty crowded in that head of yours.“ River hummed and in response, another personality emerged:

“Long time no see, Ms. Song.“ His face contorted into a grin.

“Hello again, Nine.“ River remained calm. She knew it was the best way to deal with them.

“I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure.“ His voice turned higher, almost feminine.

“Twelve?“ River could only guess, as it was the regeneration of his she hadn’t met before.

“Shut up, the lot of you.“ The Thirteen regained control of his personalities. “Sorry, this is not how I was going to introduce myself, best foot forward and all that, but they’re just so excited to see you again. The Six, in particular, is very eager but we’ll save that for later.“ He smiled apologetically.

“What are you doing here? How did you get in?“ River decided to ignore the games and cut right to the chase. She glanced to CAL, hoping she was paying attention. If they found out how he got in, they surely would be able to get rid of him as well. She would have to regain control of the computer.

“Seven hacked the system, child’s play really; and now I can see why.“ He smirked at CAL who took a fearful step back and Anita put a protective arm around her. “I’m not really here, of course, just a projection, but I liked the personal touch. Better than talking to a screen, you know?“ River felt a little better for knowing he wasn’t actually part of the artificial world of the Library core but hacking the system was just as bad. Who knew what else he was planning on doing?

“So you’re responsible for this?“ Anita concluded gesturing around to the woman and child that had stopped moving. She hadn’t really followed who exactly he was but it was was blatantly obvious that this scary vision was his doing.

“It’s from the Matrix.“ River stated and the Thirteen grinned:

“Indeed. I didn’t really have the means to play it. I needed a bigger computer, something able to convert it. And I needed someone who’d be able to interpret it.“

“So you used the Library, a computer big enough to handle Matrix data.“ River was beginning to understand. They weren’t her memories that had bled into the artificial reality. It was data the Thirteen had fed into the system. In turn it had helped her unlock her own memories of what she’d seen in the Matrix. “What is that memory? What’s the story behind it.“ She asked, drawing his attention back as he seemed momentarily distracted. Not by his other personalities, for once, but seemingly by something outside.

“A missing puzzle piece.“ He answered briefly and gave a dismissive wave with his hand. “Now we best get going.“

“What?“ Anita asked confused while River remained silent, her mind racing. What was he planning? She knew better than to underestimate the renegade Time Lord.

“The shadows will be back in a moment.“ He explained in an off-hand sort of way. “Get your coat, Professor Song. Oh wait, you haven’t got a body to put it on.“ He laughed, then disappeared.

“River…“ CAL reached out for River’s hand but she grasped into thin air, River was gone as well.

——

Glasgow, 2021

“So this is where you went once the Daleks were gone?“ Ryan asked Jack as they started walking further into the underground building.

“Had to go say hi to Gwen here and she filled me in on what’s been going on. I’ve been out in the universe too long it seems. Time to look after the home front.“ Jack explained with a determined nod and Kate smiled:

“We’re glad to have you, Captain.“

“How many people have you got here.“ Graham looked around, marvelling at the size of the place. It could have housed a hundred easily and there was an erie quality to it with how quiet and seemingly empty it was.

“Not as many as you’d hope. Friends of the Doctor’s it’s quite an exclusive club, but it’s not quantity, it’s quality.“ Kate answered leading the way.

“So how do you know the Doctor?“ Ryan asked Gwen who was walking alongside him.

“Only met him briefly, during one Dalek invasion or another. Honestly, it all blends together.“ She chuckled.

“Ms. Cooper is one of Torchwood’s finest.“ Kate interjected and Gwen sighed:

“And only remaining member…“

“Hey!“ Jack took offence and elbowed her.

“You don’t count, you’re off doing other stuff all the time.“ Gwen slapped his shoulder affectionately and carried on to explain: “I have been trying to rebuild the Torchwood Three hub as well, seeing as it’s closer to home, but it’s slow progress.“

“Torchwood, like UNIT, is like an agency, is it? To ward of aliens?“ Graham asked, trying to wrap his head around it.

“In a nutshell, yes.“ Kate nodded as she lead them down some stairs. “If you come through here, I will introduce you to the rest of the team.“ The steps opened up into a large room. “I know it’s late but they have been waiting up for you.“ They reached a big communal living and working area. There were several tables, desks, computers and such and amongst it all: four people.

“Mr. O’Brien, Mr. Sinclair, let me introduce Dr. Martha Jones and Mr. Mickey Smith, two of UNIT’s finest field agents and former travelling companions of the Doctor’s.“ Kate gesture towards a couple who were lounging on a sofa, currently devouring a Chinese take away with great enthusiasm.

“Nice to finally meet you.“ Martha smiled at them warmly and Mickey, his mouth full of food, couldn’t speak and just gave a wave with his chopsticks. They got up to shake hands as the group approached.

“Likewise, I guess.“ Graham managed an awkward smile as well. During their travels with the Doctor, they had never really stopped to think how many more people had taken trips in the TARDIS before them. It was strange to think that there were other people out there who would understand what it was like, experiencing the vastness of the universe like they had.

“And these are the Osgoods, the scientific hearts and minds of UNIT.“ Kate carried on and gestured to two women, apparently twins, who were sharing a work station. They simultaneously looked up and smiled in greeting.

“I’m Ryan, this is my granddad Graham.“ Ryan introduced them. “We don’t usually do, like, formal…“ He looked around the room awkwardly. This was a lot more official than he was used to. “Like if you don’t mind, first names are fine.“ Graham nodded in agreement.

“Petronella.“ One to the Osgoods smiled.

“Petronella.“ The other Osgood smiled.

“So… you two have the same name? How do we keep you apart?“ Graham asked, confused, wondering what their parents had possibly been thinking.

“You don’t.“ Kate answered in amusement. “That’s the whole point.“

“Right.“ Ryan decided it was best to just accept that. They had just been recruited into a secret organisation to fight of extraterrestrial threats and entered what looked like a very fancy underground bunker… identical twins with the same names really wasn’t top of the weird-list right now.

“Care for some Chinese?“ Mickey offered. They had ordered way too much as usual.

“Don’t mind if we do.“ Graham grinned since they hadn’t had time to eat before setting of on the long drive. He had been eyeing it up, hoping that was where the evening would be going.

“Ma’am, if we might have a word…“ One for the Osgoods demanded Kate’s attention as everyone else settled down to eat.

“What is it?“ The UNIT chief asked and walked around the desk to be able to look at their computer screens.

“We have found another two bodies.“ The other Osgood answered, pointing something out on the computer and Kate frowned:

“Same MO?“ She asked, leaning closer.

“We fine-tuned the algorithm, running through police data bases and found two matches.“ Osgood confirmed.

“Where?“

“Greater London.“ The other Osgood answered. “Pulled out of a lake. It was fortunate that a couple was walking nearby and spotted movement by the water. Otherwise they wouldn’t have been found for weeks probably.“

“Captain?“ Kate looked up to Jack who was currently recounting to Gwen, Martha and Mickey how he had met Ryan and Graham. “Two for pick up.“ She announced.

“On it, will be back in a flash.“ He gave a dazzling and apologetic smile to the others and came to join Kate and the Osgoods. “Just tell me which morgue they’re in and you’ll have them on your slab momentarily.“ He looked at the screen and skimmed the report.

“So… not just people disappearing from time, murders too?“ Graham asked, listening in.

“This is not your garden variety homicide, I’m afraid, Mr. O’Brian.“ Kate retorted thoughtfully. “You’ll see when the Captain returns with the bodies.“

Jack gave a nod and engaged his Vortex Manipulator.

——

Orbit around the Library, 52nd Century

“Here we go.“ Jenny slipped her hand into her wife’s. She had a bad feeling about this but it couldn’t be helped. They had come out of hyper speed a few minutes ago and had fallen into orbit around the Library.

“A whole planet full of books?“ Yaz couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer size of it. The idea of having every book ever written together in one place was overwhelming and beautiful.

“And shadows that can kill…“ Dorium couldn’t help but point out. The idea that a world so beautiful was forever lost made Yaz’s heart feel heavy. What a waste.

“Right, here’s what we’re going to do: your UV grenades, Strax: our best bet would be to send one down ahead of us.“ Vastra looked to her butler who grinned with excitement as he proudly presented the grenades. “We arm ourselves to the teeth with torches and such. We won’t have to stay long. Just contact the Professor, ask our questions, fill her in, and be on our way.“ Vastra gave her wife’s hand a reassuring squeeze and looked around the room into determined faces. “Strax, Jenny and I will go.“

“I want to come, too!“ Yaz insisted immediately, she thought herself just as capable as any of them and she didn’t want to be left behind.

“That’s not part of the plan.“ Vastra shook her head.

“I have been in tight spots with the Doctor as well, I can handle myself.“ Yaz retorted, frustrated.

“I don’t doubt that but someone needs to teleport us back. Mr. Maldovar sadly won’t be able to.“ Vastra pointed out. She had no doubts about Yaz’s ability to hold her own but they needed someone to stay behind. She refused to be split up from her wife and Strax was best placed to handle the weapons equipment. It was the logical solution. “We all have a job to do and we need you to keep us safe from up here.“ She carried on to explain.

“Fine.“ Yaz huffed after brief consideration. “Doesn’t mean I like it though.“ She could see her point but she still felt like she was being sidelined.

“We will be back in no time.“ Vastra assured her.

“Right, let’s get this over with… before I change my mind.“ Jenny sighed feeling anxious. She ran her hand along the hilt of her sword despite knowing it would be useless against shadows.

“Oh, well that’s a surprise.“ Dorium pipped up, drawing everyone’s attention.

“What is it?“ Vastra frowned, confused.

“There is an incoming transmission! Someone in that Library is trying to reach out.“ Dorium explained quickly. He closed his eyes, trying to focus with the help of the communications chip connected to him.

“How do they even know we’re here?“ Vastra asked, worried. That didn’t feel right.

“Beats going amongst the shadows, doesn’t it.“ Jenny pointed out and Strax huffed in disappointment:

“I have been looking forward to this for hours…“

“Put it on screen.“ Vastra ignored his complaint and turned to the large screen at the front of the ship. Yaz turned Dorium’s box around so he could see as well.

“River! River! Where are you!“ A small girl appeared on the screen, looking distraught. She couldn’t be older than ten years old, taking everyone by surprise. “Who are you?“ She demanded to know before any of them could get over their shock. Her eyes jumped between all of them. Her message clearly hadn’t been meant for them.

“I’m Madame Vastra, these are Jenny Flint, Strax, Yasmin Kahn and Dorium Maldovar. We mean you no harm.“ Vastra raised her hands appeasingly, trying to reassure her. What was a little girl doing in the Library? And why was she looking for River Song? “You were calling for River, I can only presume you mean Professor Song, we’re here to talk to her.“ Vastra carried on, hoping to explain and gain her trust. She seemed scared.

“You’re too late.“ The girl sobbed, getting more upset.

“What?“ Yaz asked, with a frown. They all exchanged confused glances.

“She just left, I was trying to reach her but it drains the power, so much energy…“ The screen flickered. There was a blip in the transmission, it wasn’t stable.

“Hang on, hang on, you’re in the computer?“ Vastra asked to clarify.

“I am the computer.“ The girl answered, taking a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She was not as little as she looked. “I’m CAL.“

“And Professor Song, she’s not with you anymore?“ Jenny deduced and her heart sank. This was the one eventuality they had not been prepared for.

“She was taken.“ CAL confirmed, nodding, wiping her tears away.

“By whom?“ Vastra gripped the back of the pilot’s chair and dug her claws into the fabric. Wherever they turned, it seemed as though they were one step behind.

“A Time Lord.“ CAL answered, after brief consideration, seemingly deciding to trust them.

“What did he look like? Did he give a name?“ Yaz asked quickly.

“He called himself the Thirteen.“ The girl said quickly, as the transmission stalled again. “I’m sorry, I can’t maintain this much longer. Why are you looking for River?“

“We’re friends of the Doctor’s. There are some terrible things going on out in the universe and we need to talk to her.“ Vastra rushed to explain.

“Please find her, he… “

The connection broke and for a moment, there was stunned silence.

“How is that possible?“ Yaz turned to the others, slowly finding her voice again. “You can’t just, like, download a consciousness onto a USB stick or something…“

“Don’t underestimate Time Lord technology…“ Vastra mused, mulling over what they had learned. This was far worse than facing the Vashta Nerada. They had fallen another step behind in a race in which the goal posts seemed to keep moving.

“We need to find her.“ Jenny said, shaking her head to herself. If only they had been a little earlier, they could have prevented this.

“Who’s the Thirteen?“ Yaz looked around the room, hoping for an explanation. Was this another of the Doctor’s enemies she didn’t know about?

“Doesn’t mean anything to me either, I was hopeful you might have come across them?“ Vastra retorted with a frown as they exchanged confused glances. They had each assumed the other would have the answers but the alias was familiar to any of them.

“Oh no…“ Dorium mumbled, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Can you shed some light on this, Mr. Maldovar?“ Vastra asked, turning his box around to face them again.

“I’ve heard of a Time Lord that goes my numerical designations… The Nine, the Ten, the Eleven… depending on which regeneration he is on…“ He answered slowly. The reluctance in his voice gave them all pause.

“Stands to reason this is a new regeneration then?“ Yaz nodded, relieved that they weren’t completely in the dark after all.

“Why change the name though with every regeneration? Must be quite… disorienting, mustn’t it?“ Jenny asked.

“He is a very unique case…“ Dorium hummed thoughtfully.

“How so?“ Vastra could already tell she wouldn’t like the answer but she asked anyway.

“From what I have heard, he suffers from a strange affliction… called regenerative dissonance. While the Doctor and other Time Lords retain a sense of self and just change their appearance, he becomes a new person every time and when he regenerates, the other selfs are still present.“ Dorium revealed. He had never actually met them but he had heard enough stories to make sure he never would.

“Like a schizophrenic?“ Yaz asked, unsettled. That didn't sound like the kind of person they wanted to be dealing with.

“Anything else you can tell us, Mr. Maldovar?“ Vastra asked and Dorium gave a wary smile:

“He is a thief, a killer and utterly mad.“

——

The TARDIS

“Do you always leave the door open like that? Anyone could wander in.“ The Doctor found the Master leaning against the console as she reached the control room. Dark hair and beard, stout frame, he hadn’t regenerated, just looked a little worse for wear.

“Master…“ Her voice was barely above a whisper. All sorts of emotions boiled up in her: Disbelief at finding him alive. Worry for having him inside her TARDIS. Hate for all the things he had put her through.

“Hello, Doctor.“ He smirked pushing off the console to step closer. “Nice of you to finally show up.“

“How are you not dead?“ It was the most prominent question on the Doctor’s mind.

“Dying is for other people, dear.“ The Master laughed at how ridiculous that notion was.

“How did you survive the death particle?“ She pressed through gritted teeth as they started circling each other slowly. She was assessing her option for subduing him.

“Did you really think the Cyberium would let its host die?“ The Master’s grin was patronising, as if the answer had been obvious.

“Is it still inside you?“ The Doctor hadn’t even thought about the Cybermen AI that resided inside the Master. She had assumed it dealt with, just like the Master themselves but she should have known they wouldn’t be that easily destroyed.

“Nah… Fizzled out.“ He gave a dismissive wave with his hand. “The effort of creating a force field to protect me was a bit much… Plus, I expelled it and electrocuted it until it stopped moving. I was getting fed up of sharing my memory space.“ He snickered and the Doctor couldn't help but feel a little relieved; one thing she didn’t have to deal with at least.

“You’ve been here this entire time?“ She questioned.

“Where was I gonna go? I destroyed everything! No TARDISes, no space ships left… I did start fixing up a TARDIS but turns out your death particle wiped out the organic components in there as well. I’d have to grow a new one but where to start when every living thing has been destroyed!“ He started rambling in a maniacal sort of way, snapping with increasing anger.

“How long has it been?“ The Doctor asked, hoping he had at least suffered in the meantime. She wasn’t proud of it but after everything he had done to her, she felt he deserved it.

“Oh… a few years, blink of an eye. Ten, twenty? Not sure. Anyway, nice of you to turn up.“ He smirked and his eyes flickered to her reaching for something on the console. “Oh no, you don’t!“ He snapped and pointed the Doctor’s own sonic at her. That’s when she remembered leaving her coat; what a stupid thing to do. And to leave the door unlocked… “So why are you here, Doctor?“ He asked as she raised her hands appeasingly.

“To see if you’re still alive.“ She answered slowly.

“Well I am. What difference does it make to you?“ He snarled.

“And you haven’t left Gallifrey?“ She carried on, hoping to at least get her answers.

“I already told you, are you going soft in the head?“ He snapped.

The Doctor remained silent, unsure how to respond. Should she believe him? Did he have reason to lie? But why would he be back here if he had managed to escape in the meantime?

“And what’s this, Doctor?“ The Master demanded her attention again and held out another item he had found in the pocket of her coat: the green prayer leaf.

“Give that back.“ The Doctor exclaimed, quick to anger. She tried to snatch it off him but he pulled away, putting the sonic between them again.

“Oh, is it personal by any chance?“ He hummed, delighted.

“Give it here.“ The Doctor’s voice turned low and threatening. In her mind, she ran through the possibilities of what the Master could do with her sonic in here. There was so much sensitive technology, a blast at the wrong thing and they could either be thrown into the vortex or explode.

“A prayer leaf from the Gamma Forests if I’m not mistaken… traditional gift for a child… tell me, Doctor, are congratulations in order?“ The Master was quick on his feet as always.

“That’s none of your business.“ The Doctor bit back.

“I take that as a yes. But where is the little devil? And where is the wife?“ He asked feigning surprise. “I presume it is the Professor’s child, isn’t it? Not a little bastard born out of wedlock?“

“Hand that over.“ The Doctor demanded again, holding her hand out.

“No, I think I’ll keep it for the time being. Return it to the little one myself… Like Maleficent taking a gift to little Aurora. Why don’t we go see them.“ He suggested circling around towards the console but the Doctor didn’t move away, instead she stepped right up to him. “Come on, Doctor, I know how much you like your Disney movies. That was funny.“

“Where is he?“ She demanded to know, ignoring his giggling.

“Who?“ The Master frowned.

“My son!“ The Doctor practically yelled, losing her temper at last.

“Ohhh so he is missing? Let me guess, someone took him while you weren’t looking?“ The Master grinned and the Doctor couldn’t tell whether he was pretending not to know anything or if he really didn’t. “Was he getting ice cream across the street and a stranger snatching him away?“

“Don’t play dumb with me, Dorium saw you, you have something to do with this!“ The Doctor wasn’t thinking now. Anger and pain were overshadowing her rational thoughts.

“Dorium? Doesn’t ring a bell…“ The Master shrugged, unimpressed.

“You told him about the Timeless Child, that’s how this whole thing started!“ The Doctor yelled and gave him a shove.

“The Timeless Child? Why would I tell anyone about that dirty secret? Give you all that power? Elevate you? I don’t think so, that secret died with the Time Lords and it’ll die with you.“ The Master spat, suddenly furious as well. They were done doing their dance and playing games.

“You and me are the only people who know about it and I sure as hell haven’t told anyone!“ The Doctor snarled stepping into his personal space again. She wasn’t scared of him anymore. He had no power over her.

“Why would I tell anyone?“ The Master seemed genuinely disbelieving of her accusations. “I killed everyone that could possibly have known about it. And I’m gonna kill you, too.“ He jabbed his finger at her.

“You just try.“ The Doctor pressed through gritted teeth. “Where is my son?!“ She shoved him again and he stumbled backward.

“I haven’t got the faintest idea.“ The Master laughed and the Doctor could tell he was speaking the truth. It threw her for a moment, until a more horrifying idea occurred to her: What if she was just enabling this whole series of events to start? What if she was the reason the Master managed to get off Gallifrey? What if this was how he found out about her child, about Dorium, about the whole thing?

So, just to clarify, the Thirteen (well their previous regenerations), plays a huge part in the Eighth Doctor's audios but you really don't have to know them to (hopefully) follow this story. I fully intend to write it like he's a new character and weave all the information necessary into the plot as everyone else, the Paternoster Gang in particular, learn about him. Originally, I intended to just use Time Lord OCs but as I thought about it, I realised how pointless that would be seeing as there are so many interesting Time Lords in the extended canon. So, if anything is difficult to follow, please let me know! <3

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qwertyfingers · 3 years

Text

faith healer, come lay your hands on me

here’s a snippet from the self indulgent traumatism (trauma and autism) fic if anyone wants to read it lol. Sam and Cas love to have have problems in the middle of the night. Gen, 2k words, warning for discussions of food scarcity and calming someone down from a panic attack, nothing graphic though. Set in a nebulous late-seasons time period because I respect canon literally not at all.

It’s the middle of the night, sometime between Dean’s custom of falling asleep on his keyboard and Sam shepherding them both to bed, but before his nightly waking up from a nightmare to wander around the bunker checking the wards. Cas is in the kitchen wiping away mostly-imaginary detritus from the counters when Sam finds him; wild-eyed and looking frayed at the seams. He nods at Cas, but nothing follows it. He just stands there in the centre of the room shaking slightly. His eye sockets look like bruises.

Cas tilts his head and squints, considering, “Are you alright, Sam?”

Sam startles in a big way. Huffs breaths in and out of his nose, forehead crinkling with the effort. “What? I. yeah I’m- I’m fine.” He pauses for a few seconds though, hands twisting at the edges of his shirt like they do when he’s worrying. He makes several aborted attempts to keep talking, each less successful than the last. Kicks gently at a table leg and scowls to himself. “It is fine it’s just...” but he doesn’t continue, just starts gesturing with his hands, like he’s run out of words.

Cas turns back to his cleaning, watches Sam filter through all of his most common nervous gestures in the edges of his vision, seemingly not comforted by any of them. He clenches his hands, drags them over his jaw and face, tugs his hair through his fingers roughly. He bounces, frenetic, from foot to foot, socked feet making muffled tapping noises on the hard floor. Says nothing for a long time.

Cas doesn’t sleep much, so he measures his nighttimes in completed tasks rather than minutes and hours. He gets through wiping the surfaces, cleaning out the sink, and setting the dishwasher to its self-clean cycle, before he hears anything from Sam.

When he does finally speak, the words seem to burst out of him all at once, quiet but tense and all in a rush — pressured speech it was called, in the books Cas had been reading. He figured at least one person in the bunker should know about trauma’s effects, and twelve years’ experience had taught him it wouldn’t be the Winchesters.

“You know, when Dean and me were kids we- we didn’t always have a lot to eat. A lot of the time we didn’t have enough to eat. And Dean would… Dean would always feed me first.” He stops and takes a heaving breath, then three, hands clenching and unclenching arhythmically in front of him. They’re hovering just above the kitchen counter without touching, arms held awkwardly aloft like he doesn’t know where to put them. He’s curled forward, and down, head and shoulders hunched in. He looks pained.

The instinct to make oneself small learned from a childhood desperately trying to hide from the reality of his own life. Cas has long since chased away the instinct to get angry about their life before he knew them, but he never stops feeling the sadness of it. There is a deep well of agony that will never be truly told.

“The portions were already so small and he’d- he’d do this thing where he’d, like, eat half his meal and pretend to be full so he could pass the rest on to me. Never took no for an answer. And of course at first I was too young to notice what he was really doing, but then I was twelve, thirteen, and he’d still feed me like I was-” Sam winces, coughs out a small laugh, grimaces, drags his left hand over his face. “God, like I was his son. His ‘baby boy’ he used to say. And he was so thin for so long and-” Sam stops himself here, looking winded. He taps the fridge door sixteen times with his right hand as he bites at his left thumbnail.

“And obviously we were both fine in the end, Dean’s big and he’s tough but. Sometimes I get this-” he interrupts himself to tug his hands through his hair, sharp, “god it sounds so stupid but I get this thought that. That if Dean hadn’t had to feed me he’d be as tall as I am now and I get all. Normally it’s fine and I just laugh it off because it’s so ridiculous it is a ridiculous thought.” There’s a wet catch in Sam’s throat, and he’s looking at Cas like he can’t tell if he’s about to laugh or cry.

Cas nods slowly, feeling sombre. “Dean is six feet and three quarter inches tall. He is hardly a small man, Sam.” He tries a small smile, to be encouraging, in-on-the-joke but not poking fun, but he can still never tell if he’s hitting the mark or not. A face has so many muscles, and only so much conscious control over them.

Sam surprises him by laughing and crying at the same time. “He’s six feet tall, and he’s one of the strongest humans I’ve ever met — despite being completely allergic to the concept of exercise and I hate him,” he rants, a hint of panic tingeing his voice purple, “so fucking much, and I’m so tired of his bullshit, and yet sometimes I startle awake at night in a panic convinced that I deprived him of his “true height” by having the audacity to be hungry.” The air quotes are a little twitchy, but the attempt to be funny is probably a good sign. Hopefully. Sam’s less prone to sarcasm as a cover for soul-crushing misery than his brother.

Sam starts rearranging the sauce bottles scattered by the stove, hands jerky with the motion. Cas notes in the back of his mind to put them back in place once Sam calms down — Dean needs the kitchen just so. He’s been prone to his own late night trips down memory lane, lately, and he doesn’t need the added stress of obsessive compulsive cleaning on top of it all.

“I told you it was stupid, Cas,” he splutters, and he’s fully crying now, teetering on the edge of hysterical. “Christ, I feel like such an infant.”

Done with the cleaning, Cas folds his cloth into a neat rectangle, hangs it carefully through the loop of the oven door handle as he passes by. He picks up a clean cloth from the pile in the cupboard below the sink too. He heads towards Sam, movements slow and careful to give him a chance to back away — Sam’s liable to startle like a rabbit even on his best days. Cas has been trying his hardest not to trigger it; the ‘fight/flight/freeze instinct’ as he’d learned. It’s helped him understand a lot of Sam and Dean’s reaction better. He only wishes he’d known about it sooner.

He presses his hand gently to the outside of Sam’s elbow, looks him in the eyes and holds his gaze steady. “It’s not foolish, Sam. But surely, your childhood was full of enough tragedy, that you needn’t add to it.”

Sam’s breathing is heavy and ragged, and his eyes are darting between Cas, and the walls, and the condiments he’s still twitching across the counter. He stops, breathes deep, tugs his long sleeves down over his hands and dabs at his wet face. He huffs a laugh between bouts of sobs, mutters something that sounds like “Yeah, yeah, doesn’t help me stop thinking it though,” but Cas can’t be entirely sure, because Sam’s speaking into his shirt cuffs with hands clamped tight over his mouth.

Cas moves his hand slowly from Sam’s elbow to his shoulder, leans in slow to bring his other arm around Sam’s back and hold him loose to his chest. Sam gasps loudly and sobs, wet, shoves his face into the front of Cas’ shoulder indelicately as he responds with his own arms. He clutches at the back of Cas’ coat and weeps, done with trying to hold it all in. He’s shaking less now, but it’s impossible to know whether it’s progress or if he’s turning further inward without seeing his face.

Cas pulls him closer and moves the hand on his back upwards, rubs it in slow, careful circles across his shoulder blades. Pressure is good, he’d read, especially with flashbacks. Pressure grounds you in the present; a small, physical beacon of something that’s unquestionably real. He’s not sure if Sam notices or appreciates it, but he’s not going to ask; doesn’t want to run the risk of making their home feel clinical.

It seems like the kind of crying where speaking wouldn’t help, so he lets it run its course. He keeps up the pressure at Sam’s back, and takes his palm to pet at Sam’s hair, something he’d seen Dean do so many times. Sam seems to jump at first, coughing once into Cas’ sodden shirt, but doesn’t move or ask him to stop, so after a long moment of awkwardly holding his hand still on top of his head he strokes his fingers out, and Sam sighs on the end of a gurgle.

Cas hears words now and then, ‘stupid’s and ‘christ’s and once, bafflingly, ‘fucking lucky charms’, but for the most part Sam seems content to simply cry until he stops. It’s not a quick thing. The air stills around them as Sam calms, gentled down from wracking gasps to sniffling tears, to simple heavy breaths.

Extricating himself is a clumsy affair even for Sam. His arms seem to catch, held in that clutching shape by the tension of the moment, and he has to slowly roll all of his joints loose. He unfurls slowly, like a flower in sunlight, until he stands back at full height. He does look brighter, now, and he carries the crackle of something almost like grace in him, Cas thinks. Peace always shines out of a person.

He grasps Cas’ upper arm for a moment, takes the offered cloth to dry his face before handing it back to Cas and gesturing at the front of his shirt. From the wry, wrinkled-nose smile he throws him as he steps away, Cas thinks he’s also realised the shirt is already a lost cause, but Cas pats himself down anyway, something to occupy his hands for a moment.

Sam leans back briefly to rest against the counter, then gets a different idea and twists around toward the cupboards. He takes out three cups, some chamomile tea, fills the kettle up to the line drawn on the side in red sharpie. “Thanks, Cas,” he whispers with his head in a cupboard, ears tinting red. “I - heh - think I needed that.” He huffs a laugh again, some genuine mirth in it now. “Sorry about your shirt.”

“It’s quite alright. How are you feeling?” Cas can feel himself gazing a little too intensely, watching for Sam’s reactions, but he’s not worried. They know eachother well enough now that Cas can predict what would happen if it got too much; Sam would tell him knock it out, would you, would punch him lightly on the upper arm. He’d most likely try to crack a joke that would land flat, because Sam and Cas have never understood eachother’s humour very well, even when Sam isn’t sleep deprived and beginning to fade at the edges. Cas would apologise and start cleaning again just to keep out of his way. Out of his hair, as Dean would say. These are familiar dances.

Cas also knows he’s not likely to do it though, that Sam is used to his staring. And then he’s blindsided by another thought — that Sam is used to him. His presence and his quirks and his whims. Cas feels himself smile at that, warm, knowing that it’s true. They’re standing in the kitchen, in their home, and Sam just got snot all over his shirt — the shirt he’ll have to wash, manually, and iron, because he’s not really an angel anymore, doesn’t have the grace to maintain his signature look without effort anymore. The shirt that he’ll still choose to put on each morning when he could choose something simpler — because he trusts Cas enough to subject him to his 3am childhood trauma meltdowns. Cas is a human, with inexorably fallible human hands, and Sam is willing to hand him his heart in the quiet hours of the morning for a little field surgery. Cas almost thinks he feels a little sick.

#spn fic #mine #spn #cptsd manifesto #blank tag to keep out of searches #sam winchester #castiel

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sanjisock · 4 years

Text

bark to smoke, wood to ash

ao3

one.

You are eight and the words that fall out of your brothers’ mouth hurt like gravels, like acid, like gunshot wounds. They call you useless and it tears at your skin, they call you weak and it rings inside your ears for days. The bruises on your skin fade, but the words claw underneath, bone-deep, like a phantom scar.

A failure. A burden. A mistake. A mistake —

Brother.

You don’t know what’s wrong with the last one. It isn’t one of the bad words your mother taught you not to say, and your brothers never said it with the tone and derision they reserved for your name. Brother. Almost in passing, like an afterthought.

The word clung to you anyway, dirty and foreign, seeping under your skin like mud. It has sullied you into something you’re not.

(You are not, you know — you are not anyone’s brother. You’re not a —)

two.

You are thirteen when you realize that you hate the way you look in the mirror. You know you always do, at the back of your mind, but it’s the first time that it catches you off guard; there’s bile at the back of your throat, and you almost drive your leg through the vanity, shattering the ugly image staring back from the surface.

Zeff has just started giving you salaries — actual salaries instead of the meager pocket money they used to be — so the first thing you do is to visit the town’s market.

You are a boy, so you get yourself a couple of men’s shoes, loafers and dress shoes, oxfords and sandals. You are a boy, so you pick up the three-piece suits and vests, the kind a gentleman would wear. You are a boy, so you walk past the nail polish and lipsticks, and you don’t wonder how they would look against your pale skin, if they should match the dresses you will never wear.

You narrow your eyes at your own reflection, rubbing your chin, feeling the beginning of a stubble under your fingers. Your chest is a flat and narrow thing, every part of your body telling you what you have heard a thousand times — you’re a boy. You’re a boy. You’re a boy.

(You are a boy because you don’t know what else you could be.)

three.

You are sixteen and nobody tells you you’re beautiful; they call you handsome and strong and clean-shaven and many other words that don’t settle right at the pit of your stomach. A good husband, one over-eager patron once said to her blushing teenage daughter; a rough delinquent, most shopkeepers would say behind your back after you’ve haggled their prices one too many times; a handsome boy, some of Zeff’s old associates would sometimes say, a clumsy attempt to praise you. You hate the last one the most.

You are sixteen and you fall for the first boy who calls you beautiful.

He’s a boy from the next village, a year older than you are, sharp-tongued and sharper smile. He visits on Saturdays as his parents go to the island’s marketplace, a few ways down the street from Baratie, and when he kisses you behind a passing cart he tastes like a brilliant supernova.

Beautiful , he calls you, and for the first time a word slides off your skin like honey. Beautiful, he whispers to your lips, and it warms you from the inside, right in the very center of your chest. Beautiful, he presses against your skin, and you close your eyes and take it all in, the way the word fits right in between your rib cage, tucked neatly against your heart.

It doesn’t last. He also calls you his man.

(You’re not his man. You’re not anyone’s man. You’re not a man —)

four.

Today’s celebration is more crowded than you are used to, which says a lot, considering how it usually goes with the Strawhats. Luffy, you are quick to learn, always finds a way to surprise you.

You’re carrying five plates on one hand and three glasses of beer on the other, half-tiptoeing to avoid stepping on people’s feet. Some of the locals wave at you, complimenting you on the food, and you don’t notice Nami among the crowd until she’s pressed against you, her breasts digging into the crevice of your back as someone pushes her from behind.

You feel a shock of jealousy burst through you.

It is shocking, in its suddenness. There is nothing inherently sexual with the thought; you’ve always been attracted to men and women alike, in the safety of your own mind — but this is something entirely different. You are suddenly aware of your adam’s apple, your flat chest, your dick between your legs; how they’re wrong wrong wrong —

She must’ve felt the way you stiffened, because she leaps back in surprise and stammers out an apology. You want to tell her that it’s fine, but for once, you can’t. There are a lot of people you can lie to but not her, who’s been carved open and forced to lie for so long.

“I can’t,” you tell her; no longer caring if you don’t even make sense. “Nami-san, I can’t —”

Something erupts among the crowd, and Luffy emerges from it a moment later, always the center of attention. Nami’s instantly distracted, and you have never been more glad of Luffy’s natural proclivity for trouble.

You chase after him, and try not to think of the way envy curls coldly in your chest.

(For the first time in your life, you dare to want —)

five.

They force you to wear a dress and you run.

It’s wrong, you try to tell yourself, because men don’t wear skirts and you may be a failure to Judge but you won’t be one to Zeff. It’s wrong, you try to tell them, to every single resident of this cursed island of Momoiro, and they look at you with pity , and you hate them for it. It’s wrong, you try to tell someone, anyone who would listen, because you don’t know what else it could be.

So you run.

You run and you feel the silk of the dress slide against the inside of your thighs, the bra tight around your chest, the straps of your panties dig into your hips. You wonder if they would leave marks against your skin, the kind that’s red and stark and doesn’t disappear for days, like they have become a part of you somehow.

You run because you know it’s wrong.

(You run because it doesn’t feel wrong.)

six.

Zoro is terrible. A brute, a dumbass, an oaf — you hate his guts, you hate his voice, and you hate the way he always knows the right words to set you off into a tirade. He is loud and brash and everything a man is supposed to be and you hate that, too — like a constant reminder of who you aren’t, of who you’re supposed to be.

He also looks at you like you’re an equal, like someone he can depend on when all else fails. He pushes you towards your dream and never expects any less than the best; when the two of you stand side-by-side, something in your blood sings, like you are strong enough to take on the world.

That part — you don’t hate that.

(Zoro is terrible, but —)

seven.

Your stomach drops when your eyes meet Zoro’s.

He’s not supposed to be here , you want to think, but in hindsight, why shouldn’t he, when the tavern they are in seems to be the only establishment in this quaint little town that offers alcohol on its menu. Of course that brute is here.

You should’ve known better than to risk it.

You are not wearing the — the whole thing , thankfully; the red dress from Momoiro still safely tucked at the corner of your locker, never to see the light of day. But your hair is shoulder-length and your nails are in three different colors, and you are at least five-inches taller than him because of the heels you are wearing. Zoro’s a dumbass with only one good eye left, but he’s not blind.

Zoro blinks, does a once-over. You wait for the other shoe to drop, for the disgust to crawl up his expression like poison ivy, but it never comes; he simply tilts his head to the side, more confused than anything.

The first thing he asks is, “How did you get your hair so long?”

“It’s called a wig , dumbass,” you retort, the banter between you two coming as naturally as breathing, even when your heart is pounding against your ribcage. “It’s like — fake hair, basically. Not that you’d know anything about fashion.”

Zoro scrunches up his nose, and he’s wearing that expression he always wears whenever someone tells him to count higher than ten. You usually find it hilarious, just one more thing to tease him about, but right now it is comforting in its familiarity. The disgust that you have long dreaded never seems to appear, and you feel tension slowly bleed over your shoulders.

“Huh,” Zoro says after a moment. A blush blooms across his cheeks, and he sounds almost embarrassed when he says, “suits you.”

(You remember being sixteen, falling in love with the boy who called you beautiful.)

eight.

“Please change us back!” Nami calls out to Law, and you feel your blood runs cold. You know it’s selfish, that none of these is yours, the breasts and the curves and the long, soft fingers; but you can’t help begging still, please don’t please don’t please don’t please —

Law still turns you back.

You fall to your knees. Nami thought it was from the physical wounds she’d received before Law switched you back, and you let her think that way. Your hands will not stop shaking for the rest of the day, and you tell Chopper that it’s the cold.

(This is not your body, your brain traitorously whispers, persistent. It’s never been the right body for you —)

nine.

Zoro slips his hand under your shirt, and you groan at that, pleased — you’ve been making out for what seems like forever now, and the way his finger brushes against your nipple is a welcome development. His mouth starts to trail down your neck, and you tug on his haramaki, urging him on. This thing between you two — whatever this is — has been long-overdue, and you feel like a second without the two of you naked is just another second wasted.

You slip out of your pants without thinking, and your breath hitches when you realize you’re still wearing your panties.

Zoro seems to notice your discomfort, because his hands immediately still. He looks up at you, eye searching, and you find it sweet, the way he’d stop if you tell him to stop. You don’t want him to, of course, if the arousal pooling at the bottom of your stomach is any indication; but you like knowing that you have the choice. You can count on one hand the number of times you’re able to do that — making choices, that is.

You know that you don’t need to explain anything, when it comes to Zoro. You have that choice too. He has always been good at giving people space, and you know he will wait until you are ready to say anything. But you look at the man in front of you who has never been anything but honest, and the words claw out of your throat before you can think twice.

“I’m a woman.”

Your voice is small and confused. Your throat burns, like the words have been scraped raw from its walls.

Zoro doesn’t say anything at first, and you tear your eyes away from him, because you’ve never been scared of him but you don’t think you can stand it if he starts to look at you different. You think of your pathetic excuse of a family, their cold eyes and colder shoulders, and you don’t know if you can go through another heartbreak. You know the Strawhats are better than this — better than them — but you can’t help thinking what if, what if, what if —

“Okay,” Zoro says. And, “Thanks for telling me.”

You exhale, then. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath.

He fucks you into the bed, long and sweet, softer than you’d ever expect him capable of. He holds your hand after, and the two of you lie on the bed, chests pressed against one another’s under the covers of a warm blanket. He breathes out when you breathe in.

(For the first time in a long while, the king of Germa doesn’t haunt you. You are not his son, and you have never been his.)

ten.

“You ready?”

Zoro is leaning against the door frame, waiting for you, but you can’t bring yourself to tear your eyes away from the mirror yet. You watch the way your kimono hugs your frame, thick and rigid; nobody could’ve seen any curves, even if you had one. That’s the point, you’ve been told — this is Wano’s idea of a woman’s beauty. Femininity through the concealment of body curves. It’s different than most concepts you’ve heard of female beauty, and you like that — that there isn’t one way to be a woman, that there is no mold to fit in for you to be one.

“Yes,” you say, and you let him lead you towards the door.

(You are a woman, and you have never been anything else.)

#opfanfic #zosan #sanji #roronoa zoro #one piece #trans!sanji

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pl-panda · 4 years

Text

Damienette arranged marriage: part 13

Credits: Miraculous Ladybug team for the elements I take from MLB show. DC for their characters, @ozmav for the AU, @maribat-archive for giving me access to so many different stories to have take inspirations from, @thyladyanput for idea for Chat Damian and me for the plot.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Part 12

Damienette arranged marriage: part 13

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

"Shut up Superboy." Damian frowned. He had to restrain himself not to out Kent in front of the irritating girl. He wished he just got Mari home when he had a chance.

"I though we were on the first-name basis Robin!"

The sound of Damian's facepalm could be heard in Fortress of Solitude.

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

"What?" Jon asked confused. He had no idea what he did wrong.

"tt. I am getting that dusters Kent. And if I go down because of you, I am taking you down with me."

Chloe stood there with gaping mouth. Her brain was short-circuiting. The mysterious Damian Wayne dating Marinette? Okay. Them being already married? She heard weirder, but it was close. Him being raised inside of some cult in tibet? Okay. Weirdest day ever. Damian Wayne being Robin? Utterly Ridiculous. And yet he was there, bantering with Superboy like they knew each other for years. And it would add up to his skill with sword. Chloe, contrary to popular belief was not stupid. A bit lazy, prideful, maybe tiny miny mean? Sure. But not stupid. Adding three to seven together is not above her.

"I think I might have broken your wife Damian..." Jon said a bit uncertain while waving his hand in front of the blonde.

Wayne heir held back the urge to facepalm again. "tt.I swear I would feed you to Titus if not the risk you would cause him some stomach problems. This is not my wife!"

"Uh... So she was not supposed to know you are Robin..." Jon asked sheepishly.

"You are an idiot." Damian scowled and turned to Chloe. "Tell anyone and I will hand you to my mother." He then opened his case to reveal his outfit. He looked through his belt. He was sure he had the talisman somewhere...

"You are Robin... And you are Damian Wayne... That means Bruce Wayne is Batman... But you are also married to Dupain-Cheng..." Chloe was murmuring/babbling to herself, trying to sort the influx of information. Finally, Damian pulled a small ruby in golden ring. There were some words around it that were definitely not human. He also pulled a small piece of paper from the same pocket.

"tt. Mother of Azarath! Drain the curse and free the body!" He recited the spell and gem glowed slightly. Then, there was a loud Crack! and the ruby broke, turning almost black.

"Uh... Robin? What was that?"

Damian didn't answer, but instead glared at the kryptonian making him immediately shut up and just float there in silence.

Chloe finally shook off the shock. She walked to him and smashed the lid of the case right in front of him. "I don't care if you are a fucking billionaire superhero! You are not going out there with twisted ankle! You are not making my only friend a widow!"

"tt. I am not sitting here."

"And I don't care." She stated simply and turned to Superboy.

"Kent, right? Keep him here. I am going to get some real help."

"What? You have a bat-signal or something..." Jon stopped when he saw the grin on her face.

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

Marinette ran through the city. She had to get to Tikki. The Cat was hot on her trail. No matter how much she tried, he seemed to be able to get her. She tried calling for help, but people just straight up ignored her. She run through the whole crowd and nobody even batched an eye. For a brief moment she wanted to go to her home and grab some other miraculous, but then she remembered that she still had no idea how to open the new box without her yo-yo. There was no instruction on that thing.

She could hear steps above her on the roofs, but luckily the Hotel Grand Paris was already in sight. She doubled her efforts, completely ignoring the pain. Adrenaline coursing through her veins numbed the pain enough to allow for this. Somewhere on the back of her mind she noticed that nobody paid any attention to her. She just ignored it for now and dashed to the elevator. In any normal circumstances stairs would be safer, but she had no way of outrunning Chat d'Amour on stairs. She could only hope that he didn't know she took the elevator

Sadly, he did. She heard something crash with the doors, but luckily the elevator already started going up. She knew he was hot on her trail, but unless he cataclysmed both the doors and the floor, he would not reach her in time. Poor Plagg. Having to experience all this...

When she reached the top floor, she dashed to Chloe's room. She had to get there before Chat could see her. She needed to transform.

Marinette barged into the room and straight to her purse. Kwami floated out. She wanted to say something, but the time was running out. "Tikki! Spots on!"

In a flash of pink light, she was transformed. The lingering pain didn't stop, but she happily noticed that there were no more effects from falling from the roof. Just then, Chat d'Amour entered the room. He was fuming with anger.

"Ladybug!? What have you done with my purrincess?!"

"She is safe away. Probably already downstairs and running away. What happened to you Kitty?" She asked with worry.

"No. You've done something to her. I can't sense her anymore... What have you done to her!" He shouted and lunged at Ladybug, but the red heroine was able to deflect his attacks. He still scratched her several times. The suit stopped all but one of that. A small gush formed on her cheek. Nothing big and blood was minimal.

Marinette focused. He could track her. His akuma power must have included knowing exact location of Marinette Dupain-Cheng. But right now she was not just Marinette. She was Ladybug, so her miraculous cancelled out with his ability. "I gave her mouse miraculous again Chat. You will not find her." She stated, trying to stay calm. This made Black Cat only double his attempts.

"You put her in danger just because of your jealousy?!" He made an overhead slash with his staff, which Ladybug blocked by crossing hands before her and pushing him away. "You are truly useless guardian! You do not deserve this earrings!" Chat was not giving up. He continued his assault.

"I would ask you to step back from the lady." Someone stated in English. Both combatants looked to where it originated only to see a boy wearing superman jacket on himself.

"And who purrr you?" Chat asked also in english. He looked unamused by a thirteen years old boy.

"Superboy. Nice to meet you. 'Ow ya' doin'?" The last sentence was with heavy southern accent that made it a bit hard to understand.

"Huh? Are you what? Superman Junior?" Chat had no idea who was that supposed to be. He seemed like some overly eager fan of the big blue.

"Oh! He is my dad!" Jon lightened up. He was pretty irritated that the cat doesn't know him, but maybe since Paris had their own heroes they didn't pay much attention to the rest of the world.

"Y-your dad?!" Suddenly Chat felt his confidence die. He believed in his abilities, but facing superman, even in version XS was still not something he wished for. Especially since he just wanted his princess.

"What's the matter Kitty? Afraid of a kid?" Ladybug teased. She looked for his Akuma, but there was so much off about him that she could not focus. This was Chat Noir she was talking about. He was... used to be her partner. She had to focus.

"You have no right to call me Kitty! I am Chat d'Amour and you are not my ladybug. You are not even fit to be Ladybug. You are adult but you didn't unlock your full potential! I will take your miraculous and hand them over to Marinette! She is better Ladybug than you! I will just need to borrow them to Hawkmoth for one moment and then I will be together with my true partner!"

"You are delusional Chat."

"Uh... English guys? Jon asked and both Marinette and Chat realized they switched back to French.

"Superboy! Pin him down so I can find his Akumatized object!"

"Cataclysm!" Chat Noir held his hand which was now bubbling with dark energy extended. "Try to get close and I will destroy you!"

"Uh... Ladybug, right?"

"He threatens to cataclysm you."

"Yyyy..."

"His special power is that he can destroy anything."

"Then we might have a problem. Magic can actually hurt Kryptonians..." Jon was suddenly not so eager to engage.

"Huh. Good to know." Chat quipped and lunged at Superboy. Ladybug acted practically on instinct, Tossing her yo-yo and grabbing him by the ankle. She pulled Chat and tossed him back. Perhaps because of the adrenaline or perhaps because of the anger, she underestimated his strength and Black Cat ended up flying out of the window. He used his staff to support his landing, but once he landed to support himself he had to touch the ground and wasted his cataclysm. From the highest level, Ladybug and Superboy could see him look up in defeat as a purple butterfly appeared around his face. He said something, but Jon did not understand French and Marinette couldn't hear him. Suddenly Chat d'Amour was covered in black and purple bubbles and turned back into Chat Noir. He looked angry and run away into the city.

Marinette wanted to chase after him, but suddenly the pain in her heart flared again. She suddenly detransformed and fell on her knees. The green glow around her heart got stronger and she was suppressing the scream of pain.

"I am so sorry Marinette. I tried to heal you... but this is some dark magic. Oh no! I think I made it worse..." Tikki was lamenting while floating next to the girl. The last thing Marinette rememebed before passing out from the pain was a scream and a pair of green eyes staring at her. There might have been some words, but she was unable to hear them.

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Taglist (sorry if I missed you)@pheonixashtree @sassakitty @unabashedbookworm @vixen-uchiha @maggiecc12 @actualdisasterwoman @tired-butterfly @shizukiryuu @floralfi @imanerddealwith @northernbluetongue @krispydefendorpolice @toodaloo-kangaroo @dast218 @bluesoulblueheart @theatreandcomicfreak @disneyfoxuniverse @mindfulmagics @alwaysnumberonetruth @nyaabinch @jardimazul @lenamau @rosep16 @dramatic-squirrel @sonif50 @daminett4life @lulutheawkwardess @weird-pale-blonde-person @mooshoon @jeminiikrystal @mochegato @moonlightstar64 @dragonflyswing @silverwhiteraven @shamefullove @magic-miraculous @valeks-princess @heaven428 @mlbchaosqueen @winter-gardenflower @spicybelladonna @emo-elaine13 @vetilora @karukofox21 @my-name-is-michell @sturchling @lokiifriggasonn @redscarlet95 @melicmusicmagic @interobanginyourmom @the-fusionist @razzledazzle247 @miss-mysterys-blog @darkthunder1589 @i-is-mysterious @catthhay @the-one-woman-army @zestyzealot @dahjokester @write-for-your-life2 @mermaidreject @peachedpocky @sassakitty @dahjokester @crazylittlemunchkin @novicevoice @justafanwarrior @eliza-bitch @schrodingers25

#marinette x damian #maribat #maribat au #damienette #maridami #guardian!marinette #order of the guardians #league of assassins #arranged marriage au #batman #mlb #mlb x dc #miraculous lb #miraculous ladybug

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onthepageoftears · 4 years

Text

Hold Them Closer ~ Ch.10 [Jaskier x assassin!reader] || Witcher

A/N: hello all! I’ve been a bit busy with school, so im going to try my absolute best to stay on schedule with these chapters. there are only a couple chapters left (gasp) but I just thought id put a warning here that I might be a day late posting etc. also, this is pretty much a filler/goofy chapter, but still I hope yall enjoy!

Your kind words and reviews mean a lot to me, so please don’t afraid to leave a message/comment!

Summary: The past is not something you can truly escape from.

Warnings: mentions of killing/death/murder/blood, some fighting, slight gore, language, violence, memoriessss

Words: 2,112

Please Don’t Plagiarize My Work!

The fire crackled gently in the cave, its embers floating up until they disappeared in the darkness. The four of you sat around the fire, Theodora aimlessly throwing in stick after stick to keep it going. She was quiet now that you were all sitting in the nighttime, and you wondered what was going through her head.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Jaskier’s low voice next to you. “I cannot be-lieve this kid just willingly came to a monster’s nest.”

You looked over at Theodora, making sure she couldn’t hear you. When she didn’t make any sort of comment, you leaned into Jaskier’s side to lowly whisper, “At least she’s safe.”

“Yeah, after she threw herself into danger.”

You raised your eyebrows, slight amusement crossing your features. Jaskier pouted at the fire in front of you, his brows furrowed in irritation. “Why are you so on edge? She’s just a kid.”

He turned to you with a sigh, “Exactly.”

It was then that you realized Jaskier was, in the simplest terms, worried. Obviously, you all were — having to go find a kid at a monster’s nest wasn’t something you wanted to do every day, much less not knowing what you would find when you got there. Though Theodora was pretty well trained, she was still young. Digging a grave was hard enough, but a small grave was, well, awful.

This worry wasn’t unfamiliar with Jaskier — you remembered how he acted with Lilla, the little girl you all saved from bandits not long ago. Theodora was completely different, of course; where Lilla practically latched onto you and Jaskier, Theodora made sure to stay several feet away — and brandish her sword while doing it. Perhaps that was why he worried so much: people who held a strong exterior often were much weaker inside.

You huffed, pulling one of your knives out and tracing the edge delicately with your finger, “Kids do stupid things. I’d’ve done the same.”

Within a millisecond, Jaskier’s attention shifted, his worry turning to curiosity. “Oh, do tell.”

You shifted uncomfortably under his strong gaze. “What is there to tell?”

Jaskier’s guffaw had now gained the attention of both Geralt and Theodora. You glared at him for making a big show, but still, you smirked. He placed himself purposefully on the ground just slightly in front of you, his eyes sparkling despite the darkness.

“You cannot tell me as a trained killer and adventurer, you have no stories of rebellious youth.”

“You’re an assassin?” Theodora’s emphasis on the word ‘assassin’ threw you off.

You blinked, shaking off the feeling while straightening your posture. Pointedly ignoring Theodora’s question, you spoke, “Okay. What kind of story would you like to hear?”

“Something wreaking of blood, sweat, and action.” Jaskier waved his hand in the air. “So…a bedtime story for young Theodora will do.”

“That’s Theo to you.”

“Okay.” You took a deep breath in, ignoring the way Theo glared at Jaskier’s back while you searched your memories for a good story. You smiled when the perfect one came to mind. “I was around thirteen, I think. It was winter, so me and my uncle were staying in the city to try and scrounge up some work. We moved around a lot otherwise, but he wanted to make his mark on the guilds there.”

You shuddered at the memory, Rauf’s many dealings running through your mind. You quickly pushed them away, instead remembering someone else from your recent past. “My friend — Joneta, who I only saw once in a while — she was in the same city as us. Whenever we were together, it was inevitable that we’d get into trouble. Stealing, pranks, mixes of the sort. But nothing that I’d do now, of course.” You looked pointedly at Theo, who rolled her eyes.

“We were sitting around at one of the guilds, bored out of our minds. Joneta suddenly stood up, saying we should go to the notice board and find a small job, something that could get us enough coin for some stupid card at the market.”

Jaskier nodded, “Gwent. Classic.”

Theo glared at the bard, “Will you shush.”

“Children, please. I’m telling a story.” You ignored the glares and closed your eyes, letting the memory overtake you.

Joneta’s grin was mischievous. Whenever she got that look — the look that always preceded the two of you getting in loads of trouble — a fluttery feeling rose in your chest. Even though you knew it meant no good, the chase for adrenaline and action always enticed you — especially in winter when you had nothing else to do.

You squinted at the girl in front of you,“What kind of job will we take?”

“The little ones never give enough coin. We have to do something risky. Something dangerous.”

Your stomach did a flip. You knew if Rauf found out the two of you were going to do something stupid, he’d have your head. But you also knew that he would rather you be doing the said stupid thing safely.

So, you nodded your head at Joneta, silently standing up and gesturing for her to follow you. Because if you were going to take a dangerous job, you would need the proper weapons to do it. And getting those weapons was a risk on its own.

“You stole weapons from the guild?” Jaskier asked, bringing you back to reality.

You shook your head, a small smirk forming on your lips. “I took them from Rauf.”

Theo scrunched her nose in confusion, “Who is Rauf?”

“The uncle.” Geralt added, his voice surprising you. You honestly hadn’t realized he had been listening, and listening so intently. His elbows were resting on his knees as he leaned forward slightly. He played it off by throwing another stick in the fire, but you knew his interest had been peaked.

Jaskier clicked his tongue from in front of you, drawing your attention back to him. “You’re telling me you stole weapons from your uncle to go take a job that could very easily get you killed?”

“Yes, exactly that.” You tilted your head, “May I continue?”

“Please.”

“Thank you.” You cleared your throat, for once reveling in the attention the group was giving you. “Now, where was I…right. I stole Rauf’s knives.”

It was a miracle that you made it out of the guild without getting caught. Rauf was in some sort of meeting, and no one seemed to pay mind to the two little kids scampering around unsupervised. You and Joneta even snuck past the gate’s guard while he talked to a fellow assassin. It was way too easy, and you knew that Joneta would want an even more dangerous job just because of that.

The notice board of the city wasn’t far. By the time you got there, snow began to fall, leaving you and Joneta shivering in your spots. But still, you both searched the board for something good.

“There!” Joneta pointed before snatching a flier off the board. “‘Drowner stuck in ice near the river. Hefty reward for its head.’”

“Sounds good to me,” you said, the adrenaline warming your frostbitten skin.

The two of you ran through the streets towards the river, your determination making people jump out of the way. The area near the river was quiet, probably because of the rumored drowner nearby.

You and Joneta stopped at the edge of the bridge, eyes searching the ice cold water.

“We need to get a better look,” Joneta said, running over to the staircase that led to a platform closer to the water.

“I don’t like this.” Jaskier sighed, immediately being cut off by Theo’s groan.

“Then don’t listen.” She waved you on to continue despite Jaskier’s glare. You bit your lip, but continued on.

As you and Joneta looked all around the bottom area, searching for the drowner, you began to feel uneasy. You frowned, watching the river flow smoothly in front of you. The notice had said the drowner was stuck in ice, but the river wasn’t iced over anymore. Your stomach churned at the realization, but before you could say anything, Joneta let out a scream.

You turned around in an instant, seeing Joneta struggle against the drowner’s grip. It growled at her from the water, its hand clasped around her ankle. With little hesitation, you pulled out one of Rauf’s knives, getting ready to slice the drowner’s hand.

Before you could, Joneta yelled,“No, we have to lead it out!”

“Are you crazy?” You breathed, your heart jumping in your throat.

Joneta pulled gently on her own leg, trying to coax the drowner out of the water.“We have to kill it!”

You scoffed at her, but realized that leaving the drowner here would only put other people in danger. You ran over to Joneta, grabbing under her armpits to pull her further from the water. The drowner kept its grip on her ankle, letting the two of you drag it onto the platform.

As soon as it was out of the water, it pulled Joneta from your grasp, crawling on top of her with its slimy teeth bared. She kicked at its legs but it didn’t budge — quickly, you slid out from under her and grabbed at its shoulders, wincing at the cold skin as it fell to the side. You readjusted the knife in your hand, and with one swift jab, you stabbed the drowner square in the face.

“Fuck.” You breathed, stepping away from the now dead creature.

Without a word, Joneta snatched the knife from your hand, bringing it to the drowner’s neck. She sliced into its cold skin, sawing back and forth with determination. You grimaced, watching as your friend beheaded the thing that just tried to kill her.

You looked at the group around you with a shrug. “And then we brought the head to the shop owner and got the reward. Plus a used Gwent card.”

“Bullshit.” Theo’s eyes narrowed at you, a mix of awe and disbelief hidden beneath them. “There’s no way that actually happened.”

You snorted. “If only. My uncle had me clean out the local horse’s stables for a month because of it.”

The night was silent once more. You looked between each of your group — Theo, now frowning at the idea that your story was real, Geralt, who was stoic as always (but you could see he was amused, if not impressed) — and, Jaskier, who winked at you once you caught his eye.

He clapped his hands together, bringing the silence to an end. “Well. That was a lovely, lovely story. Are you feeling sleepy now, Theo?”

“Fuck off.”

You smirked at the two, standing from your spot on the ground. “I’ll take first watch.” Leaving the sound of low bickering and a crackling fire, you walked to the edge of the cave, hand on the hilt of your sword.

With a deep breath, you let yourself remember Rauf, even if you didn’t want to.

Your uncle was furious when you got back to the guild. He stood in front of you, his brows creased in a frown, arms crossed over his chest.

He had been staring at you for a while now. At this point, you wished he was yelling, maybe even giving you a whack on the head for what you did. But his eyes remained situated on you like they were frozen solid, forever indebted to giving you a disappointed glare.

When he spoke, you nearly jumped from your seat. “How did you do?”

Now it was your turn to frown. You looked up at your uncle, eyes narrowed. He didn’t ask if you were okay, or why you did it — he asked you how.

You cleared your throat, feigning bravery under his glare.“I did well. Took the drowner down on my own.”

His brow was still creased when he nodded. And, just like that, he left the room without another word.

By the time the memory faded, you realized you were inspecting one of your own knives. Not long after that day, Rauf found a blacksmith to make you some of your own— the very ones you still held.

You sighed, placing the knife back in your sheath. No matter what you did, you would never be rid of the man you called your uncle. He was everywhere you looked, even when you slept. All you could do now was try to be nothing like him.

You leaned against the cave wall, looking up to the night sky where the stars shined brightly. You hoped, that after all of this, after all you’ve been through — you would find your mother. And soon.

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Let me know your thoughts!

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novelistash · 3 years

Text

Life Simulators

Tinkering with life simulators are a guilty pleasure for me. The chaos of procedurally generated lives keep me far too interested. My mind fills in the blanks creating the story of these rich lives. It kind of goes against what I was talking about yesterday, but I think I said it was an issue up for debate? Well, if I didn't, you can basically say that about everything. Newtonian Physics was the only way to view the Universe until it wasn't after all.

Anyway, I'm going to drop the life of Alexandra Miller, a character who was able to live most of her life with perfect stats. Is this for posterity or just for me to keep a semi-obsessive record? Also this might be in multiple parts. Hmm, maybe I should turn this into an exercise.

Born in Sydney, Australia, my parents conceived me on a nude beach. Cate Miller, my mother, never knew who my father was, and never cared to find out. She was a 40 year old history teacher. She quickly found and married Samuel Hornsby, a 33 year-old army enlistee with a son, Kobe.

Alexandra (Lex) had trouble getting along with her new family at first. Samuel didn't want to take 3 year old Lex to the zoo when she asked, and she got into a fight with Kobe where she got so mad that she licked him on the forehead.

To help Lex feel welcome, Cate got her daughter a boxer named Baxter! Lex was very serious about taking care of Baxter, giving him baths at the age of 4 and feeding peas for treats. Her family warmed up to her, with Kobe talking to Lex about how scary the toilet was and Samuel discussing Lex's imaginary friend.

When Lex started school, she was anxious about the other kids. Some of them didn't seem to like her. In particular Ariana was always giving Lex the stink eye. Lex tried to be her friend. Ariana responded by telling Lex to jump off and calling her a sausage shark! Lex gave up on trying to make peace with Ariana and instead tried to be nice to everyone in class, showering them with compliments. She became friends with Ayla, the first girl to talk to her, as well as the smart cookie Clive. Lex cared so much about her grades in Kindergarten that she studied until her eyes were sore.

At the age of 6 Lex went to Pompei with her family and starting taking piano lessons. She learned to enjoy reading, finishing Corduroy and Stellaluna by herself.

At age 7, Lex became friends with revolutionary Archie and stylish Eleanor. One of her fondish memories of her father Samuel happened this year, when he took her sky diving! Afterwards, he gave her a compass that had been in his family for three generations. Whenever Lex was lost, she could look at the compass and know where to go.

When I turned 8, Lex's step brother Kobe became a cadet for the Sydney Police Department and moved out of the house. Continuing this theme of people leaving her, Baxter ran away from home. With compass in hand, Lex looking for her dog and found him hiding in a bush! They ate lemons together and hated it. In addition to piano lessons, Lex started taking taekwondo and voice lessons and dreamed of becoming a pop star.

An avid reader and compulsive studier, Lex was having trouble with her eyes at age 9, but the optometrist said she wouldn't need glasses if she just studied in the light. When she got a yellow belt, she learned how to perform the eagle strike in taekwondo.

Lex was content that some people would never like her, but those that showed her kindness, she'd always go out of her way to talk to them. She felt extremely luck to have so many amazing people in her life.

Kobe became a Patrolman, but Lex's 11th year would be anything but safe. Lex fell out of bed and hurt her jugular. She was bed ridden for 5 days. Baxter got in a street fight with another dog and died. Ayla helped Lex get over losing her dog and the two became best friends.

Sixth grade was the year of the great Disney movie debate, where Lex's entire class argued about which was the best Disney movie. Clive wanted to sneak into a neighbor's house to get a box of Reese's Puffs, but Lex stopped him from taking a suspicious risk. Lex was finally old enough to go to the library by herself and she started going there every week.

At the start of secondary school, Lex joined the school's orchestra! She did 26 hours of babysitting for a neighbor. She tried out for water polo but had too much trouble breathing to focus on the ball at the same time. She started going to the local gym and focus on breath control. Lex found that diving helped her get better and ended up joining the diving team instead. She started working with her mother on the garden. Her mother Cate said that the garden always reminded her of Lex.

Lex will always remember the day before her fourteenth birthday, because she met a boy from another school, Chase Edwards. After spending some time together, Chase asked to kiss her and she gave him her first kiss. When she felt him opening his lips she pulled back and decided not to spend any more time with him. A few months later, Lex went to a party with Ayla. Ayla spun the bottle and it landed on Lex. Ayla seemed like she wasn't sure if she was ready to kiss a boy, so Lex went into the closet with her. Once they were inside, Lex realized that she wanted to kiss Ayla, but didn't have the courage to try anything. Their seven minutes in heaven turned into seven minutes that were very much on Earth. Lex vowed to not live life in fear and focused on her taekwondo, earning her blue belt. While at the gym training for dive, she was asked out by Connor Robinson, and agreed to date him. Lex did work as a babysitter and lawn mower, and used that money to pay for her first mani-pedi. She joined instagram just to show off her nails. She was meditating a lot on the nature of the world and joined her school's recycling club. If all of that wasn't enough, she started taking guitar lessons.

Lex and her acne ridden boyfriend, Connor, snuck into Lex's attic, and found her mom's camcorder. There wasn't anything interesting. Lex became her orchestra's section leader and her mom, Cate, gave her a BMW after acing her driving test. Feeling like an adult, 15 year old Lex decided to go on birth control, and her mom had no objections. Ayla joined the art club, and Lex partied with her and her friends. She realized that she still had feelings for Ayla, but Ayla confessed that she was into one of her club mates and so Lex decided not to act on her feelings and stay with Connor. Ayla got a boyfriend and Lex felt like she was ready to commit to Connor.

Her sixteenth birthday was an emotional high point for Lex, and she felt like she was happy for no real reason. She became concertmaster of her school's orchestra. Everything was going great and she decided that she wanted to take things to the next level with Connor. Connor wasn't interested in sex before marriage, so she broke up with him. Her friend, Clive, helped her get over the break up by getting mani-pedis with her and they became best friends. Ayla had recently become single and so against Clive's advice, Lex decided to ask Ayla out on a date. Ayla rejected her, but said that she was willing to still be friends. Lex wasn't over her but gave up after her attempts at flirting continued to go nowhere. Lex's tutoring gig let her work with grown men from college. Clive thought one client was a pimp.

Kobe became a Corporal, Lex became dive team captain, and the family had a big party to celebrate. Lex told all of her friends that she was pansexual and everyone was more interested in going to the movies.

Lex decided to study biology at university. She met Charlie Edgecliff at the gym and asked him out. On their first date Charlie took her yodeling. After going to the movies, Lex gave her virginity to him. Lex joined the university's orchestra and swim team. For Charlie's 20th birthday, Lex took him cliff diving. They had a serious talk about cloning and decided that it would be cheating to hook up with a clone of your partner.

Lex's ex boyfriend Connor went to Lex's 19th birthday party and tried to get back together with her. Lex told him off without needing to use her brown belt in taekwondo. Between swim team, uni, and hooking up with Charlie, Lex was not only busy, but happy.

Lex became the section leader in her orchestra and somehow found time to do tutoring to pay for the many dates she went on with Charlie. She wanted to look her best for him and got Brazilians and laid on the tanning bed. She loved her body and her boyfriend, but one day at the tanning bed, she got out and threw up all over the floor. When she went to the doctor, they told her she had skin cancer. Lex had maybe five years to live. Lex couldn't accept that, she needed to try other options. When Lex talked to Connor about going to see a witch doctor, he laughed at her. She broke up with him and saw a spiritualist from Mexico. The woman told Lex to eat chihuahua hair as part of a ritual. Lex did and her cancer was miraculously gone! The 20 year old Lex had a new lease on life and she wasn't about to spend that life being single. She met the buff Kylie Mills, and dated her. Within a week they were not only girlfriends, but they were talking about moving in together.

At the age of 21, Lex took her girlfriend Kylie to Kobe's marriage. Sergeant Kobe had married a school teacher, Kiara. At the reception, Lex's old friend Archie joked with her about how weird it was that he was dating one of his mom's coworkers, even if she was only 34. Lex liked Archie's dark humor and the two became best friends. Lex kept tutoring, swimming, playing, studying, and dating. She climbed up onto a try with Kylie and school children taunted them to kiss. They made out while the sun set.

The love of Lex's life, Kylie, graduated and became a Pilot Trainee for Salls Air. Kobe and Kiara divorced after having only been together for thirteen months. Six months later, Kobe was a father to a little girl named Kylie. After graduation, 22 year old Lex got a job as a Jr. Environmental Scientist at Pacific Consulting.

Not hindered by his divorce, Kobe got promoted to Inspector. 23 year old Lex, put everything she had into her job, working more and more overtime. She was determined to buy her own place and marry the woman she loved. Things wouldn't be the same as Kobe.

Kobe had another daughter, a girl named Hazel. No one really talked about who the mother was, but they were proud of him for taking her into his family. Lex's research discovered that used condoms were threatening the lives of duck billed platypus, so she engineered a biodegradable condom. This got her a promotion at work. Feeling like she could do anything, the 24 year old Lex read War and Peace. She purchased a ring of alexandrite and proposed to Kylie. She said "yes." They were going to get married!

At Cate's retirement party, Lex realized she'd been with Kylie for 5 years! Thought the two were madly in love, Kylie's financials were in doubt. She had a lot of debt and her job wasn't even covering her student loans. At Lex's mom's retirement part, she learned that Cate was actually independently wealthy, owning some 3 million dollars in stocks and bonds. Lex's brother was the one who brought this up, because he was pretty sure the two of them were going to get a million dollars each. He told Lex to look out for Kylie, because she could divorce her and take hundreds of thousands from her. Lex knew in her heart that she could trust Kylie, but when she saw a male proustite on the street, she found herself tempted. Maybe their relationship wasn't perfect. The still Jr. Engineer, Lex, asked her boss for a promotion, but despite having come up with a new condom, she was denied.

For Lex's 26th birthday, she went to Comic Con with her coworker Bella and her friend Eleanor. Eleanor became her best friend. Lex worked while sick with the common cold and got a raise. She applied for a mortgage and bought a town home on Evans Manor. Her mom had to help her pay for the place, because Kylie's financials were all tied up in her debt.

After celebrating Lex's niece Kylie's birthday, her fiance, Kylie wanted to get married. Lex was still house poor and asked her parents to pay for the wedding. They agreed. They were going to be wed within the year. Lex had a short battle with athlete's foot. She was really starting to think of her own mortality and the mortality of her mother. After going paintballing with her step father, Lex decided that Kylie needed to sign a prenup. When Kylie refused, Lex made her promise to wait to get married until Kylie could stand on her own two feet. Kylie wasn't happy and the two stopped having sex. Lex begged Kylie to go to couples counseling, but Kylie wouldn't try. It was then that Lex knew she needed to end things with her fiance. The 27 year old Lex cut down on her hours at work and decided to focus on herself. She had a one night stand with Archie Irvine and realized that it wasn't for her. She wanted something long term and went online to date Ariana Evans. Their first date was a parkour exercise. And even though things went well, Lex wasn't ready to start getting physical with Ariana. Ariana told Lex that she was willing to take things slow.

After giving her all to a company that didn't seem to appreciate her and a fiance that wanted everything, it was only after Lex stopped caring that things finally started to change. At age 28, Lex was finally promoted to Environmental Scientist. Ariana took Lex for a photoshoot to celebrate and the two finally got physical. It was then that Ariana admitted to Lex that she didn't need to work. She was independently wealthy, being worth nearly 5 million dollars from her family's wealth. Lex threw a party at her house and Ariana was content to live separately.

Lex was falling for Ariana, but she didn't want her to think she was after her fortune. She asked her mother to pay for the wedding, and Cate agreed. Lex bought a $500 platinum ring and proposed to the millionaire, Ariana. Lex took Ariana to a football game and proposed on screen. Ariana said "yes!"

At the age of 30, Lex finally married Ariana. There was only one catch, a prenup. Lex laughed and agreed to the prenup, explaining that her mom was also wealthy. When the time came to go on a honeymoon, the two women realized they'd rather just stay local and be with friends and family. Lex took Ariana's last name, becoming Alexandra Evans.

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fanficimagery · 5 years

Text

Because We Got High.

Relationship: Billy & Reader Warnings: Drug use (it’s just weed) & language. Words: 1,820 Tags: Fluff & humor.

Billy's been driving around for the last twenty minutes, music blaring and smoking cigarette after cigarette as he looks for Max. She was meant to be at one of her friends' houses, but the little shits apparently jumped from house to house without telling anyone. Everyone was meant to be at the Wheeler's- and boy was that fun having to see Karen Wheeler answer the door side-by-side with her husband, squirming and with pleading eyes to not utter a word of their previous flirtations- but the kids weren't there. So Billy drove to the Byers', and again no luck.

The Sinclair household only had one mouthy little girl that Billy briefly found amusing, and it was she who directed him to the Henderson's.

"Just walk right in," the little girl Erica had told him. "My brother and his friends will most likely ignore the doorbell and Ms. Henderson likes to chase her evening pills with alcohol."

"For being a kid, you know an awful lot about what Ms. Henderson does at night."

"I'm thirteen, you mullet wearing bastard." She had sassed him- actually sassed him before slamming the door in his face and all Billy could do was laugh about it.

The kid had fire and he liked it. It was rather refreshing.

Then having gotten back in his car, he memorized the directions to the Henderson household that Erica had given him and drove.

Pulling up outside the Henderson house, Billy stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray before cutting the engine and climbing out. The lights are all on inside, so he wastes no time stomping up to the front door and ringing the bell.

No answer.

He tries the door knob and it's locked.

"For fucks sake," Billy grumbles, growing agitated.

He then decides to pound on the door with a closed fist, but again there's no answer. There's a TV blaring somewhere inside, but he rather not start peeking through windows and risk the neighbors calling the cops on him. Instead he stomps around to the back of the house and is intent on pounding on the back door, yelling until someone answers him. But the moment he steps foot in the backyard, a strong familiar scent hits him full force and he stumbles to a stop before looking for the source.

Dusty and all his little friends had decided to come over and you knew there'd be no peace in order for you to watch a couple of movies as you had planned. They'd all congregated into Dustin's room which was just right next to yours and immediately they were a loud mess. So after making sure your mother was nice and tuckered out downstairs in front of the TV, you went back into your room and into your closet.

At the very top, very back of your closet was your secret stash of weed that was only smoked in emergency situations. And this? This was an emergency of boredom that you needed to quell right away.

So after making sure you had everything in your box, you tuck it under your arm and go back downstairs to exit the back door. In your backyard is the only thing left that reminds everyone of your fathers presence before he split- a large treehouse in the sturdiest tree that Dustin and his friends usually chilled out in when they weren't inside.

There's an actual staircase that wraps around the tree and you climb them all the way up to the house itself. Then plopping down in one of the bean bags, you set the box in your lap, open it up, and smile as you stare down at its contents.

After rolling a blunt and lighting up, you take a deep drag and let the smoke settle in your lungs before blowing it out. Drag after drag, your body starts to loosen up and you quickly find yourself sprawled on the floor of the treehouse.

You have more than enough weed for another blunt and you lazily start to roll another one.

Before you can light up, however, a voice stalls you.

"You do know the entire back yard smells like weed, right? You looking to be busted?"

Rolling over, you belly crawl to the door and look down. Standing in your backyard, looking far too handsome for his own good, is none other than Billy Hargrove. "You gonna be a narc, Hargrove?"

He walks over to the bottom of the stairs, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Do I know you?"

"Nah. We don't have classes together, but you made an impression on all the little sheep at school. Name's Y/N. I'm Dustin's sister."

"Hmm." He glances at the house once more. "So can I just walk in and grab Max or..?"

"They got a D&D session going on, so good luck, man."

Billy huffs and turns around, stomping up to the back door and entering your house. You watch, lighting up your second blunt of the night and wait. A handful of minutes pass before Billy exits alone, looking a little more agitated than he had moments before.

Chuckling softly, you hold out the blunt so he can see the embers burning bright in the night. "Need a little relaxation while you wait? Come on up, Hargrove. I don't bite." Billy sighs but makes his way towards the stairs nonetheless. Laughing as he ducks to enter through the door, you roll onto your back and hold out the blunt towards him. "Welcome to Stoners Anonymous. I'm Y/N and I'll be your host this evening."

Billy's agitation is quickly wiped away and a smile takes place of his scowl. He takes the offered blunt and holds it to his lips, taking a long drag as he lets his head fall back and eyes close in pure bliss. Blowing out the smoke, he then takes a seat. "That's good. Who's your dealer?"

"A good customer never reveals her sources until at least the third smoking party."

"Whatever you say." He takes another hit, letting his gaze wander around the spacious treehouse. "You know, a good host usually has snacks for when the munchies hit."

On cue, your stomach rumbles and Billy chuckles as you groan. Cursing quietly, you sit up and crawl over to a stack of crates that act as a stand of cubbies. Pulling out a walkie talkie, you turn it on and hold down the button. "Calling all nerds. Calling all nerds. Take a break from D&D and bring me some noms. Over."

Billy grins, passing the blunt back to you. You take a drag as the walkie in hand crackles to life. "Are you high? Over." Someone giggles before it cuts out.

"As a kite. Now bring me some noms. Enough for two. Over."

"Two? How much did you smoke?!"

"Don't question me, Dusty, or I'm telling mom what really happened to Mews."

The walkie goes quiet, so Billy asks, "Mews?"

"Mhm," You distractedly nod. "Mom's cat that she fucking adored more than her own kids. My idiot brother brought home something feral and it ate Mews. We had to tell her, her beloved cat ran away."

"That's wild."

"Alright. What do you want? Over."

You first pump victoriously. "Pizza rolls."

Billy's nose wrinkles. "Screw that. You got cash? We'll drive and pick up burgers."

Your eyes widen as you beam at him. "You're my new favorite person! Here. Finish it," you tell him while passing the blunt back to him. "I'll go get some cash and shoes, and meet you out front."

Tossing the walkie aside, you watch as Billy picks it up to speak into it. "Cancel the rolls. Y/N and I are driving for food instead."

"Billy?!"

He smirks. "Hello, Maxine. Since you and your nerds are taking forever, I'm taking Y/N for food."

A bunch of rambling comes over the walkie and he clicks it off, tossing it on one of the bean bags. Then with the blunt between his lips, he exits the treehouse and saunters down the stairs.

By the time Billy makes it around front, you're standing rather impatiently in the middle of the sidewalk. All the kids are on the front stoop, glancing between you and him.

"So you two are friends?" Dustin asks. "Since when? You don't socialize, Y/N."

"Whatever. We officially met tonight. Shared a blunt and now we're the best of friends!"

"The best," he leers, coming up beside you and throwing an arm around your shoulders.

All the boys grimace.

"I don't like it." Dustin grumbles.

"Too bad. I didn't like Mike when he first came around."

"Hey!"

"No offense, Wheeler," you quickly amend. "And now look. I adore all you fuckin' gremlins, but that's about to change if you don't let me leave and get a burger."

"Fine!"

"Fine! Let's go, Hargrove."

Billy flicks the remainder of the blunt to the ground, smirking as he turns and leads you to his car. You readily open the passenger door and climb on in, waving at your brother and his friends who suspiciously keep watch of Billy. After settling in and Billy settling in as well, his engine roars to life and you laugh as AC/DC immediately blares at you.

He peels out in front of your house and you hang your right arm out the window to feel the wind rushing against it.

"Come on, Billy. Show me what your baby's got."

Glancing at you, Billy slowly smirks. He turns down one of the back roads, pressing harder on the gas and picking up speed. You laugh, leaning your head towards the opened window and letting your hair whip every which way. "Whoooo!" You scream.

As you settle back into your seat, your bright eyes land on Billy as he splits his attention between you and the road. "Where the hell have you been since I've been in Hawkins, Henderson?"

You waggle your eyebrows. "If you'd stop bullying Harrington, hot shot, you'd find me napping somewhere in the room."

He huffs. "Don't tell me you're fond of boy wonder?"

"Eh. Steve's decent." Billy scoffs. "No, I'm serious. If you boys would get over your egos or whatever shit is keeping you from actually being cool with each other, you'd see Steve is a hell of a lot more tolerable than Tommy. Because seriously, gross. You can do a lot better than Tommy, my dude."

"You talk a lot. I'm honestly surprised I've never met you before."

"Mhm. I think I'm possibly one of the last remaining females who hasn't taken you for a ride."

"Just name the time and place, sweetheart, and we'll rectify that."

"Smooth, Hargrove. Very smooth."

"I try."

"Well try driving faster because I've got a serious case of the munchies and if you don't feed me soon, I'm gonna get cranky."

He chuckles. "Whatever you say, Henderson. Whatever you say."

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skeeter-110 · 4 years

Text

Don’t Worry Darling (I’m Right Here)

Chapter One: Home’s Where You Go When You Run Out of Homes

By: Skeeter_110 for @joyful-soul-collector

@friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Rating: General Audiences

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Ned Leeds

Summary: It’s been a year since the Vulture incident, and Peter and Tony have thankfully gotten closer since then. Because of this, Tony’s noticed for the past month that Peter has been acting weird and decides to get to the bottom of it.

Tony knew that this was a bad idea. A terrible idea; one filled with multiple accounts of invaded privacy and possible stalking. But, Tony didn’t know what else to do.

For the past month, Tony has noticed that Peter has been acting strange. Tony hasn’t been getting voicemails lately from Peter and - when he checked the suit logs - has noticed that Peter hasn’t gone out as Spider-Man.

The teen also has been a lot more withdrawn during their internship days. Tony just brushed it off as Peter being exhausted from school - lord knows just the memories of high school was enough to exhaust Tony - but eventually Peter began calling and cancelling lab days. Which turned into him just plain not showing up a few weeks ago.

Tony knew he was risking nothing short of getting the cops called on him from sitting in front of a high school filled with kids, waiting for said kids to come out, but he didn’t know what else to do. He had to see Peter and make sure the kid was okay.

Tony waited with a baited breath once the bell rang, instantly searching for Peter through the sea of kids that were running out of the building.

“FRIDAY, look alive, Baby Girl.” Tony says after a few minutes when he realizes that Peter wasn’t coming out of the school. “I need you to help me get into the school’s systems. Check Peter Parker’s attendance record for the past couple of weeks and see what we got.” Tony commands, typing away for a bit on his phone before letting FRIDAY do the rest.

‘It appears that Peter Parker has no attendance record for the past thirteen days.’ FRIDAY informs, confirming what Tony was afraid of to be true.

He honestly didn’t know where to go from there. It wasn’t like Peter was going out as Spider-Man, so Tony couldn’t track his suit to see where he was, the Parker’s apartment was empty when he knocked on the door, and Peter hasn’t been in school for weeks.

Peter wouldn’t move away without letting him know, right? Even if the teen didn’t know how to tell him, May at least would have been able to; but she’s not answering her phone either.

Tony had a really bad feeling stuck like a pit in his stomach about this whole situation, and for once, he had no idea where to go from here.

Or, well, he didn’t, until he saw a familiar friend of Peter’s walking out of the school.

“Hey!″ Tony shouts, quickly scrambling out of his car, not quite caring that he seemed a little too desperate to want to talk to a high school student. “Ed, or Ned, or whatever the hell your name is, wait!” Tony says as he runs up to Ned, gaining the teen’s attention.

"Uh, M-Mister Stark. What - uh - What are you doing here?" Ned asks, looking around a bit with shock and a little nervousness.

"Well, I was looking for Peter, but apparently - not only has he not shown up to his internship - he hasn't even been in school for the past couple of weeks. Do you know where he is?" Tony explains.

"O-Oh, he hasn't told you." Ned murmurs, making Tony's eyebrows furrow.

"Hasn't told me... what? Did the Parkers move or something, because their apartment was empty when I stopped by." Tony continues to pry, knowing that he was going to hate the answer by the way Ned was shifting on his feet.

"May died a little over a month ago. Car accident." Ned quietly informs, making that pit in Tony's stomach tighten even more.

"Where's Peter?" Tony hesitantly asks, selfishly praying to any higher being out there that Peter wasn't in the accident with her.

"I'm not sure." Ned tells him, not helping quell the man's worry.

"What do you mean 'you're not sure'?"

"I mean after the funeral someone from social services came and took him to a foster home. Apparently the guy who ran the home was abusive - I don't know, Peter didn't give me many details. The last thing I knew, he got a job at Delmar's and found a new place to stay. At least, that's what he's told me, I haven't really seen him either." Ned rambles.

"Alright. Good talk, thank you for this." Tony says, beginning to walk away now that he has the information he needed to find Peter.

"Uh- M-Mister Stark!" Ned calls out before Tony could go too far. "You- Can you keep me updated? Please?" Ned requests, Tony softening at the clear concern Ned had for his friend.

"Of course."

* * *

Well, it's official. Two extremely creepy things relating a minor in one day; it was a new record. Not that Tony was actively trying to break that record. But seeing how his day has been going so far, who even knew at this point. Currently he was staking out the bodega that Ned had told him Peter was working at.

Tony couldn't stop his spiraling thoughts as he waited for any sign of Peter to show up. He couldn't help but wonder if the boy had actually managed to find somewhere warm and safe within that short period of time. He couldn't help but wonder if the man that ran the foster home had hurt Peter. He couldn't help but wonder about Peter.

Apparently all of those crazy scenarios his brain was making up passed enough time for all of the lights be turned off in the bodega. Tony waited for a bit, but the only people that walked out of there was two other men with no sign of Peter around.

Tony just sighed, leaning back in his seat and waiting for a few minutes just in case Peter came out also. When it was clear the teen wasn't there, Tony pulled his phone back out again.

"FRIDAY, is there any way you can get in touch with Karen and pinpoint her location?" Tony asks, silence filling the car once again before the A.I'S voice echoed through.

'I've managed to locate Karen's location. I've taken the liberty of putting the address in your GPS.' FRIDAY tells him. Tony just let out a long breath, berating himself a bit for not doing this in the first place and sending himself on some wild goose chase.

It only took twenty minutes for Tony to wind up parked in front of some abandoned warehouse. Tony just sat there and stared for a while, trying to choke down the lump that formed in his throat.

Peter could be in there. This is where Peter's been staying for the past month. No doubt hungry, cold, scared, and alone the entire time; and Tony had no idea. That fact alone was enough to make Tony feel sick.

Steeling himself, he slowly got out of the car for - hopefully - the last time that night and began making his way into the building.

Once he got inside he could hear shuffling coming from the upstairs so Tony quickly found the stairs and hoped that it was Peter and not some crack-head who manage to find Peter's suit and was planning on how to sell it for crack.

What Tony didn't take in account for, was the fact that this building looked to be abandoned for about ten years and no doubt would be falling apart. It wasn't until his foot fell through one of the steps that it actually crossed his mind.

The loud noise echoed throughout the whole building, making Tony cringe as footsteps rapidly came running towards him. All he could do was pray that it was Peter not actually someone on drugs.

Sure enough, the teen was soon standing at the top of the stairs, staring down at Tony in complete shock.

Tony took this opportunity to look Peter up and down, taking him all in and taking a mental log of his physical damage. Other than looking beyond ran down and exhausted it was clear that Peter had lost weight within the month.

His cheek bones looked a lot more prominent and his eyes looked sunken in. the kid also was filthy; Tony was barely able to pick out some scrapes and cuts Peter had through all of the dirt and grime. Which was another thing. The kid clearly wasn’t getting nearly enough nutrients if his super-healing wasn’t able to super-heal.

“Hey, Kid.” Tony whispers when it became clear that no one was going to say anything. Peter just continued to stare at Tony in shock, his skin pale like he was looking at a ghost.

"So, uh, I went to your school today - to look for you - and I ran into your friend Ted. He explained everything to me when I told him I hadn't heard from you in a while. Peter, I am so sorry. I wish I had known, I would have done something sooner." Tony continues. Peter just kept right on staring at him, which definitely got real uncomfortable real fast. Especially considering his foot was still stuck in the step.

"Do you think you could help me get my foot back so we can go somewhere and talk?" Tony asks, Peter blinking a couple of time before seemingly snapping back into his body.

Peter quickly ran down the steps, avoiding the ones that would assumingly break also, helping Tony free his foot out of the one it was trapped in. Once Tony was finally able to move freely, he didn't hesitate to pull the teen into his arms.

He couldn't help but cringe at how bony the kid was now, and how freezing his skin was to the touch. It was getting a little too close to the beginning of winter for the kid to only be wearing only a short sleeve, and with Peter's thermoregulation issues, Tony's just thanking whatever deity out there that kept his boy alive until he was able to find him.

"Come on, Kid. We can talk in the car where we can blast the heat and get you warmed up." Tony says, rubbing his hand up and down Peter's arm before releasing him.

"Do you have stuff you need to grab?" Tony asks, getting a nod in response. "Alright, you go and get everything all gathered and come meet me out in the car." Tony tells him, leaving him to do so.

Tony allowed himself promptly two seconds once he got back in the car to freak out and process everything. He didn't quite know where to go from here, but he knew that he couldn't bring himself to send the kid back on his way. Every instinct inside him was screaming to take Peter home and let him live there.

Tony quickly pulled it back together again when the passenger side door opened, placing a small smile on his face as the teen climbed in the car. The smile slowly slipped off when he realized that Peter only had a tiny backpack and that all of his belongings managed to fit.

Deep silence filled the car, both of them trying to figure out where to go from here. Peter - thankfully because Tony still didn't have all of his thoughts together - was the first to speak up.

"How did you find me?" Peter asks, his voice sounding a bit worse for wear.

"I had FRIDAY track Karen's location. Even if you're not in the suit FRIDAY can get in contact with your A.I." Tony explains, allowing another short silence fall on them before speaking again. "Pete, why didn't you tell me? I could have helped you."

"Because if you had found out, you would have called my social worker and she would have sent me back to the foster home and - I can't! I can't go back there, I just can't." Peter tells him, his tone getting a bit hysterical at the end.

"Why can't you go back there? What happened?" Tony questions, already feeling sick at whatever the answer could be.

"The man that ran the house - Steven Wescott - He touches the kids there." Peter whispers, refusing to look up at Tony.

"Did he touch you?" Tony lowly asks, bile and rage rising up his throat at the mere thought of someone doing that to Peter.

"No. He tried, but I fought him off and ran before he could do anything." Peter quietly says, still looking down at his hands.

Tony just nodded his head, allowing himself to take everything in and figure out the game plan from here.

"Okay, so here's what I would like to do; you can accept or deny afterwards, just hear me out right now. We're going to go to my place, we're going to get some nice food in you, get you a nice hot shower, and then we're going to call your social worker-" Tony begins to list out, hold a hand up when Peter began to protest.

"Just hear me out for a second. We're going to tell her about this Wescott guy, report everything he's doing and make sure all of those kids there get put into different homes and that he'll never be able to foster anyone again. Then I'm going to talk to her and see what needs to be done in order to get you to stay with me." Tony finishes.

Peter just blinked at Tony for a bit before what he said actually clicked. "You want to adopt me?"

"Well, if it's okay with you and if your social worker says that adoption is on the table. If not I could become like a temporary guardian, or a foster parent, or something else that allows me to-" Tony rambles before getting cut off by Peter slamming his body into Tony's.

Once the shock wore off and he could breathe again, Tony wrapped his arms around Peter also, hugging the kid tight to him when he felt the teen's shoulders begin to shake.

They sat there for a while, just simply holding each other. Tony held Peter close to him, allowing the teen to get all of his pent up emotions out.

"Can I please stay with you?" Peter cries, taking stuttering breaths afterwards to try and stop the flow of tears.

"Of course you can, Buddy. Of course you can." Tony comforts, rubbing Peter's back while he tries to regain his composure.

"Why don't we go pick something up to eat and then go home." Tony offers once Peter pulls away. The teen gave a nod accompanied by a shaky smile. Tony gave a small smile in return, wiping away the tears under Peter's eyes with his thumb before giving the boy's hair a ruffle.

"Thank you, Mister Stark." Peter whispers as Tony turns the key in the ignition.

"Of course, Underoos. We'll figure everything out, it'll be okay." Tony reassures, pulling away from the warehouse.

"Now, lets go home."

#irondad #spiderson #peter parker #tony stark #gift exchange #fanfic

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