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carllisle · 3 years

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In honour of @notquitetwilight ’s birthday, here is the latest instalment of the Cullanos prequel, the famous incident involving Esme, Carlisle’s second wife, and a motorcycle-shaped pizza slicer.

For those who have missed the instalments so far, see below:

The Second Mrs Cullano - Carlisle’s wedding to Wife 2

A Taste of Boston Part I - Carlisle and Wife 3 Esme take business with the daughter they are newly reunited with to Boston

A Taste of Boston Part II - Carlisle and Esme take on a hit job while their daughter Rosalie gets to grips with this new lifestyle

More content can be found on @notquitetwilight ‘s blog under the tag the-cullanos and on my blog @carllisle under the tag the-cullanos.

This instalment has content warning for sex (not explicit) and violence. Don’t get us wrong, this is still shitposting. But at this point we are really, really invested. Shout to @stregoni-benefici and @carlislesscarf who are screaming in the back of the clown car that me and Juliet are steering.

The Second Wife and the Pizza Slicer

Esme liked the rain. She liked how the streetlights reflected in the water on the pavement, the neon colours lighting up her path. It didn’t lighten her black mood. The sound of her stiletto steps were lost in the rain as she marched down the street like she owned it. Half of it she did own, not that the IRS needed to know that. There was only one shopfront she was interested in tonight, though. Ahead, the pizzeria stood dark and empty, unassuming and inconspicuous wedged between a barbers’ shop, and a meat deli. Convenient for the pizzeria to have one of their suppliers next door. Those shops were closed too but that was to be expected; it was after 1am.

Her heart raced in anticipation as she walked through the darkness. Between the buildings was a small alleyway and she slipped down it. At the back door of the pizzeria was Tony, the long-time security guard who took most night shifts on the property, and Esme forced a smiled at him. “Hey handsome. They leave you out here without an umbrella?”

He grinned at her, rain dripping down his bald head and onto his coat. “I left it on the subway on my way in.”

“Carl not give you a lift?” Tony lived practically on Carlisle’s route into the pizzeria and he often picked him up when they both had to come in. Tony glanced at the sleek Mercedes that was hidden at the back of the alley and shook his head. “The mrs came in with him today.”

The mrs. Snakes writhed in her stomach. She couldn’t bite back her spite and it wiped the smile off her face. “Is the cunt with him now?”

“Nah. She left ‘bout an hour after they arrived. Carlisle helped them out in the kitchen tonight and she didn’t much like being left alone.”

“Heaven fuckin forbid she make herself useful. She’s only meant to be four months pregnant, ain’t she? Not exactly time for her confinement.”

Tony’s smile faltered. “Something like that. You got any weapons on ya?”

Esme frowned. “What if I say no? Ya gonna pat me down?”

“No. Won’t let you in, though. You’re always packin’.”

“You got me there.” Esme opened her coat, taking out her two handguns - white and inlaid with mother-of-pearl - and handing them over. Tony raised his eyebrow and she rolled her eyes. Knives were taken out of each shoe along with the two throwing-stars strapped to her thigh.

“Is that everything?”

“You know I don’t need weapons to kill him, right? I could kill him with my bare hands.”

“I know.” He hid her weapons in his coat carefully. “But you won’t. So I don’t worry.”

Fury rippled through her and her eyes went wide for a moment, but he held her gaze and she let out a hard breath through her nose. He was right. “You’ve worked for us too fuckin long. You can read me too well.” But her hard face broke and she gave him a genuine, albeit brief, grin. Anger had only flared in her because he was too right. “Here,” she gave him her umbrella. “You need this more than me.”

Tony smiled. “Thanks, Esme. In ya go.” And he pressed his thumb to the scanner on the door and let it swing open.

She lightly punched him on the shoulder as she passed, and waited for the door to close before making her way down the corridor. Ahead were the stairs to Carlisle’s office and she ran up them quickly, anger creeping back. It had been months since she had been here last. Since Mrs Cullano announced to the world her pregnancy, actually. Esme had cut off all contact with Carlisle that day. He had broken her goddamn heart and sadness hadn’t yet set in. She was still a raging fire and she was ready to burn down anyone who came too close. But when he had called her sounding unhinged and told her to meet her here, she couldn’t tell him no, cause she knew that tone he had - it was the same one he had had when, six months ago, they had been told that ten million had gone missing. Esme had recovered it from the 15-year-old hacking prodigy who had stolen it before adding her to the payroll, but before that Carlisle had been enraged and dangerous and he needed her to hold him back. Something bad had happened.

“Carlisle?” The door to his office was unlocked but he wasn’t inside and it was dark. On the far side of the room was a wall of bookshelves and she quickly crossed to it and pulled on one book - The Godfather by Mario Puzo - and the bookshelf swung open like a door. Carlisle had always joked how cool he thought secret doorways were and they both thought the choice of book to be the secret lever was funny. It felt like a million years ago. It felt like yesterday. Behind it was another corridor and a metal spiral staircase that led down to the final door - that only opened one way - into the restaurant below. No one was allowed to use this but Carlisle and Esme, not even Mrs Cullano. Her heels clacked on the iron and her fur coat dragged out behind her. She tossed it aside on one of the booths close to the kitchen and she caught sight of her reflection in the windows. No, I don’t want to seduce my ex boyfriend, she had told herself earlier, but her wardrobe choice said otherwise. She wore the red satin dress he had bought her for his second wedding, backless save for chains of diamonds and clinging to every curve she had, and the ring he had bought her as a sign of their commitment still kept its place on her right hand. She looked away, embarrassed at how long it had taken her to make her hair so sleek and soft, or how long it had taken to slap on her face. It was exactly how she had looked at his wedding, like she wanted to punish him for marrying that bitch.

“Carlisle?”

“Kitchen,” came his reply.

She strutted through the kitchen door and tried to keep her breathing under control. After not seeing him for so long, the sight of him was overwhelming. Carlisle stood at the salad bar chopping lettuce. On the counter behind him was a fresh pizza, the slicer forgotten next to it.

“You didn’t sound right on the phone.”

“I ain’t right.” He looked up at her and his eyes went wide. “Oh God, Es. You look…”

“Whaddya want?”

His jaw clenched. “It’s her.”

“Her?” Esme heard the spite in that one word. “Your baby bank?”

Carlisle turned to toss the knife he was using into the sink. “Don’t call her that.”

“What? You don’t want me calling her what she is?”

“She ain’t.”

Esme laughed bitterly. “She got your baby in her, ain’t she? The fuck else you want me to call her? Yummy mommy? Mother of your child? Gimme a fuckin break.”

“Es-”

“No, don’t! You called me out here in a fuckin storm to help with your marital problems? Get outta here!”

“Es-”

“I don’t wanna hear it! You dragged me out here in the middle of the fuckin night to tell me you got problems with your cunt of a wife? The one you knocked up who’s now shouting from every fuckin rooftop that Carlisle Cullano came in her! God, it makes me sick.”

“What the fuck is wrong with-”

“Shut up!” Esme stared at him across the kitchen. It was hard not to cry. It felt like her heart was breaking. When she had heard that Mrs Cullano was pregnant it felt like her world was collapsing. In the month and a half since then everything had gone black and white but that was what it was always like without her other half, just empty. Carlisle put colour into the world.

“Weeks without contact and this is how we’re gonna start, huh?” His words weren’t gentle. He looked wounded. “Not even a ‘hello’?”

Esme sucked her teeth. “Hi.”

Carlisle laughed humourlessly. “So we’ll cut the bullshit, will we? Right to it? Where the fuck have you been?”

“On vacation.”

“Where?”

“Nowhere in particular. Just needed a break.”

“From what, Es? Me? What’s got you so bothered?”

“Your kid, Carlisle! She’s having your fuckin baby!” Esme’s shout came short and furious and she threw a plate at the far wall. It smashed loudly. “D’ya know what that’s doin to me?”

He stared at her across the kitchen, mouth open and eyes wide. He looked angry. “Ain’t that what you wanted for me? To have a wife and kids, cause you knew it’s what I wanted? I did what you told me.”

Esme threw her hands into the air. “Yeah, and?”

“I’m not a fuckin mind reader!” He slammed his fists on the metal worktop, his voice getting louder. “‘I want you to have a wife and a family’, that’s what you said to me on the morning of my fucking wedding! I asked you to marry me on the day of my fucking wedding to her! And you turned me down again! I did what you told me to do and now you’re fucking punishing me! How’s that fair?”

Blond hair fell into his eyes like it did when they fucked. His face was red like it was then too. Esme saw the pain in his face, the anger that matched her own. “You shoulda known.”

“You didn’t even know. I can’t read minds and I can’t see the future and I can’t feel how you’re feelin unless you tell me!”

“Alright.” Esme stormed over to him and slammed her hand on the counter next to his. She raised her chin in a challenge. “I hate her. I hate her perfect face, her perfect fuckin body, every strand of hair on that empty fuckin head. I hate that you chose her.”

“I didn’t!” He seemed to tower over her but she stood her ground. “I chose you! I choose you every goddamn time! But you don’t ever choose me! Do you know how many times you broken my heart?”

If it was half the number of times she had broken her own heart, Esme was sorry. She swallowed the lump in her throat. It was impossible to talk about right now. “You gonna tell me why you’re calling me out here sounding like that?”

It looked like Carlisle wanted to shout again and his hands balled into fists either side of his salad.. “She ain’t pregnant, and if she was it wouldn’t be mine. Probably my cousin Renato’s.”

That pulled Esme up short. There was too much to unpack. “Whaddya talkin about?”

“She been fuckin him. For months, Es. Maybe a year.”

“Renato? But why? He looks so much like you but he’s got half the braincells and twice the idiocy. Why’s she fuckin a Dollar Tree version of you?”

“Cause I weren’t gettin her pregnant.” He dropped his gaze.

Esme blinked, trying to process it. Her lash extensions were heavy and made her vision go funny, so she fixed her gaze on Carlisle’s face instead. “How’d you find out about them?”

“She kept sneaking off so I had her followed. Got plenty of photos proving it. I’ve seen way more of Renato than I’m comfortable confessing to Father Thomas, but at least he looks like me. Guess it’s kinda like watching my clone fuck my wife.”

“That ain’t right. And why the fuck would she lie about being pregnant?” Esme’s hands were trembling.

He sighed. “She knows I don’t love her and I think she knows I wanna leave but she would miss the money, ya know? So she wants a way to keep me tied to her.”

Esme’s anger was bubbling beneath the surface. She hated that bitch more than ever for making Carlisle look like that. “How did ya find out about the faked pregnancy?”

“Medical records are kept online now. Your little hacker found hers. Two weeks ago she had a negative pregnancy test at her doctors’, and another one twelve weeks ago. There was never a fuckin baby.”

“That lying cunt. Why’d you think it’s your cousin’s if there had been one, anyway? Ain’t you hittin it raw?”

“Yeah. But… I can’t have kids.”

“We had one. Or did you forget?”

Carlisle grabbed Esme’s wrist and roughly pulled her closer. “I think about her every day, Es. Every goddamn day, just like I think about you.”

“Don’t.” She tried to pull away half-heartedly, her voice angry. “I can’t.” He ran his fingers through her hair and she stumbled closer until their bodies were pressed together. Knowing the wife wasn’t pregnant had broken down one of Esme’s walls. “Why’d you say you can’t have kids?”

“I got the snip.”

“When?”

“Two weeks into my first marriage.”

Esme gripped the front of his jacket in both hands. “Why?”

He slid his hands to the small of her back and his fingers caught on the diamonds. “You look so fucking good, Es.”

She shook him lightly. “Why’d you do that?”

Carlisle grinned half-heartedly. “Cause I knew I didn’t want no kids with no one but you.”

“I wanted to die when I heard she was knocked up.”

He stroked her hair again. “Don’t say that, Essie.”

“I mean it. I thought about it, ya know? I was gonna drive my car into the Hudson and let it drown me.”

“Hey.” Carlisle held her chin between his finger and thumb and tilted her face up to look her in the eye. “Don’t ever say that, baby. I ain’t livin in a world without ya, alright? You go, I go.”

She took his hand and kissed his palm, keeping her gaze locked with his. “You go, I go.”

“I fuckin love you, Es.”

“I fuckin hate her.”

“Yeah, me too.” Carlisle sighed and ran his finger down her neck and torso, watching how the silk of her dress moved over her skin. “What are we gonna do?”

“We? She’s your wife.”

He chuckled. “My problem is your problem, ain’t it?”

Esme hit his chest again. She was still furious. “Unfortunately, yeah. Want me to kill her?”

“Nah. I don’t want cops sniffing around ya. Someone else should probably do it.”

“Tanya owes me a favour, what about her?”

“Don’t trust her, Es, she’ll double cross ya soon as she’ll fuck ya.”

She managed half a smirk. “Weren’t that long ago she fucked us. Guess we’re due for a double crossing, then. So not her. The Blacks?”

“They don’t trust us and I can’t blame em for that. We’ll think of someone.”

There was a long silence then. Esme pulled free from his arms and slowly wandered around the pizzeria kitchen. Her heels echoed over tile and steel. She was the other side of the industrial island counter and Carlisle was arranging his salad into edible art when she spoke again. “I wanna do it, Carl.”

“What?” He looked up at her with lettuce sticking out the corner of his mouth.

“I wanna be the one.”

“I dunno if that’s the best idea.” He turned away from her to grab a slice of pizza that was on the counter behind him.

“You married the cunt.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know she was gonna be this fuckin crazy!” Carlisle protested indignantly. He took a bite and wrinkled his nose. “Fuck. Why does my dough always turn out like shit?”

“Cause you ain’t ever learned from the Old Country. You do it the American way.”

“Shut the fuck up!” he laughed. “Most Italian place you ever been is the Shore!”

“That’s cause my cheap partner never took me on vacation anywhere more exotic than Miami Beach!” She strutted back over to him and took a bite from the slice. “God, it is shit. Reckon even Renato could do better.”

He laughed again and wrapped her in his arms and stroked the skin of her back. “I missed you, ya know?”

“Yeah, me too. But I mean it, Carlisle. I wanna be the one to pull the trigger.”

Sweeping her hair over her shoulder, Carlisle kissed her neck. “You gonna shoot her?”

It was impossible to keep her eyes open. “Maybe. I dunno. Fuck,” she sighed quietly when he bit where her neck met her shoulder. She had missed him more than words could say. “I want her gone. She betrayed you and she took you from me.”

His kisses moved down her collarbones and to the neckline of her dress. “No one can ever take me from you, Esme. I’m yours.” When he grasped her by the waist and turned her, she knew what he wanted. He lifted her onto the counter next to the bad pizza and he kissed her mouth. She parted her lips and grinned when she tasted salad and pizza margherita on his tongue. It didn’t matter. It was him.

After a while he sank to his knees in front of her and pushed up her red dress. “Fuck, Es. No underwear? Did you come here with an agenda?”

“Who says I wasn’t going somewhere else after here?” she asked, but her voice was shaky as he pulled her to the edge of the counter. She gripped the edge for support and the pizza slicer brushed her fingers.

“You sleeping with someone else?” Carlisle murmured against her inner thigh.

“Well since we stopped seeing each other, I have an opening available.”

“No you fuckin don’t.” His blond head disappeared under the short hem of her dress and Esme wondered, in the back of her mind, if Tony would be able to hear her screams. Carlisle certainly liked her taste better than the pizza.

Some time later they were both so lost in their passion that they didn’t hear the unlocking of the front door or the quiet steps in the restaurant. Esme’s face was buried in Carlisle’s neck as he pounded her on the counter and his eyes were closed in bliss.

“What a fuckin surprise.”

Both of their gazes snapped to the kitchen door that had swung open. Stood in the unflattering industrial fluorescents stood Mrs Cullano, a pistol raised. It reminded Esme of the one she had taken to their wedding. Unreliable, difficult. Mrs Cullano was no shooter. Instinctively Carlisle shielded Esme with his body, still inside her. Esme couldn’t hold back a moan at his movement.

“You’re dead, Platt,” Mrs Cullano hissed, her finger on the trigger. Her arm wasn’t steady.

“Kill her and I’ll tear your fuckin throat out.” Carlisle’s voice was low and deadly.

“And murder our baby?”

“Give it up. There ain’t no baby. And if there was, it would be Renato’s. You think I’d let you have my kids? You’re mad.”

Mrs Cullano’s face went red.

“Carlisle,” Esme said quietly. She turned Carlisle’s face back to her. “She ain’t got the guts. Fuck me. Please?” It was a move of dominance to show Mrs Cullano, an outsider, that no one would ever come between them or their love. And that Carlisle would always choose Esme no matter what. He leaned down to kiss her and moved with her.

The scream that Mrs Cullano let out haunted them both for years to come. Absolute grief and loss echoed in the kitchen, rage and delirium. When the gun went off the bullet went stray and was embedded in the wall over the stove. Without missing a beat, Esme grabbed the pizza slicer next to her and threw it with unbelievable precision. The only sound was that of the young woman’s body collapsing onto the floor, the round blade with a handle in the shape of a Harley-Davidson buried deep into her forehead. Instant death. Blood poured from the wound. Esme felt relief and pride wash over her.

“Fuck,” Carlisle gasped, moving faster. He kissed her hard and gripped her hips and then rested their sweaty foreheads together. “That was so fucking hot. Marry me, Es? Marry me, please!”

Esme moaned and nodded, clutching his back to stop her from losing herself completely. They were both close, both more turned on by exacting revenge than they could handle. “Yes! Yes, Carl, I’ll marry you!”

After they had finished and set their clothes right, Esme stood over the dead Mrs Cullano’s body. “Jesus Christ, what a fuckin mess. This blood is gonna take ages to clean, look, it’s gone all under the cupboards! Ugh. I don’t have the energy.”

“What should we do with her?”

“I dunno. She’s your fuckin wife.”

“Was. She’s no one’s wife now, she’s fuckin dead.”

“Well, yeah. Hey, d’ya mean what you said? To marry ya?”

“Yeah. Did you really mean you would?”

Esme stepped over the body and made sure not to get blood on her Jimmy Choos. “Yeah. I wanna be your wife.”

Neither of them smiled, but they shared a long gaze. Then Carlisle pulled out his phone and quickly dialled a number. “Hey, it’s me. Get some of your guys down the pizzeria, we need some clearing up done. Yeah. Mhm. Three or four. Yeah. Platt’s with me. Ha! Yeah. Yeah, the Mrs found us. Esme put her down, though, so we need it sorted. Clean-up and removal, remember this is a working kitchen, alright? I want it clean of evidence and up to code, ya goddit? Okay. See ya in twenty.”

Esme opened one of the cleaning cupboards and pulled out a spray and cloth.

“Hey, don’t worry about that,” Carlisle told her and he waved a hand. “They’ll be here soon for her.”

Esme looked pointedly at the counter where he had fucked her and grinned. “I was thinking more about cleaning that up. Don’t want extra flavour in the pizza tomorrow, do ya?” Bending over, she sprayed the wet area on the metal countertop. With great satisfaction she felt him press against her backside and stroke up her back. “Ready for round two already?”

“You fuckin bet. D’you know how much it turned me on to see you like that?”

“Yeah. But save it. Let’s not have our first time as an engaged couple be in front of your dead wife. Bring’s a whole new meaning to ‘the body’s not even cold’, don’t it?”

Grinning, Carlisle kissed her back. “Or when she told me she’d let me keep you ‘over her dead body’, huh? Joke’s on her.”

Esme wiped the counter down thoroughly and threw the cloth in the nearby bin. She turned and loosely wrapped her arms around his neck. “Ain’t no one tell the Surgeon what he can and cannot do.

“Nah, no one. No one but his Heart.”

#the cullanos #sex cw //////#ellie writes #notquitetwilight #CAN YOU BELIEVE #THIS IS WHERE WE ARE AT THIS POINT #there r a few things mentioned here that will be expanded on in future instalments gfhdjgkfdh #anyway like juliet said we need the vaccine

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 3 years

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You Say It Best (When You Say Nothing At All)

Pairing: Starker (Peter Parker/Tony Stark) Rating: Explicit (E) Notes: This one was based off an anonymous prompt asking for the use of the quote “you say it best”. In typical Bobbie fashion, I set to spotify and made music the ultimate muse. Word Count: 7.4K Warnings: Tony is deaf in this one and ASL is mentioned/used frequently. There’s also some NSFW stuff, but that’s a usual for me. Summary:

Peter Parker doesn't like the subway, but relents when he gets a job with the New York Philharmonic. The gig he's been waiting for all his life is definitely worth an early morning ride. Things go from good to not so much when a stranger takes Peter's coveted seat - every Monday morning. It doesn't take long for Peter to confront him, only to find out that people aren't always what they seem.

Or - the one where Peter and Tony learn what love really is.

Read it on AO3 here.

It all started with a monumental misunderstanding.

For most of college, Peter got away with never riding the subway. His home-grown roots and the steady cliché personified by practically every move based in New York left a dirty taste in his mouth about the underground motor system – a part of him didn’t want to admit that they scared him (just a little). For the 6 years he diligently attended Tisch’s music program, Peter lived close enough to avoid any sort of transportation aside from the use of his own two legs.

Staying in the city, Peter should’ve figured that he would inevitably need to ride the subway some time or another – taking a taxi was a total no-no and not everywhere could be reached by bike. Of course, that predestined time finally made itself apparent when the New York Philharmonic came calling – after years of practice, performance, and gritting his teeth against the teasing, Peter was finally realizing his dream; and, ironically, getting himself a subway pass.

Despite the weird fear he harbored for all of his existence in the city, Peter found his rides on the subway to be pretty calm and easy. Having to grab the earliest train, Peter realized that there were good and bad times of the day to be catching a subway. He sent up a little word of thanks when his usual car stayed relatively empty for the third week in a row. His trusty seat by the window with just enough space to fit his saxophone case stayed empty and ready for him every day. Life was good.

Until it didn’t – and then suddenly life wasn’t that good again.

For the first time in weeks, Peter got onto the subway and immediately found himself frowning. His usual seat was rudely occupied with someone completely new, the curly brown hair of the man both flattering and unkempt. Attempting to be cool about it, Peter stealthily glared daggers over at the individual, his frustration for the break in his routine bubbling just barely under the surface.

Determined to speak up for himself the next day, Peter got on his train to find his seat once again empty, the man from yesterday nowhere to be found. Letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, Peter quickly took his seat – the need for sameness overcoming the curiosity the brunette man from the previous day stirred up in him; he wanted to be frustrated by him, not attracted to the honey color his dark brown hair changed to when it caught the light.

Things stayed normal for the rest of the week – every morning, Peter prepared himself for a turf battle, and every morning, he found himself a little bit disappointed that his seat competition wasn’t there to both look gorgeous and be frustrating in Peter’s self-proclaimed space.

Boarding the subway a week from that first encounter, Peter was once again caught off guard by the same man sitting innocently in his seat. Though the man couldn’t know how much drama he was causing him, Peter felt his anger boiling up again, the idea of not sitting in the usual place grating against the already abysmal feeling of a Monday morning. By the time he worked himself up enough to actually talk to the other man, his seat was conspicuously empty. In his brooding, Peter missed his opportunity – he cursed himself of the lost chance, then quickly took the seat so no one else could ruin his everyday routine.

After the fourth week of the Monday seat-napping occurrence, Peter felt fed up and impulsively followed the man off the subway when they got to his usual stop. Realizing how creepy it was that he watched the stranger enough to know when his prime opportunity would be, Peter almost stopped himself from pursuit, his feet hesitating a few seconds before his frustration won out. Gritting his teeth, Peter shook his head and continued to follow.

When the foot traffic brought them together, Peter reached out and grabbed the man’s shoulder – his touch light, despite the aggression of the move to begin with. He kept himself from blowing up until they were facing each other – then let shit loose.

As he spoke and gestured wildly, Peter noticed the man’s expression moved from surprised to confused pretty fast. His eyebrows were pinched, both eyes attempting (in vain) to watch the way his lips moved. It wasn’t until he saw the man shuffling that he stopped his fast talking (should be read yelling) and paused to take a well needed breath.

All of a sudden, Peter saw the man pull his gloves from his fingers, the thought of getting punched at the forefront of his mind, before noticing that those very fingers were moving a mile a minute. He remembered just enough from his freshman sign language class to recognize the ASL but was lost after that. The stranger continued to gesture before a grin randomly broke out across his face. Peter figured his own facial expression was worth the stranger’s smirk.

An obviously underused voice sounded in his ears next, Peter’s face dropping again, a rush of a deep blush rushing to his face at the words that were spoken from the stranger’s mouth. “I can tell you’re confused. It sucks not being able to understand someone, doesn’t it?” Though the man was talking, his fingers gestured with each word – the man obviously more comfortable with his hands than with spoken dialect.

Letting go of a very embarrassed breath, Peter let his eyes fall to his shoes, apprehension and shame filling up the space between them. “Shit, I’m so sorry. Not just for not knowing that you’re deaf, but for yelling at you at all.” He stopped then, the realization of his words hitting him square in the chest. The guy standing in front of him was deaf, and he was still talking at him a mile a minute. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I – you probably don’t even know what I’m saying.”

The man let his grin grow at that, a look of amusement fresh in honey-hazel eyes. “I can read lips, actually. You’re very emotive.”

A beat of silence rested between them before the slightly scratchy voice sounded again. “I’m Tony.” The man – Tony, pointed to himself, his hands fingerspelling as he introduced himself.

Peter couldn’t keep the smile from blooming across his lips, eyes twinkling as he finger spelt his own name back, those specific letters close to the extent of his ASL knowledge. “I’m Peter. And insanely embarrassed by my behavior. Can I buy you a coffee to make up for it?”

Tony’s answering beam made Peter’s stomach lurch, the heat settling there unlike anything he felt before. It took a lot of effort to push it down, even more so when Tony nodded, his eyes twinkling with mirth and interest.

As one could expect, it took them a few minutes to really master talking with each other.

After getting the affirmative, Peter tucked his head and started to trudge towards the nearest coffee shop – Tony’s usual stop was only two away from his own, so the turf felt relatively familiar. He wandered these streets often between his morning and afternoon rehearsals – enough to know about the cute little hole in the wall with the best espresso. His feet led them there easily, Peter only looking back over his shoulder twice to make sure Tony was still there, following closely on his heels.

Peter let Tony deal with ordering for himself, then stepped up and added his own triple shot espresso to the ticket – his bank card coming out faster than it ever had before. A simple cup of coffee was the least he could do; it wasn’t often people got yelled at by random strangers on the street.

For such an awkward way of meeting, Tony took everything in stride. He too must’ve been a regular at the coffee shop – Tony stood in what looked like his usual spot and waited patiently for the barista to slip the cup in front of him, instead of yelling out his name like she did for every other patron.

In his observation, Peter noticed Tony’s way of speaking without saying anything at all. He smiled widely and allowed his eyes to do a lot of his talking, the deep color of them just as animated as the looks being cast about. Though he gestured with his hands often, Tony adapted to those around him easily, the man quick to find a way to get his point across.

When they sat down across from each other, Peter took a sip of his drink before even thinking to speak – the thought of his undercaffeinated mind causing him any more drama a very real worry.

The coffee did its job a couple of moments later, Peter’s insides warming suspiciously like they did when he saw Tony smile for the first time. Brushing that thought aside, Peter let his eyes roam over Tony, the man still sitting there patiently, his patented grin pulling at lips that looked to be way too kissable for their own good. He let his eyes stay there for a moment before clearing his throat, unusual nervousness washing over him.

Much to his surprise, Peter felt a hand on his own before he could get any words out. His eyes bulged for a second at the weird feeling of rightness that overcame him – Tony’s tan hands were calloused and covered in what looked to be paint or marker. Interesting, even down to his very hands.

“Don’t be nervous. I can get five words out of ten and keep up pretty well if you don’t start yelling at me like you were. I don’t expect you to know how to sign and these” he said, gesturing at the hearing aids Peter hadn’t even noticed, “help muddle through the vibration of your words. I’m probably a better listener than you are.” Tony flashed him his eyebrows at that, his amusement at the entire situation written so plainly on his face.

Blushing, Peter nodded, his gaze averting for a second to collect himself. Though they weren’t touching anymore, Peter could feel the pressure on his skin, Tony’s kindly spoken words wrapping the rest of him up so peculiarly. From being a complete ass to totally smitten, Peter wasn’t sure what was happening to him – what the man in front of him could do to him just by being an admirable person.

“You’re probably right about that. The only thing I really like to listen to is music. And that’s usually just to make sure I don’t miss my own cues when I’m playing.”

Tony’s eyes lit up at that, his hands making the sign for music without much thought. “You’re a musician? What do you play?” His eyes glowed with earnest; a genuine interest written clearly in his gaze.

“I’m the second seat saxophone for the New York Philharmonic. I usually play the alto, but I fill in on the bass line when the pieces demand more of a commanding sound. I’d prefer to play the bass, actually – much more my style.”

“I played the tympany for a while in high school, if you can believe it. Percussion gives off the best vibrations.” Tony mimicked playing the instrument, his hands holding the pretend mallets the same way he would’ve if the percussion was actually sitting there. Peter let himself feel a little giddy at that – music was his life; sharing the passion for it felt good for a change. The usual forced enjoyment of his colleagues could be so grating, but Tony – Tony made it feel novel, like it used to before performing became a job.

“I was too small for the drums when they were distributing instruments in sixth grade. I was lucky to have landed the saxophone instead of the flute.”

Conversation flowed easily between them after that.

Tony fumbled every now and again, the quirk of his brow causing Peter to slow down or back up to make his words clearer. Aside from that, their conversation didn’t falter. Peter eagerly sussed out that Tony was an artist that worked in graphic design, the dark marker on his fingers making sense as he dug into his bag and pulled out his latest work. The blue on his fingers matched the lid of the tracing marker stuck in the middle of Tony’s book of art. His eyes lit up as he gestured and pointed at the different pieces of the work – Tony’s energy and enjoyment insanely intoxicating.

By the time Peter’s ‘oh shit’ alarm went off, they were deep in conversation about the difference between Marvel and DC’s comic prowess, Tony more interested in the art than Peter and his character driven preferences. Looking up as he shut the alarm off, Peter gestured to his phone, the screen still alive and bright.

“I’ve got to go, but I’d love to get your number.” Peter pushed the phone towards Tony, his cheeks warm from the hope and want of a nice conversation and obvious chemistry.

Tony pulled the phone towards him, his pointer finger tracing the edge of Peter’s case. “You can have it, under one condition.”

Peter quirked his brow at that, his head rising in recognition. “Sure, what is it?”

“Tell me why you were yelling at me.”

Blushing more furiously, Peter let his hand drift to the back of his neck, the nervous gesture one he picked up after having the shoulder harness on during hours of playing. “It’s kind of stupid – but you were in my seat. Have been, every Monday, for the past few weeks.”

The oddest sound fell from Tony’s lips, the soundless laugh choked off like the chuff of a dog without a voice box. The joy in it sent a shiver down Peter’s spine, his face splitting into a grin, despite the raging embarrassment that lashed at his skin.

“I knew it. I kept taking it after that first week just to see what you’d do. You’re something else, Peter.”

And though he wasn’t the most familiar with ASL, Peter knew Tony’s parting gesture was something affectionately close to the one used to call someone an idiot.

For a while, the bulk of their conversation existed through the realm of text messages. Having just got into performance season, Peter didn’t have a lot of in-person time to spare. Between rehearsals and practice concerts, there wasn’t much time to function normally, let alone nurture a new courtship – so, they made do.

Most mornings, Peter woke up to some sort of text message from Tony. From little things like quips about the weather to snippets and sneak previews of his latest drawings and commissions. No matter what he opened up, Peter came to enjoy whatever Tony Stark sent his way.

The messages continued throughout the day, usually Tony narrating a zoom meeting, or talking mad shit about the neighbor who lived across the hall from him (based on her comings and goings, Tony swore the older woman was a British spy). There was always something to respond to between songs and stints of rehearsal – the idea of not being alone more than welcome after spending entire pieces and concerts in the depths of his music space, that section of his brain lonely now that Peter knew what good company felt like.

It was almost weird, then, when Peter found himself with a couple nights off after the hustle and bustle of the city’s celebration of Christmas. Aside from his New Year’s obligations, Peter was finally free to spend a little time with Tony in person. So free, in fact, that he found himself brushing up on a few rudimentary signs before meeting up with him.

When the day finally came, Peter felt the slightest bit of apprehension. They were surprising, the nerves – for all intents and purposes, Peter spent the last three months in constant communication with Tony. When they weren’t texting, they were sending pictures through snapchat, their multitude of faces saying so much more than words between them ever really could.

Maybe that was it – the rightness of the thing between them. Having never experienced it before, Peter couldn’t decide if it was the greatest thing to happen to him, or the weirdest experience of his life. Not growing up with his own parents made it hard to understand connection – especially the guttural, natural kind that usually came from the relationship between parents and child. Most of his relationships served a purpose, but his thing with Tony only brought him joy and excitement; a feeling so foreign, he wasn’t really sure what to do with it.

Putting it all away, Peter did his best to shake off the nerves – the least he could do was give whatever it was between him and Tony a chance. They were so good together in so many ways. He could practically feel Tony in each of his text messages, the man good at choosing his words to make the most maximum of impact. There was a connection that wouldn’t exist if Tony didn’t have to spend so much time trying to understand the rest of the world – Peter didn’t understand himself, but Tony luckily seemed to; so much that Peter learned a thing or two every now and again.

Despite it all, Peter felt whatever negative feelings within him completely dissipate when Tony answered his door. They figured the best way to really spend some quality time together was for one of them to cook, an action that Tony took upon himself without hesitation (the face Peter made when Tony brought up the idea probably had something to do with that, but Peter sure as hell wasn’t going to point that out). The other man’s smile was genuine and if the smells wafting from the apartment were anything to go by, the food was going to be insanely delicious, too.

Before he could psyche himself out of it, Peter drew Tony into a quick hug, then let his fingers fly. “It’s nice to see you again,” Peter said with his hands, his lip drawn between his teeth the entire time.

Letting out a soft gasp, Tony lit up, his grin dimpling with its intensity. He took a step forward, his own hands reaching out to grab Peter’s. “You’ve been practicing. That greeting has its own sign,” Tony babbled proudly, their arms moving together through the correct movement. “Lazier, but more recognizable.”

Peter felt himself melt into the touch, the thought of not getting his attempt right flying from his brain the second Tony gripped him. The warmth that radiated from Tony’s chest pulled him in, their innocent embrace bringing him an unnamable happiness.

Just as that thought started to settle, Tony released him, a knowing look sitting between the crease of his brows. “Come in, come in. Want to sit for a drink? The stuff on the stove still needs a few minutes to simmer.” Now that he was aware of Peter’s practice, Tony used his hands with every word, the signs a lot slower than the last time they muddled through conversation.

Peter followed Tony over to the small bar in the corner of the room, his presence more than enough of an answer for the other man, who was already pouring them a dense finger of what looked like amazing whiskey. After passing Peter his, Tony raised his glass for a toast – his eyes practically glowing. “To new things,” Tony said, his voice clear and filled with warmth – more than likely affection, too.

Clanking their glasses together, Peter ducked his head – the entire situation between them so new, and yet, so damn familiar all at once.

By the time they nursed their first drink, a blinking light at the entrance of the kitchen caught Tony’s attention, his body springing to action before Peter even recognized what could possibly be going on. Tony shot him a smile, his hands already moving. “I can’t hear the buzzer on the oven, so the light tells me when it’s going off.”

A flush moved over Peter’s skin, the simplicity of the explanation making him feel a little silly – in all of his time as a human, he never gave any thought to the things he used on a daily basis, how some people couldn’t use the things that seemed so simple and normal to him. Like every second of his time with Tony, Peter felt both out of his depth and completely mystified to constant be learning new, eye-opening things.

As he initially thought, Tony’s cooking was absolutely excellent. They ate at a small table in the corner of Tony’s kitchen, the room well equipped, the space an obvious lifeline of the apartment.

“I spend a lot of time in here,” Tony mumbled around the chicken parmesan in his mouth. His eyes caught Peter’s, the glance saying just how tuned in to his thoughts Tony actually was. “The kitchen has the best light for drawing – and I love to cook.” He enunciated the last word with a sign, his fingers deft in their movement.

“I can tell. Everything is amazing. You even cooked fresh pasta!” He twirled a noodle around his fork for emphasis, the freshness of it apparent even then.

“It’s a way to connect. Cooking. I’m not the best communicator – but I sure as heck know how to get my point across.”

Those words sat with Peter for the rest of dinner, and well into the after dessert making out they were doing on Tony’s insanely comfortable couch.

Peter didn’t hesitate to close the distance between them when Tony led them back into the living room, a drink in each of their hands. As they sat down and put their crystal glasses on the coffee table, Tony slung his arm around the back of the couch, Peter allowing himself to narrow the distance and absorb all the points of contact on offer. Like magnets, their lips found each other, the firm press of Tony’s against his own like the rest of him – pure, genuine, and upfront. In all things, Tony was upfront.

Straddled across Tony’s lap a little while later, Peter broke their kiss, the softest noise of confusion sounding in the room around them. Unable to decipher who made it, Peter quieted them both by climbing up and off Tony, his hands pulling the man up with him. “Will you show me your bedroom?” Peter needlessly asked as their lips sealed together in a chaste kiss, both unable to stay separated for too long.

Instead of answering, Tony gripped Peter’s hips and pulled him close, their bodies pressed flush together. Breaking the kiss, Tony used his hold to guide Peter back, the two of them stumbling in the awkward dance of too many limbs and not enough space all the way down the hall and into a well decorated bedroom.

A gigantic king-sized mattress took up much of the room, a large wooden bedframe outlining it and making the feel of it grand, almost eye-pulling. Crisp maroon sheets were jumbled in the middle of it, as if Tony didn’t make his bed after rolling from it earlier that morning (he didn’t), and an avalanche of pillows took up the head of it, the collective feeling of fluffiness making a rush of affection sneak into his chest. Tony liked to be comfortable, that much was obvious.

The softest touch against his cheek brought Peter back from the vortex of his thoughts, Tony’s questioning gaze warm in its inquiry. Calloused fingers brushed over the meat of his cheek, the caress pulling a moan from his lips.

“Is this okay? I really want you, but you look a little nervous,” Tony said softly, the words kind of jumbled against the skin of Peter’s neck where lips were worrying endlessly.

Moving suddenly, Peter grabbed Tony’s cheeks, his grip just enough to bring Tony’s focus back to Peter’s face, the need for his smile to be seen more important than the physical arousal coursing through him. “I am nervous. You mean a lot to me. I don’t – want to fuck this up. I want you, Tony. I do – I want you so much.” He spoke slowly, each word important, each one needing to be heard more than anything else.

“You can’t fuck it up. I’m here. Right here, Pete.” Tony pulled back enough to make the sign he chose for Peter’s name – a finger spelt P followed by the unmistakable sign for beautiful. “You can have me. It’s okay.”

Not a lot of words were shared after that. Peter gave in to the chemistry that roared between them, his hands making deft work of Tony’s shirt, then his own before there was nothing left between them but the slightly graying hair on Tony’s chest. In eager exploration, Peter ran his fingers down the length of Tony’s stomach, up his sides, and across soft lips – his hands for once doing all the talking for him.

Settling back against the bed, Peter felt Tony take the same path across his skin, his fingertips and nails followed shortly by tongue, lips, and teeth. By the time Tony made it down to his cock, Peter was hypersensitive, each one of Tony’s touches feeling like a shock to his core. So distracted by the goodness of it all, Peter didn’t notice the opening of a drawer, or the subtle click of the top of the lube opening. It wasn’t until the combination of warm lips around his cock and cold fingers pressing against his rim, that Peter realized Tony was moving things along – eagerly, if the desperate thrusts against his leg were to say anything.

Before pressing any further forward, Tony used his free hand to sign “okay?” in the cutest of ways. Peter was splayed open wide, on display like a fucking meal, and Tony still wanted to make sure. The thought struck him to the core. Shaking the immensity of it away, Peter nodded, his eyes slipping closed as Tony redoubled his efforts.

One finger quickly became two, Tony methodically pressing in and spreading his fingers to test the stretch and give of Peter’s rim. He found Peter’s prostate pretty early on, the tip of his middle finger hitting it within the first few strokes of his fingers pressed into tight heat. The constant pressure and immense fullness kept him from spiraling over the edge – but just barely.

Sliding a hand into Tony’s hair, Peter gripped the locks tightly, his fingertips digging into the soft scalp below. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to make a mess.” Peter let himself pant out a few breaths, a few pulses of pre-cum dripping with each word. “Please, I’m ready. I’m ready, Tony.”

He wasn’t sure if Tony saw the words coming out of his mouth, but he moved like he did – his body completely in tune with Peter, like each movement Peter made was another page in the instruction manual, another thing for Tony to categorize and use for the rest of time.

A displeased noise left his lips when Tony pulled his fingers out, the feeling of emptiness both uncomfortable and unsatisfying now that Peter knew just how good Tony felt inside him. The emptiness didn’t last for long, though – Tony drew back just enough to tear open the condom with his teeth, the rubber going down over his cock quicker than Peter thought it could. His last rational thought revolved around the opening of the lube cap and the slightly cold press of a warm tip to his most intimate place.

Inch by inch, Tony pressed himself inside, the obvious pulse of his cock enough to force Peter to relax – he wanted to feel every part of the other man, all of his twitches and throbs included. When he finally bottomed out, Peter grabbed Tony’s face, forcing his eyes up and on his own. “You feel so good, Tony,” Peter whispered, his mouth exaggerating every word.

The pure joy on Tony’s face made Peter’s cock twitch, the feeling of happiness an unknown aphrodisiac with a line straight to his pleasure center. Closing his eyes, Peter let everything wash over him, even the sign for ‘me too’ Tony pressed into the skin of Peter’s chest.

With Tony starting to thrust, Peter relaxed further and gave his body over to the other’s manipulations. Like all things, Tony moved with what seemed like a never-ending amount of energy. His fingers dug into Peter’s thighs as he held them tightly in his hands, Tony’s grip flexing with every thrust. His lips traced the length of Peter’s neck and clavicle, the slightest suck marks left behind in the most gentlemanly of ways. From the subtle brush of chest hair over peaked nipples, to the friction their bellies created, Peter felt on edge from the very start.

Little by little, Tony shifted the intensity of his thrusts, his hips rolling and grinding down against Peter’s prostate the second he managed to find it with the tip of his cock. Though Peter was sure he wasn’t conscious of them, Tony’s grunts and moans got louder in pitch with each steadily increasing thrust, the sound like the beautiful music Peter made on a daily basis.

When it was finally too much to holdout any longer, Peter let his fingers tangle into the hair at the back of Tony’s head, his clenching grip enough to draw Tony’s attention back to Peter’s face. His beautiful hazel eyes took in every miniscule facial expression Peter made as he came apart; every crinkle on his brow, every flare of his nostrils, even the shape of his lips when he finally took that plunge over the edge. Peter managed to get his eyes open just enough to see Tony lose it, too – the magnitude of this sort of vulnerability not lost on Peter a single bit.

----

The beautiful thing between them continue to bloom as the month’s past.

Despite living in a life continually filled with noise, Peter loved the silence that came with his place in Tony’s life. After understanding just how important it was to have a direct line of communication with Tony, Peter eagerly started his quest to learn the in’s and out’s of ASL – his teacher one of the best and most knowledgeable on the subject.

With a good reason to want to learn, Peter took to the language like a duck to water. They stilled verbally communicated pretty frequently, but Peter didn’t feel nearly as lost when Tony started to talk without using his words like he so often did. The signs and little subtleties were becoming a part of his life, each one just as important as the notes he used to create his life’s work.

Of course, Peter still felt a few reservations throughout their time together. Sometimes, no matter how hard he tried, Tony couldn’t keep up; especially in big groups of people, or around strangers that weren’t familiar with his particular brand of needs. He never went out of his way to let Peter know how he felt, but the obvious lack of Tony’s presence in those conversations could be felt.

As much as it frustrated Tony, it grated on Peter every now and again, too. It took so much effort to communicate, his old habits of talking fast or not facing Tony coming back without thought – the idea of not being able to send his signal to Tony easily just as frustrating as not being able to receive it.

And when it came to his music, Peter found it the slightest bit sad that Tony couldn’t hear the smooth tones and sounds that came from his instrument. Though he talked often about the way music felt, Peter wanted Tony to hear him – to appreciate the craft the way it was meant to be appreciated.

One of their evenings together, Peter was practicing in Tony’s front room while his boyfriend worked diligently on his latest commission, the head-down look about him one that Peter recognized pretty easily after so much time together. He warmed up with scales, then brought his first piece of music out of his folder, the familiar notes bringing him a sense of comfort that not a lot of other things could touch (Tony, of course, being the one exception). Playing through the first piece without much thought, Peter was surprised to feel a hand on his shoulder that easily slipped down to palm at his chest.

Letting the saxophone rest against the side of his thigh, Peter signed swiftly, his ASL so much better now that the two of them spent so much time with each other. “What’s up? Everything okay?” Peter asked, his fingers almost perfectly making each sign.

Tony smiled softly at him, his cheeks pinching into the adorable little dimple Peter loved so much.

“Everything’s fine. I just wanted to listen to you play.”

Quirking his head, Peter pointed at the couch – “I’d like that, sit down and I’ll play you something.”

Without thought, Tony moved closer to him, his hand pressing more firmly against Peter’s chest. “I’ll be able to hear it here.” Tony said aloud, his voice twisting a little in annoyance. “The floor muffles the sound over there. I want to feel it.”

Unable to stop the small flare of irritation from slipping, Peter shook his head, eyes rolling. “It’s distracting. I can’t play with you standing right there.” Each word was a lie, the both of them more than aware that he could, in fact, play with Tony’s hand pressed against him – they’d even attempted (unsuccessfully) to have Tony’s cheek pressed tightly to his chest. Peter wasn’t sure what made him lash out or say something to hurt – it just fell from his mouth carelessly, without thought.

The way Tony pulled his hand back, almost as if he’d been burnt, made Peter feel guilty, which inevitably led to him letting more of his temper rear its angry head. “I sometimes wish you could just hear like everyone else. It’d make things so much easier.”

For the first time in their entire relationship, Peter felt the silence. In the moments between such nasty words leaving his lips and Tony’s reaction, the usually easy absence in noise felt louder than any concert Peter could remember playing. It was palpable, alive in a way that shouted turbulence ahead.

Then, Tony shifted until they were level with each other, his hands moving stiff, ruthless in their sincerity. He didn’t speak, not like Tony usually did when saying something he wanted to make sure Peter understood. “If it’s so hard to have me in your life, you’re welcome to go. I don’t need this – your lack of understanding. I thought you were different; but you’re just like everyone else.”

Tony didn’t say anything more, he simply got up and padded quietly into the kitchen where the sound of squeaking markers against paper could be heard just a moment later.

Knowing how much he fucked up, but still feeling a little bit of that lingering anger, Peter packed his music and saxophone up, leaving Tony’s apartment with no sound at all left behind.

It took a few days for Peter’s wallowing to get the best of him.

In the twenty steps it took to get to the elevator from Tony’s door, Peter realized just how shitty his behavior was. In all of their time together, Peter never thought of Tony as a burden or any sort of problem. Instead of turning around like he should’ve, however, Peter walked on, the ding of the elevator like a final note in their piece. He took every step of their attempt to communicate (and do it well) in stride, trying as hard as he knew Tony had to every second to get where they wanted to go together. It wasn’t a problem. It wasn’t.

Yet, in his anger, Peter let the one thing Tony couldn’t change or help become an obstacle between them when it never was before. He felt frustration towards the hurdle they were always jumping, but never towards Tony – no matter what stupid words came out of his mouth.

After missing three practices in a row, Peter wasn’t surprised to see one of his fellow orchestra members at his door – the beautiful Natasha Romanov knocked the way she played the cello, primly and without any room for bull shit. Her hand was rhythmic and demanding, the tone telling Peter he shouldn’t even think about ignoring the person on the other side. Bucking up (because he knew she’d never go away if he didn’t), Peter pulled a sweater over his three-day-old t-shirt and answered the door.

“Parker, you look like shit. Smell kind of like it, too. What the fuck’s going on? It’s not like you to miss rehearsals.” Natasha’s voice was booming, her words loud after so much time intimately wrapped up in Tony’s silence. “Who do I need to beat up?”

Peter couldn’t help the small smile that overtook his face – despite the guilt and shame hanging so heavily upon his shoulders, it felt good to have someone have his back; even if it wasn’t all that deserved.

“Me, actually. You should come inside. We’ll need coffee for this conversation.”

Leading her into his somewhat disordered apartment, Peter set about making coffee before saying anything more. He refreshed the grounds in the French press, then poured them each a piping hot cup of the good stuff, his anxiety lessening ever so slightly with each delightful breath of delectable coffee scent being pulled into his lungs.

It took him three sips before he felt ready to talk, the heaviness of all the things finally lifting.

“I’m an asshole, Nat. You’ve met Tony – good, genuine, sincerely lovely Tony. He’s the best thing to ever happen to me and I was… unkind. Incredibly so. I told him it would be easier if he could hear – if he wasn’t who he is. I’ve been too embarrassed to step foot outside of my apartment. Or play. I can’t – not when I made such a mess of things.”

In her no-nonsense way, Nat took in his words, paused to let them sink in, then slapped him across the back of the head. She looked him down squarely, her eyes unblinking. “You and I both know you deserve that.” Natasha remarked before letting her features soften, a look of understanding settling on her face, instead. “Do you know what I like so much about Tony? Not the fact that he can’t hear, or that he’s incredibly attentive to make up for it – it’s that he listens. Genuinely. Actively. Like it’s the only thing in the world that’s important to him. The barrier he’s had to overcome has made this beautiful openness to connect within him.”

Patting his hand on the table between them, Nat took another sip of coffee before continuing. Her voice seemed like it was shaking before she stopped, the emotion of her words obviously threatening to overcome her. “With you, I know that’s the case. You, all of you, are the only thing in the world that’s important to him. Peter, it’s like he takes all of you in. Everything that you give to him, he keeps and uses to bridge that gap. I’ve never seen another human smile at someone that way Tony smiles at you. He says so much by saying nothing at all. Because he knows, Pete. He may not be able to hear you in the sense you think he should, but he’s listening.”

He looked at her blankly for a second before nodding wildly, his eyes wide and open for what felt like the first time. Thinking about it, Peter recalled the many times he turned to see Tony staring at him, an inquisitive, yet affectionate look in his eye. When things were good (which was every day they were together but the last three) they didn’t need any words to communicate what was going on, not really, anyway. Tony spoke to make it easier for Peter, but the closer they got, the easier living in the easy rhythm between them became.

Jumping out of his seat, Peter looked at Nat gratefully, a genuine smile overtaking his lips. “I don’t know how I let myself not notice that for so long. Thank you, Nat. Thank you.” He grasped her hands tightly before turning to head out the door, Peter only stopping when he realized leaving meant leaving Nat in his house.

“I’m going to go and hopefully fix this. You’re welcome to stay. I have some of that wine you like in the fridge.”

Casting a glance over his shoulder before closing the door on his way out, Peter caught the mischievous look on Nat’s face, the cellist wasting no time in her pursuit for his good wine.

It took 20 blocks and many tireless minutes to get to Tony’s apartment. His timing was atrocious, but there wasn’t any time to spare. Tony deserved an apology, many apologies, and Peter wanted to start making it up to him as quickly as he could. Tony was a forgiving person, but forgiveness only went so far – and things between them were too good to give up; too vital and important to let pettiness and irritation rule over all of his actions and subsequent reactions.

Not wanting to presume they were still completely okay, Peter decided not to use the key Tony gave him a couple of months ago. Instead, he pressed the doorbell a couple of times, the flashes of it recognizable even outside of the apartment. Waiting with a heavy sense of tension and bated breath, Peter watched shadows dance at the bottom of the door, the sound of Tony’s footsteps just barely audible through the heavy wood.

It took Peter a second to take Tony in, the man’s presence overwhelming in how good it felt – to just be there, standing in front of him – like heaven. When he allowed himself to truly take Tony in, Peter realized Tony was just as wrecked as him, the usual bags under his eyes deep and purple, the sign of tiredness more like bruises against pale skin. Though he tried to project an air of fineness, Tony looked like shit.

Before Peter could talk himself out of it, he fumbled to sign his apology, his eyes locked onto Tony’s as he moved his hands. “I fucked up. You’re not a problem. You’re not a hardship. You’re everything. The rest of the world is all talk, but you – you say so much without saying anything; I was just too stupid to take it all in. Too wrapped up in my own shit.” Peter stopped then, his hands moving to cup Tony’s cheeks. Tony hesitated for a moment before leaning into Peter’s touch, the caress like kryptonite.

“I love you, Tony.”

Peter searched Tony’s eyes for a moment, the flood of tears at the corner of them confusing and the slightest bit frightening. There wasn’t anything else after this, no plan B or back up – if Tony didn’t want him, that was that.

Sucking in a deep breath, Tony softened his expression, the feeling of having his mind read enough to make Peter’s head spin. He forced himself to stay in the moment, though, his eyes watching in fascination as Tony moved to reciprocate the phrase, his lips moving without the use of his hands – a totally rare occurrence.

With a finger to his lips, Peter caught him before he could mumble out the syllables, his other hand wrapping around Tony’s waist, tugging until they were pressed tightly together, a touch of contact between them from chest to toe. Carefully, Peter pulled his hands back and signed instead –

“You say it best, when you say nothing at all.”

#starker #you say it best (when you say nothing at all)#bobbie writes #starker fanfiction #deaf tony stark #musician peter parker

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i-stan-nct-and-satan · 4 years

Text

Not Broken (Jaehyun Mafia AU)

Not Broken Masterlist

Jaehyun X Reader

Y/N is a burlesque dancer living in Seoul. Jaehyun is one of the most powerful mafia men in Seoul. How will Y/N survive when Jaehyun suspects that she is involved with a rival gang?

Reasons to read this story: Ten's a cross-dressing madam so..... yeah read it ya freaks.

Trigger warning for this chapter: mentions of non-consensual touching.

Bold means it’s being said in English

A/N: This story will be released in several parts and each part released will have its own trigger warnings. It’s a slow burn story but there will be smut in later parts. Jaehyun won’t actually be introduced in the first two parts, but I hope you’ll read anyway. This story is actually inspired by my year preforming as a burlesque dancer in Seoul. The burlesque group was actually an inclusive group that frequently featured drag kings and queens.

"Kakao!"

I opened my eyes and groaned as I looked at my phone.

8:37pm. I'm late.

"Fuck"

Kakao alert from Jungwoo: "Dude, where are you? The Madam is gonna be here soon. If you're late again, she's not gonna let you preform."

I grabbed at my aching head as I read the message.

Why does it hurt so bad?

I looked over at my nightstand and saw the answer in the form of several empty bottles of soju. I could barely remember anything from the previous night, but from the looks of my bedroom, I seemed to have been by myself. I stood up to grab some water, ignoring the message from Jungwoo. Apparently he must have seen that I read it since my phone soon started vibrating and spewing out kakao talk notifications at an irritatingly fast pace.

After chugging a full bottle of water in an attempt to sooth my throbbing head, I walked to the bathroom to brush my teeth and washed my face. In the mirror I saw that I hadn’t even attempted to wash the eyeliner from the yesterday off before passing out. What was originally a subtle thin black line had now smudged over the entirety of my lid and the concave of my under eyes. I looked trashed, no, dead was a better way to put it.

I roughly rubbed the smudged mess off my face with a washcloth. I didn’t bother applying a new face of makeup since I knew that I'd be expected to put it on at the venue anyway.

I quickly gathered up my make up supplies and shoved them into my backpack. I grabbed the tote bag containing my costume along with my phone and left the trashed one-bedroom apartment, not bothering to change out of the black sweatshirt and torn jeans I woke up in. It wasn't unusual for me to fall asleep or "pass out" in my day clothes.

It wasn't that I didn't have any pajamas to change into, it was more an issue of being too drunk to care. Right now, my reasons for not putting on a new outfit was that I was too hungover not to mention the fact that I was very late.

I walked down the halls of my building, choosing to take the stairs instead of the elevator. Although anyone who stepped foot into my room would believe that I must have lived in the ghetto, my building was actually quite nice. I just happened to be a very messy person and it must show in how I present myself because my neighbors often go out of their ways to avoid me. The only person in the building who I'm actually close with is the doorman.

"Goodmorning Hyuck." I say as I grabbed my headphones out of my bag.

"Hello, Miss Y/LN." He greeted me as he held the door open for an elderly couple as they exited the building.

I chuckled at his formality. As the elderly couple walked out of sight, I turned to the short male.

"How do you do?" I said mockingly to the uniformed doorman.

Donghyuck looked up at me and rolled his eyes.

"You know that I have to keep up appearances when I'm on the clock,” He scowled.

“Hey, do you have a show tonight?" He asked.

"How can you tell?"

"Well you said good morning to me and it's nighttime so... I just assumed that means you're planning on staying up."

I looked at him sheepishly. Donghyuck knew about my nighttime activities, yet he still treated me with the same respect he gave to all the other people living in the building. That didn't mean that he didn't use casual language with me every chance he got. His reasoning being that we've drank together so many times that it shouldn't matter that he's a few years younger than me. I don't mind, in fact, I think it would be weird if he spoke politely to me since I've never been polite to him a day in my life.

My eyes buldged slightly due to the sudden realization that I only had an hour to get from Hongdae to Ittaewon.

"I gotta go. I'll see you later DongFuck!" I yelled as I ran out the door.

"HEY!!!" He screamed back at me.

I ran to Hongik exit 9 and into the sea of people trying to get to where they needed to begin their own nighttime activities. As I stepped onto the subway, I noticed that some people were already drunk. I spotted some drunk ajushi's yelling at this blonde girl asking if she's a Russian prostitute. I roll my eyes and walked over to her.

"Are you okay?"

She looked up at me and nodded. The old men started directing their comments at me instead of her.

It's better that they act this way towards me. They're comments will be justified if they talk about me.

The girl snuck away without giving me another glance and I started to feel relieved until a hand landed on my shoulder. I kept still but my eyes glanced at the screen displaying the stops.

Only 3 more stops. I just have to cope for 3 more stops.

The hand moved toward my chest and I continued to stay still.

If I move away, they'll just keep doing it to the other girl.

The hand felt slimy, coated with a thick layer of sweat. It was disgusting. I tried to brush the hand away to prevent it from sliding further south, but my attempts were futile as the man continued to touch me.

It wasn't until the old man caressing me grabbed at my necklace that I turned to face him and pulled my fist back.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

I ran out of the subway gripping on to my broken necklace and bags. When I had punched the stranger he fell back taking my necklace with him, breaking its clasp in the process. The only thought in my mind was to get as far away from the subway exit as possible. It was my fourth year living in Seoul and I knew how things worked. The man could have had his dick out, but there was no way that the police would believe a foreigner like me over him.

After arriving at the venue, I greeted the girls at the door and quickly found the bathroom to collect myself. My hair was sticking out of my ponytail and slicked to my face with sweat. I checked to make sure I still had all my things, most importantly, the necklace.

I looked down at the green emerald pendant. It was about a 3 centimeters long circle wrapped in a gold-plated setting, strung on a matching gold chain. Everything about the necklace was beautiful except for the broken clasp.

"Oh my god Y/N! You are so late."

I jumped at the sudden voice.

"Sorry Snoopy."

It was Jungwoo. I hadn't noticed him come in despite the loud clacking of his heels.

"I guess it's no big deal. To be honest, I'm pretty sure that the Madam hasn't even noticed that you weren't here earlier. She was just going crazy backstage looking for her wig. You should have seen her. It was so funny."

Jungwoo started speaking in a high pitched voice trying to imitate the madam.

"Where's my hair? Where's my hair?"

We both started cracking up at the impersonation.

"Come one!" Jungwoo said as he grabbed my hand, still laughing.

"You're the only one who’s not even close to being done with makeup," He continued.

As he walked me out of the bathroom and towards the dressing rooms, I examined his costume. He wore a long burgundy red velvet dress with long white sleeves. On his head, he adorned a long brunette wig. It seemed to be a very cheap wig as it was already starting to knot into a rat’s nest. Overall, it was a very modest outfit compared to the blue latex mini skirt with neon green tassel pasties he wore during our last show.

"What's your act tonight?" I asked.

"Wonho and I are doing a titanic theme tonight. You would know this if you actually came to our last practice."

Jungwoo was one of the burlesque queens. There were many in the group as they made up almost half of the dancers. Since Ittaewon was filled with foreigners, the queer scene was thriving here and it really showed in our burlesque group.

"What happened to your necklace?"

"Oh I broke it on the subway." I replied hoping Jungwoo wouldn't inquire further.

Luckily for me, he didn't.

"Want me to fix it for you?" He said as he examined the jewelry in my hands.

"It's just a broken clasp right?"

"You would fix it for me?" I asked as I hand the necklace to the feminine male.

"Yeah of course! My costume jewelry breaks all the time. Damn the heavy things. This should only take a few minutes. I'll go get my tools."

Without another word, Jungwoo left, allowing me to get started on my makeup. Tonight I was supposed to be the final act, as per usual, which meant that my costume was the most extravagant.

For my makeup, I applied gold lipstick along with gold eyeliner, and a glitter highlight. The theme of my act was, you guessed it, gold. Even my costume was brimming with gold detailing. All fake of course, but it was still dripping with elegance. I quickly wrapped my hair into a hairnet and put on my white-blonde wig.

I had been preforming for around two years now. I found the group through a friend who had ended up leaving Korea. I quickly proved myself to be one of the best dancers in the group although some people liked to focus on my lack of attendance even though my acts often recieved the most praise out of every show.

It's not that I thought I was better than my fellow dancers. It's just that I happened to do quite well for myself as a dancer. Through dancing alone, I've been able to pay for my apartment in Hongdae, pay off my student loans, and my other debts, all while being able to afford a few luxuries here and there.

I began to take off my day clothes before I was interrupted when a familiar face entered the dressing room.

The Madam.

"Haven't you ever heard of knocking?" I sneered at the short figure that approached me.

"Haven't you ever heard of coming on time?" The figure snarkily replied, taking a drag from her cigarette.

The Madam, or Madam Ten, as some of us called her, was the leader of the group. She directed the show, organized it, taught choreography, and had final call on every detail of our preformances.

The thing about The Madam, was that she wasn't exactly a madam. Like Jungwoo, she was a drag queen, but she committed to the role more. None of us had ever actually seen the older out of drag. Some assumed that she may have identified as a woman, since anytime anyone said differently, she would scoff and often would reply with the same two answers.

When it was a woman addressing her as a man, she would say something like,

"Darling. When you refer to me as a he, you are merely pointing out the sad truth that even a man can easily be prettier than you."

When it was a man, she would walk up to the poor soul and say something vulgar, such as "You won't be calling me a he when you are screaming my name later."

Madam Ten was roughly in her 50's yet she was still dripping in womanly charm and beauty. Her face was wrinkled from all the years of smoking cigarettes, but she had more knowledge about seduction than all of us, so her age rarely mattered to the men around her.

She wore her hair in a sort pixie cut. Her red dress draped to the floor. She had an array of colorful scarves wrapped around her neck and shoulders. Heavy jewelry adorned her fingers and neck. Her ruby lips wrapped around the long black straw that was encasing the end of her cigarette.

"On a normal night, I would have given your act to Eunwoo as punishment for your... tardiness."

I raised my eyebrows.

"But...?" I questioned anticipating her to continue her explanation.

"But despite Eunwoo's ability being equal to yours, in my opinion even better..." She continued, snarkily mumbling the last part.

"He's lacking your certain assets, which I believe our special audience members would prefer tonight." She cooed, not even trying to be subtle about staring at my undressed body.

"Special audience members?" I asked as I turned away to find my costume.

"It seems as though our venue has been...reserved for a private party this evening."

"The whole venue?" I gasped.

"Yes. And it seems as though I've had to make some last-minute changes to the show tonight in order to appeal to our audience's specific tastes."

"What kinds of changes?" I inquired, continuing to dress myself.

"Sadly, tonight is going to focus on the more traditionally feminine tonight. It's such a shame that men nowadays are still so afraid to explore their sexualities." She rested her hand on her face as if she were genuinely contemplating something.

I started zipping up my costume before I realized what she was implying.

"Jungwoo's not going to be allowed to perform tonight is he?"

Madam Ten walked up behind me and pulled the zipper of my costume up the remainder of my back.

"We are all expected to make sacrifices sometimes."

This wasn't fair. Jungwoo worked harder than me at everything he did. It wasn't fair that I should get to preform while he's expected to roll over just because some last-minute guests didn’t want to see a drag queen preform burlesque.

And what about the Madam? Madam Ten would never change the line-up for a show just to appease the preferences of some rich snooty straight assholes. In the past, whenever an audience member complained about the less conventional dancers, it would end with her having the source of the complaint swiftly thrown to the curb. The Madam often referred to these men as lacking taste or ability to appreciate the real artistry of burlesque, but tonight she's acting as if her submission isn't even something to be questioned.

Whoever could afford to rent out the whole venue must have a lot of both money and power to cause the Madam to act this way. Who could these guests be in order for the Madam to choose to compromise the show's integrity?

"I should go talk to Jungwoo." I commented as I turned to leave the room, but Madam Ten stops me, grabbing my hand.

"I already sent him home." She explained reaching into the pocket of her dress.

"But he did leave me this to give to you."

She turned me so that I was facing the full length mirror and wraps my newly fixed necklace around my neck. I was unable to examine the fixed clasp, but it's ability to stay on my neck reassured me of it's functionality.

Madam Ten started walking out of the dressing room, motioning for me to follow. She walked towards the backstage curtains. Once we arrived Madam Ten slung her arms gently around my shoulders and brought her lips closer to my ears.

"Tell me Y/N, are you familiar with NCT 127?"

My eyes bulged upon hearing the name. NCT 127 was one of the most infamous Mafia gangs in Seoul. Specializing in drug trade and weapon imports, NCT 127 was known for it's ties with the police, making it the gang untouchable. Besides that, most people don't know very much about the group. People know that it exists, but most of the group's actions completed with such secrecy that no one outside of the group is completely sure about the how far their reach is. Some have specified that they have so much power in Seoul that even the president had been accused of being in the leader's pocket.

I turned to face the Madam.

"It seems as though they will be making up our audience this evening."

Madam Ten lifted back the curtain ever so slightly revealing the faces within the crowd. Missing, were the familiar faces of our loyal regulars, only to be replaced with more intimidating facades. Tough looking men wearing dashing suits littered the tables and bar areas. Many were sitting down in an organized manor, but even more were standing in small groups, wondering around, probably to get a drink, or worse, to harass the waitresses.

It was in this moment that I felt somewhat relieved that Jungwoo was sent home. I couldn't even imagine how these men would treat a man in drag if this was how they treated the female staff.

Cat calls made up most of the noise in the room, yet it seemed as though they were all coming from a small group of men seated at the main table.

It was normal for us to seat astonished guests at the table closest to center stage. This way, whoever was deemed important enough to be seated there, could have the best view of the performers. Also, since the stage wasn't elevated, the performers would often walk into the crowd attempting to raise audience participation. Sometimes it would be asking an audience member to help remove an article of clothing. Other times it could be a full-on lap dance, depending on how wild or trustworthy the audience was that particular night. Either way, audience participation was always centered around this table.

Seated at/surrounding the table were five men. They all looked to be in their early or late twenties. Although everyone else in the room seemed intimidating in the conventional "thug" way, these men were intimidating in different way.

"Handsome, aren't they?" Madam Ten cooed almost as if these men were celebrities' whose presence should be appreciated, instead of ruthless mafia members who intimidated their ways into the audience, but I couldn't disagree.

Each of the men varied greatly in image, yet to say that any of them were less that godly would be a obvious lie.

Two men were standing up at their seats trying to control their obviously drunk colleague who kept making passes at the waitresses as they walked by. The drunk one was short but still very handsome with his golden bleached blonde hair and charming laugh. It seemed as though he would have no trouble picking up women if it weren’t for his brazenly drunk behavior.

As a waitress went to check on their table, the blonde man had slapped the poor girl's ass as he spoke to her in English.

"What do you say me and you get out of this overpriced bar and get ourselves a real drink?" He said as he put his hand on her waist and pulled her closer to him. The poor girl let out a small shriek.

I recognized her as one of the new girls on staff. Really innocent and sweet, but she normally did well when dealing with drunk costumers when they got out of line, but this time our customers were irregular compared to what she was used to.

The girl froze.

"Come on baby. Don't you wanna have a little fun? What's wrong?" The blonde asshole continued.

"Mark, Stop making a fool of yourself and it down." A tall brunette grabbed him and plopped the blonde back into his seat as if he weighed nothing. "She probably doesn't even speak English." He continued as he whispers something into the waitress's ear and hands her what appeared to be four 50,000won bills. As she quickly moved away, I put two and two together and figure that he was probably asking her to forget about his friend's indiscretions.

"I wasn't even...hiccup...speaking English Johnny." The blonde drunkenly continued mumbling in English as he tried to get up to follow the girl, only to be set back down again by the third standing party.

This third party stayed silent but nodded at the tall brunette previously referred to as Johnny.

Huh. It seemed like maybe this guy is either the strong silent type or he doesn't speak English. Whereas the other two seemed to be American like me. I noticed how the two spoke English in an accent very similar to my own along with the mentioning of their English names.

"Maybe when you were working with the Dreamies in the Canadian unit, getting drunk and harassing waitresses was acceptable, but now that you're working for the big boss, you have to keep up appearances. Okay Newbie?" Johnny lectured.

I started mentally cursing myself for assuming that the two English speakers were from America, not even considering the option that they could be from Canada, only to have my thoughts interrupted by the Madam.

"They might have used their power to influence the program of tonight's show, but I cannot tolerate any ruckus they make." Madam Ten gestured toward Mark.

Madam Ten started walking towards the doors leading out to the audience, but before leaving, she glanced at me and raised one ring covered index finger towards me, as if queuing me to stay put while she dealt with the unruly audience member. Then without waiting for me to confirm that I understand her silent request, she started to approach the three men, hips swaying ever so seductively.

Even though Madam Ten may have let the Mafia gang intimidate her into going with whatever changes to the show that were demanded by the irregular guests, I was relieved to hear that she still wouldn't tolerate disruptions within the audience.

I lifted the curtain up again and watched as Madam Ten made her way to the bar where the noisy blonde and his silent colleague had wondered off to.

"Hello boys," The Madam greeted the two suited men in a strict yet somehow still flirtatious manner.

Both men raised their eyes to meet the Madam's.

Stressing a smile, she continued. "It seems as though you are making my staff feel uncomfortable."

Madam Ten placed a hand on the lapel of the silent man's jacket hoping to incite a response.

"When young boys don't know how to play nicely, that's when they get placed in time out."

Mark looked up at the hand places on his hyung's chest and scoffed, further proving that the comparison of him to a toddle might not be that far of a stretch.

The third man looked at the madam with kind eyes and smiled. For a split second I was relieved that the situation didn't seem hostile. That was, until the third opened his mouth.

"Well what happens to old bats when they don't know when to fucking shut their traps?"

I couldn’t help but let out a gasp.

The third man had black hair with vibrant blue highlights. Despite the obvious fact that he was a member of the most ruthless gang/mafia in Seoul, he had somehow been born with an extremely innocent looking face. One could even allude his facial features to that of a baby rabbit. Yet he spit out his response like venom proving that one shouldn’t judge a bunny by it's adorable features, but by how hard it bites.

Madam Ten's jaw dropped, her confident facade having been completely shattered. Anger visibly erupted from her foundation covered pores. I watched her as her hand balled up into a fist, but before she could raise it even an inch, Johnny inserted himself in between the madam and his formerly silent colleague.

"Doyoung! How could you say that to such a beautiful young lady?" Although he was speaking to Doyoung, he didn't break eye contact with the Madam for even a second.

"Don't you realize that we are guests in this lovely establishment and should be thankful that we are blessed to have such a beautiful hostess?"

Johnny grabbed the Madam's hand melting away her fist as he planted a kiss on her ring covered fingers.

"Normally, I like to kiss a woman's hand without being obstructed by the presence of rings." Johnny looked up at the Madam while Doyoung rolled his eyes at his colleague's over the top mannerisms.

"Do any of these rings signify that I should address you as Mrs. instead of Miss?" Johnny slightly inquired as he winked at the Madam.

Ugh Barf. There is no way that the Madam is buying this.

An annoyingly long string of giggles escaped from Madam Ten's mouth.

"You can refer to me as Madam Ten, and no, there is no Mr. Ten." She responded as she wrapped Johnny's arm around hers.

"Instead of playing with such immature young boys, you should accompany me for some drinks in my private room before the show," Madam ten stated shooting a glare toward Mark and Doyoung.

Before Johnny could even respond, the Madam started leading him to her private quarters backstage. Realizing that he may have laid on the charm a little too strong, Johnny glanced towards his colleagues giving them a desperate "Help me out of this" look, only for it to be returned with a smirk from Doyoung and an empty concerned look from Mark.

Once Madam Ten and her new boytoy left my vision, my eyes followed the two men as they returned to their original table.

Still sitting at the table were two other men.

Both men were wearing navy blue pin striped suits, and both were sitting silently, but that was about the only thing they had in common visually. One was leaning so far back in his chair it seemed as if sliding down one more inch would end in him slipping onto the floor, yet he seemed perfectly relaxed in his posture as he rested his left foot on top of his left knee. The other man was sitting up so straight that physical therapists could use a picture of him as a guide for perfect posture.

His hair was styled in a side swept undercut. A style that suited the man's angular face. He was handsome, but he didn't have any strange features that stood out. No piercings, no crazy colored hair, no flashy jewelry except for a Gucci watch on his left wrist. Even though the watch was flashy in of itself, it still would have probably been considered to have been one of the plainer Gucci watch designs.

He was dressed like an accountant. The most attractive accountant in the world, but still it was hard to describe how little he stood out. Which is almost sad because when examined, some would probably place him above the rest of his colleagues in terms of visuals.

Upon closer inspection, I was able to make out that the slouching mean's hair was a dark shade of purple that looked almost black under the dark lighting of the room. Two small loop piercings adorned the ear that I could see, and bold purple eye makeup was smudged around both his eyes. Well, at least I thought it was makeup. With how dark the room is before showtime, it's possible that he had two black eyes, but it doesn't seem likely that a man can look so mesmerizingly gorgeous with two black eyes.

Compared to his striped suit seat neighbor, he looked like a rebellious teen. In fact, he looked the most like a gang member out of all of them.

God, I wonder how I didn’t notice him before.

The way they dressed was so professional looking that it would be understandable to forget that these were horrid men that committed violent crimes on the regular.

I looked up at a clock on the wall and realized that it was almost showtime. I started heading back to my dressing room for a drink before the show, but as soon as I passed by the Madam's personal quarters I heard muffled voices. After realizing that nothing too adult was taking place, I couldn't help but press my ear against the door hoping to eavesdrop on the unlikely duo.

"Ummm I..I.. Umm don't you think that we should get back before the show starts?"

The confident flirt that I watched shamelessly flirt with the Madam earlier had dissipated and been replaced by a scared baby deer being hunted by a hungry lion.

"Come one lover boy, this won't take long at all."

Eck! I could almost hear her wink through the door.

My thoughts are interrupted by a sudden voice.

"Isn't it considered rude to eavesdrop?"

I suddenly jumped back and let out a small shriek. I turned towards the voice only to see the purple haired an from earlier leaning on the wall right next to me with his arms crossed,

"Oof," He said as he brought a finger to his ear as if responding to my scream.

"I didn't mean to scare you." He took a step closer towards me before resting an arm on the wall above my head.

"I heard that one of my colleagues needed to be collected from backstage, but that doesn't explain why you are here....Unless....Perhaps you were hoping to hear something besides conversation."

He looked down at me and smirked causing my face to flush. Even in heavy stage makeup I could tell that he noticed the new blush on my cheeks. I just stared at him, terrified, or maybe mesmerized, probably both.

"Okay so I guess you aren't actually as perverted as I originally suspected. It's okay though. I like good girls, but judging from your getup, you must have a bit wild side."

I looked down at the floor and realize that I was wearing my burlesque costume. Even though I have worn much more revealing clothing in front of hundreds of audience members, there was something about this guy that made me feel like I was naked in the most uncomfortable way. His eyes burned holes into my body.

"Yuta, did you find the boss?" The man with the undercut hairstyle from before walked around the corner and stopped when he saw us.

Yuta rolled his eyes before taking his arm off of the wall and turned to face the man.

"Always one to pop up during the most inconvenient times. Right, Taeil?"

Taeil looked at me with visible concern showing on his face.

"Leave the poor girl alone. I swear to god, sometimes you're worse than Mark."

Suddenly, a high-pitched scream arose from behind the door and Taeil hurriedly opened it while Yuta merely let out a bored yawn.

My body stressed with worry for the Madam.

This Johnny bastard could have just left the room if he didn't want to do anything with the Madam. He didn’t have to hurt her.

I looked inside the room expecting a bloodied Madam only to be struck with the sudden realization....Ten wasn't the one who screamed.

Johnny was lying on the bed, face covered with heavy lipstick marks, and the Madam on top of him.

You could tell that Johnny was not having as much fun as the Madam was, but she was as oblivious as always.

Having noticed his colleagues had come to his rescue, Johnny sat up. The Madam lifted herself up off of the bed and in turn, off Johnny.

"Johnny... Umm" Taeil stuttered.

Yuta entered the room and tossed a handkerchief to the lipstick covered man.

"Clean yourself off. The boss will be here any minute." Yuta stated calmly. The smirk on his face even more prominent than before.

There are more of them?

"What a shame it is to have such a..." Ten looked at us, "unfortunate interruption," she continued.

"Don't worry Madam. We'll bring him back to you after the show," Yuta winked and Johnny, who was wiping his face freezes in fear, making me feel almost sorry for him.

Sadly, due to the power dynamics in gender roles, Madam Ten's lack of consent was being played off as a joke by his friend, instead of an actual close call for a possibly traumatic event. A kind of event I almost went through myself.

"I should probably go to greet the young man." The madam fixed her wig.

"I should at least see the man responsible for tonight's sudden change in theme."

#Nct jaehyun #nct #nct 127 #wayv #nct smut #nct mafia #nct mafia au #wayv au #wayv mafia #wayv mafia au #jaehyun #nct 127 mafia #nct dream #kpop mafia au

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stusbunker · 4 years

Text

What Lingers Within: One

A Supernatural Fan-fiction Mini Series

Featuring: Dean Winchester x Reader

Written for: @thisismysecrethappyplace

Prompt: Amnesia

Word Count: 1615 (This was originally a drabble)

AMAZING BETA’ing by: @itmighthavebeenintentional

Lovely aesthetic and beta’ing by: @thoughtslikeaminefield

Summary: Reader witnesses the impossible and is thrust into the world of monsters. Unbeknownst to her, Dean has to face the consequences of old choices. Set in season eleven.

Warnings: Trauma as a witness to a show level violent case. Angst.

^*^*^

All sound morphed into a dense absence, mere gentle rumbles around you as your thoughts spilled over the terror of the last two hours. It was over; you were safe. But that didn’t matter, because your body and mind were still processing, and the weight of the memories fought against your every rational belief.

Vampires were real. Stephenie Meyer was fucking right. Well, almost right; daylight barely affected them. The image of Chase, your co-worker, slumped beside the dumpster was peaceful compared to the sight of the monsters as they tore into the girl from the sandwich shop who had stepped out for a quick vape break.

Somehow you dropped the trash and made it back inside. Sputtering it all out when Katelyn insisted you show her what you were talking about. The cops got called and that was when the real shit hit the fan.

They barked at you, patronizing and full of disbelief. Of course, you knew how it sounded, but the bodies told no lies. No one knew what to say to you and so they said nothing.

With the rest of the day’s work left for some untouchable future, you got yourself home in a fog. Suddenly trapped in a perpetual state of in-between, you crawled into bed, fully clothed and let the darkness claim you.

^*^*^

“‘What seemed like a Halloween prank call quickly became a horrific afternoon on the Westside yesterday. Two victims found on the scene were drained of blood and covered in what could only be bite wounds. Police admit to increased drug activity in the area, but’---- yeah, they aren’t going to call it what it is. So, you wanna take it?” Sam called over his shoulder.

“Vamps with a death wish? Hell yeah,” Dean agreed, leaning over to look at the laptop screen.

They were on the road in less than an hour, the Impala rumbling east as Sam delved deeper. One name popped up in every report under witness, sinking his stomach. It could have been worse; it could have been in the victim box. Though he had sworn to never speak of her again, Dean needed to know what they were walking into.

“You know maybe we should just pass on this one,” Sam offered awkwardly.

Dean recoiled and gave Sam the side eye. “You find something else? I mean, they’re not usually this obvious, but these vamps are dropping bodies, Sam.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s just--- look, I should’ve read more before we got on the road. But now that I have, I’m not sure this is the right case for--- you.” Sam was digging himself deeper the longer he talked.

Dean’s eyebrows hitched. “You wanna try that again?”

“It’s just, the only eye-witness is somebody we know, Dean,” Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“So--- who is it?” Dean tore his eyes from the road completely.

Sam pursed his lips and glared at his brother. It took Dean longer to piece together than Sam thought it would, but it had been four years. With everything that Dean had been through the past few years, it shouldn’t have surprised Sam.

“You promised,” Dean swallowed the rest of the accusation.

“I know. I didn’t---,” Sam was cut short.

“Yeah? Well...” Dean trailed off. With a dejected sigh, he rubbed the back of his fingers over his three-day-old stubble. “At least it isn’t an Amara thing she got dragged into.”

Sam paused over the silver lining, noting how the engine grumbled under Dean’s heavy boot.

^*^*^

Waking to heavy knocks on your apartment door, you resurfaced.

The strain from the day before faded with groggy waking actions. As you scanned your room for the time, you realized you had slept straight through into the next day. You pointedly ignored your phone; work could wait. You straightened your shirt and stumbled down the short hallway, trying to guess who could be on the other side of the door. Looking through the peephole, you were at a loss.

Two guys in suits stood outside. Suddenly nervous you did something wrong, you called out. “Who is it?”

“FBI, Ms. We have some follow up questions from the incident yesterday,” the one with long hair replied. His voice was soothing, so much more so than the police at the scene.

The horror flooded back into your mind and you put your weight onto the doorknob to steady yourself. Your eyes closed against the onslaught. You shook your head against the rush of warmth, and took a deep breath as you pulled the door open.

The two agents bowed their heads slightly, IDs open and eyes almost apologetic as you put on your best listening face. The scruffy one lingered in the doorway when you gestured them inside. They seemed to have a silent conversation behind your back, and you tried not to read into it, playing with your bedhead as you decided to make a pot of coffee.

All cops liked coffee, didn’t they?

“Nice place,” Agent Colfax, the long-haired one, complimented.

“Thanks, I’ve only been here a few months, but I like it,” you replied, leading them to the small table in the kitchen.

They seemed to dwarf your minimal furniture, filling a space that you generally ignored. You remained standing as they asked their questions. Not once did they belittle you or what you saw. Despite their bulk you felt at ease, free to answer honestly. They assured you they were trained to handle this type of assailant. They didn’t confirm or deny your assumptions.

“I think that’s all our questions for now,” Agent Colfax looked to his partner. “Unless you have anything to add, Agent Berkman?”

The scruffy one cleared his throat; it wasn’t until then you realized that he hadn’t spoken the entire time. “You said you moved here a few months ago? Any particular reason?”

His voice was like crunching leaves, rich and satisfying in its resonance. Confused by the change in subject you looked to the ceiling for clarity. “Honestly? I had a pretty bad break up and I guess I needed someplace I could make my own.”

He swallowed. “Sorry to hear that.”

He gave you a reassuring smile, but it fell flat. That was until his green eyes held on to yours, almost like he was searching for something. They were bright and attentive, nearly hypnotic. You felt a warmth spread over your cheeks and down your neck, but it wasn’t from embarrassment; it was welcome comfort after everything you had just re-lived. You felt intensely safe.

“Right--- thank you for your time,” Agent Colfax interrupted, breaking through what could only be described as a staring match.

You blushed, pulling yourself out of the trance. You showed the agents out and decidedly locked and deadbolted the door.

^*^*^

Dean was trying to hide the way his hands were shaking as he opened the driver’s side door. Sam was watching him with something between annoyance and pity, but Dean wasn’t up for the commentary. Seeing her again after so long was like having bricks stacked in his gut while every thought in his head evaporated.

On the way to the medical examiner’s office, Sam broke the silence. “She seems good.”

Dean glared.

“Other than seeing people being killed by vampires, I mean,” Sam finished.

“Because we just left her place, I’m giving you a pass, Sammy. But mention her again and I will break your fucking nose,” Dean hissed.

“Whoa, hey! I’m just saying she’s safe in a quiet, normal life, Dean. Isn’t that what you wanted? When you had Cas...?” Sam pressed.

Dean hit the steering wheel. “I don’t know what I wanted, but it wasn’t this!” Dean’s eyes left the road and speared Sam to the spot.

“I wanted her out of this stuff, man. Not half-broken and alone in a new city crawling with vamps who don’t even play by the rules.”

“So, we take care of it,” Sam eased off, head tilted and brow imploring. “She’ll be fine, Dean.”

Dean dragged his hand down his lips. “Yeah, she better be.”

They sat in silence the rest of the trip, rush hour slowing them down. By the time they scoped out the bodies it was dark. Working a perimeter from the crime scene slowly gave them the location of the nest, an abandoned subway station accessible through a crumbling sewer maintenance shaft. The vampires stood no chance against a revenge-fueled Dean Winchester. Sam agreed to leave the bodies, five in all, as an underground fire would cause an immediate investigation. Who knew when the skeletons would be discovered anyway.

By the time they got back to their motel, it was too late to buy beer, which gave Dean the excuse to head out for a drink. After showering Dean suggested the hole-in-the-wall down the block. Sam reluctantly let his brother head out alone, claiming he was just going to call it a night.

Dean drove right past the bar and Sam watched him do it. They both knew where he was going, it was a practiced dance; build a wall but ignore the window.

Dean sat in the Impala and stared at her apartment, he even laughed at himself for a spell. He watched the colors from her flat screen shine against the violet night, morphed by the floor length curtains.

She always liked a space to have a lot of natural light; she would’ve hated the bunker. That didn’t matter now. She was home safe. But being Dean, he needed to double check.

Flask in hand, Dean continued to pine for her the remainder of the night, lost in memories of a time when they were almost happy.

^*^*^

Tags: @flamencodiva @dolphincliffs @dontshootmespence @thoughtslikeaminefield @fangirlxwritesx67 @dawnie1988 @mrswhozeewhatsis @cosicas-cuquis @foxyjwls007 @tumbler-tidbits @defenderrosetyler @ericaprice2008 @princessofthefandomrealm @wingedcatninja

^*^*^

Read On: Chapter Two

#dean winchester fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester x reader #dean angst #vampires #blood #amnesia

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shadowsof-thenight · 5 years

Text

Flashlight: Chapter nine

Story summary: This is an AU Two years ago, the love of your life walked out the door, breaking your heart into a million pieces. He had been unable to deal with his ptsd and you hadn’t been able to help him.Now that your best friend is marrying his friend, he’s coming back to town and you try to brace yourself for the reunion. Will you finally get closure?

Ship: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Warnings: mentions of ptsd, descriptions of ptsd, angst, heartbreak, reader wants to help but doesn’t understand ptsd. This chapter deals with panic attacks!

Words: 2865

***

A/N: Updates might slow from this point forward since the next few chapters still need a lot of work. They aren’t as easy to write as the first seven were, simply because there is so much information...Anyway, I hope you’ll understand and be patient with me. I’ll try not to make the wait between chapters too long though. Another huge thank you to the wonderful @beanstalk007 for helping me with this chapter!

And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated! And if you want to get tagged, let me know.

***

Masterlist Story Masterlist

***

When Tuesday rolled around, you were incredibly nervous. Or perhaps anxious was a better word for it. It was definitely more than nervous, with your stomach churning, your head aching and your hands shaking. That morning, your alarm had been set for seven, but after a sleepless night you had given up and got up at five instead. With a full day of work ahead, you took a long shower, hoping that the warm water would relax your tired, tense muscles.

By the time you headed out to work, you knew it would be a long hard day for you. It was difficult to focus on anything other than the clock, which was taking its sweet time ticking through the hours of the day. Halfway through the morning, you even got up and checked the battery of the large clock that hung above the door. Unfortunately, it wasn’t running slow and resetting your computer didn’t speed up the internal clock either. Time was simply moving at an excruciatingly slow pace today. Which it always seemed to do when you needed it to pass, of course.

Yesterday you had spend most of your time at work by getting through the emails that had piled up during your days off. Today, you were supposed to actually be a bit more active, but it was just not happening. Whenever you opened a new file, your mind got sidetracked, nothing was really sinking in and your eyes kept glancing back at that damn clock. However, eventually time did pass and the clock told you that it was 16.45. You quickly began saving the files of the day, shifting in your seat until the clock finally struck five. When it did, you practically ran from the room and out of the building.

Slightly out of breath, you stood by the front door, hoping to regulate your ragged breathing before Bucky arrived. For some reason, it felt important to appear calm in front of him. Even though you couldn’t explain it, not even to yourself. In the past he would always see through you quite easily. Though right now, you weren’t sure if he still could and even less certain if you wanted him to or not.

When had life gotten this complicated? And why?

You had known Bucky for most of your life and had always been comfortable around him, even during those initial stages of falling for him. So, why did you feel the need to hide away from him now? To appear any different from who you really were? He was a good guy. And you knew him better than anyone, or at least you hoped you did. You had been confident in your knowledge of him only three years ago, but now you weren’t so sure. Perhaps too much time had passed after all.

You were still busy wigging out when a throat cleared next to you. Nearly jumping out of your skin, you looked up to meet those beautiful blue eyes that you loved so much. As always they seemed to see right into your soul.

Bucky smiled at your skittish response and a blush crept up on your cheeks. This was a great start…

“Hi,” you mumbled, hoping the redness on your face would fade away soon, even though the burning feeling didn’t seem to ease in the slightest.

“Hey,” he replied and glanced down at his shoes, as if he couldn’t look you in the eye for too long.

It occurred to you that perhaps he really couldn’t and the thought left a bitter taste in your mouth. It still wasn’t clear to you where he stood in this situation. Did he agree to meet you today to placate you, or because he wanted to talk things through? And had he moved on? It could be that he had done so long ago, and it was just you holding on to the past. Oh, what if he had moved on just as you realised that you had never stopped loving him?

Fiddling with your fingers, you stood next to him in silence while your mind was running in mind boggling circles. Neither one of you seemed able to talk. Bucky danced on the balls of his feet, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. For a moment you wondered if that was something he always did, or if being back here had made him more self conscious. It made you wonder if he had been able to move around more freely away from this place, in whatever city he had ended up. Making you realise just how little you knew of his life after he left. Where had he gone? His doctor had told him about someone in Seattle, who was doing trials with new prosthetics. He had been able to get Bucky into those trials, but you didn’t know if he ever went there. Let alone if he stayed.

“So,” Bucky drawled out as he finally broke the lingering silence, “Where did you want to go?”

You pondered his question. Naturally, you had thought about this all night and had driven yourself crazy by trying to think for him. What he would want and where he would be more comfortable. Finally you answered him with two options and hoped that one of those would appease him.

“I thought, well, but feel free to suggest something else,” you muttered, before stopping yourself and taking a deep breath before continuing, “We could get a drink at that little cafe on 15th, or perhaps my place?”

You were actively hoping, crossing your fingers, that he would be okay with either of those options. There was so much that you didn’t know about him anymore and you no longer trusted your judgement with him. You were scared that you didn’t know him at all anymore and it was draining to dance around those uncertainties the entire time. You could only hope he would meet you halfway.

“Maybe your place would be better,” he offered, wavering at the last word, and began walking. You followed him a beat later.

“Walking or subway?” Bucky asked after your steps synced with the other.

You looked up at the sky, it was blue with not a cloud marring the bright colour of it and the sun was beaming down on you. It created a nice temperature for the time of the year, not even wearing the jacket you had brought to work that morning. It felt like a shame to spend these moments on the train. After all, it wasn’t too far from your place.

“You okay with walking?” You asked carefully, and he barked out a laugh before nodding.

“What?” You asked, confused by his laughter, though it did cause a smile to show on your features. His laugh was a good sound to hear and it eased some of your worries.

“You always did prefer walking,” he offered with a shrug, the smile still etched on his face. You smiled back, happy that he still did seem to know you, even if this was just a small thing. It was comforting. And you decided then that you still wanted him to see right through you.

The next few moments were spent in silence. Though mostly comfortable, it did allow your mind to wander and soon enough you were driving yourself crazy with worry. It seemed impossible to tear yourself away from those thoughts long enough to break the silence that now lingered between the two of you. Even though that could help stop you from overthinking each word and every move you made.

“So,” it was Bucky who finally tried to break the silence, “Sam and Maria seem to be going strong,” he said. You wondered if he had been as eager to break the quiet as you had been.

“Yeah,” you jumped at the opportunity of conversation, “sickeningly sweet really,” you joked and he laughed again. The deep guttural sound of it warmed your heart and you were happy to realise that he still appeared to laugh rather easily. The sound alone was enough to make you fall for him all over again.

“Good,” he seemed to mull over his words, “He’s a good guy,” he finally said and you nodded in agreement. Sam had proven himself to be a great guy a million times over.

You were just thinking of something else to say to keep the conversation going, when cars tires screeched behind you. A loud bang resounded and the crash that followed was deafening. It took you a second to realise what was happening and you turned slowly towards the sound.

A car skidded over the intersection, the driver hanging over the steering wheel, unmoving. A glance to the side showed you another car that had obviously taken a hit in the crash, a large dent covering the side of it. The door was pressed into the seat and you wondered briefly if anyone had been sitting there.

As if frozen, you stared at the wreckage before you. Shock had turned the blood in your veins icy cold and your breath got caught in your throat. From all the sides people were running towards the scene, ready to help whoever was in those cars. Smoke began to rise from the trunk of the heavily dented car and you saw someone running over with a fire extinguisher, ready to keep the flames from catching on.

It wasn’t until a little girl, standing close to you, began wailing in a high pitch that you were shaken from your state and rediscovered the ability to move. As if on instinct you moved towards the edge of the sidewalk, ready to join the rest of the responders and help where you could. Before you did, you glanced back to where Bucky had been standing. Confused, you found the space behind you empty. You looked to the right, then to the left and stood stock still when you found him. Thankfully, this time, you overcame it much quicker. Though it still felt too long.

In a few quick strides you were by his side, where he had slid down the wall and onto the ground. He had pulled his knees up, his hands holding his head and he was rocking himself as he mumbled something you couldn’t understand. All around you, people were drawn to the wreckage and as they moved towards it, they ignored Bucky, easily overlooking him. Just as well, you thought, he didn’t need an audience.

Dropping down to the ground next to him, you wavered momentarily, wondering what he needed in this moment. Unsure if touching him would be a good idea. Still, you ached to wrap him in your arms and comfort him. It made you realise once more that you had so little knowledge of his PTSD, other than that he had it. You had no idea what his triggers were, though considering what had happened to him it should not have been a surprise that a crash such as this could push his buttons. You vowed to yourself that you would look into PTSD more, after you had helped him off the streets and through this moment.

For now you decided to act on your instinct and you wrapped an arm around him, speaking in soft comforting tones. Telling him that he would be okay and that the accident had been louder than it had been bad. You went as far as to say that the occupants had been able to get out of their vehicles on their own. Of course, you had no idea if this was true, but you were certain that he didn’t need to hear the uncertainty right now.

It didn’t matter either way, as your words didn’t seem to reach him at all. Finally you got off the floor, bending awkwardly and asking a strong looking gentleman to help you get Bucky up. The man did so without question, pulling him up and helping you keep him straight, before walking off.

Bucky was too deep into his panic attack to be of any help. He appeared to have difficulty breathing and beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. He was shaking as you put his arm over your shoulders, placing your own around his waist and began walking, dragging him along as he clung to you.

Keeping your voice soft, you kept speaking to him, unbothered by his current inability to really hear you or respond. You explained to him what you were doing, where you were taking him and that he’d be safe there. You promised that, soon enough, he’d be able to curl up on the couch. You only hoped that he heard the gist of it. Leaning heavily on you, he kept mumbling, his words jumbled and incomprehensible. You still didn’t understand any of it.

The few blocks from work to your home had never appeared as long as it did now, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. Bucky needed you more than he ever had before and you were not about to let him down. You wanted to get him inside, to a place where there would be little to no negative influences. A big part of you was afraid that any sudden sound or touch could push him further into his attack. And it pained you that you had no control over any of it whilst you were outside, you needed a more controlled environment. And at home it would be just you. There would be silence and calm. Hopefully that was what he needed.

Groaning under the weight of his tall muscular body, you struggled to get the keys into the lock. It took awhile for you to open the door to your apartment. Once you did, you worked him through it as carefully as possibly, kicking the door closed behind you with your foot.  It slammed hard and you winced at the sound, quickly checking Bucky’s features, but he hardly seemed to notice anything at all. Instead he allowed you to move him around the space, dropping him on the couch, where he continued to stare into oblivion as he wrapped his shaking limbs around himself.

Wiping the sweat from your forehead, you dropped your coat and bag on the coffee table before kneeling in front of Bucky. The edge of the coffee table pressed into your back, but you hardly felt it.

It was warm inside, the sun had been shining its rays on your large living room windows all day. For a moment you wondered if you should help him out of his jacket, but decided it could possibly disturb him too much. It was better to get him back to the present first. Far more important as well. A little sweating wouldn’t hurt him in the long haul, being startled while he was so vulnerable could.

Slowly, you reached your hands forward, placing them carefully on his and gently rubbing your thumb over them. Silently cursing yourself for never figuring out what he needed in moments like these, you could only hope that you were doing the right thing. He didn’t flinch or push you away, which was something. And it strengthened your hope that what he needed was human contact.

In the months after he had returned home, after the hospital, he had hid his attacks as much as he could and then he had left, but you still could have done the research. You wished you had as you were shushing him.

Thirty minutes later you were still trying to reach him, and he was yet to acknowledge any of it. Finally you decided that perhaps you couldn’t do this by yourself. You took a deep breath and moved to grab your phone, which was still in your bag that lay behind you on the table.  Releasing his hands, you turned, only to feel him move as well. You froze, turning back to him and found him looking at you with wide eyes. Fear was evident on his features and he grasped for your hands, almost blindly it seemed. He didn’t say a word, but he had a death grip on your wrist, keeping you in place.

“It’s okay, Bucky. I’m here. I’m not leaving,” you whispered, taking both his hands in yours again. Moving closer, you placed your forehead against his and took another deep breath. His was still visibly shaking, but he was trying to control his breath by timing it with yours. Aware of that fact, you took deep calm breaths, holding them a moment before releasing slowly.

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise,” you repeated a little louder now.

In the blink of an eye, things changed as you were pressed against him. He wrapped his arms tightly around you and as he pushed his head in the crook of your neck, tears fell into your hair and unto your shoulders. Quickly you returned the hug, rubbing circles on his back. He held you crushingly close to him as you repeated your earlier promises of staying and you did not stop saying it until he finally calmed down.

***

Chapter ten

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes x Reader #MCU fanfiction #James Buchanan Barnes

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santoteez · 5 years

Text

A Manhattan Tale - Seonghwa (4)

Parts: 4 of ?

Masterlist HERE

Genre: Chef!Seonghwa, FormerDrugdealer!Seonghwa, FormerKingpin!Hongjoong, Bad boy/ Good Girl kinda??

Warnings: Love interest is a Black Female, sexual contact (kissing and stuff), swearing, eventual smut, mentions of abandonment (kinda)

Requested: yes

NOTE: This fic does NOT, in any way, shape, or form, portray the way I view any member of Ateez nor does it depict their true personalities or actions. This AU is just that. An AU. All family members are FICTIONAL.

They walked into Seonghwa’s studio apartment after retrieving Zelie’s things. The curly-haired girl looked around before setting her bag down. Seonghwa’s place wasn’t much, but it was home. A full-sized bed in one corner, with menu drafts and a laptop on the nightstand. The other side was the kitchen/ dining area, where clean pots and pans sat atop of the stove, and a set of knives tucked away on the marble countertop. Along the one was a small, black leather couch.

“I know it’s not as nice as your place is. Or…was.” Seonghwa said, his footsteps resonating on the hardwood floor.

Zelie shook her head. “No! This is a great place!”

Seonghwa chuckled. “I know you’re just saying that, but thanks.”

“I’m serious. It’s great because it’s yours. You took an empty space and made it a home. Even if it was a cardboard box, you should be proud.”

Seonghwa sighed. “I said I was going to explain the situation to you when we got here. Have a seat.”

Zelie sat down on the bed. “You look like you’re sweating. Maybe we should turn the air on?”

Seonghwa shook his head. “I’m fine. I just haven’t acknowledged this part of my past in a long time.” He sighed. “It started when I was 17. I had recently graduated high school. I didn’t want to go to med school and become a doctor like everyone in my family. My parents were furious when they found out I wanted to go to culinary school. Said I should be more like my older sister. The great Dr. Minseo Park. When they found out I was enrolled in culinary school, they kicked me out. Said to find my own way to put myself through school. I ended up on the streets, didn’t even bother to show up to class. With what money? Supplies? I pickpocketed, attended soup kitchens, did what I could to survive. But it wasn’t enough. My health was deteriorating, and despite the free food, I still starved. So, I swallowed my pride and when in search of my sister.”

Zelie frowned. “That’s a lot to handle at that age. Did she help you?”

Seonghwa scoffed. “Like hell she did. She saw me from the glass door outside her private practice and sent her receptionist to escort me out. I broke down in tears. Begged her for help. A dollar for a slice of pizza, anything. She told me enrolling in med school would help. That my parents might take me back in. But that she couldn’t help me. I couldn’t stay with her and her snooty ass husband. Told me to leave. That I was disturbing her patients.” Seonghwa rubbed his knuckles, remembering the ordeal.

“But you managed to make it through culinary school. You’ve made a whole life for yourself. How did you do it?” Zelie tilted her head in confusion.

“That’s the part I’ve been afraid to tell you. One night, I was wandering around the streets. Starving. Filthy. I was dizzy from lack of food, and I bumped into this man. He told me to watch where I was going. I told him to fuck off. So the guy that was walking with him whipped a gun out and pointed it to my face. I was terrified, but I refused to flinch or let it show. Man said ‘Look at that, boss. He ain’t flinchin or nothin.’ The man asked me what I was doing on the streets, I said I was hungry and needed a shower. He said his name was Big Ross, and that he could help me.”

“Isn’t Big Ross that kingpin that disappeared off the face of the earth a couple years ago?” Zelie asked.

Seonghwa nodded. “He took me to Subway, bought me a sandwich. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a good meal. I dogged that shit immediately. Big Ross said, ‘If you work for me, you can have that and more.’”

“Woah, wait. So, you…?”

“Yup. He brought me back to his warehouse, gave me some clothes and let me shower. Said he saw something in me he needed on his team. He took me under his wing, showed me the ropes. I learned how to make product. Sell it. A couple months later, another guy came in, and we became close. Like the brother I never had.”

“Something tells me that’s the guy I met last night. HJ?”

“Beauty and brains. That’s him. I won’t get into every little detail, but he was appointed kingpin when Big Ross left, and during an errand, he got caught up in some shit. They had him up in Sing Sing for something he didn’t do. The problem is this: Someone has it in for us. We don’t know who or why. A customer came in yesterday, questioned why I wasn’t arrested for my involvement. How did I avoid jail time, and what would the city think if they found out my restaurant was bought with dirty money.”

“Dirty money? So you mean you bought a restaurant with drug dealer money which probably wasn’t in circulation for years?”

“Mhm.”

Zelie shook her head. “As cute as you are, you sure are dumb. I still don’t get where I come in.”

“HJ and I believe that it’s more than just us they’re after. It’s everyone around us. Friends, loved ones. HJ received a threat regarding Santana and their baby. My best guess is that I was unknowingly being followed when I saw you on the street. When they saw me drop you off and walk you in, they must’ve assumed you were my girl or something. Old drug dealer trick.”

She nodded. “A hustler is most vulnerable around his woman.” She sighed. “Well, how do you plan on fixing all this? Not to complain, but I can’t just hide here forever. Won’t me being here cause your house to be targeted too?”

“Nah. HJ received a threat written on a rock left on his doorstep. Whoever it is, they’re smart enough to not enter our actual houses. That’s another thing Big Ross taught me. Always meet in a neutral place. Meeting in one’s home makes the other vulnerable. Plus, HJ and I already spoke to an old friend, who’s gathering intel.”

“An old friend that’s still in the business?”

“Yes.”

“Aren’t you afraid this will just drag you right back in?”

He shrugged. “Honestly, I’m afraid this is always gonna be my life. I thought I could run from it; forget it ever happened. Three years later, this shit happens. Maybe this is just destined to follow me no matter what. And that’s why I’m so cold with people. I’m a bad person. I only bring toxicity wherever I go. That’s why I don’t want to get close to you. And you should stop trying too.”

Zelie stood up, walking over to where Seonghwa stood. “Seonghwa. If I may, and excuse my French, tell you why that is absolute bullshit. First off, I’m a grown-ass woman. I will associate myself with whoever I feel like it. Two, you have to stop putting yourself down. You are not a bad person. I was just a student fresh out of culinary school, no experience and you were willing to give me a chance. I fucked up time and time again and even when you could’ve fired me, you didn’t. You said ‘Fire up the grill. Try it again.’ And let me tell you, bad people don’t sponsor soup kitchens and donate the end of the day servings to homeless shelters. Your story makes so much more sense now. You know what it’s like to go without, so you want to help those who have none. If anything, I like you even more than before.” She reached up to cup his face, causing him to flinch slightly. “You’re just a work in progress, that’s all.”

Seonghwa looked deep into her eyes. He saw sincerity. Honesty, and compassion. Before he could realize, he was leaning in.

Zelie was taken aback when their lips met, but she recovered quickly, kissing him back passionately. Her hands moved from his face to the back of his neck, tugging his hair lightly. Seonghwa groaned, his hands grabbing onto her waist and pulling her closer. He hadn’t felt this way in forever. He lowered his hands to her ass, deepening the kiss.

Just as Zelie’s hands crept further into his hair, Seonghwa’s phone rang. The pair jumped apart, startled not only by the phone call but by their actions.

“Shit. Sorry. I-, sorry.” Seonghwa said, fishing into his pocket. He checked the caller ID. “It’s HJ.” He said, confused. “Didn’t we just leave?”

“Then it must be important. Answer it.” Zelie said, still catching her breath.

“Hello. Slow down, I can’t understand a word you’re saying. Wait, what? By who? Where are they taking him? Fuck. Shit. Okay, okay. We’re on our way. Just hang on.” He hung up, running his hands through his hair. “C’mon Zelie.” He said, frantically rushing out of the room.

“Where are we going?” Zelie asked, right behind him.

“The hospital. It’s Minjoon.”

Stephie here! Just a quick update until I can write again, which will probably be in 2 days or so. I know I’m still dragging it out but it’ll all make sense next chapter so please please bare with me!

#ateez #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez junho #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez angst

11 notes · View notes

showcub · 6 years

Text

boyfriend!au shownu

you were working as a part-time barista at a small cafe near your uni

because you were always broke as hell and the financial aid was not enough

also you did not want to burden your parents to cover your monthly expenses

studying + working + extra curricular activities took up a lot of your time that you never even had a crush on a guy eVER

like sure that one guy in programming is fine but you knew you were wayyyy out of his leaugue

your friends set up different blind dates to widen your dating experience but they never work out

like that one guy is okay but he never pay for any your meals and is conSTA NT Ly brOke and always trying to get on your nerves

the other guy was sO full of himself and that just disgusts you and never saw him ever again

but one day you sat there behind the counter and then you heard the bell rang and your head instantly moved to look at the door

and goddamn

what a hot guy

with muscular arms wearing a white shirt and some ripped jeans

with his bed head he sO CUte but also hOT like the duality

and he came straight to you and you words get twisted and got some lump up in the throat

“h-hi, h-how can i-i help y-you?”

he chuckled (tHAT CHUCKLE) and you felt that cupid arrow shot right on that spot on your heart

“one iced americano, please.”

and you took the cash with your trembling hands and he just look at you

“first day, i guess?”

and you’re like…………………….no//…………………………………..

and he’s like……………second day????

and you’re like no………………….probably 87th day………………………….

anyway he picked up the pager and went to sit at one of the tables and wait

and you immediately squealed and hide behind the counter and your coworker looked at you like “don’t tell me you don’t know who that is-”

your face were so blushed and you’re just like “JUST TELL ME WHO THAT IS”

“he’s shownu you dumbass, he goes to your uni and apparently the guy every girl is chasing after”

then you realised that he was just another guy out of your league

you got up and saw he was picking up his drink and when he was about to make his way out of the cafe you shouted “HAVE A NICE DAY”

he turned around and smiled and winked and your heart,,,,,,your pitiful heart,,,,,,the merciless wink…/.///..

and the very next day he kept coming back and that it became a daily routine and a necessity for him to come and get himself ‘the usual’

and you’re just like please have mercy on my weak heart don’t make me fall for you every single day and he just kept coming back everyday

and one day you were sick and had a day off and your coworker texted you “y/n!!!!!!!!!!!! the g OD shownu came looking for you”

so you squealed jumped screamed let out the biggest uwu ever then you’re like please don’t make this kind of joke

but she’s like i’m not kidding………………………

then the next day you came to work and HE CAME

he went like “you weren’t here yesterday”

and your heart went boom boom BOOM BOom MOVOVMDBEBJKA

“i was sick” then he gave you the cash as per usual but he slid a piece of paper between it and when you were counting the cash

you saw it and read the paper

“i’d like to get to know you better. meet me down the street when your shift is done tomorrow so that i’ll know the feeling is mutual”

you could’ve sworn your cheeks were the pinkest pink and he just smiled and said “get well soon”

and you looked over to your coworker like yOU DIDNT JUST TELL HIM WHEN MY SHIFT ENDS

and she’s like thank me later ok

so the next day you didn’t contemplate at all to meet him or not

but after your shift ends you and your coworker like fixed your hair and sprayed some mist and changed to your outfit (read: a shirt, a pair of jeans and converse)

and she’s like you knew you were going to meet him yet you dress so boring

but you just shook it off because it’s freaking 10 PM and you just gotta be yourself ladies ;)

so you grabbed your bag and nervously walked down the street to find him leaning over the lamp post while watching you walked over to him

and he flashed that smile and he’s just like i should introduce myself properly so he cleared his throat and lend out his hand for a handshake and goes “i’m shownu and i’m an actuarial science major”

hOL UP i thought you were into some PE shit or something but instead you took his hand into a handshake and just said “i’m y/n and i’m studying software engineering”

and you guys walked around the city playing 20 questions (but it was more than 20) to get to know each other and good lord you learned a lot about him

said his hobby is dancing and he was in a dance crew and entered a lot of underground dance battles and he wasn’t into sport that much just he likes to work out to be fit

and he looked at you with full awe and adoration

whenever you guys walked side to side your hand brushed with his and gave you a tingling sensation

the temptation to intertwine your hand with his is real

when it was almost 12AM he brought you to a diner where you guys shared a vanilla milkshake because you insisted that it was violating your diet but he’s just like you know you beautiful whatever size you are

and it was almost 1AM that both of you were back at the dorm where he showed you where to sneak into the uni compound without getting caught

and he’s like jump i’ll catch you but you were so scared to jump off that 5 ft wall but you jumped anyway

and he caught you and you both stared into each other’s eyes and just

you cleared up your throat and he put you down and he was just awkwardly scratching the back of his head

and you gave your phone to exchange numbers

and you guys said goodbye once again and he just pulled you closer and leave a kiss on your cheek and bring his lips to your ears and whispered looking forward to more dates

and he turned around and gave you a wink and he shouted “HAVE A NICE DAY”

so the months passed by and you guys went on a lot of d a t e s but one day he was waiting you at the iconic lamp post and he said “i’m going to do something and only react if you feel the same”

BOY hOL UP WHATCHA SAy-

he cupped your face and brought his face closer to yours and his eyes were staring at your lips which made you did the same thing so you closed your eyes

he gently crashed his lips against yours and your lips danced with his

and he stopped and you opened your eyes just to see that SMILE and he’s like “be mine?” and you just “yes please” and kissed him once again

so dating “the guy every girl was chasing after” was pretty wild like the news spread throughout the uni like realllly fast

and they were some girls like quESTIONINg,,,, why,,,,, y/n,,,,like ???? the audacity ???? really ???????

but your friends were the happiest

because y/n………….finally……..hAS A BOyfrIEND and thE bOYfRiEnD was g0d shownu himself like///

anyway every saturday night is the “new restaurant tryout” and most of the new restaurants you guys went to were good and shownu being shownu would 11/10 come back

and you would come over to the dorm and binge on pretty little liars which shownu never watched

and you ACCIDENTALLY spoil the plot for the next episode and he was like pouting

sometimes you two got very busy with uni that you guys almost didn’t meet for one whole week and he missed you

so he came over to your dorm and cuddle in bed while catching up with each other while giving you back rubs

he ’’’’’’’’’’lends’’’’’’’’’’ you a lot of his sweatshirts and once you gave it back to him and he said keep it but you were like i’m not giving it back

and he scrunched together his eyebrows what do you mean?????

so you explained “i’m returning it so you can wear it and have your scent on it and give it back to me” and he smILED THAT SMILE and gave you a peck on the lips

when the finals were coming up you two would hang around in the library to have a revising session and five minutes in he already put his head on the table

and you keep encouraging him like WE CAN DO THIS

and he’s like yes YOU can do this

and you’re like NO WE CAN DO THIS

and he’s just like……………..ok……………………………….and he let out the loudest WE CAN DO THIS and the everybody were looking at you two and the old library lady literally gave you the first and last warning

you two would just go on lunch dates and he got his phone out and facetimed his mum just to show how beautiful his girlfriend is

you love subway rides with shownu because you would share the earphones and let him pick the music and the music always suit the vibes

sometimes you would follow him up to his dance practices you definitely swerve when the beads of sweats would cover up his whole body and how his dance moves were really sharp and smooth and.......hot

that one time he came over to your dorm and once he hugged you he could feel,,,,,the wet vibes.,,,, like sHOWNU IS CrYING WELP

and you just hold him tight and and caressed his body and kissed his forehead and he got all soothed up

you rarely fight with him but whenever yall fight he’ll be so frustrated and couldn’t even leave you alone

when you said “leave me alone” he was thinking hard if it was a sign for him to leave or to just hold you tight

but he’ll be the one to apologise first and you....would always feel sorry about that.....because sometimes....you know....it wasn’t his fault....but your ego

he’ll be the first one to say i love you and his face got all red and he started beating himself up when you didn’t say it back and you found it cute and beautiful and you just love him so fucking much

he likes to play with your hair a lot so you taught him how to braid and do fishtail braid

and sometimes you would find random tiny cute lil braid on your hair and it’s just too cute

it would be so fun to cook for him because he eats everything, anything

one time he said he craved homemade pancake so bad

so you decided to make one for him for breakfast but you definitely forgot you put it on the stove

so one side of the pancake is burned

but he still eats it and gives you forehead kisses for cooking for him

shownu: it’s made out of love

this is my first time writing an au! if you all have any request, i’m always open and i would love to get some feedback or critics in which i can improve. please bear with the grammar and the tenses i was so into it i didn’t even know when to use present or past tense!

find more from the series: boyfriend!au wonho, boyfriend!au minhyuk, boyfriend!au kihyun, boyfriend!au hyungwon, boyfriend!au jooheon

boyfriend!au i.m coming up soon!

#monsta x scenarios #monsta x imagines #monsta x shownu #monsta x #boyfriend! monsta x #boyfriend! shownu #monsta x reaction #boyfriend!au #monsta x scenario #monsta x imagine #monsta x au #boyfriend!au shownu #monsta x fluff

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3rddrawerdown · 6 years

Text

One And The Same (Part 8)

Warnings: Fluff.

Pairing: Peter Parker/Spider-Man x Reader

Peter woke to his spider sense. When the doorknob rattled, he found himself on the ceiling.

"Y/N, your father and I are leaving. It's time to get up. Don't be late." Your mother closed the door behind her. You groaned, rolling over into Peter's still-warm, recently vacated spot. You opened your eyes to find Peter on the ceiling. He was in his underwear, and your eyes traced his abdominal muscles in the early morning light. Behind tousled brown hair, his eyes were wide with anxiety. You smiled up at him, slowly pulling the sheets up to your face. God, he was cute.

The front door lock clicked, but Peter remained on the ceiling, just to be sure. "You can come down, now, Peter. They're gone."

Slowly, he peeled himself off the ceiling and gently dropped onto your bed. Careful not to squash your legs, he crawled up until he was practically on top of you. "Good morning."

"Good morning," you responded, bringing a hand to his cheek and pulling him in. You felt his weight increase as he sank into you and the kiss. The scent of him filled your nose as happiness filled your heart. It was magical. Again. You could have stayed like that forever, but you did have to get to school. You wiggled out from under him, and he stuck his lower lip out in protest. "I know, I know. We can't be late to school, though!"

Peter sat up. "Shoot. I don't have clothes. I only have what I wore yesterday."

"I have plenty of t-shirts that will fit you. Don't know about pants, though."

"I can just wear my jeans again. The shirt would be nice, though."

You got up and pulled a plain black t-shirt out of your closet. You handed it behind you, without looking, but he grabbed your hand as well as the shirt. He spun you around into his arms and kissed you on the spot.

"Be prepared for a lot more of that." He grinned, eyes smiling and full of heart.

Your heart beat a little bit faster. "I'm not just prepared, I'm expectant." You kissed him back, then pushed him away, walking out into the hall. "We really have to get to school, though. You grab a shower, if you want, and get dressed. I'll go fix something quick for breakfast.

He called out to you in the hall, and you could hear the smile in his voice, "can we just have cup-pies?"

You couldn't help the overwhelming feeling of joy at the knowledge that that goofball was yours. You fixed some eggs and toast, then went to get dressed. Peter was in your room.

"Hey, where did you put that shirt?" His wet curls glistened against his forehead, and a few drops of water fell onto his bare chest. His abs disappeared behind the white towel wrapped around his hips.

"Where did I..." you trailed off, distracted. "Oh, never mind. I put it over here," he spoke slowly, as he crossed to you. He sidled up to you, hips pressed to yours. A few drops of water fell onto your face as he looked down at you. His eyes glinted with a hint of mischief. He knew what he was doing. You melted into the gentle kiss he laid upon your lips as he reached behind you. He pulled away as he grabbed the shirt from the back of your desk chair. You watched his muscles move as he reached up and over to pull the shirt on.

The spell broke as the curtain closed on the show."There's eggs and toast in the kitchen, when you're ready. I'm going to get dressed." You stretched up on your tiptoes to kiss him.

Peter placed his hand acknowledgingly on your waist and kissed you back. "I'll meet you out there, then." He went to the kitchen.

You searched for clothes in the closet. Things were so easy with Peter. It was like nothing and everything had changed. You were puzzle pieces, falling perfectly into place together, and perfectly into the rest of life's jigsaw. Everything made sense, and it had barely been twleve hours. Not even. You rejoined Peter in the kitchen.

"Ready to go?" His lips curved into a smile when he saw you.

"Yep! We don't want to be late." You locked the door behind you, and Peter took your hand in his as you left for school together.

As the two of you left the building, a figure watched from an adjacent rooftop. The Vulture saw Peter leave the building with a girl. Peter Parker. Peter Parker who had just broken up with his daughter. He also noted that Spider-Man had never come back out of the window that night.

Adrian Toomes put two and two together. The red thing he shoved back into his hoodie pocket that night? Fuming, he began to plot.

On the subway, you and Peter strategized. The whole school knew by now that you had turned him down, big time, yesterday. It had been pretty public in the middle of the hallway. He broke up with Liz on Friday. It was only Tuesday and... there really just wasn't a good explanation. You came to an agreement to just be happy. People could say what they wanted.

When you arrived in front of the school, you felt Peter's hand slide into yours, fingers interlocking. He squeezed, reassuring you.

As you walked up the steps, a familiar voice called out, mockingly, "It's Penis Parker!" Flash continued, "How's that single life treating you?"

Flash couldn't see you on the other side of Peter, who held up your intertwined hands for Flash to see. "Why don't you tell me, Flash? I wouldn't really know." Flash was at a loss for words as you continued up the steps and into the building. Peter couldn't keep the proud smile from creeping onto his face.

"Brutal, Pete," you started, "but totally called for." A grin crept onto your face.

Peter returned your smile. "Yeah, that felt pretty good." The warning bell rang. "See you in chem?"

You nodded and turned to go, but he caught your hand and pulled you back. You smiled and kissed him, a moment longer than a peck. "I have to get to class, or I'll get a detention this time. I've been late twice already."

"Twice?"

"Yeah, you kept me up pretty late a few times, with your late night visits, Spidey."

"Shh!" He glanced around nervously, but the halls had emptied in anticipation of the final bell. "Okay, okay, see you in a bit." He kissed you again, quickly, before jogging down the hall to his class. You smiled, cheeks warm, and hurried the other way to your own.

Outside chem, you waited for Peter. You were looking down at your phone when a force knocked your books out of your other arm. Your eyes shot up in time to catch Liz's red-rimmed glare before she turned and continued down the hall. Bending down to pick the books up, your bag fell off of your shoulder, spilling its contents onto the floor as well. You groaned. Of course.

"Riding the struggle bus, today, are we?" Michelle bent down and picked up a book and a few pencils.

You accepted them from her outstretched hands before standing. "You could say that."

"I did." Then, she nodded behind you, before entering the lab, "'Bout damn time, by the way."

You turned in time for Peter to sweep you up into a kiss.

"Mmmmmh, I missed you," he said against your lips.

You pulled back, smiling. "It's only been two periods, Peter."

"Two periods is too long," he mumbled into your neck.

"Peter, if you keep up this PDA, someone's going to say something."

"Let them. I can't help that I'm completely in love with you." His eyes went wide as he suddenly pulled back. "Infatuated! I meant... infatuated. Um..."

You stared back at him, not sure what happened. "Oh, uh, okay." You changed the subject. "Hey, so I've gotten to be pretty good friends with Michelle, since I've been her partner and sitting with her at lunch. Will you be okay if I stay her partner?"

"Oh, yeah suresure." He lowered his voice and casually glanced around. "I need to work on my web fluid anyway, so not having a partner will be beneficial."

"You make that? Is that what you do in that drawer all the time?"

He laughed, a gentle and full sound. "Yeah, I can't very well do it in the open. I'm working on a longer lasting formula. I've got a permanent fomula, and a relative quick-dissolve, but I've been having a hard time developing something in between."

You gushed up at him. "You never cease to amaze me, Peter." You rose up on your tip-toes and kissed him on the nose. "I'll see you after class, okay?"

He quickly leaned in, stealing a full kiss. "Sounds good to me." He smiled, and you both entered the classroom.

You took a seat next to Michelle. "So, you and Parker, huh? Called that one in the air. Took its time coming down, though."

You chuckled. "Shut up, Michelle."

She hesitated. "My friends call me MJ."

You glanced at her, but she didn't make eye contact. "Shut up, MJ."

She glanced up, catching your smile. The corners of her mouth turned up a bit, but she didn't say anything as the teacher started talking.

Class ran a little late, so you didn't see Peter after class. After Art, you and MJ went and grabbed your lunches from your lockers. Yours was blocked.

"What do you want, Liz?"

"I want to know what happened. You turned him down yesterday. Was that just a show for me?" She crossed her arms.

You rolled your eyes. "No, that was not a show for you. Believe it or not, Liz, the world doesn't revolve around you. If you must know, we talked. We talked and realized what was there, and acted on it. That's it." You reached for your locker, but she threw an arm across the door.

"This isn't over, Y/N." Then she huffed and stormed off.

MJ leaned against the locker beside yours, staring after Liz. "Girl's crazy, man. Damn."

You tried to let your irritation die down. "Whatever. She'll get over it. I didn't do anything wrong. It's not like we were even friends to begin with."

MJ rolled her head towards you. "You know that doesn't matter in girl world."

You sighed. "I know." You picked your lunch out of your locker and closed the door.

Peter never showed at lunch, and he wasn't in gym.

After school, you tried calling him, but he didnt pick up. The phone was ringing when you caught sight of a bunch of students crowded around one of the TVs in a classroom. Once you were close enough to make out what was happening, your stomach dropped. The news was on. It was live. There, in the middle of the screen, was Spider-Man, straining to hold together the Staten Island ferry, which was split in half. You gasped and a couple kids turned to look at you, but quickly turned back to the screen. You watched in horror as the webbing holding the thing together began to snap throughout the ferry. As more and more of the strain fell onto the boy in the red and blue suit, you feared Peter himself would be ripped in half.

Just as you were sure he couldn't take it any longer, the camera zoomed out to capture the arrival of Iron Man. As the strain on Peter was lifted, you let out a breath of relief you hadn't realized you'd been holding. With Iron Man's technology, the ferry was roughly welded back together and on it's way within minutes.

The screen switched back to the anchors, who began to discuss the event. You started home, and texted Peter on the way, asking him to call you or come see you as soon as he could.

Once you reached home, you closed your apartment door behind you and headed for your room. A figure sat on your bed, head of unmistakable hazelnut curls in his hands.

"Peter!" He slowly lifted his head and stood as you threw yourself at him. "Oh sweet universe alive, Peter, you're okay! I saw the whole thing on the news! Oh, Peter, thank the powers that be," you looked down at what he was wearing. He wore pajama pants and an oversized tourist shirt. You looked up at him, questioningly.

His eyes lacked their usual shine as he explained. "I... he...'If I'm nothing without the suit, I shouldn't have it.' He took it back. Mr. Stark took the suit back."

"Oh, Peter," you sat with him as he collapsed back on the bed, head in his hands again. Empathetic heartbreak washed over you as you felt it radiating off of him. "Peter, I'm so sorry." You lay back against the wall, pulling his head down into your lap. You tried to reassure him, while running your fingers through his hair, but you weren't sure what to say. This... this was bad. There wasn't much you could say to him.

Just being with you seemed to help, though, even if just a little. You cuddled him, changing positions every now and then, late into the evening. Eventually, he had to leave. May tried to reach him a few times, but he ignored the calls, so he had some explaining to do. You kissed him on the cheek and he stood up to leave. He stopped at the door, and turned around. "Y/N, I don't know how I'd get through this without you."

You stood and crossed to him. "You won't have to do this without me." You hesitated, before looking up into his warm brown eyes. "You won't have to do anything without me. I'm here for the long haul, Peter. I always have been."

His eyes glossed over, welling up just a bit. He blinked the tears away. "Y/N, I... i don't want to... I just... you should know..." he looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. Exhaling, he closed his eyes and continued, attempting to spill what was on his mind. "Look, maybe it's too soon. I mean, it's hardly been 24 hours,"

"Peter."

"But really, I've had our entire friendship to fa... Y/N, I... we've known each other since we were kids. I mean, it was bound to happen right?"

"Peter."

"You should... I just need you to know- and I don't want to scare you off, but-"

You reached up and around his neck, cutting him off with a kiss. Then. You pulled back, but only a few inches. Peter's eyes were wide and full of the proclamation he had been attempting to confess to you. "I love you, too, Peter. I always have. Peter, I always will." You stared into his unblinking eyes, watching him process.

Once over his shock, Peter's arms slowly wound around your waist. "Y/N..." Unable to contain himself, he closed the gap between your lips and sealed them with the truest, most sincere kiss you'd ever shared with him. The kiss was firm and soft in all the right ways. It was gentle, but deeply passionate, and sweet with just the slightest hint of lust. It was love, pure and true.

And, backlit by the light of your room, a pair of bright green orbs saw it all from the adjacent rooftop, confirming his suspicions and setting his plan in motion.

Taglist:

@paigeyisme

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nightttdreamers · 6 years

Text

You’re in the Band! (Klance fic)

Hi guys! Here’s the latest chapter for my fic, You’re in the Band. Hope you like it, feel free to show some love either here or on AO3

You’re in the Band! | 9,000+ words | 3/? Chapters

GUITARIST NEEDED! Join VOLTRON, an upcoming band who’s looking for YOU!

Lance McClain didn't know what to expect the day of auditions for the newest band member of Voltron. But he certainly wasn't expecting Keith Kogane, an enigmatic boy and his guitar, nor was he expecting to fall this hard for him.

“Hunk, Hunk, to the left!”

“I’m moving to the left!”

“Okay, wait, stay right there!” “I’m staying right here!”

“Wait, no, move forward!”

“Moving forward!”

“Aaaand…”

“We died.”

Lance groaned, tilting his head back.”We never survive level 36!” He whined, tossing his controller onto the couch.

Hunk looked up from his spot on the floor, folding his arms. “This game is stupid,” he mumbled.

“Yeah,” Lance agreed, pulling himself up from the couch. “Are there any pizza rolls left?” Bending over, he rummaged through the freezer.

“Don’t bother, you’re not gonna find any.”

Lance perked up, looking towards his friend. “But we got a new box yesterday, how could they all be gone?” The freezer was mostly filled with ice cream and whatever frozen treats were discounted at Target. However, the 2-for-1 pizza rolls Lance had scored yesterday were nowhere to be found.

“Maybe if someone hadn’t eaten my poke bowl…” The Samoan boy mumbled

Lance whipped his head around, cocking it to the side. “Really? You ate two boxes of pizza rolls because I ate a container filled with tuna and lettuce?”

“No!” Hunk exclaimed. “I only ate one! You ate the other yesterday.”

“Come on, man! I’ll buy you another one if it matters that much, jeez.”

“It was from that bowl place uptown! I was saving it!”

With a groan, Lance walked past Hunk, shaking his head. “And I was saving those pizza rolls, douchelamp. Now we’re both suffering. Happy?”

“Quite.”

After making a rather rude hand gesture towards Hunk, Lance grabbed his hoodie from the couch, slipping it on. “C’mon, let’s go meet up with Pidge and Keith.”

“And replenish the pizza roll supply.”

Lance chucks a pillow at the other. “Dick.”

“So, I got a question,” Lance said, looking over to Hunk, who was scrolling on his phone.

“Shoot,” the other replied, tucking the device away.

“Why didn’t you-” he was cut off by the sudden jarring of the subway train the two were in. Hunk stifled a laugh, grabbing a hold of Lance’s arm to keep him upright. “Thanks, man.” This is it, just ask him. “So, uh, why didn’t you tell me you had a date with Shay last week?”

Hunk pressed his lips together, taking his hand back. “I dunno, I just… Figured you’d freak out or something.”

“Freak out?” Lance repeated, quirking a brow.

“It’s stupid, I should’ve just told you.”

“But what do you mean, freak out?”

Hunk was never the best with words, and after years of knowing him, Lance could tell exactly when he was looking for the right ones to say. Hunk would clench a fist a little too tightly and look down, a telltale sign that he had no clue what to say. “I mean, you always get kind of jealous when you see other people in a relationship and you’re single so-”

“You thought I would get jealous?”

“Maybe,” but the forced smile across Hunk’s features said ‘definitely.’ “It was stupid, I should’ve just told you.”

“Yeah, but, it’s cool, man,” Lance said, which caused Hunk to ease, shoulders relaxing. “I get it. But, you can still tell me stuff. Even if you think I’ll get jealous or whatever.”

A smile spread across Hunk’s face as he nodded. “Yeah, totally. Sorry, dude.”

“It’s okay, we cool?” Lance asked, sticking out the universal sign for being cool, a fist. Hunked bumped his.

“Yeah, we cool.”

For once, the band didn’t meet inside the rehearsal space, opting for some hipster cafe instead. Perks of living in the city was that every street had a hipster cafe, most of them had free wifi, and there was always plenty of places to sit. Pidge’s favorite was Kerberos Brews, which was a good mix of 9-5 workers just trying to get along and millennials with too much time on their hands. That meant plenty of room and cool chairs, like bean-bags (Lance loved these that hung from the ceiling there). Plus, the coffee wasn’t too bad.

Lance walked in first, a smile spreading across his face as he inhaled the bitter smell of fresh coffee. Hunk followed behind him, with the same expression, except he spotted some freshly made donuts at the counter.

“I’ll grab you a drink and meet you guys,” he said to Lance, heading towards the counter. With a nod, the Cuban boy stepped towards the back area, which was for hanging around. In the corner was Pidge, hunched over her laptop, headphones in as Keith peered over her shoulder, sipping a drink and- wait,

Is his hair in a ponytail?

A slight turn of his head confirmed, yes, he was wearing a ponytail, and he looked good. Lance couldn’t help but imagine how nice he’d look with his bangs pulled back, maybe he could braid his hair…

“Lance!” He was snapped back to reality by a hand on his shoulder, Hunk, who was trying to balance a cupholder of drinks and snacks. “C’mon, man, they’re right over there.”

Lance nodded, walking over to the other two.

“Hey, guys,” Hunk said, plopping down opposite Pidge. She was at a small table, where her laptop took a good amount of the space, but left enough room for Hunk to set his tray down. Lance grabbed the one with the most whipped cream, assuming it was his, and pulled over a chair, straddling it.

“Whatcha workin’ on there?” He asked, pushing her screen down to have a better look.

Instantly, Pidge swatted his hand away and tilted it back up, greeting him with a slight glare. “I’m sending the final songs to Shay, I finished layering everything.”

“It sounds really good,” Keith said, putting down his beverage. Lance saw a tag sticking out from the side- is he drinking tea?

“Yeah, but we still need an album cover,” Pidge closed her laptop now, resting her headphones on it.

Hunk groaned, toying with the straw in his drink. “Why can’t we just do what we did last time? We never agree on covers.”

“What did you guys do last time?” Asked Keith, who was drinking tea! Who the fuck drinks tea anymore?

Lance, dipping his finger into the whipped cream and licking it, said, “It was a picture of the city at night on a black background, and then it said Voltron. I made it on my phone.” It was hideous, but the only thing they could manage to agree on. Plus, the album (is that one an EP too?) did pretty well, so it wasn’t that bad.

“It was heinous. I wanted to die and burn every copy,” Pidge said, snatching one of Hunk’s donuts. If it was anyone else, there probably would have been a riot. But, as put by Hunk, “tiny Pidge” needed it more than he did.

“You always want to do that,” he quipped instead, rolling his eyes.

“True.”

Lance put his hands on the table, straightening up. “Okay, but this time, it can’t be ugly. It’s gotta be cool, but also give a feel for what we’re about. Who we really are.”

“Lance in those stupid sunglasses, Hunk making out with Gordon Ramsay, I’ll flip everyone off, and Keith is shredding the guitar,” Pidge suggested.

“First of all, they’re clout goggles, you gremlin,” Lance spat, pointing a finger towards the smug Pidge. “Second of all, keep everything else. It’s perfect.” That earned a triumphant smile from the girl.

“What if we, like, made it look like a record? But, make it cool somehow?” Hunk asked, and Lance could practically see the gears working in his brain.

“Boring,” Pidge shot him down. “We need something that’s going to catch people’s attention.”

“A shirtless guy.”

Everyone went silent now, their gazes turning to Keith and causing him to shrink down. “What?” He asked, turning his hands upwards. “Always catches my attention…”

Pidge broke the silence with a loud snort, which then caused everyone to break into laughter. This was to the annoyance of some other patrons in the store, especially since Hunk had a loud, bellowing laugh. It made Lance happy just to hear it, but other people just trying to get their morning drink didn’t care for it. Keith was quiet, a mixed look of confusion and panic across his face. He really needs to stop furrowing his brows so much, he’s gonna get wrinkles.

But, he looked like like a kid who’s being left out a joke, (which is kind of what’s happening, but whatever) and Lance felt pretty bad for him. So, while Pidge cackled between “That’s gay”s, Lance pulled himself together.

“That’s actually a pretty good idea.” Now, it was everyone’s turn to stare at him. But, he did see a small smile tugging at Keith’s lips. “I’m serious. It catches attention. Plus, we could, like, paint ‘Voltron’ on it.”

Hunk nodded, pressing a finger to his lips. Pidge opened up her laptop and started typing away. “Lance,” she said, glancing up from it. “Do you still have body paint?”

He likes music festivals, and he likes letting strangers there paint his chest. Don’t judge.

“Definitely.”

Pidge closed her laptop. “Shirtless guys get a lot of recognition,” Lance doesn’t want to know how she figured that out so fast.

“Okay, but, do we need to hire a model or something? Who’s abs are we gonna use?” Hunk asked, looking around the table.

Simultaneously, both Keith and Lance spoke.

“You can use mine-”

“Mine, duh-”

Both boys stared at each other, then glanced down at the other. Lance felt pretty confident about how he looked shirtless, mostly because he worked hard to specifically look good without a shirt on. Keith was never spotted without a hoodie (seriously, did he own anything else?) so Lance just assumed he had nothing to show off.

Pidge snorted, holding a hand over her mouth. “Sorry, this situation is just too good.”

“Well, I know this rockin’ bod catches the eye of anyone who looks my way, so,” Lance trailed off, folding his arms and delivering his best intimidating look to Keith, who was unphased.

“I mean,” Keith began, looking around at the cafe. “I can’t really pull my shirt off and show y’all, so you can go with Lance.”

Y’all?

“Well, maybe we should, you know, check?” Hunk asked, nervous gaze flickering from Lance to Keith.

“Like, see who looks better without a shirt?” Lance asked, a smirk tugging at his lips. For some reason, he just really wanted to be better than Keith right now.

Keith shoved his hands in the pockets of his hoodie (why was he always in it if he felt so confident about his abs?) and shrugged. “I don’t really care who you pick, I was just offering-”

Lance cut him off, dismissing him with a wave of his hand. “Let’s do it!”

And that’s how they ended up back at Casa Del Hance, Lance and Keith both shirtless in the living room, Pidge wildly snapping pictures with her phone, and Hunk poking Lance’s stomach.

“Hey, buddy,” Lance said, pushing Hunk’s hand away. “It’s solid, no need to test.”

Hunk straightened up, nodding with his nose slightly upturned. They probably should’ve asked Pidge to judge, he took this way too seriously. “Of course.” Hunk cleared his throat. “As the official judge for this hot bod off,” he placed his hands on Keith and Lance’s shoulders. I just want to say both of you have beautiful bodies and you should be very proud of your hard work.”

That was true. Turns out Keith was somewhat of a gym rat, and beneath his hoodie was a torso that could’ve been sculpted by a sexually-frustrated, gay renaissance artist. Lance was lean and slim, with not much visible muscle, but he still looked good. However, Keith had the V. That’s right, those two little lines guys get above their waist when they’re really ripped. Keith fucking had it, and Lance couldn’t help but stare.

“Yeah, yeah, we know,” Lance said, rolling his eyes (partially out of annoyance, partially to pull them away from Keith’s chest).

“However, in my unbiased opinion, Keith should be the album cover.”

“Seriously?” Keith asked, brows raising.

Lance crossed to the couch, picking his shirt up and putting it back on. “It was rigged, anyway.”

“What a sore loser,” Pidge said, crossing towards the kitchen.

“Right?” Keith grabbed his shirt off of the coffee table, looking at Lance. Turns out, beneath the hoodie was also a black tank top, which wasn’t too surprising.

“I’m not a sore loser!” Lance snapped, whipping his head around to meet an image of Keith he will never get out of his head. The fact that he looked good shirtless was already established, but he had the most smug expression on his face- lips curled up in a smirk, one brow quirked as he shook his head. It made Lance very pissed off and mildly turned on. Wait, what?

“Where the fuck are all the pizza rolls?” Pidge shouted from the kitchen, accompanied by the slam of the freezer door.

“Hm, I dunno, maybe SOMEONE ate all of them,” Lance said, glaring at Hunk. He, of course, was not happy to be blamed for this, and instantly went into Petty Hunk Mode. This is when he paces, speaks with his hands a lot, and complains about everything and everyone.

“Really? You’re gonna blame me? Maybe if someone hadn’t eaten my poke bowl that they knew I was saving-”

“How could I have known you were saving it?”

“There was a post-it on it! That means it’s marked specifically for me!”

“Well I’m sorry I came home mildly baked and was hungry!”

“We have a drawer of cheez-its for the munchies! We do not eat expensive raw fish!”

“And we also do not enact revenge by finishing the pizza roll supply!”

“Oh my god, shut up!” Pidge stood between the two, reaching a hand up to cover both of their mouths. “You’re both idiots, we get it. Go make some popcorn or something, I’m fucking hungry.” Keith chuckled, covering his mouth. His shirt was back on (aw man). Pidge plopped down on the couch, and he followed after.

“You’re so petty,” Lance said, still glaring at Hunk as he headed to the kitchen to make some popcorn. Also, to put soap in his eyes to get that image of Keith out of his head.

Keith is hot, that’s a fact.

He pulled out a bag of popcorn, throwing it in the microwave as he heard the rest of the group chatter in the living room.

But I don’t even know him. Also a fact.

The muted rhythms of whatever music mixing program Pidge used could be heard, she was always making beats when she was bored.

So, I can’t catch feelings. Mega fact.

“Lance! Gimme a melody!” She shouted, turning up the volume on the laptop. Waiting for the popcorn to finish, Lance pulled out his phone, searching for some lyrics he had scribbled down earlier (definitely not while thinking about Keith).

“Hold on!” He shouted back, trying to hear the two simple chords Pidge was alternating through. The beat was kind of cute, shouldn’t be too hard to sing along with. The microwave beeped and Lance grabbed the popcorn, walking into the living room.

“Let’s hear this freestyle, Lance,” Keith said, and Lance averted his gaze. Don’t you dare fucking catch feelings now.

Lance took a breath, waiting for a good moment to come in. “Sometimes I feel like I just wanna go back to my old ways. You're telling me I'm silly, ‘it's no fun in the old days,’” he began to sing, glancing up from his phone and tossing the popcorn over to Hunk. “I'm such a romantic, I never remember how things truly happened, I guess you're attractive.” He didn’t even try to hide the side-eye towards Keith. “Or something.

"Boyfriend" or ‘boy, that's a friend’? It's easy just to pretend That we don't have something real, it's just how we feel.”

Pidge continued with the music as Lance vocalized a little bit, now sitting on the couch. Keith had the slightest smile across his lips.

“I'm feeling something, right? I wanna be the one you think about at night. And I wanna be the one that you would put up a fight for. You know that I adore, that even when you're bored I'd buy you anything and everything I can't afford.”

That’s where his lyrics ended, and Pidge noticed, stopping the music. “When did you write that, man? I’ve never heard it before,” Hunk asked. Lance simply shrugged, putting his phone down.

“Yeah, it was really good,” said Keith, and for some reason that meant a lot more than it usually did for Lance.

Okay, maybe just some feelings.

#fanfiction #voltron #vld #vld lance #vld keith #hunk garrett #pidge holt #takashi shirogane #lance mcclain #keith kogane #keith x lance #lance x keith #klance #laith #modern au #band au #klance fic #pining lance

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cowgirlangel95 · 7 years

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Them Ol’ Songs

1 | 2 | 3

Chapter 4: She’s Every Woman

Lucas sat in the learning center, staring absentmindedly out the window. The clouds were covering most of the stars that night, and the rest were masked by the reflection of the lights on the window. But that didn’t matter to him right now – Lucas wasn’t focusing on the stars like he usually would, especially at this time of night when most of the students were finally making their way back to their dorms. Or rather they were trying to, anyway as they stumbled along the sidewalk.

He pinched the bridge of his nose as he let out a frustrated breath. Sleep had eluded him ever since that night, and it was starting to show. Lucas still couldn’t figure out what went wrong between him and Riley that night three weeks ago over break, and what she meant. They had always gotten through hardships together. Why was there a sudden change in heart? A change so sudden he was still busy picking up the pieces of his shattered heart.

“Excuse me?” a voice asked, breaking the silence.

Lucas jumped at the soft voice, not expecting anyone to be in this area – except maybe the cleaning crew. He looked up to see a petite woman about his age with shoulder length caramel hair, sun kissed skin, and deep brown eyes. She looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite place where he may have seen her before. She was wearing a forest green cardigan with a white tee underneath and jeans. “Hi. Can – can I help you with something”

“You’re Lucas, right?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yeah? And you would be?”

She shook her head a little bit and sat down in the armchair beside his, curling her legs underneath her as she leaned on the arm. “I’m sorry. I’m Lauren – we’re in the same Calculus class. You’ve seemed rather tired or preoccupied the past couple weeks. When I saw you here I figured I’d ask if you’re okay. I have been meaning to ask, but you duck out of class really quickly.”

Calculus! his mind clicked. She sat in the same row as him, over towards the window while he opted for the seat closest to the door. “Sorry about that,” Lucas began, “I have practice on the other side of campus right after calc, so I have to get there as fast.”

“It’s okay. So… are you okay?”

Lucas let out another sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “No… no I’m not. Something rather unexpected happened about two weeks ago, and I’m not handling it too well.”

Lauren placed her hand on Lucas’, sending a chill up his spine. “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do? Do you want to talk about it?”

“Thanks, but no. I’d rather just try to get my mind off of it for now.” he smiled, albeit very sadly.

She nodded gently as she leaned back in her chair. “Okay, but if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here to lend an ear.”

Lucas lightly bobbed his head from side to side. “Maybe someday.”

The axe sang through the air as it easily slid through the chunk of wood and drove itself into the stump the wood was sitting on. Lucas yanked the axe out of the tree stump and placed another piece of wood onto the stump. He swung it again, sending the two halves flying in opposite directions and onto the ground.

He never did tell her.

Lucas wasn’t sure why he never told her, especially since they told each other most everything. However, when it came to Riley, Lucas never did say much – all Lauren knew was that they dated up until their freshman year of college. Maybe it was because it was too painful, or maybe because this lovely mess he was in now would have happened sooner. Lucas sighed as he pushed the memory from his mind and reached for his water bottle. Despite it being a bit cold for Texas in December, he was wearing only a white v neck tee and jeans – his red flannel shirt long forgotten about as it hung on a branch nearby. He wiped the sweat that had formed on his brow before grabbing his axe again and starting back to work.

He was so frustrated with himself. What in the world was I thinking?! How did I get myself into this mess? How could I let myself get into this situation?

If anything, not telling Lauren about what happened with Riley should have been a huge sign that maybe she wasn’t the one. They should be able to tell each other everything over time, even if it was still rather raw. But he thought for sure she was…

Lauren and Lucas sat by the fireplace in the student center after drinking a couple of coffees over the course of a few hours. Most of the students were out celebrating the homecoming win, while the two were content on cuddling on the couch.

After a while, Lauren turned her head to make eye contact with Lucas. “I love you, you know that?” she asked him with a beautiful smile painted across her face.

“I love you, too,” he said as he wrapped her up in his arms and kissed the top of her head. As he felt her melt into his side, Lucas closed his eyes and smiled. He realized that he could easily stay in this moment forever. It just felt right… like it was meant to be. In that moment, Lucas realized that Lauren was –

He drove the axe right through another wood chunk as if it were butter, causing the blade to become lodged in the stump a few inches. Lucas let out a frustrated groan as he tried to remove the axe, but it refused to budge. No matter how hard he tried it remained right where it was as if he wasn’t worthy to lift it.

“So, how ya doin’, Luke? You okay?” Pappy Joe asked.

Lucas turned to see his grandfather leaning up against one of the trees with his arms crossed and a certain look plastered across his face. He knew that look. Pappy Joe knew the answer, but he was setting him up. It didn’t help that Lucas had a habit of retreating to his grandfather’s farm whenever he was rather frustrated or deeply confused. There was something about the farm that helped Lucas clear his head… or rather, there was someone that helped him. And that someone was looking him dead in the eye.

He shook his head as he decided to abandon the axe and wiped the sweat off of his brow, casting his gaze towards the ground. “No… no, I’m not,” he replied as the other reason for his trip floated to the front of his mind.

Riley and Lucas were sitting on top of the roof of the Matthews’ apartment after Riley’s graduation party. The last couple of people had just left a few moments ago, and Riley was in desperate need of some alone time. Luckily for Lucas, she insisted that he should stay.

The two of them gazed up at the sky. Dark clouds were rolling in, but there were still a few stars visible – enough to make Riley happy.

“Can you believe that we’ve graduated high school already? It just doesn’t seem real,” Riley commented, her gaze still fixated on the stars.

Lucas shifted his gaze from the sky to his girlfriend sitting next to him. A soft smile graced his lips as he stared in amazement at Riley’s awe. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and brought her closer to him before saying, “Yeah, it’s hard to believe. Wasn’t it just yesterday we met on the subway?”

Even though Riley was fond of that memory, she found herself blushing. “Time needs to slow down.”

Lucas nodded as Riley met his gaze. “That it does,” he agreed as his eyes shifted down to her lips, and then back up to her. As the two started to lean in towards each other, a drop of rain hit Riley right on the nose. The two giggled as Lucas reached up and brushed it away.

Quicker than they could blink, the clouds opened up and poured down on the two. Sheets of rain were coming down on them as Lucas stood up. “C’mon, we need to head inside before we get completely soaked!”

With a mischievous grin, Riley stood up, but didn’t make her way towards the door. Instead, she darted towards the center of the floor and started twirling around.

“What are you doing?” Lucas called out to her.

Riley ran over to him, grabbed ahold of his hands, and dragged him back to where she was. “Having fun! Come on, dance with me! Live in the moment!”

Lucas chuckled as he twirled Riley around in circles. He spun her back into his arms, and the two started to sway side to side. As they moved across the floor, Riley melted into him and let out a pleasant sigh. After a few more moments, the two looked deep into each other’s eyes. Lucas leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her lips, allowing the warmth from hers to seep into his heart.

Pappy Joe walked up to him, bringing Lucas back to reality and making him turn to face him. “Y’know, the last time I saw you like this was about three years ago or so. Any correlation between the two?”

Again, Lucas sighed as he crossed his arms. “Sort of…” he trailed.

“Boy, you’re going to have to give me more than that.”

“Sorry, Pappy Joe… they’re kind of related so to speak. Lauren broke up with me… right before I was going to propose to her,” he started to explain as he took of his gloves and threw them onto the ground in frustration. “The reason why was because I ran into Riley on the subway on my way to meet Lauren, and I realized I still had all these feelings for her. I tried to put them aside because I thought for sure Lauren was the one for me, but I couldn’t; I kept thinking about her when I should have been focusing on Lauren. Heck, I completely forgot about Lauren when Riley literally fell into my lap again. According to Lauren, I was looking at Riley in a way that I’ve never looked at her… I’ve never felt so bad in my life,” he finished as a dull ache made its way through his heart.

Pappy Joe nodded as he crossed his arms. “So, what are you going to do?”

Lucas threw up his hands, “I have no idea. It felt so right with Lauren and I love her, but then Riley walked back into my life… a-and I’m just so confused!”

“Well, why did you allow Lauren to leave?”

Lucas raised a confused eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“What did you do when Lauren broke up with you? You told me at one point you thought she was the one. How did you fight for her?”

He thought back to that day two months ago and lowered his gaze. “I didn’t… not really.”

“So, why did you allow Lauren to leave?”

“Because Riley… she’s something else. Riley is anything but typical; she's unpredictable. Even at her worst she’s not that bad. She's as real as real can be. Riley’s every lover that I've ever had, and she's every lover that I've never had. When I was with her again, it made perfect sense…” he trailed.

Pappy Joe shook his head as he placed a comforting hand on Lucas’ shoulder. “Luke, you know I’ve never really believed in the ‘soulmate’ idea. I’ve always thought there’s more than one person out there that you could end up marrying. But in this instance I feel that I may be wrong. If you had met Lauren before you knew Riley, I think she may have been the one for you. However, Riley is something special. It’s clear that you still care for her, boy. When it came to Lauren, you were confused. But Riley… that was clear – despite all that’s happened. You need to talk this through with her and sort out what happened that night… soon.”

A/N: I hope this was satisfying to those that were worried! I had most of this chapter in mind when I made the decision to lengthen the story :)

This song was based on Garth Brooks’ song She’s Every Woman. Until next time!

#Girl Meets World #Rucas #fanfiction #update #Them Ol Songs update

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marcusssanderson · 6 years

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50 Letting Go Quotes For Finally Moving On

Looking for inspirational letting go quotes to help you make the tough walk forward?

One of the most difficult tasks any individual can master is the ability to let go of the past, and move forward towards their future.

There is a saying that depression is living in the past, anxiety is worrying about the future, and true contentment is living in the present. I know this to be true for my patients and in my work.

However, if an individual can learn to master the skills of letting go of past hurts and grievances they are holding on to, and to stop worrying about every possible case scenario in the future that can go wrong – then they can truly feel a sense of peace, and have a more successful and meaningful present, in all areas of their lives.

Below are some quotes on the ideas of letting go and moving on, that I hope will plant kernels of inspiration and grounding for your life. With this new found peace and lightness, great things can be accomplished, and your life can be more fully enjoyed.

Letting Go Quotes about Relationship

1.) “The truth is, unless you let go, unless you forgive yourself, unless you forgive the situation, unless you realize that the situation is over, you cannot move forward.” ― Steve Maraboli, Unapologetically You: Reflections on Life and the Human Experience

2.) “Incredible change happens in your life when you decide to take control of what you do have power over instead of craving control over what you don’t.” ― Steve Maraboli, Life, the Truth, and Being Free

3.) “Sometimes it takes a heartbreak to shake us awake & help us see we are worth so much more than we’re settling for.” ― Mandy Hale, The Single Woman: Life, Love, and a Dash of Sass

4.) “Every woman that finally figured out her worth, has picked up her suitcases of pride and boarded a flight to freedom, which landed in the valley of change.” ― Shannon L. Alder

5.) “If letting go, if letting people and things work themselves out in the way that they needed to without your help was the most important thing, then it was also the hardest.” ― Deb Caletti, The Six Rules of Maybe

6.) “When someone you love says goodbye you can stare long and hard at the door they closed and forget to see all the doors God has open in front of you.” ― Shannon L. Alder

8.) “When we think we have been hurt by someone in the past, we build up defenses to protect ourselves from being hurt in the future. So the fearful past causes a fearful future and the past and future become one. We cannot love when we feel fear…. When we release the fearful past and forgive everyone, we will experience total love and oneness with all.” ― Gerald G. Jampolsky

9.) “If you spend your time hoping someone will suffer the consequences for what they did to your heart, then you’re allowing them to hurt you a second time in your mind.” ― Shannon L. Alder

10.) “If you want to forget something or someone, never hate it, or never hate him/her. Everything and everyone that you hate is engraved upon your heart; if you want to let go of something, if you want to forget, you cannot hate.” ― C. JoyBell C.

11.) “There is no such thing as a “broken family.” Family is family, and is not determined by marriage certificates, divorce papers, and adoption documents. Families are made in the heart. The only time family becomes null is when those ties in the heart are cut. If you cut those ties, those people are not your family. If you make those ties, those people are your family. And if you hate those ties, those people will still be your family because whatever you hate will always be with you.” ― C. JoyBell C.

12.) “If you didn’t love him, this never would have happened. But you did. And accepting that love and everything that followed it is part of letting it go.” ― Sarah Dessen, Dreamland

13.) “I realize there’s something incredibly honest about trees in winter, how they’re experts at letting things go.” ― Jeffrey McDaniel

14.) “Let go of certainty. The opposite isn’t uncertainty. It’s openness, curiosity and a willingness to embrace paradox, rather than choose up sides. The ultimate challenge is to accept ourselves exactly as we are, but never stop trying to learn and grow.” ― Tony Schwartz

15.) “Being different is a revolving door in your life where secure people enter and insecure exit.” ― Shannon L. Alder

17.) “The greatest step towards a life of simplicity is to learn to let go.” ― Steve Maraboli, Life, the Truth, and Being Free

18.) “Love is never supposed to hurt. Love is supposed to heal, to be your haven from misery, to make living fucking worthwhile.” ― Mia Asher, Arsen: A Broken Love Story

19.) “The most difficult aspect of moving on is accepting that the other person already did.” ― FaraazKazi

Inspirational Letting Go quotes about Life

20.) “The beautiful journey of today can only begin when we learn to let go of yesterday.” ― Steve Maraboli, Unapologetically You: Reflections on Life and the Human Experience

21.) “We can’t be afraid of change. You may feel very secure in the pond that you are in, but if you never venture out of it, you will never know that there is such a thing as an ocean, a sea. Holding onto something that is good for you now, may be the very reason why you don’t have something better.” ― C. JoyBell C.

22.) “There are times in life when people must know when not to let go. Balloons are designed to teach small children this.” ― Terry Pratchett

23.) “Some birds are not meant to be caged, that’s all. Their feathers are too bright, their songs too sweet and wild. So you let them go, or when you open the cage to feed them they somehow fly out past you. And the part of you that knows it was wrong to imprison them in the first place rejoices, but still, the place where you live is that much more drab and empty for their departure.” ― Stephen King, Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption: A Story from Different Seasons

24.) “Some people believe holding on and hanging in there are signs of great strength. However, there are times when it takes much more strength to know when to let go and then do it.” ― Ann Landers

25.) “Even on my weakest days I get a little bit stronger” ― Sara Evans

26.) “Most things are forgotten over time. Even the war itself, the life-and-death struggle people went through is now like something from the distant past. We’re so caught up in our everyday lives that events of the past are no longer in orbit around our minds. There are just too many things we have to think about everyday, too many new things we have to learn. But still, no matter how much time passes, no matter what takes place in the interim, there are some things we can never assign to oblivion, memories we can never rub away. They remain with us forever, like a touchstone.” ― Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

28.) “I’m guilty of giving people more chances than they deserve but when I’m done, I’m done.” ― Turcois Ominek

29.) “I demolish my bridges behind me…then there is no choice but to move forward” ― Fridtjof Nansen

30.) “I just wanted to tell you that I understand if you go. It’s okay if you have to leave us. It’s okay if you want to stop fighting.” ― Gayle Forman, If I Stay

31.) “Letting go doesn’t mean that you don’t care about someone anymore. It’s just realizing that the only person you really have control over is yourself.” ― Deborah Reber, Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul

32.) “A star falls from the sky and into your hands. Then it seeps through your veins and swims inside your blood and becomes every part of you. And then you have to put it back into the sky. And it’s the most painful thing you’ll ever have to do and that you’ve ever done. But what’s yours is yours. Whether it’s up in the sky or here in your hands. And one day, it’ll fall from the sky and hit you in the head real hard and that time, you won’t have to put it back in the sky again.” ― C. JoyBell C.

34.) “One of the best times for figuring out who you are and what you really want out of life? Right after a break-up.” ― Mandy Hale, The Single Woman: Life, Love, and a Dash of Sass

35.) “If people refuse to look at you in a new light and they can only see you for what you were, only see you for the mistakes you’ve made, if they don’t realize that you are not your mistakes, then they have to go.” ― Steve Maraboli, Life, the Truth, and Being Free

Letting Go Quotes about Forgiveness

36.) “Inner peace can be reached only when we practice forgiveness. Forgiveness is letting go of the past, and is therefore the means for correcting our misperceptions.” ― Gerald G. Jampolsky, Love Is Letting Go of Fear

37.) “Letting go. Everyone talks about it like it’s the easiest thing. Unfurl your fingers one by one until your hand is open. But my hand has been clenched into a fist for three years now; it’s frozen shut.” ― Gayle Forman, Where She Went

38.) “The truth was, he now belonged only to my past, and it was time I begin to accept it, as much as it hurt to do so.” ― Tammara Webber, Easy

39.) “And I told him, I said: “One day you’re going to miss the subway because it’s not going to come. One of these days, it’s going to break down and it’s not going to come around and everyone else will just wait for the next one or will take the bus, or walk, or run to the next station: they will go on with their lives. And you’re not going to be able to go on with your life! You’ll be standing there, in the subway station, staring at the tube. Why? Because you think that everything has to happen perfectly and on time and when you think it’s going to happen! Well guess what! That’s not how things happen! And you’ll be the only one who’s not going to be able to go on with life, just because your subway broke down. So you know what, you’ve got to let go, you’ve got to know that things don’t happen the way you think they’re going to happen, but that’s okay, because there’s always the bus, there’s always the next station…you can always take a cab.” ― C. JoyBell C.

40.) “There ain’t no way you can hold onto something that wants to go, you understand? You can only love what you got while you got it.” ― Kate DiCamillo, Because of Winn-Dixie

42.) “Last night I lost the world, and gained the universe.” ― C. JoyBell C.

43.) “The day I understood everything, was the day I stopped trying to figure everything out. The day I knew peace was the day I let everything go.” ― C. JoyBell C.

44.) “Your time is way too valuable to be wasting on people that can’t accept who you are.” ― TurcoisOminek

45.) “No matter how much suffering you went through, you never wanted to let go of those memories.” ― Haruki Murakami

46.) “When you leave, weary of me, without a word I shall gently let you go.” ― Kim Sowol

47.) “Nothing ever happens like you imagine it will… but then again, if you don’t imagine, nothing ever happens at all. Imagining isn’t perfect. You can’t get all the way inside someone else… But imagining being someone else, or the world being something else, is the only way in. It is the machine that kills the fascists” ― John Green, Paper Towns

48.) “Today expect something good to happen to you no matter what occurred yesterday. Realize the past no longer holds you captive. It can only continue to hurt you if you hold on to it. Let the past go. A simply abundant world awaits. (January 11)” ― Sarah Ban Breathnach, Simple Abundance: A Daybook of Comfort and Joy

50.) “Sometimes the hardest part isn’t letting go but rather learning to start over.” ― Nicole Sobon, Program 13

Which letting go quotes stood out to you most and why?

Letting go and moving on of love, anger, expectations or burdens is never an easy thing to do. But it’s something we all need to learn if we want to discover better things in life. Hopefully, these wise words have given you strength and inspiration to do what you believe is right.

The post 50 Letting Go Quotes For Finally Moving On appeared first on Everyday Power Blog.

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