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jarofstyles · 4 years

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Teacher’s Pet

A/N: As requested, here is the first part of our professor!harry series. As usual, this we put our little twist on things and we hope that you enjoy! - n+d

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pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

warning: smut, mutual masturbation, use of sex toys

word count: 6.2k

While Harry tried not to show favoritism in his courses, it was hard not to be caring towards the students that showed effort but struggled. That was the case with little Y/N. She was young, pretty, had a bit of an edge to her. From what he had noticed she was kind and often let people borrow pens and once gave a diabetic classmate her muffin when she saw he was a bit pale and taking his blood sugar.

He wasn’t everyone’s favorite professor. He was a tough grader, had a bit of a resting ‘bitch’ face, and he wasn’t necessarily warm and fuzzy. It wasn’t what Harry wanted at all— but it had to be done so that the students wouldn’t just see him as a peer. He had learned that early in. He had to be strict and get respect or he would be stuck with slackers or people who thought he would ‘do them a solid’ as one student had tried to ask with a fist bump. But when it came to sweet students with dyed hair, a devastated little pout, and even watery eyes, he knew he would have to say something.

‘If you would like some help, please come to my office any time after 4. I would be happy to assist in figuring out the material.’

It was written next to a poor grade. He could tell that she had potential— she just wasn’t getting it. He also worried about her word usage. If what he thought of was correct, it would make sense why she was struggling.

School was never one of Y/N’s strong suits. From the beginning of her school career she struggled with getting the hang of concepts and her teachers grew a distaste for her because they thought she wasn’t trying. Y/N was a hard worker though, she did genuinely try, but her best was never enough. A few teachers pointed out that she might have a learning disability, but her parents denied that ever being a case. Her other siblings, both older and younger, were able to grasp concepts easily and were all incredible book smart in addition to being talented outside of school. It seemed that Y/N was just the bad apple of the bunch. Her parents would joke, but of course it hurt. She didn’t even want to go to college originally, but her parents forced her to at least try and get a degree so she wouldn’t be a low life. Y/N only agreed because they said they’d keep paying for her band. Of course, you can only really go to college if you pass though and Y/N wasn’t doing too well.

Professor Styles had always intimidated her, but he just took his job seriously. She could tell by the way he talked about everything that he was passionate about making sure people understood the deeper meaning behind these books and Y/N could appreciate that. It was just a shame that she struggled so much in his class. There were students that excelled in his classes and he was always giving them praise, little surprised smiles and nods, a small ‘good job’ or ‘correct, yes’ here and there. Y/N found herself wanting to try harder in his classes just to get a praise out of him, but she was too nervous to raise her hand even when she did know the answer. This was her third time getting a not so passing grade in this class and Y/N was growing more and more frustrated. She understood the material, or she felt like she did, but whenever it came to reading and remembering, she found herself getting stuck. Little frustrated tears formed in her eyes but she blinked them away, thinking she wasn’t going to muster up the courage to see him today.

But she did.

He had a soft spot for the students that he helped. It was human nature to care for those you spent time with. It wasn’t like how he thought about Y/N though. Okay— he knew it was bad. But he was intrigued by her. Why? He wasn’t able to pinpoint exactly what it was. Maybe her edgy look, maybe it was because she was seemingly submissive and every time he caught her eye she looked like a deer in headlights. She stares at him a lot, he could notice that. But he likes it. So he was pleasantly surprised when she came to his office, looking skittish but also curious. She needed help and he would offer it to her.

“Y/N, it’s nice to see you.” Harry adjusted his glasses and sat up straighter, putting the final mark on a test before looking back up at her with a gentle smile. He had to approach with caution, she already looked like she was going to shit herself. “I’m glad you got my note and weren’t offended. But I was wondering if you’d like some help.” He didn’t say what because he wanted her to tell him what exactly she was struggling with.

Y/N was very nervous, mostly because she didn’t like asking for help from anyone. She didn’t like to seem unintelligent in front of men, especially when they were as attractive as Professor Styles. All the girls on campus talked about how hot he was, how his dominance was a turn on and how none of them were properly able to focus in class. At least they were getting passing grades.

“Hi, professor...” Y/N said softly and closed the door behind her before taking a seat. “I, um... I’m not really good with asking for help.” She explained, pushing a few pieces of hair behind her ear before fixing her septum piercing. Y/N was playing with the hem of her skirt, one of her fingers playing with the fishnet stockings she had on. “I feel like I understand when you’re explaining it and then I go and take the test and it’s like I can’t remember anything you said. But I’m not good at academics anyway so...” Y/N let out a sad chuckle. Her self confidence was pretty low in all aspects, it was a shame because she was a pretty girl. She didn��t seem to think so, hence why she dressed up. At least her clothes she could control.

“Now, don’t say that.” Harry tutted. “I’m sure that’s not true. I bet you just have a different way of learning. If you understand verbally, but freeze when it’s written, that may be the case.” He hummed, flipping through the last work she had handed in. “My question is... it isn’t meant to offend you at all. But do you find difficulty in reading itself?” He approached it gently. You’d be surprised how many adults realize later on in life that they have dyslexia. They were labeled as not the smartest but he was because it took so long for them to understand because the words and numbers get jumbled up. “I’m asking because I notice in your writings, you spell things in a unique way. Or it seems the letters are flipped. This isn’t to embarrass you so please don’t be upset— we just need to figure out why it is that you struggle with the tests.” He leaned forward on his desk, licking over his bottom lip. She was beautiful. In that way when women didn’t know they were beautiful. He wished he could see more of her body— fuck, not going there. Absolutely not. Even though technically it wasn’t like he would be fired, seeing as half the damn staff fucks students. It was always that forbidden element. Either way, he was far too much for this sweet thing to handle. “I would like to help you if you would let me do so.”

Y/N felt really anxious, bouncing her leg to try and keep her composure. She didn’t think she was smart. She wasn’t good at math, wasn’t good at science, she was decent at English but even that seemed to be difficult now that she was reading classics that were barely in modern English. She just decided that learning wasn’t for her.

“I’m not a reader, no.” She shook her head, Y/N found herself having trouble focusing for a long time and when it came to reading words get jumbled up and she struggled a lot. Especially when she started thinking about it too much. Of course Y/N was embarrassed even though he said he wasn’t trying to embarrass her. It was more just her feeling incompetent. She didn’t like making eye contact with him for too long because she felt like he was staring straight into her soul. She was a bit shy and timid when it came to new people. She appreciated that he wasn’t judging her though. “I don’t know what you could do to help, but if you’d like to try we can? I—I don’t want to waste your time.”

“There’s no wasting time if it helps improve your learning, yeah? Please don’t think of yourself like that. You are an important person, just as important as my other students. I want you to succeed.” Harry promised. It kind of broke his heart that she was so sure that her time with him would be wasted. It made him sad that she felt that way. Why? “How about we set up a time... let’s say two days a week? I have time around now, so 4:15 to 5 where I can help you.” He normally wouldn’t do it for most but he wasn’t going to let her suffer. A passion project, so to speak. “I don’t know your schedule but I would be here during that time normally. I basically live in this office anyways.” He smiled in a joking way. “We can work on understanding first what was wrong and then we can have time to work on the new material.”

Y/N nodded her head in agreement, but it did make her worry. Of course she could only try her best but she was so used to failing that she wasn’t sure how much harder she could try. She was barely passing her other classes and frankly she was thinking about dropping out all together. Maybe she was the lowlife her parents made her out to be?

“Can do... Monday’s and Thursday’s..” Y/N told him, “if that’s okay, I have band practice on Wednesday’s.” She wasn’t sure why’s she told him but part of it was to show that she wasn’t just a stupid girl that she did have some talent or at least she thought she did. “It’s um... it’s really nice of you to do this, thank you.” She told him genuinely, though she was terrified of letting him down. He seemed so cool. He wasn’t like this in his classes, he seemed much more approachable this way. Maybe in another life they could have been friends or more than that... no, he probably wasn’t into girls like her. She needed a cigarette.

“Of course. You have my email if you need to reschedule.” But he could see right through her. Of course he could. “But... if you’re nervous, tell me. I can soothe the worries. I’ll be awfully disappointed if you don’t show up and don’t let me know.” He knew she was skittish. He didn’t want her to back out and not take the time to try at the very least. “Let’s just work on it a day at a time. I hope to see you soon.”

When she walked out, he was ashamed to say he was entranced by her ass. He was such a bastard for thinking about a student like that. So bad. But it didn’t stop him from seeing her eyes when he fucked his fist later that night.

----

The next couple of days left Y/N worried. Coming out of professor Styles’ office had left her feeling on edge, wondering if it was even worth trying. She felt like nothing would save her at this point but this was going to be her last attempt. If it didn’t work out she’d just drop out and couch surf. But she didn’t want to have to do that, her kitty Jinx would have to find a new home and that was something she certainly didn’t want. It was Monday and Y/N didn’t go to her classes today, feeling like it was justified because she was meeting with Professor Styles today.

If she was going to work on herself she wanted to be in the best shape possible, so she smoked some weed in the morning to get her day off right and got her things together before getting her skateboard and making her way to his office.

Harry was pleased when she actually showed up at his office. He was half expecting her to drop his class with how terrified she had seemed the past time, and he was curious to see how she had thought about what her grades and his revisions on her test. He had worn a dark red button up today with suspenders, his blazer off and hair a tiny bit messy. His glasses hung off the end of his nose while he looked up at her with surprise, before a smile came on his face.

“Y/N! I’m very glad to see you’ve come.” He hummed, sitting up and leaning back in his chair. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable on the couch. Would you like a water?” He had a mini fridge in his office. Without listening to an answer, he pulled one out anyways and handed it to her, rounding the desk so he seemed less scary. The desk was a position of power. One he loved, but also didn’t want to take advantage of when Y/N obviously was terrified of it. “Alright. So... you’ve seen my revisions?” He sat on the other arm chair across from the couch, glasses pushed up now with his copy of her paper. “Good. What do you think about your mistakes? Were they because you didn’t understand the material, or didn’t know what to say in paper?”

Y/N gave him a small smile, setting her skate board up against the side wall before taking a seat on the couch. No amount of weed could have calmed her down, she wasn’t even that high anymore it was just the residual feeling. Right now, she was more concerned about having to tell him what was going on inside her mind when she was working on assignments.

“I—I um... both?” She felt a blush creeping in on her cheeks. “I tried to like... watch videos about it, cause whenever I try to read I just get frustrated.” Y/N explained fiddling with the paper. She didn’t like this feeling, it was obvious that it was something that made her emotional which was why she didn’t really talk about it. She let out a breath, looking over what she wrote and seeing all the red pen. It made her want to crawl up into a ball despite how nice he was being. He was trying and so she would also try her best to keep it together. “I find it really hard to focus..”

“I don’t doubt that you do, Y/N. I’m thinking that maybe this isn’t something to do with your focus, but maybe it’s with your reading? You could learn differently than other people and that's absolutely alright.” Harry felt poorly that she was so sad and embarrassed about it. “Look at me.” When she didn’t respond he was trying a different tactic. Soft but very obviously meaning business. “There we are. Now, this doesn’t mean you’re stupid or unable to learn or do well in my class. You just may need to learn differently.” He stood up and grabbed a book from his shelf. “So this book— I got it online. It has some illustrations in it, and I find they’re pretty self explanatory. Maybe this will help you understand it better. Having an image opposed to words in your mind.” He handed it to her. She didn’t need to know he had bought it himself.

Y/N glanced up at him as he told her to look at him, seeing his face go much softer but his eyes still held that same intensity. She followed his with her eyes as he went to get the book. It was much thicker than the others due to all the illustrations but of course it made her feel like a little kid again. She just wished she could be normal.

“Okay...” She said softly, willing to try anything at this point. Of course she was nervous about going forward with his class seeing as she knew things would only get more difficult. Y/N gave him a small thank you as she looked through the book but part of her felt like it wasn’t going to work. No one was determined in helping her learn, they never have been. She’d always gotten very poor, passing grades because she assumed teachers felt bad for her or knew her siblings and assumed maybe she was just the rebellious one. “Sometimes I feel like I do better on the essays, cause I feel like I get it... but I end up getting better grades on the tests than the essays and it’s... disheartening.” She explained with a small frown, “cause I guess on the tests a lot of the time.”

He furrowed his brows, listening to what Y/N had to say. It made sense if she had dyslexia that she would be frustrated and upset with learning altogether but it was important to her and him as well, that she was able to do what she was meant to do. Whatever it was she had wanted.

“I think you should outline your essays more. Each body paragraph, with reasoning and thought. Come up with 4 to 6 reasons for each, word them how it makes sense to you, and write it that way. The structure taught isn’t the only way to do it.” He explained. Writing down on a piece of notebook paper an example of how she could do it. “I know it must be very frustrating— especially if it’s been years that you’ve had to deal with this. I understand. But I do have faith that you’re able to do this. You are intelligent, Y/N. You just have to figure out the right way to show it.”

Y/N let out a sigh, swallowing thickly as he gave her some advice on how to structure her essays in a way that would make more sense. She would try her best, especially with knowing that he was going to be grading things knowing what her situation was. Y/N was going to try her best to sound smart or collected, but she will admit she hadn’t been paying attention for years.

She pulled out a folder of her English work, pulled out the notes she had taken and the lay out for her essays and bit the inside of her lip. Y/N handed it to him and immediately went to pay with her own fingers. Observing him as he looked through what she had done previously.

“I—I try my best, I really do.. but anytime I get the courage to try it just gets worse and I go back to not trying at all because at least then I know I’m failing cause I’m doing it on purpose and not cause I’m stupid.” Y/N was trying to share her feelings to try and make him understand. “‘s really intimidating being in class with people who pick up information easily and I end up just tuning out cause it’s too fast for me to follow... and I don’t want to be that one girl that holds up the whole class with a stupid question.”

“You aren’t. If you have a question that you aren’t comfortable asking in front of everyone, you are always welcome to email me or come to my office at any time I’m here.” Harry promised. Poor girl. Jesus, what happened to her to make her self esteem like this? “You are very capable. Very much a smart girl. You need to tap into different areas of your brain. I promise, we can get your grade up together, alright?” He felt softness and fondness because he knew that sometimes professors weren’t the most understanding. Granted, he was only like this towards students that came for help— and oddly, even more so towards her, but still. “You don’t have to stop trying. You just need a different approach and we can help you find the right one. Do you like movies?” He suddenly remembered that. At her confused look, he continued. “Movies are scripts. Books. Visual. Do you find it easy to follow along with movies?”

She found it hard to believe him because no one really called her smart, ever. Y/N gave him a small smile and nodded her head, pushing pieces of hair away from her face before nodding and realizing she reversed the work she’d just done. He was a very nice man, it was clear that he was committed to helping her and it was definitely appreciated. She just didn’t know why he believed in her so much when no one else did?

“Well yeah... I can follow conversation and stuff.” Y/N let out a small chuckle, sniffling a bit before she continued. “I think another problem is I get too confused about things like.. the deeper meaning stuff in books. Like the themes and whatever you call it. Cause in my head I know what I think it means but then it’s meant to mean something else and then I think I just didn’t understand correctly.” Y/N was definitely more of a creative. She didn’t like following set rules, she liked going with the flow and following her own thing. It worked when it came to her music, she was able to focus then. But she taught herself guitar.

“I think that you need to first take the book at face value. Don’t look for the hidden meanings the first time you read because it will confuse you more.” Harry cleared his throat. She smelled really good. Like peaches and citrus. He wondered if her bed smelled like that, but stronger.

“Tell me some things you like.” He leaned back into the seat. “Things you think we can connect to projects. You said you’re in a band? Have a band?” He remembered that from last time. At her nod he continued. “You can find a song or make a playlist of songs that connect your head to the book. Say... Romeo and Juliet. Hmm.. check yes Juliet, We The Kings. If you’ve heard of that. You can find songs that help you remember.”

“Yeah, I’m in a band.” Y/N nodded her head a bit at him, “it’s like a indie punk thing...” She wasn’t sure what kind of music he listened to but he seemed young enough to think that indie music was good. Who knows, maybe he was one of those jazz guys with all the sweaters he wears. Y/N wasn’t one to judge though. The check yes Juliet reference made her chuckle, remembering middle school and highschool momentarily. He couldn’t be that much older then. “Yeah, I know that song.” She giggled and shook her head, “but yeah, I understand.” She spoke and took note of that in her mind. Y/N didn’t know how she was meant to explain to him that she spent the rest of her free time doing drugs. Tripping and writing music, hanging out with her kitty. That’s about it. Skating, going out in nature. Fucking. She definitely was a bit of a nympho. She assumed it was because of her need for attention.

“Okay. That’s good then. Use that to try and correlate.” He had felt weird watching her leave the room, seemingly in a better mood than she had been before but still nervous. It didn’t help that he hadn’t gotten laid and didn’t really want to have sex with someone else right now. God, if only he could spread her open and dip his cock into her soft cunt. That’s something he was dreaming of.

He thought about it the next night too. So, with his bored and needy thoughts, he went home and did his chores he needed to do, before he went to lay in his bed with his laptop. To be honest. Most porn didn’t do it for him. He much preferred erotic writing or even more so, cam girls. Sex workers deserved support and he always tipped well, though rarely talking in any of them. He was scrolling down the alternative tab when he found what he was looking for. Tattoos and plump lips, tits for a profile photo and a tongue sticking out. Interesting— and she was live.

He just never expected the exact woman in his head to be placed on the screen, smoke coming from her mouth.

Fuck.

Y/N wasn’t exactly sure how she thought about starting camming but it all sort of just fell into place. She started off just selling her nudes and videos for attention and money but then she realized that people would pay really good money to watch live stuff. It’s a good thing too because Y/N loved being watched. Her cams were usually regularly scheduled, but other times they were spontaneous because she was really horny. bbybunnie was her username, most people just called her pet names though, never by her actual name for obvious security reasons. She had quite the following too. People seemed to love her content. She was fun and bubbly and she felt like she put in a great show both literally and physically. Y/N had just done a bong rip, having her windows open to let the smoke out. She didn’t like smoking around Jinx so she’d let her in once she was properly stoned. She was dressed in a black crop top that said princess on it in gothic font, fishnets, and little black panties.

“Been really stressed lately with college and stuff...” Y/N answered a previous question as to what she’d been up to. “Working on assignments in stuff but it gets hard.” She pouted, turning her head when she heard Jinx scratching at the door. “One second.” She giggled and went to grab Jinx, leaving the door open so she could roam. “Here she is, say hi to everyone.” Y/N cooed in a baby voice. It was quite the sight. An alternative girl all soft with her cat, just starting the broadcast. Her vibrator was clearly in frame, already plugged in. A subscriber bought a heavy duty one for her.

And Harry should have clicked off. Right away, he should have exited the screen and said ‘gotta go’ because this was his student. His student he tutored and had fucking come on here to jerk off to a look alike. But he couldn’t. Not finally getting a look at her body. Soft and curved and delicious. Her tits strained the tank top and little tiny panties, some fishnets. Jesus fucking Christ. He let out an audible moan as he watched her sit back on the bed, talking back and forth with some of the comments.

He wasn’t sure what made him comment.

DaddyH: you look beautiful. I love the fishnets.

She did. And he loved them. A lot of the comments were dirtier but not to the point he could see it turning a woman on. He didn’t get an associates in sexology for nothing.

Y/N was pretty good with responding to comments, they were paying after all, but a lot of them were much nicer than most would think. Her community was used to her streams taking a bit to get going because she liked to get super horny, so once she was properly high she usually talked with her comments about things she’s been fantasizing about and what they’d like to see her do.

DaddyH. He was new.

“Hi daddyh, thank you! You’re new aren’t you?” Y/N said with an excited smile, she liked newcomers. It meant someone was interested in her. “Well we’ve got a special show on our hands then.” Her viewers loved when new people came because the shows were always better. She was visibly hornier. She shifted a little bit so she was leaning farther back on her pillows, bringing her legs up and out so she was spreading like a little butterfly. Of course the panties kept things covered but not much. Y/N pulled them up so they were tight on her, “Gotta get me real wet first, yeah?” She hummed, “love knowing you’re watching me... love when you tell me what you like...” It was strategic to talk dirty as if she was talking to one specific person.

Fuck shit motherfucker. Fuck.

Harry didn’t even see her pussy fully yet and he was nearly drooling. What the fuck had he done in what past life to get this type of luck? He wasn’t sure but he did know that whatever he did, he was thankful. He got a good look at her, her lusty eyes. He was a dirty talker. He loved to sex— fuck the English teacher in him. He loved making women a mess of whines and slick and speaking their darkest fantasies into their ears as the writhe underneath him. Y/N would be a fun one to play with. For sure.

DaddyH: you could play over the panties. They’re cute.

He had a thing for panties and fishnets, and she was going right to his kinks.

“But that’s no fun.” Y/N pouted at the comment, wiggling her panties a little bit so she could rub against her clit some. She let out a tiny moan and hummed, letting her hands move up her body to squeeze her tits through her shirt. She was properly eye fucking the camera too, teasing as she started to pull up her shirt. “I’m frustrated, daddy...” Usually she waited till she got a certain number of tips before she took her clothes off, but she was only a few dollars away so she pulled off her shirt revealing that she wasn’t wearing a bra. The tightness of the tank top kept them up, but these men seemed to love natural tits. Her hand slipped down to start rubbing over her clit over top her panties, letting out little breathy moans of pleasure. “Really want to be fucked...” She explained, “Wanna be full...” Y/N pouted and quickened her pace.

“Bent over a desk.”

Harry had a big oak desk he could bend her over and absolutely destroy her. If that’s something she would want. Harry would wreck her. His hand palmed Over his cock as he took her in and looked at her tits. He was an everything man but tits? He could happily suck on hers for an hour and make marks all over, just to listen to her mewl and feel her on his tongue. He squeezed over his sweatpants, feeling himself heat up as he watched her. She was topless, his student. His student was topless and rubbing her clit over tiny little panties, giving a pout and looking at the camera too fucking similar to the way she looked at him in his office today. And while his rational mind knew he wouldn’t be able to look at her the same— he would want to fuck her even more than he had— he couldn’t stop watching.

It was clear that Y/N’s interactions with Harry had spilt over into her mind while she was getting into it. It was that intense stare that he had, his ringed hands, of course there was also the tone of his voice. How he asked her to look at him that one time. She could only imagine him asking her much rougher and in a deeper voice.

“Daddy...” She whimpered out, teasing her own self over her panties as she read over the comments. Y/N giggled are some, loving he praise if men calling her cute and telling her she was pretty and her moans were turning them on. She went and took off her panties cause she really couldn’t take it anymore, revealing her fishnet covered cunt. “Want a better view, hmm?” Y/N smirked, moving to rip them right over the crotch so everyone could see. “I’m so fuck wet for you... look..” She said all excited, pulling her fingers back to show the strings of wetness on her fingers.

Harry was in heaven. Truly. Or hell, because he wasn’t able to be the one ripping the fishnets up and fucking her in them. Her thighs looked soft and delicate and probably so easily bruised. He could do some incredible work down there.

DaddyH: Lick it clean, sweetheart. I know it’s sweet.

There was no way she wasn’t so sweet that his teeth would fill with cavities. No way. He wanted her taste all over his tongue. He was a very giving dom, very much eager to make his lovers cum again and again and again so long as they complied with his soft rules. It wasn’t difficult.

Y/N’s stomach filled with warmth as she read over the comment, bringing her fingers to her mouth and sucking on them properly as if they were a cock. She was starting to like the Daddyh character. He was so sweet and polite in his choice of words, paid well. What was there not to like? She removed her fingers from her mouth giggling a little bit as she decided to show off some more. Y/N pushed the laptop back a bit, turning so they could see her ass and how she arched her back for them relieving that she’d had a butt plug in the whole time. Sleek and black with a little gem at the end. A lot of the things she had were gifts from subscribers. She had an Amazon wishlist specifically set up for them as well as a regular P.O. Box that then routed to her home. She had tons of back up fishnets, some used ones she sold online as well. Lots of other things. She quite enjoyed it.

When did she put that in? Harry needed to know. Was she wearing that when she was sat on his fucking couch? He would surely lose his goddamn mind if that was the case.

He tipped her $50, asking the question he needed the answer to.

DaddyH: Have you been wearing that all day, pretty girl?

The idea of her squirming in class occurred to him. And then the idea of a little vibrator inside of her that he had the remote to, pressing it on to see her reactions. He would buy her one, fuck. He would buy this girl anything if it meant getting to see her squirm and hear her beg him to let her cum.

Y/N wiggled her bum a bit, turning on her back again with a hum. “I’ve been wearing it all day...” She nodded, reaching over for her vibrator because she really couldn’t wait anymore. Everyone who streamed her knew she was impatient, sometimes if they paid a good amount she’d wait and tease herself first but she was needy today. She just kept thinking about professor Styles. “‘m so needy... been so horny lately, might be on for a while.” Y/N blushed, “or I’ll film some special requests on my onlyfans...” She smirked because she knew she would get lots of money for men begging her to stay but loads for custom content too. Y/N turned the vibrator on it’s lowest setting, starting to move it down on to her cunt where she let out a pleaser sigh. “I wanna cum so bad... just wanna cum.” She pleaded, reading to see what everyone was saying. Y/N turned it up a few notches, letting out a content sigh as she moved it over a specific spot. The feeling was indescribable and the noises that left her just showed how relieved she was.

Harry nearly fell over. Her ass was stuffed when she sat on his couch— and it wasn’t from his cock. Harry particularly loved anal, it was a very hot thing to him and the fact she hadn’t been warming his cock like that was near criminal. Truly.

“Sweet Jesus.” He breathed, finally taking himself out of his pants. Spitting thick on to the head, he spread it over his cock and waited for her to continue. She had an onlyfans? He would be subscribing and buying content. He didn’t give a fuck. He wanted it and it would be the best way to keep her close but far. He was watching how her legs trembled and her mouth fell open at the feeling, her body arching into the buzzing of the vibrator. Oh, how he would hold it against her and finger her until she squirted all over the bed and make her clean it up with her tongue. He was a sexual man but kinky more than anything. The idea of it all... it was so hot and wrong and taboo and it was even better in his cock’s mind that she was a no go zone. Made it hotter.

DaddyH: you’ve got such a pretty pussy. How many times can you cum?

Y/N read his comment and let out a whine, turning up the vibrator a few settings higher once again so she could get even closer to her brink of orgasm. “Let’s find out.” She breathed out and continued to crank up the settings. The closer she got the more she thrashed and bucked her hips both up and away from the vibrator. She was very enjoyable to watch she’s been told, specifically because she just couldn’t keep her mouth shut and that she was willing to take a lot. Y/N must have sat there for a few hours just making herself cum over and over again, both with the vibrator and the dildo she had. Once she was all fucked out, 5 orgasms deep, she just laid there and watched the comments roll in. She giggled at a few, breathing heavily as she slowly walked herself down from the blissful headspace she was in. “Thank you, I’m feeling so much better...” Y/N cooed, giving them a smile. “Have a good day or night!” And with that she’d logged off, happy that she had made a new regular.

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

[part 2]

A/N: bet you weren’t expecting that huh? 😈 and yes!! punk!y/n - n + d

let us know what you think!

masterlist

#writing #harry styles smut #professor!harry #professor!h #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction

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jimlingss · 3 years

Note

hi!! for the requests, could I suggest hoseok, fluff, fake dating au, and the sentence 'I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.' thank you!

↳ Humdrum Amore

2.7k || 100% Fluff || Jung Hoseok

“I never thought I’d come back here one day.”

You stare at the brown building that you once dreaded. The same structure that you had to drag your feet into every morning five days a week after your dad dropped you off. But instead of feeling apprehension, there’s a sense of prickling nostalgia while you look at the building.

“Same.” The man beside you exhales, staring at the green field, the brown doors and small windows covered by blinds. “But it’s not all that bad, right?”

You turn to Hoseok who looks sharp in his simple suit and tie ensemble. You’ve seen him in the same clothes plenty of times, but while you’re wearing your red dress and you’re lingering in front of the school, it feels like the two of you have returned to being awkward eighteen year olds nervously going to prom together as friends.

But Hoseok eases you. “Come on.”

He takes your hand, a gesture you still aren’t used to, and tugs you inside.

The moment the doors are open, you follow the signs leading to the gymnasium and you’re met with a table of refreshments and goody bags. But more importantly, there are people already mingling in all corners. Some are wandering while most have gathered into groups to reminisce. There are those that you recognize and those whose faces have long faded in your memories.

High school. A time of pubescent years, of growing up and trying to prove yourselves while figuring out your future. You have mixed feelings about that time. All you know is that you’re glad it’s over.

“Y/N?” There’s a higher pitched voice to the left and you turn to see Tiffany approaching with a wide smile. “Hoseok?! Oh my god, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you guys! How are you?”

You hug her for a second. “It’s good. You?”

“Yeah.” She exhales as if she can’t believe you’re together again and you admit, it is surreal. There was definitely a difference from glancing at someone’s post, status and updates on social media and seeing them in person. “It’s been great. I didn’t know if you were coming to this reunion or not.”

You smile, glancing at Hoseok. He was right about coming. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Someone walks by with a tray of cheap champagne and all three of you take a glass, thanking the waiter. Tiffany sips her drink and gets down to the nitty-gritty. “So tell me, what do you do now?”

You brace yourself, knowing this was coming. “I’m working as an embryologist at a fertility lab.”

“That’s so cool!” Her eyes widen and she genuinely appears fascinated. “It sounds super fancy.”

You laugh, concealing the note of awkwardness in your voice. Tiffany doesn’t know that it sounds much better than it actually is. It’s an entire step down from being a family doctor, an occupation which you once said was your dream. And she has no clue that you’re struggling under your strict manager, that you just received a cut in pay and your hours are strenuous.

But you don’t dare show your exhaustion. Or your discontentment.

You keep flashing a bright smile.

Everyone in high school expected you to do great, that you would go somewhere, do something. You were the smart one. The hard-working one. There’s always been a certain burden of expectations on your shoulders from your parents to your teachers, and perhaps that’s where the need to prove yourself to your former peers stems. If they knew how mundane and regular and normal you turned out — instead of being the successful achiever — you’re sure their disappointment would have a bigger effect on you more than you’d ever admit.

And maybe that’s why Hoseok offered to pretend to be your partner for the night after you grieved about not being with anyone, when you struggled to find a plus one. He knows you best after all.

“What are you doing?” you ask Tiffany, and she hesitates, looking down at her drink for a second.

“Actually, I’m in-between jobs at the moment.” She musters a smile. “The economy sucks right now.”

You sympathize. “Yeah, I know what you mean. It’s hard to find a job these days.”

Tiffany turns to Hoseok and when she asks what he’s been up to, he says, “Nothing much. I’m working in IT as a development manager for this company.”

“Oh, that’s super cool too!” She’s about to ask something, but then her eyes incidentally stray downwards. You follow her line of sight, realizing that she’s looking at the way you’re holding hands with Hoseok.

“We’re...actually dating now,” you explain.

Instantaneously, Tiffany brightens. “You guys started dating after high school? When?!”

You laugh awkwardly. “Two...three years ago?” It doesn’t sound terribly convincing, so you try a second time, standing your ground. “Two, I think.” It falls a bit short, but she doesn’t notice.

No. Tiffany absolutely gushes. “That’s so cute! Oh my god! I always thought you’d both be good together!”

That has you taken aback. The relief of getting away with your lie and not being caught gets overtaken by surprise. “Really?”

“Well yeah. You were always close friends and everyone,” she emphasizes the word by drawing it out, “knew Hoseok had a huge crush on you.”

This was news to you.

But Hoseok outright ignores your stare in favour of smiling at your old friend and holding up your interlaced hands by your heads as if it’s a trophy. “Well, looks like I got the girl in the end.”

“Are you gonna propose any time soon then?”

There’s a glint of mischief in Hoseok’s eye. “Maybe.”

He’s way too good at lying. You’re starting to get convinced this is real.

“Aw, I wish I was at this honeymoon stage again. Everything’s so sweet and cute.”

Speaking of which. “Where’s Nick?” you ask.

Tiffany deflates slightly at the question and you wonder if you said something wrong. You don’t understand until she says, “Oh….yeah...we decided to split up a few months ago.”

“Really?” You would’ve never expected it. From what you remember, they were one of the few high school sweethearts that actually made it in the long run, a couple that you used to be jealous of at sixteen. They ended up getting married too and you saw pictures of them traveling together a year ago. Who knew what her life was actually like behind the scenes. “I’m...so sorry, Tiffany.”

“It’s alright. Life happens, I guess, but it all worked out in the end and we both have joined custody of Sunny. It gets messy sometimes but as long as she’s happy, I am too.” She smiles softly and then nods. “Well, it was really nice to catch up with you two. I’m happy to hear you’re going out. Better put a ring on this one before you lose her, Jung.”

“I will,” he promises.

Tiffany leaves to catch up with a girl she knew from choir, so you both bid your goodbyes. But somehow, the conversation leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

After greeting a few more old friends and acquaintances, you leave to the hallway.

The nostalgia slams into you, stronger than before. If you stare long enough, you can picture the hall crammed with your classmates, how you ran from class to class, sat in the desks, bored out of your mind and at times, stressed. The walls and rooms hold so many of your memories without them knowing. And that in itself makes you feel old and gray, even though you aren’t.

Not yet, at least. Hoseok always reassures you that you have another good thirty years before you’re allowed to call yourself old.

Said man glances at your expression and reads it like an open book. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You sigh. “It’s just….I don’t know. I was trying to save face this entire time and I even went as far as to lie about our relationship.”

“You didn’t do it alone. I lied too.”

“Yeah, but I wanted this.” You shake your head, slowly rounding a corner and making your way down what you remember as the science corridor. “People probably have more going on with themselves than to care what I’m up to. I don’t know why I was so scared about what they would think about me.”

The corner of his mouth curls, and he nudges you with his elbow. “It’s high school.”

You lightly scoff but a smile tickles at your lips. “I just feel bad. Tiffany was so honest about herself, and she wasn’t ashamed about how her life turned out, not like I am.”

“No one turned out how they expected themselves to,” he hums in a thoughtful tone while glancing at the bulletin board tacked with handmade flyers for clubs. “It’s okay if you didn’t end saving the planet or finding the cure to cancer.”

You snort and soften. “Yeah.”

Hoseok always knows what to say to make you feel better.

“Look!” The peaceful moment is interrupted by the sheer volume of his voice. He points down the hall. “Our old lockers!”

You laugh, quickening your steps with his. The lockers are not technically yours anymore, they haven’t been for a long time and have probably been through tens of students since. Even right now, there are unfamiliar locks that keep them closed. But you still remember which one was yours.

You stand in front of it and Hoseok stands in front of his which is only three lockers down from yours.

The pair of you look at one another, exchanging grins. “Remember when I kept your math textbook for you since you were too lazy to put it away and we had to toss it to each other every morning?”

“Yeah. I never missed once.” He laughs and it’s a bubbly sound that’s exactly the same as back then. “Remember that time Taehyung stuffed himself inside my locker and we locked him in?”

You burst out laughing. “We almost got into trouble by Mr. Min!”

“Yep. That old man was always trying to pick on kids.”

“Except for that time Jimin launched that cake across the hall and it landed on some poor girl. He was nowhere to be found.”

Hoseok grins and comes over to lean on the blue locker next to yours, crossing his arms like he’s waiting for you before you’re late for the bell.

A sentimental feeling that is both wistful and happy washes you over again. You can recall those years as if they were yesterday. Namely, Hoseok would always be there when you closed your locker door, in the exact same position, staring at you with that identical warm expression. You don’t know a lot of your old high school friends anymore, don’t know what they’re doing or if they’ll come. It’s a natural progression of life, of going different paths and naturally drifting apart.

But Hoseok has always been your side. Since then till now.

“So.” You turn to him. “What’s this about everyone knowing you had a crush on me?”

Hoseok goes wide-eyed and says nothing for a moment. Then he scratches the back of his neck. “Just stupid kid stuff.”

You raise a brow and hum. “Didn’t sound like stupid kid stuff. How long did you even like me for?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“I’m curious.” You shrug. “I never heard about this before.”

Hoseok is embarrassed, that much is obvious. You can tell by the way he’s brushing around the subject, not looking you in the eyes, how much he’s hesitating. It’s not like him and that makes you even more intrigued. “A while.”

Maybe you shouldn’t push him so much when he doesn’t want to talk about it. But for some reason, there’s a burning desire inside of you to know. After all, you thought you knew all of your best friend’s secrets.

“What’s a while?”

“Like sixth grade?”

Your jaw drops. “So when we met?”

“Yeah..?” Hoseok seems unsure and he’s staring at the other wall as if it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. There’s nothing but a dirty shoe print on it. “Something like that.”

Now it’s your turn to be perplexed. Although, for an entirely different kind of reason. “But why?”

He turns his head, as if sensing you’re about to self-deprecate yourself. “You’re funny and smart and pretty, Y/N. Everyone liked you,” Hoseok explains it as if it’s factual and your cheeks grow warm.

You suck in your cheek, fiddling with the fabric of your dress. “Then why didn’t you ever tell me you liked me?”

“I was awkward and I was too scared you’d reject me,” he exhales and you glance at him to find an unreadable expression. Perhaps he’s uncomfortable at the idea now that he’s grown out of it and he knows you too well. Or maybe...just maybe...he’s filled with regret.

You shake off the thought before your imagination runs wild.

You’re about to drop the subject once and for all, but as you turn away, the quiet mutter slips from your mouth, “I wouldn’t have.”

Hoseok catches it.

He freezes completely and when you realize he’s not following you back to the gymnasium, you turn around. “Earth to Hoseok. What’s wrong?”

“What about now?”

“What?”

His expression is blank aside from the slight furrow of his brow. It’s not often Hoseok’s entirely serious and you’re caught off guard by his demeanour. He closes the distance in three strides and asks, “If I asked you out now, if I said I wanted to date you for real, would you reject me?”

His gaze is dark. Intense. As if he’s mustered up the courage he’s built for years for this very moment.

Your mouth opens, eyes unable to look away from him and your voice pipes out a timid— “no.”

In an instant, Hoseok’s mouth is on yours. Your back slams against the lockers as he cradles your cheeks in his palms, tilting his head to capture your lips carefully yet eagerly. You whine in his grasps and quickly reciprocate, moving your mouth against his. It’s soft, warm and comforting. Hoseok has always been comforting to you. A slow burn rather than a bursting firework that eventually fades away. A warm bonfire that’s built from the first spark rather than a forest wildfire that ultimately burns out after consuming everything.

You’ve always loved him. But perhaps it wasn’t always purely platonic like you thought. At least not until tonight where that’s been challenged.

Hoseok's body is firm and warm against yours. His knee is placed between your thighs and you loop your arms around his neck to get him even closer. Your senses are filled with his cologne, the lingering scent of his shaving cream and shampoo. Hoseok tastes like the champagne he drank and you’re beginning to feel dizzy from it. That or you’re running out of breath.

You whimper rather pathetically, but he doesn’t let up. Not until you push at his shoulder and he has to gather his self-restraint to part from you.

You’re left panting heavily against him, lips swollen and Hoseok exhales before laughing. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

You grin. “Always?”

“I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. Practically.”

Never would you have thought Hoseok would kiss you against your lockers. It’s another memory you’re making in these walls even after years of graduating. But you’d like a second time to make up for all the others, so you start to tug Hoseok’s tie to get him closer again—

“Hey!”

There’s an ear-splitting shout and the two of you flinch, whirling around to the end of the hall.

“You’re supposed to be in the gymnasium!” Old man Mr. Min is bumbling towards you with a cane, his voice surprisingly still full of power even when he looks like a sack of bones.

“Sorry!” You duck your head and before he can catch you, your hand entwines with Hoseok’s. The two of you dash down the hall as if you were still trouble-making high-schoolers.

Hoseok mutters in complete shock, “He’s still alive?!”

And you laugh, squeezing his hand just a bit tighter.

You return to the reunion and your heart is a bit lighter knowing this time, you don’t have to lie.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #hoseok fanfic #hoseok scenario #hoseok fluff #hoseok reader insert #hoseok x reader #Jimlings #Anonymous

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simonalkenmayer · 3 years

Note

I've been here a while now, and I've always had a slight nudging in the brain of it, but now I'm pretty convinced that your level of intelligence is what my father wished he had, but didn't and only used for ill will. He would talk circles around someone, yes, and he would use fancy terms and law speak, but he only did it in areas where it would help him stay as the party in power.

You, you'll talk circles around someone, but that person is being genuinely idiotic and harmful to either themself, others, or both at the same time. Him... With him, it was like a gun-toting republican prepper type decided to emulate your behaviors for their own gain, instead of using them in the way you would wish. I still strongly remember arguing with him over trans issues, throwing cite after cite and link after link of why anything queer is not unnatural - studies showing fish will change gender, snails are born hermaphrodites, etc - and the basis of his comeback was "Do you wish, then, to be treated as a fish? As like an insect? Shall our wildlife laws apply to you, then? You argue science, yet you do not have these beings genomes. You will never attain those genomes, either. Therefore, you must not be." And I am well aware that is, to any normal person, not the logical retort. Yet this man had such a high image of himself, as though he already knew all that you or your cousins did, that this made perfect sense to him. Hatefully, I can understand the line of thinking as well even though I don't agree with it. There are clearly defined points along which this line of thought travels and I can see where and what they are, but it's akin to understanding where a student did all the processes of their math homework wrong, while they sit there and tell you they did everything correctly. I wonder if this is how you experience the logical fallacies that are hurled at you, too. A child doing homework wrong and insisting it's right.

This ask requires many responses, so I’m going to use the new skill I’ve acquired from several of my generous gentle readers, and insert a mobile

1. I claim no abnormal intelligence. I am not even very smart when it comes to certain ways of thinking. What I do recognize as within my talents are as follows: I use logic and comprehend that when I use fallacy, it’s for effect or rhetorical purpose. I am gifted at adapting. I have excellent mechanical intelligence. I understand abstract concepts, though my ability to apply them is sometimes limited. I am extremely observant and have very good ability to retain perspective. I am somewhat creative in a specific set of ways.y

2. The purpose of knowing is to construct, or destruct in a direction toward progress. Otherwise the knowledge defeats itself and its holder. Knowledge of nuclear physics is power for progress if used rightly, but if used wrongly, it kills the wielded. You see? You say “talk in circles” which usually means to speak for the purposes of deceit or confusion. I do not do this. I am always to the point and specific. I presume my readers can understand my word choices, and that if they don’t, know how to use a dictionary. I do not speak down to them. I will however, reply with humor like sarcasm, or a veiled insult if they insult me first. Tit for tat. I assume the best of my readers until they are rude. I do not police grammar, spelling, tone, or anything else, so long as people are polite. I find policing to be ad hominem, and I have no interest in that.

3. Your father isn’t very intelligent, because model organism research is one of the chief ways we analyze all pharmacology, toxicology, and genetic phenotypic predictions. Let me give an example: a company I work with has a particular sea life form genetically mapped inside and out. They drop it into water samples and then pull it out at different stages, then do analysis of its genes and its toxicology. This gives us general ideas on how that same water will effect every other animal who consumes it including people. If your father knew anything about science, this would make sense to him. He’s clearly an idiot, and the sort who wants to remain an idiot so as to deny anything that doesn’t fit his world view. That’s not intelligent. Truly intelligent people identify their strong points but remain humble about learning from those around them. For example: I have never wanted to willingly harm a trans person or discriminate against them; however, I was limited in my support by a lack of knowledge. That is remedied on a constant basis by learning from all of you, and I now feel far more capable to support and defend trans people, when it is necessary. Why would I ever suppose my knowledge is more than their experience? Of course it is t. So it’s important for me to learn what o can.

4. I’ve been very open about how I experience the things I see. Sometimes I’m not left much room or choice except to scoff or chuckle, but for the most part, I see the errors as common mistakes. I don’t exist to remedy them, but if I can, I will. And yes I will likely make some of my own. I accept that. I do not shy from it. What I do find annoying and frankly stupid, is the sheer amount of and variety to abusive interactions. I expected more, it’s true, but did not expect such vivid and ridiculous variety. It all points to the same types of sources: low self esteem, anger, hurt, fear, and is painfully obvious. What annoys me is that they themselves don’t see it what annoys me is that they carry on doing it when it’s pointed out to them, because they cannot admit being wrong. Bringing wrong is threatening. So they either stop interacting, or they double down and make themselves look even more stupid. I do not see people as children. I see them as always evolving, much as I am. I may have already made some of your mistakes, or I may not have. If I have, I will give you the value of my experience. If I haven’t, I will borrow yours.

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hydroponicjj · 4 years

Text

no place like home

pairing: peter parker x reader

summary: you get kicked out of your house and have nowhere to go. you want to tough it out on your own but your boyfriend won’t let you.

word count: 2k

warnings: mentions of abuse, alcohol, swearing

a/n: i’m back!!! wrote this instead of studying for my spanish midterm oops. hope that you all enjoy and make sure you send requests!

「 ₊˚.༄ 」

You were good at hiding your emotions.

This wasn’t something that you were appreciative of, you were ashamed. You wish that you could express how you genuinely feel without being terrified that someone would take advantage of your vulnerability.

But that’s just how life works when you grow up in a toxic household, with a mother that isn’t the friendliest.

“Y/N?” Peter spoke, causing you to return from your trance.

“If you aren’t going to take this seriously then you can just leave.” He puffed, flipping back and forth between pages, searching for an answer.

“I-I’m sorry.” You mumbled.

The two of you were currently studying for your midterms in Peter’s room. He was sitting at his desk, books sprawled everywhere while you sat on the carpeted floor, back pressed up against the wall.

“I can’t find the answer to question 32, did you?” He asked.

“No, I didn’t. I’m sorry.” You replied, weakly.

Peter huffed as he flipped the pages aggressively.

“What is it?”

“It’s just-” He hesitated, “I don’t understand why you come over here every day and just sit there and do nothing.”

You felt a pinch in your heart as he let out his frustrations, “I’m sorry.”

“And stop apologizing!” Peter struck his fist down on his desk, causing you to recoil.

He noticed how you inched away from him, “I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re right,” You took a deep breath, “I’ve been in my head a lot lately and I haven’t been the girlfriend that you need right now.”

“Not to mention I’ve been a terrible study buddy.” You laughed, Peter smirked.

“That doesn’t excuse the fact that I scared you.” He was disappointed in himself. For a split second, he forgot about how sensitive you are.

“How about we take a little break? We can go out and get something to eat and maybe watch an episode of The Office?” You suggested as you stood up.

“I’m in work mode right now,” Peter watched your face for any signs of disappointment.

You nodded, glancing at the clock, noticing the time, “I should get moving before my parents notice that I’ve been gone this long.”

You bent down and began to place all the science and math textbooks into your bookbag.

“You should spend the night. May won’t mind, she loves having you over.”

“No, it’s fine.” You reassured but, Peter didn’t look satisfied.

“Hey, hey,” Grabbing his arms, you wrapped them around your waist, placing your head on his shoulder, “It’s okay, I promise.”

You stood in each other’s embrace for a few moments, finding harmony in each other’s presence.

Peter’s mind is always going 100 miles per hour, especially right now with the stress of midterms and having to make time to patrol the city. The both of you were dealing with stress and being able to have a few seconds of tranquility made all the difference.

“I’ve gotta go.” He released you from his clutch.

“Text me when you get home?”

“Of course.”

“I love you.” He beamed.

“I love you.”

Sneaking into your house is way harder than sneaking out. Having to avoid not only your parents but your loud dog that gets super excited when she sees you.

Throwing your bag on your bed, you climbed through your window, careful not to slip on any of the toys scattered on the floor.

Everything had been calculated so that your mother and father would eat dinner while your dog begged at their feet, so you come out of your room and claim that you had been taking a nap.

But not everything goes according to plan. Your parents never let the dog out of your room so, she was lying in your bed instead of on her own. She felt your bag hit the bed and shot up, beginning to bark.

“No, no, no!”

It was pointless trying to get her to stop because you could hear the harsh footsteps on the way to your room.

Your mom stood in the doorway, arms crossed as she leaned against the frame. The tension increased by a tenfold. Your confident stature depleted with every second that passed.

“You know, if I’m going to pay for this room, I expect it’s going to be used, right?”

“Yes,” You’d learned that she’ll make it easier if you agree and don’t antagonize her.

“So, when you’re not in here, it tells me you aren’t using it.” She spoke, malice laced within her voice, “Do you want to live here?”

“Yes.” You responded.

Your mother nodded her head, “If you sneak out again, I’ll see that you don’t have a room to come home to.” She sent you a passive-aggressive smile and slammed your door.

You let out a sigh of relief, even though she just threatened to kick you out if you snuck out to see Peter again. The exchange had gone better than most nights, presumably because it was too early for her to drink.

Flopping on your bed next to your dog, you let her give you a couple of kisses before pulling your phone out of your back pocket and sending Peter a message.

You: Hey! I’ve made it home.

Peter: Great. Still studying :(

You: Keep pushing!! I’ll make sure that I help next time

Peter: Any problems?

You: Nope :)

Peter: Good.

Peter: Wanna retry this study date tomorrow at 6:30?

You: Yep, see you then <3

“Shit.” You huffed.

You were asking to get thrown out. Here it was, 6:00 pm, and you were crawling out of your window as if your mother didn’t threaten you with eviction less than 24 hours ago.

As you strolled toward the Parker’s apartment, you thought of how your foolproof plan could go wrong. Would your dog bark again, or would your mom be waiting in your room as soon as you arrived?

“Hey,” Turning your head, you saw none other than Peter Parker send you his alluring smile.

“W-What are you doing out here?” You questioned, eyebrows contorted in confusion.

Pulling his hands from behind his back, he displayed 3 bags of food, “I was picking up our dinner for tonight.”

“Dinner?”

“I thought we could scrap the whole studying idea and have dinner with May.” He revealed.

You tried your best to control your facial expressions and body language, not wanting to give Peter any signal that this would raise a problem.

“Sounds good.” You nodded.

“I’m so glad that we’re able to do this before I patrol. It puts me in a good mood before I go-”

“Kick some ass?” You interjected.

“Somethin’ like that.”

The rest of the walk to Peter’s apartment was filled with stories of the peculiar things that he would see while patrolling the city at night. Weird things that people tried to steal and the extravagant costumes people wore.

“A nightgown?” You asked as you entered his apartment.

“A nightgown,” Peter confirmed as he took your jacket, hanging it on the rack mere feet away from the entrance.

“Hey, Y/N!” May greeted, waving at you from the kitchen.

“Hey, May! So nice to see you again.” She emerged from the kitchen and gave you a small hug before turning her attention towards her nephew.

He handed her a receipt, and the placed the bags on the dining table, “Let’s eat.”

“So, Y/N, how’s school going? Someone has been studying like crazy.”

“School is going well. I think people are stressed with midterms, but I can’t wait until things get back to normal.” You explained, putting food onto your plate.

The conversation flowed nicely. It was easy to talk to Peter’s aunt because she was so understanding and non-judgmental, she had become more of a mother towards you than your actual parent.

“I guess it’s true that time passes faster when you’re having fun,” Peter spoke.

You looked at the clock, it was almost 9:45. It was at least a 30-minute walk back to your house

“Oh my. I’m sorry to rush out like this but, I have to get home before-” You paused, not wanting to say anything that would worry Peter or May, “This was fun we’ve gotta do this again.”

“Soon.” May smiled, watching as you grabbed your coat, frantically.

“I love you, Peter. I’ll text you when I get home.” With that, you exited the Parker’s apartment and rushed out of the building.

There was no way that your absence went unnoticed by your mother, now that she’s on high alert of you sneaking out. You had completely forgotten about checking the time. There was something about the Parker’s that made your problems seem so minuscule to the point where you didn’t even think about them.

With every step you took, the pit in your stomach increased in size. Whatever destiny you had waiting for you at home, you didn’t want it. You wished that you could turn around and go back to Peter’s apartment and exchange funny stories with him and his aunt.

But you can’t outrun fate.

When you reached your window, you were faced with 3 black trash bags and a note, “I warned you.”

“Fuck,” You sobbed, “She fucking kicked me out.”

You always knew that your relationship with your mother wasn’t the best but, you loved her and you assumed that she loved you too. You didn’t even want to imagine what feelings she harbored towards you if she could throw you out with ease.

You opened the bags and saw your clothes, materials for school, and a few miscellaneous things. There was no way that you could carry all of this stuff, it was way too heavy and you didn’t own a car.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” You heard someone say from the roof.

The first thing you noticed was the colors red and black and knew exactly who it was, “What are you doing here?”

“Y-You rushed out of my house like we had a disease or something, I knew something was wrong.” He explained.

You couldn’t see under his mask but it didn’t take a genius to know that he was confused, “What’s all this?”

“Pete, I think I’m in trouble.” You croaked, your eyes were red and blurry from crying.

He came down from the roof and instantly embraced you in a hug. You let a sob escape your throat as he held you, “Why didn’t you just call me? We could’ve figured something out.”

You sighed, “I’m not your responsibility. Plus, you have all of this stress on you and-”

“Did you think that I’d turn you away or something?” He questioned, taking off the mask covering his face so that he could look you in the eyes.

“Look at me,” Peter gently took your face in his hands, “I know that you grew up thinking that you are a burden but you’re not.”

“Do you remember when I was distant from everyone for months after Uncle Ben?”

You nodded.

“You were the person that restored me to normal. No one asked you to but you did, remember that?”

“Yeah,” You sighed, resting your face in his palm.

“We’ll figure this out together.” Peter reassured, caressing the back of your head as he pulled you into yet another hug.

“Together?”

“Together.”

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland angst #tom holland x reader #peter parker angst #marvel #Marvel MCU #imagine #angst #jey's oneshots

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thetiredbiwrites · 4 years

Text

And then...

Dad!Tony x Son!Reader

(mentions of Uncle Rhodey)

Anon: // hello can you do angsty tony x Son reader. Tony and reader has strained relationship and they we're not in good terms, Tony prefer Peter than his son but it got change when both of them got kidnapped, they been together for a few days and slowly they reconciled. Soon they got save by the avengers but the Son Reader notice that one kidnapper pulled a weapon to Tony then R save his father, he got shot then Tony is scared to see his son dying. Its up to you the ending. ☺

A/N: Thank you for the Tony request 🤗🤗 Hope this is ok! (I love dad!Tony, I think he’d be so good...even though this fic is on a different note🤔😂)

Warnings: Cliff hanger end. It was getting pretty long and I wanted to upload something before bed (which also means it hasn’t been checked but oh well, I’ll re-read it tomorrow) BUT I do plan on doing a part 2 :)

(Also swearing, just always assume swearing)

Words: 3100+

Tony’s relationship with his son had always been strained. Ever since he was practically dumped on his doorstep at 4 years old.

Tony had no prior knowledge that he has a kid, none of the women he’s been with had ever even told him they were pregnant. But if he was being honest with himself, it didn’t surprise him. With the way he got around it was bound to happen eventually.

He just wished he’d known from the beginning.

Having a 4 year old left in his care with no warning put him in a whole new territory he was completely unprepared for.

A baby gives you time to prepare and are essentially a ‘blank slate’ at birth. A 4 year old has experiences, like and dislikes, routines, a connection to someone who abandons them with a stranger…

At the time, Tony was still a playboy, out at events and travelling a lot. As well as CEO of a company manufacturing weapons for the military. He didn’t have time for a child. To break through recently arisen trust and abandonment issues and build a relationship.

He cared about his son. Always made sure he had everything he needed or wanted, a good education and was in good health. But forming personal, emotional connections can’t be done with money, and Tony could barley cope with his own true emotions.

It quickly became clear that they did not share talents or interest in maths, sciences or mechanics. His son struggled especially with maths and Tony initially really did try to help, finally thinking something was in his element and he could bond.

But elementary (followed by middle and high) maths was so simple and automatic for Tony’s brain that he found it difficult to slow down and explain the process to the young boy.

He hired a tutor in his place.

That’s not to say Tony expected or needed his son to be a genius in the same subjects as him. He didn’t need his son to follow him (or his father) to be worthy of his time. But it would have made it easier.

Instead, his son excelled in English and arts, and was amazing in the kitchen. He loved to write stories, create pictures to accompany them and experimenting with new recipes.

Unfortunately, Tony did not excel in these areas, thus distancing them further.

At least he wasn’t taking after his father though. He didn’t force his son into one path or degrade him. No forcing him to grow up, giving him alcohol at a ridiculously young age or sending him away to be completely alone.

Tony often wondered himself if he’d have taken the path he did if his father hadn’t pushed him. If he’d be the same person without the verbal abuse and constant neglect of his father.

He wasn’t blind to his emotional distance and lack of bond to his son. Or to the connection the boy had to both Rhodey and Pepper. He could see that his son was connect to the two people he trusted the most and he was glad.

When Rhodey was available, being in the air force meant he wasn’t always around, he made sure to take the boy out, go to school events and even read his stories, giving feedback and support.

Pepper made herself available if he ever needed to talk and was always willing to taste test.

Even Happy was around to take him where he needed to go, training in the gym and joke with.

So even if the young boy didn’t have a relationship with his father, he had adults around to support and love him and help him through life.

It didn’t stop him wishing he did have a relationship to his father though.

While MIA in Afghanistan, Tony realised he wanted to try harder to build a relationship to his nearly teenaged son.

It didn’t happen.

He returned home and completely changed his company, which required a lot of time. His guilt also led in him to putting on that damn suit and trying to save the world.

And then he nearly died from palladium poisoning.

And then New York was attacked by aliens and the avengers were formed.

And then Tony had PTSD; anxiety, panic attacks and nightmares.

And then ‘terrorists’ blew up their house and nearly killed Happy and Pepper.

And then murderous robots.

And then the avengers broke up.

And then Tony worked with the UN to amend the accords and set up more help and cleaning crews. Back to lots of travelling.

And then…

And then… Peter.

It never eased up and his son turned 18.

His son made excuses over the years. He genuinely was busy and obviously struggled with relationships. Maybe he’s just not paternal? You can’t blame someone for trying to save lives either.

Of course he was aware it isn’t all on Tony, he could have tried harder to bond with his father as well.

But then Peter came along.

Scientifically and mathematically gifted Peter.

Superhero Peter.

Enthusiastic, smart and funny 15 year old Peter.

And then Tony had the time.

He made the time.

For Peter.

To talk to him. Help with his homework and superheroing.

Teaching him. Training him.

They spent a lot of time in the workshop and lab.

Tony was always so interested in what Peter had to say. Whether is was about science or mechanics, school, spider-man or even teenage romance.

It came so easily and naturally to Tony.

He had the time.

Even the team had noticed this relationship and dubbed them ‘Iron-Dad and Spider-Son’.

That hurt.

The time he overheard Clint comment, ‘why couldn’t we have had dad-Tony this whole time?’ really stung.

Tony’s been a dad, to a son, the entire time he’s known the avengers.

He didn’t hate Peter though. It’s not his fault and he’s actually perfectly nice. But to see his father so easily bond with another kid in a short time made him realise that he’d never get that father-son relationship.

Tony is paternal. Just not for him.

His eyes fluttered open, the ground cold against his face.

Wait, ground? What-

A groan passed his lips as he sat up, pressing a hand to the side of his head where pain radiated.

He blinked the fuzziness from his eyes, trying to remember how he got there, but the last thing he could recall was leaving the Stark Industries event after supporting Pepper.

The room was dull and very basic. With stone walls and floor, no windows, one dim light and two metal framed beds so rusty they would probably break under his weight.

As he glanced back down to the ground, he noticed another body in the room. They were still slumped on the ground and back to him.

Scrambling across the floor, he pushed on the mans shoulder to lay in on his back and see his face.

Dad?

Quickly he checked for a pulse and when he was satisfied with the regular thumping, he moved away, letting out a sigh of relief.

With his back to the wall, arms resting on his bent knees, he waited.

It was only a short while later when Tony began to wake. Groaning and sitting up in the same manner his son had moments earlier.

“Oh God, what the hell-where am I?” He mumbled, clearly unaware he wasn’t alone.

“I was hoping you’d know the answer”

Tony’s head snapped over at the grumbled voice to see his son.

“Y/N. What- what are you doing here?”

“hell if I know. Can’t imagine why anyone would take me. I generally don’t piss people off and I’m neither an Avenger or a tech genius.”

“Maybe they mistook you for me” Tony joke, completely oblivious to his sons disinterested and cold tone.

He shuffled back to lean against the opposite wall as his son scoffed.

“Sorry kid, you got the Stark looks.”

“Yeah, that’s all I got” the young man mumbled, leaning his head back on the wall, closing his eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

Silence fell between them until the door opened.

The two men rose to their feet as two armed guards entered the room, a third following with a tray of unappealing food and bottled water.

Neither Stark was acknowledged as the tray was placed on one of the beds and they turned to leave. They even ignored Tony’s incessant questioning and cocky attitude.

His son stayed silent, taking on of the bottles as he sat back on the floor, still not ready to trust the beds.

“Could they just answer a simple question? They got to have a fucking reason for this.”

“Whatever it is I wish they’d just hurry up with it.”

“What, are you bored? Got places to be?” Tony asked, before taking his seat back on the floor.

“Yes, actually. I have an interview Monday and I’m not ready.”

“An interview? What for?”

“Like you actually care.”

“Hey, that’s not-“ Tony began to object but his son looked over at him and cut him off.

“Unless it’s about Peter or Superhero shit, you don’t want to know. You haven’t magically become interested, you just don’t like the silence and unfortunately I’m the only one here. You never cared about what was actually happening in my life before, why start now?”

Tony stared at his son in shock. It’s hard to make The Tony Stark speechless, but right now he had no words at all.

As his son dropped his head back to the wall, looking away from him, Tony couldn’t take his eyes off his son.

Thoughts ran through his head as he examined his son, becoming aware of how little he really did know.

-When did he get so tall? Not tall-tall though, definitely the Stark gene at work there.

-That suit makes him look so grown up, even if those a-holes took our jackets and shoes. Why did they take our shoes? No. Not important. Focus.

-I care about my son. Come on Tony, think. Something.

-School? Crap, when did I last even read a report card? He’s always aced English. Didn’t he do band? No, shit, that was Peter. Goddamnit, is he right?

“You’re 18.”

“Well done. You want a medal?”

“Is the interview for college?”

His son still didn’t move, wouldn’t even look at him.

“Please, Y/N. I-I know I’ve not really been… present in your life. But I do care about you.”

“Do you?” His eyes burned long repressed anger and Tony prepared himself for everything that was coming. He knew he’d deserve it too.

“You gave up so easily. It was too hard to bond with your idiot son, a shy kid who couldn’t understand simple maths. You’d rather be with women and go to parties, and the company always came first. All you did was throw money at things. For year I was fine with it, you using money to help me. I had more than more. It was clear you struggled with relationships of any kind and I was just dumped on you with no warning. It was fine because I had Rhodey, Pepper and Happy. They were there to talk to, they taught me things and supported me, Rhodey would go to school events whenever he could. I just figured maybe you’re not a paternal person. Then you became Iron Man and started saving the world and I can’t be mad about that.”

Tony stayed silent and watched as his son stood up, running a hand through his hair as he began to pace.

“Then you met Harley and kept in touch with him. You upgraded his garage into a high-tech lab. But he did help you save Pepper and the President so I guess you owed him and I didn’t let it bother me. It wasn’t until Peter came along that I noticed that you are one of the most naturally paternal people I know. You became his father figure, took him in so quickly, bonding immediately. If he needed help, you were there. He wanted to talk, you listened. Whether it’s out being Iron Man and Spider-man, training him, helping him with his school work or just locking yourselves in the workshop for hours building new shit. You’re always there for him. He witters on about some stupid crush for 25 minutes and you hang on every word. But you couldn’t do that for me?! What, did I need to be a genius at maths?! Interested in building extravagant technology?! Would you have noticed me then? You know, you went to Peter’s science show last month but you’ve never been to any of my school events. It was always Rhodey, Pepper and Happy a couple times, or no-one. But never you.”

The young man stared at his father, chest heaving, eyes burning as he held back tears. Yet Tony said nothing. He couldn’t take his eyes off his son. Lips parted and eyes glistening with unshed tears, he just sat, no words coming out.

“Yeah I’m 18 any yeah it’s a college interview. I graduate in a few weeks, Rhodey’s going. I’ve already been accepted to a couple colleges. Only a few months and I can leave.”

He didn’t give Tony a chance to respond as he risked the bed, laying down and facing the wall as he focused on bringing his breathing back to normal.

Behind him, his father watched on as tears fell down his face, guilt taking over his whole being.

Neither of them spoke for the rest of the night. While his son eventually fell asleep, Tony stayed on the floor, thinking through everything his son told him and looking back over the years.

The following morning, two guard came in and took Tony away.

They brought him back a few hours later, unharmed. The younger Stark watched as Tony worried his bottom lip and fussed with his clothes. He noted the troubled look on his father’s face and it was clear that whatever the kidnappers told him wasn’t good at all.

But he remained silent.

Eventually Tony settled, sitting on the floor again. But the two still didn’t speak for a few more hours.

“I’m sorry,” Tony finally broke through the silence and tense atmosphere of the confined space.

His son remained silent but his eyes moved up to look at him. This was enough of an acknowledgement that he was listening and so Tony continued.

“You might not believe that, but I am. I don’t know why it was so hard or why it was so easy with Peter. I didn’t- It wasn’t intentional, I didn’t even realise.”

The young Stark kept his eyes on his father but his face stayed blank and lips sealed.

“And you know, just because maths and science subjects didn’t come naturally to you doesn’t mean you’re an idiot. I’ve never once thought you were. I know the Stark name has become so tied to them, mechanics, advanced technology and engineering… but it doesn’t mean you’re not…good enough? Because you don’t follow that. I never thought you should have been, it didn’t-didn’t disappoint me or anything. But you were always so talented in arts, you wrote the most amazing stories and a complete natural in the kitchen. Things I’m not so great at. It just made it harder for me to figure out how to connect. I didn’t know where to start.”

A small smile flashed across his face, eyes glazed as he recalled the past.

“Y’know, I loved those stories about the uh, the dragons that live on your shoulder. I’d find drawings and paintings of them all over the house, and it was a big house!”

Across from him, his son’s head raised a little higher, eyebrows subtly furrowing and looked at the soft expression on his father’s face. He had no idea Tony even know about those.

“I should have been there, tried harder. There’s no excuse for that. But I have always cared. You were just so talented in things I didn’t understand. Then I saw how close you and Rhodey became and-“

Tony let out a sigh, looking away from his son.

“You were left with me, an egotistical ass and a- a playboy. I didn’t think I deserved you. You deserved someone better. Someone emotionally available and mature. Someone to help you grow into an amazing person and progress your talents. Someone like Rhodey. He deserved you and you him. He was -and is- better for you. You were loved and supported by him, and then Pepper and Happy, so I – I thought you’d be ok. That you wouldn’t need me.”

Once again it was all quiet in the small room. This time Tony wouldn’t look at his son, but he couldn’t take his eyes off his father.

“I did need you.”

His voice was raspy as he admitted this to not only Tony but himself.

“Rhodey’s the best. I love him. Couldn’t have asked for a better Uncle. But that’s what he is; my Uncle. You were supposed to be my Dad. I shouldn’t have had a father figure when my father was right there. You were so cool, before and after becoming Iron Man. You made everything around you seem like fun. I didn’t understand the tech crap but- I’m an artist. I can, and did, design things. It’s not all on you, I didn’t make it easy.”

“You were a kid, it is on me. But, maybe- When we get out of here I’ll do better. I want to be an active part in your life. I also understand if it’s too late though.”

“It’s not. It’ll take time but, I’d like that. Rhodey might get jealous though.”

A huffed laugh slipped past Tony’s lips as they spread into a smile on his face when his son cracked a grin.

They continued to talk into the night, about school, which colleges and courses, friends and dating. Once they started they couldn’t stop.

It is hard to shut up a Stark.

They were laughing about one of Tony’s stories of his time in MIT with Rhodey when an explosion shook the room.

The men stood up and faced the door as the sounds of fighting and yelling grew nearer. A smirk spread on Tony’s face as he recognised the noises of his teammates.

It wasn’t long before the door was broken down and Captain America stood in it’s place.

“Bout damn time. Did you stop for coffee?”

“Yeah, yeah, tin man. You’re welcome.” Hawkeye quipped as they walked down the halls.

Rhodey broke through to get to his nephew’s side, checking him over and ensuring he was ok.

Tony led the group to the main room. The kidnappers had access to files and tech that would be too dangerous to leave.

As Tony wiped everything, quips flowing between him and his teammates, none of them noticed the man sneak in through another door.

The younger Stark moved before his brain could even process what was happening, placing himself between his father and the gun that was raised to his back.

*bang*

#tony stark x reader #platonic tony stark x reader #platonic!tony stark x reader #tony stark x son!reader #tony stark x son #tony stark imagine #avengers imagine #avengers reader insert

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cellard0ors · 3 years

Text

Fic: Into The Night

This was SUPPOSED to be posted around @nekoaimy BD and Halloween, but then LIFE happened.

With my OWN BD coming up, I felt this was still good to post. Might write more to this one day. For now just a one off. Inspired by artwork aimy did, but with the added twist of Halloween costumes - lol.

Ford stands by the punch bowl grousing and feeling like an idiot. The first is because he's being forced to attend a Halloween party he doesn't want to. The second is because he's dressed like a cat.

Okay, not a complete cat. There's no tail, thank god - but a black headband with felt black ears was slapped on to his head and painted black whiskers were slanted on his cheeks - a little black dot on the tip of his nose.

The culprit? One Stanley Pines, worst twin (EVER) extraordinaire. Maybe a bit overdramatic, true, but this is all Stan's fault.

Ford had been minding his own business in their shared room when he'd been ambushed. What started off as a normal wrestling match between brothers resulted in Stan pinning him down, painting Ford up with their Mom's eyeliner and him begging Ford to join him at Rachel McCarthy's party.

Mainly because Stan is now eyeing Rachel after the whole Carla fiasco and why Stan wants to date anyone is beyond him.

...alright, this is not entirely true either. Ford gets why dating might be fun, but considering who he'd like to date, well...

Ford can easily say having six fingers on each hand is the least freakish thing about him. Not that Stan will ever, ever, ever, EVER know that. Nor will anyone else. Ford will take his secret shame to the grave.

Grave. Halloween. How fitting.

Regardless, Stan tossed the cat get-up on him, begged him to go to this thing, and now here Ford stands, everything full circle.

Stan, for his part, seems to be having a grand old time. Their mother's green eyeshadow is powdered all over his face and his hair has been lightly slicked down. Screw bolts have been tacked to either side of his neck to complete the monster ensemble and frankly, Ford worries about what kind of adhesive his twin used to accomplish this.

It wouldn't be the first time Stan got something almost permanently stuck to him. Ford keeps hoping for a last, but knows that will probably never happen...lovable, infuriating fool...

Ford really does need to start thinking seriously about looking into colleges. He's been playing Stan, saying he'll join him on their ship, but he knows that's a recipe for disaster.

Stuck alone on a ship with the object of his forbidden desires? Yeah, thanks but no thanks. Sure, Stan will be sour about the whole thing, but better they part then Ford potentially do something unforgivable.

Like kiss the breath out of the big, handsome, stupid-!

"Bro, what are you doing?"

Ford snaps out of his thoughts as Stan approaches him. He blinks and tries to be normal, "Nothing "

"Exactly. Nothing," Stan throws an arm around him, shakes him amiably, "Come on, join the party! You're next to the punch bowl - grab a drink, mingle, have fun!"

Ford carefully extracts himself from his brother's grip, frowning, "I agreed to come with you, Stanley. Not engage in the festivities. The punch is heavily spiked, there's no one here I wish to talk to, and this is miles from what I would constitute as 'fun'."

“Aw, don’t be like that, Sixer! Loosen up!” Stan pulls a face, bottom jaw jutting out, eyes rolling upwards as he growls, “Frankenstein say party gooood.”

“...you know you’re not Frankenstein right?”

“What’re you talkin’ about?” Stan tugs at one of the bolts, “Think I did a pretty good with the costume last minute an’ all...”

“Frankenstein is the name of the main protagonist in the novel, Stanley. The doctor. The creature he creates is not, in point of fact, named Frankenstein.”

Ford once again questions how he can love someone who can give him such a blank face only to follow it up with a raspberry and an eye roll, “Yeah, like anyone past nerds’ll think of that.”

“Are you calling me a nerd?”

“I’ll call you whatever you want if, you know,” he wiggles his eyebrows, “You play it a lil’ cooler.”

Ford scoffs, “And why on earth should I do that?”

“Because you’re bringing people down, man,” Stan whispers this to him as if it’s a terrible secret, “Missy Caldwell told me that Rachel was thinkin’ about busting out some kissin’ games! You know, like Spin the Bottle and Seven Minutes in Heaven and the like. but then she saw you over here, looking like the kid picked last for dodgeball and it kinda killed the mood!”

Ford looks over to see that Rachel is, indeed, standing with Missy and a large group of girls. They are whispering to one another and looking in his direction. Rachel, in particular, is wearing a sort of judging expression. The fact that Stan would take her concerns over his...

And why shouldn’t he? His thoughts whisper. You’re his brother. You’re supposed to have his back. Be there for him as much as he’s there for you. He wants to kiss Rachel. It’s normal for him to want to kiss Rachel. He can’t know that you want to kiss him. He should NEVER know that. Should never even consider it.

Ford knows his thoughts are correct. They are smart. Logical. Everything he has always vowed himself to be. And yet...

...and yet.

“Look, just...” Stan waves at his face, “Give ‘em a smile. A little sign that you’re fine.”

Ford doesn’t feel much like smiling, but he gives it his best shot. It must be pretty bad, because Stan winces, “Yeesh.”

His lips drop, “No good?”

“You look like you just chugged the kool-aid at a cult meetin’.”

That actually gets a genuine smile, a laugh, and Stan beams, pointing at him, “See? That’s much better!”

Ford shakes his head, “What can I say? You always manage to get a rise out of me.”

The words leave and he feels a whiplash of heat wash over him. Shoot! Was that too suggestive? Apparently not, because Stan’s grin just grows, “That’s my job, bro! Keepin’ you from being too stuck in the mud! Now come on...”

He puts a big arm around Ford’s shoulders and drags him over to the group of girls. Rachel appears much mollified now, as do Missy and the others. They’re all girlish giggles and coquettish smirks and Rachel sends some of the gals to collect the other boys, to set everything in order for a game of Spin the Bottle.

While she does this, Stan drags Ford to one side again, hissing, “Alright, Sixer - now’s the time I need your big brains.”

“Wh-? How-? Why?” Ford stumbles over the questions, because as far as he can tell, they’re all intrinsically linked together. Stan explains, “You can like, tell me the best way to spin the bottle. Use maths and wind velocity and science to tell me how best ta make sure it lands on Rachel.”

“I...” Ford starts, but then someone walks up to them. It’s Becky Gilmore, another girl from Rachel’s pack, and she bats her eyelashes at them as she plays with a strand of her dark hair, “Hi! Hey, uh, can-can I talk to Stanford for a sec?”

“He’s Stanford,” Stan points to him even as Ford says, “I’m Stanford.” Both sound surprised as they give this information, but Becky is unfazed, “Um, yeah - I know. Look, can I just-?”

She sneaks out one slim hand to grab at one of Ford’s wrists, dragging him away from Stan who - clearly thinking this is a good thing - gives his brother a big smile and two thumbs up. Once out of Stan’s earshot, Becky says brightly, “’Key, so, Rachel’s like, all about your brother. Like, he has acne and whatever, but she totally wants to kiss him.”

Ford does his best to parse her words, separating the good from the bad, and doing his oh, so best not to comment on the bad, because it really gets his goat, teeth on edge at the acne remark. But Becky, clueless, just continues on, “I think maybe she’s trying to make Joey jealous, ‘cause I know they broke up about three weeks ago and she’s pretty sure he’s running around with Cheryl Manchino and we all know about Cheryl Manchino-”

(Actually, Ford knows nothing about Cheryl Manchino.)

“-but my point is, we definitely need to get your brother to lock lips with Rachel, but with the way the circle’s looking that might be problematic with you there, not to mention I mean, you’re - I mean, you’re cute and all and totally smart but like, I mean, I would never want to offend you or anything, but, okay - you get what I’m saying, right?”

Ford, amazingly, does get what Becky is saying.

His face colors and he hides his hands behind his back and feels like complete trash. Becky, seeming to pick up on this somewhat, lightly taps one of his shoulders, “Aw! There, there, kitty kitty! You wouldn’t’ve enjoyed this game anyway, right?”

“...no.” his voice is so soft as to be near silent, “I suppose not.”

“Great!” Becky returns with the same amount of sparkle she uses on the cheerleading field, “Then how’s about you set your brother riiiiiight-” she drags the word out as she looks around the circle, before pointing to a certain spot, “-there! Rachel and us girls are going to make sure the bottle picks him for sure. And you can stand on the sidelines in case we need an assist, ‘kay?”

Ford nods numbly and Becky bounces off. When he returns to Stan, he does his best to play stoic.

He fails miserably.

“Whoa,” Stan breathes, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“That ain’t ‘nothing’,” Stan says pointing at his face, “That’s ‘Crampelter gave me shit’ face and he ain’t here. So? What is it?”

“I told you,” Ford hisses, “Nothing.”

“What did Becky say to you?” Stan asks and there’s such heat in the question. Anger and accusation and Ford pushes up his glasses and pours on the ice, “It’s not important. You’re going to miss out on the game, Stanley. Now, you asked for my help and considering the curvature of the bottle and the state of the floor I would suggest sitting-!”

“I suggest you tell me what she said before I make a scene,” the words sizzle out of Stan’s mouth and close to Ford’s ear, nearly scalding it and Ford can feel the barely leashed fury rolling off his brother in waves and he starts shaking his head, “You know, maybe I just don’t want to talk about it, Stanley! Did you ever think of that?”

Stan actually stands up straighter, looking startled, “Holy shit...what did she say?”

Ford lets out an aggravated breath and points to the exact spot Becky indicated, “You want your kiss? You want Rachel? SIT. DOWN. THERE. I’ll be outside!”

With that said, Ford exits the house. He starts walking down the neighborhood street, but he doesn’t get far before he’s being yanked back, Stanley’s hand turning him around roughly, “Just where the hell do you think you’re-?!”

“DO YOU WANT TO KISS HER OR NOT?!” the shout escapes Ford before he can leash it and it seems to echo in the empty streets. Thankfully Rachel’s neighbors seem to be tucked in for the night and no one left her house to follow them.

Stan, regardless, shushes him even as he seethes, “Not more than I want to know whatever the hell is up with you! You’ve been sulking all night, Sixer - hell, you been sulking the past couple of weeks if we’re gonna be honest about it!”

Ford looks down at his feet, kicks at the pavement even as Stan charges on, “Then Becky pulls you aside and whatever she says seems to be the last straw and I don’t get-!”

“She said I shouldn’t play, alright!” Ford snaps, “She said I should-should sit the game out and that Rachel wants to kiss you and-and...” he falters, drops off, because he doesn’t want to hurt Stan’s feelings.

He doesn’t want to tell him about the comments on his acne or how he might just be a ploy in some plot to make someone jealous because he does want his brother to have something nice - even if it’s fleeting, “And you should go back in there and get what you want!”

“...Becky said you shouldn’t play?”

“She-she figured I-I wouldn’t enjoy it anyway and she’s...she’s not wrong...”

“No,” Stan breathes in loudly through his nostrils, his hands curling into fists, “She’s wrong. She’s very wrong and if she wasn’t a girl, I’d pound her right in the face!”

“Stanley,” Ford sighs, suddenly very, very tired, “You shouldn’t want to pound anyone in the face. Boy or girl. And certainly not for my sake.”

“Whose sake would it be for then?” Stan returns, “I’ve told you time and time again, I’m here for you. I’ll protect you, I’ll-!”

“You won’t always be there for me, Stanley.”

This remark stops Stan short. Makes his eyes widen in alarm, “What-? What does that mean?”

“...I think you know.”

“I sure as fuck don’t!”

“Language, Stanley.”

“Fuck your language!” Stan growls and comes closer. He gets in Ford’s personal space and Ford can feel the heat radiating off him. He’s very much the monster he’s dressed as - exuding power and force and deadly seriousness as he looks at him, “I will always be there for you. Always.”

Ford lets out a sad, watery sound. He looks away and there’s a restless wind that seems to rise up, to play with his hair and suddenly Stan touches his chin, directs his face back to him, “Look at me.”

The touch is clearly just meant to direct his eyes, but Ford feels it zip throughout his entire central nervous system, feels it shoot out his toes as he looks into Stan’s eyes and his twin says, “Stanford, you ain’t never got to keep anything from me. Alright? You ain’t gotta hide or-or keep to yourself. Thinkin’...thinkin’ maybe now this is why you’ve been poutin’ so much lately, huh? You think we’re going to be apart?”

“Stanley...”

“That I’m not going to be there for you? Because I will be, Sixer. Always and forever. You should know that.”

Another sigh, “Rachel...”

“She’s just some broad,” Stan promises, and then, with a chuckle, “A cute one, but just the same. She’s not as important as you are. Never will be.”

“You-” Ford swallows around a big lump in his throat, his heart aching, “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“Why not? You’re family.”

And it’s that, that last word, that helps Ford grab a hold of his senses. He gulps and lets out a shaky laugh, “Uh, yeah - yeah. I am. And, uh, as your family - I...I think you should go back in there. Get your big kiss.”

Stan seems to thinking it over, but more for show than anything, as he cracks with a laugh, “Nah, forget it. Plenty of fish in the sea.”

The breath that leaves Ford sounds as if he’s pushing off a sob. Which makes sense. Ford feels like sobbing. He feels strangely vulnerable and exposed. More so when Stan just. Keeps. Pushing. “’Sides, if they’re not going to let you play...”

“I told you,” Ford manages weakly, pathetically, “Becky wasn’t wrong. I don’t want to play.”

Stan doesn’t say anything for awhile and it’s good. It’s great. Ford can feel his lungs filling with air, can feel his sanity returning, can feel himself pushing away from the ledge of tears. Stan didn’t mean for the things he said to sound so-so romantic. So much what Ford wants to hear.

He was being a good brother.

Ford wants to do the same - needs to do the same.

But then.

“Stanford, any...any of those girls would be lucky to kiss you...”

And that’s it.

It’s the funniest thing.

That’s the thing that breaks Ford. That’s the thing that pushes him over that ledge. That’s the thing that leads him to cry out, “I don’t WANT to kiss THEM, Stanley! I WANT-! I want-!”

And Stan’s looking at him as if he’s never seen him before. As if Ford is some stranger - raving and demonic and he is - he truly is. Because with an anguished whimper, he grabs Stan and forcibly tugs him over. He seals his lips over Stan’s.

He kisses him.

Ford kisses Stanley.

The sound of pure shock that leaves Stan sears Ford’s soul and Ford catches a glimpse of Stan’s eyes - big and round and white. Startled. Stunned. Maybe even terrified. So he closes his own as he brushes his tongue against his twin’s inert mouth, as he eases just so between the seam of them to get the taste he’s always feverishly dreamed of and then-!

Ford pushes him away as hard as he can, as hard as he tugged him over to begin with. He pushes him away and with a choked ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’ he runs. He runs and runs. He runs off into the dark Halloween night and prays that Stan will forget what happened.

#stancest #my writing #nekoaimy #gift

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queenofallwitches · 3 years

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an update and primer:

so the last winter was weird. I had a complete breakdown, went into psychiatric hospital for 40 days in total. two seperate times.

learnt a heap of new things, met a tonne of cool people and had amazing conversations and few fights but overcome my own demons by that.

brain speaking-I have a scarred brain stem and neurological disorder is not a mental diagnosis, but a neurological disorder, proven by MRI scan, ADHD.

also damage to my basal ganglia, and prefrontal cortex.

neurological diagnosis means ADHD is not a "mental" health issue, as some believe, rather a neurodevelopment disorder caused by structural differences in the ADHD brain.

other neurodevelopment disorders include: Tourettes, Autism, Cerebal Palsy, Dyslexia and other Motor and Intellectual Disabilities. (Which recieve, in my view, a lot of insight, media information and stigma reduction by the advocacy networks surrounding these types of disability).

Over the last few years Autism has been over everything, I've seen mainstream media cover Tourettes and yet ADHD is still HUGELY misunderstood, misconceived and misrepresented in media, be in from the angle of documentaries, personal insight of a "typical" case, films, tv, and other media.

one of the first things my dr told me was "in females it rarely presents as hyperactive red-cordial OD child"

which is what my mother BELIEVES, that is because I have an adopted cousin with the ADHD dx who was that growing up, but the representation I'm told is also divergent for women with a higher IQ score than the average IQ. I come in around 142 and tested 123 at age 3 when I was unable to focus, pay attention and had severe trauma. I tested 142 in grade 8.

I'll share my experience as a female who is intellectually gifted, with higher IQ than average, and an adhd brain:

I've been told gifted and talented "genius" children are harder to diagnose because the symptoms present differently, we hide it better (camouflage) and our focusing can be "faked" by mediocre efforts of academic success.. this is true, I would do the assignment the Sunday night hours deadline, last minute, or have my parents half do it for me, plagiarise it (fuck I've killed my whole academic career now) copied but changed my words

from old 1970s encyclopaedias I KNEW they couldn't cross reference (I went through 15 years of school never studying doing homework or assignments and still had top grades).

I literally did not listen, and spent my classes planning the end of the world survival strategies with my GT friend who, basically helped me with my calculus and hard fucking maths, which was the ONLY 50 minutes of the day I put attention into my work.

now I'm going to be heading back to full-time study in the coming months, I get anxious as the pressure of a Bachelor level degree, and the pressure it takes me to perform, is enough to break me down. I've been advised it might be wise to start light (like a basic vet style diploma) and then build up, which is logical, but I keep thinking I'm meant to be doing my thesis by now. which is the kind of pressure one gets as a kid who is told repeatedly, "your intelligence is exceedingly the average and you can do ANYTHING you want"

I wanted to be an astronaut, a storm chaser, and an architect, a town planner and then a journalist. I always held to being a "FBI agent" or spy (I wonder why). so when I found psychology is really a blend of all these things, I kinda found a niche in a psych and social science double degree. but I'm thinking my academic career is LIFELONG, and due to the fact I also want to work in my field alongside my many written thesis coming, I'll be in academics for a long time. I may fail a few things, which I have to come to terms with. I do not fail easily, or readily, but I'm a perfectionist type-a academic who will put my whole life on the line to achieve "merit". I get exams, I get assessments, I read journals super-easy, I talk the talk and walk the walk so well psychologists who are at masters level compliment me on my "knowledge".

when it comes to mental health and trauma, I will always have the personal attachment, called lived experience, which will make failure and burnout, 100 percent realistic. I have to boundary up, bootstraps on, and prepare that yes, my personal "bias" will probably be entwined in this.

which is why I'm looking at the social science for the statistics and thesis writing side of things, and the counselling for the trained therapist side. either way, the degree of counselling requires so much self-insight, and then the social-science will back me away from personifying it. the other choice is criminology, which leads to forensic psychology, which is eternally fascinating. my main concern is the pro-pedophile content Ill be up against, which will look at the anatomy of a shoplifter akin to the devil, and leave the pedophile in the DSM-5 dx "paraphilia" box.

I'm not joining or jumping to anything.

either way I've got 2 year of credit, a heap of pathways and a lot of "academic momentum" from all my life being aimed to be "academic powerhouse". I went through my files and found a lot of awards I'd won in my high school, and top place in the competitions we would be entering in. I remember feeling so sad if I had a "credit" vs a distinction or high distinction, only to see now, a credit in university maths in year 9 is a skillset I don't have anymore so, good on me. or a credit in English, or Science at that age was pretty impressive, considering these tests were random and not studied for.

just a general skills assessment only the top 30 kids in the year were to take on a year by year basis and put out to vet from the top universities and taken by other kids in the same grade around the state.

it puts so much focus on my intelligence, because it's primed to be that way, I know that is true. I know I feel good being academically successful and it gives me a feeling of "achievement" but is it really for me?

I also found 2 letters from my local politicians offering me job placement, work experience and I was 1/4 kids in my 10th grade graduation tom get the letter, and due to my behaviour I pissed ALL the idiots who bullied me off. I was "too pretty to be a nerd" "too smart to be pOpUlAr".

so I made a group of misfits, who are all highly intelligent, creative and my group had the ONLY gay male in the school AND THIS IS BEFORE YOU FUCKING RETARDS MADE IT "COOL". he was bullied badly, so fuck you, you fucks claim "liberalism" but I bet you were the type of idiot who bullied guys like him in high school while you pretended to like my chemical romance and fake cut yourselves. I hate you all, forever.

my grade was full of idiots who were fake emo, who left the scene the moment the scene changed to dub-step and club music. I was there, watching you all, like sonny Moore, went from FFTL to that dubstep skrillex shit he started in 2009.

I dated you, hooked up with you and I went to your gigs. I know who was real and who was fake. I met some of you years later and realised the more emotive ones were the less "alternative appearing".

I can say 1/10000 emo guys from the 00s were genuinely Into the music and scene for the right reasons based on my dating history and this can and will be analysed statistically using SPSS one day to prove a lot. I've had too many relationships from each sub-culture and I have had 4-11 males at a time per public "output" of my energy pursue me over life.

I'm not being cocky when I say I have a long line of "suitors" and its banked back about 50 men. it's been a thing I've avoided as it seems to grow based on my body shape, attitude, appearance, so I am currently out of touch with dating scenes, no interest to try that ANYWAY, given the fact that I have had so many LONG TERM relationships ANYWAY. I can't see another one going well, and at this case, I'm living with an ex but we never went on conventional and now our families label this 3 things: "asexual", "polyamorous" and "open relationship". I'm also "bisexual" but this all to humans outside, looks ridiculous on paper. (wild orgies and lots of swinging or some stupid sex magick probably is what J brother literally thinks we do).

bc humans are intrinsically designed to need to label things they don't understand. we share a lease, not a relationship, and fucking polyamorous, I WISH. there are no girl-girl-guy 3 some, or orgies, or sex magic parties.

this has changed the attitude and perception of this "relation' which Is non-romantic, non-sexual. he can date and likely, will, as can I , and I likely won't date.

I would say 14/15 have had ADHD, or other mental illness and or trauma. which means to me, nothing at all.

I think this "open book" non romantic relationship style of "friends and roommates" not sexual.

attachment is misunderstood by others but works well fro my adhd, meaning I'm not expected to marry, or be a wife in any capacity. he is free to do what he wants, as I am, and open communication is a novel frontier I brought into this in the start, and stayed with for the duration. we fight, but I fight with a lot of people in my life over many petty things. also down to my adhd, I believe, I have rejection sensitive dysphoria, which makes me hypersensitive to rejection, perceived or real.

im not sure if this is trauma or adhd or both. but

I have used sexuality as a weapon in many relationships but it cannot or will not be used here, so I have had to resort to uncovering parts of myself which I never knew, which will stay with me even if he decided to marry and wife up in 5 years, which I'm okay and expecting him to do, and I would much rather that then be trapped in a situation where I cannot be that "wife/mother archetype" as I'm too "femme fatal/other-woman/sex-laced seductress and siren" a "FWB, unicorn, drug buddy, hook-up where im a therapist" or "intellectual and cognitive mind-bender work-study obsessed woman".

both at once and many types of human, including one who is a full-time ceremonial magician of 7 years. I will drink, drug, fuck, fight like males and still be more feminine and high maintenance than 89% of women. I grew up a tomboy and don't mind getting into fun, adventure based situations, like hiking, or anything adrenaline, I would only be reluctant to eat weird shit.

I also have many "neurological" issues including ADHD, and trauma which causes a rupture in the average human and I dating.

I'll tell you how many men have said "you are the unicorn" and then realised what that means, I went as far as canvasing the PUA world back in 2014 after reading the game, a book on PUA, which is essentially, pick up artistry, based on NLP and hypnosis. I did this after reading the copy my ex in 2008 handed me before we dated saying "I gave this up for you". it took me years to open the book, buy when I did I truly believed the only way I would fall in love again, was through PUA. that failed in so many ways but gave me a training foundation for men who were candidates for that, I have trained up J, and the way that sounds is BAD. I know, but I got a lot of value myself, I just don't see it how I wanted to see it.

but that was my original intent, and I achieved this he knows that, knew it was happening and evolved for the best self.

I am thinking we can modulate this into a business model for how I was operating in the BDSM world was mainly psychological, not physical.

I get told all of is incredibly intimidating (I am told) to women and men.

I don't really care anymore, because people have always seen this part of me in the wrong way ANYWAY, but I own who I am NOW. which is what I needed ANYWAY. so it cannot be stolen again, and sexual healing has come from abstinence ironically.

I also don't care what or who is trying to tear up my relations, toxic or not toxic, all people around me will be on a healing journey by default, or cut out of my life, for I am radiating that energy so brightly its impossible NOT to feel that pull.

I will drag your shadows into the light, and make your secrets spin from your lips into my consciousness. its not what I do but its what is design.

I make your weaknesses mountains to climb over. you cannot hide from these in my presence, I won't be this controlling or obsessive female who wants 24-7 attention as I have a life full of meaning without love or sex. I don't want to be wined, dined or expensively gifted, unless specially requested.

I don't want love letters or romantic declarations, this isn't some femnazi bullshit, but it triggers me. I appreciate the efforts and won't make you feel bad about your insecurities, for mine are probably 30 x more pronounced.

I appreciate small things, that most males won't or don't know how to do. like remembering things I've said and being thoughtful. or knowing my silence isn't personal, or a game, but a protective wall. I've had songs sung too me, guitars played, songs written, or things made in ways that are heartfelt. but I've always had them used against me too. so it is the context. I value time, energy, conversations of depth and reciprocal exchange. I also value trauma understanding, my alters and fragments being accepted and valued as me as a whole and a person who is not afraid, or scared of stupid stuff like sensitivity, emotions, feelings as raw as my own. men feel intensely too, lol.

but will only give oral sex 100 times before I don't recieve it, I can communicate now so that wouldn't happen.

but I won't be a bitch about this stuff. I am extremely feminine and care in ways other people, do not, I forget nothing people tell me, so it can be a reward or reverse uno card pull in a fight, but I am not evil or deviant in my relations. I react, depending on how you treat me. I don't need your money, or providing source of income to be okay as I am my own queen, however sharing resources is okay to build something. I don't need to be seduced, but will need to be shown a person is trustworthy.

few cross that.

that will always be time-endurance and testing. there are ground rules I don't play with, or play games. or like being forced or forged into something I'm not. I know abusive and I know safe, and I am a psychology expert, trained psychotherapist and study humans for fun, so I'll always be analysing things.

and I know red flags and I know ego, I know how to placate and please and pleasure, but will only do so, for a bigger and better reason than the mere act of seduction. which is without value and transactional to someone like me, I won't lie.

and I know every tactic in the book, for the book was written by someone like me, many lives ago, and my karma is being burnt for that book.

in terms of walls, I have many, may it be called a maze. or labrnyth.

I will teach you things you never thought you'd know, and change your life in ways you won't ever be able to go back to before. I will blow your mind, sexually, emotionally, intellectually, on all levels, and I'll make your friends and family love me.

I'll bring your walls down and you won't be able to understand this, because you don't understand me, and thats ok.

but I'll always understanding you and make your life better because thats what I do anyway, and people talk to me about things I will never share, as I keep secrets. I am jealous, of everything but, only because I am attached in a disorganised way, and working on that.(I won't even mention how man women or men don't know basic psychology of themselves). I also am a therapist , for my friends and family too.i should not be , but I am. I care, I listen, If you think I'm not listening, I'm still listening. sometimes I interrupt, because I have ADHD and I am horrible at resolute planning, or being "normal". but I don't want to be normal anyway. I need you to recognise and understand my shit, for that is what I do for everyone in my life, and I have helped more than I receive.

I'll probably accidentally give you therapy, but thats fine, because you will uncover your depths and find meaning in this. it's not something that goes bad unless you are fundamentally, evil, even the most abusive relationship I was in, was benefited from this process. yes he's still narcissistic, but he is self-aware. and did I benefit, never, just know the anatomy of self-proclaimed narc and I still can't hate him. will get my civil claim one day.

I will fuck your mind without meaning too. but thats because I fuck my own mind. but the meaning is made in the man- some find this highly offensive or personal (its not). I fuck minds by my own overthinking, or over perception on many levels of reality. so join the ride, or don't come along at all. because once the rollercoaster is in motion, I have no control of what may or may not happen. it's purely experimental.

I am experimental.

and the women who are judging me, are not any better.

look within, and shut the fuck up. self-improve and quit this jealous divide and conquer bitchiness. I HATE gossip, bitches, snitches and fakers.

I look to other women who are intellectually, physically and spiritually "individual". and find value in superior status to my own, which is something my narcissistic ex taught me.

I look for mentors, and teachers and people who will teach me how to improve myself, which I am fearful to reconnect after something is amazing and I can't give anything back of positive value. I am sorry I am working on that.

I won't devalue those below me, but I also need to be mutually benefiting from a relationship.

I dont drag people down, I may disappear if I feel I am doing this by mistake. I am flakey as fuck, and sorry for that. its anxiety and lack of perfectionism, so I am wrong and bad for this. I can change. will change.

if you can find value with my relation, personal professional or romantic, we can move into a symbiotic beneficial agreement based on mutual "terms". but many won't or cannot see this, nor do I impose my bullshit into the lives of randoms at this age.

I don't care if this is cruel, it's real.

I value loyalty, compassion, self-insight/awareness, someone who understands all parts-spirituality, metaphysics while still having intellectual & logical & analytical brain-sight.

I enjoy music, magick and learning new things.

I do not care about appearances I dont think ive dated based on one time. I do value connections and chemistry which is far-few between, I hate fakers. I smell insincerity miles away. but I do respect women who are well-presented, or beautiful, with hair beauty and makeup, I can't do this shit well, so I look up to those who are in professions who do it like art. I find them to be genius level queens who scare me.

I call out bad behaviour and make people uncomfortable if they are repressed. I will change you without even meaning too, I don't even need to date you. its just my presence, over time, amplified by the intensity of the dynamics.

I don't want simplicity, but I also don't need over complexity.

I value passion, independence, creativity, curiosity, problem-solving, deep-disscussions, shared adventures and some occasional risk-taking (lol), sensuality and sexuality for a common cause beyond physical pleasure. I like being taught but not micromanaged. I need my own independence, and need to be trusted with that. I hate being scolded for that like a child, or being pushed to change my ways to conform to societal values. which I will push back and refuse to do. which is not healthy. I don't adult like many others do, but I try to proceed in other ways. and learn to adult like normal people, accept me.

I also value myself, and how I can be celebrated, enhanced and improved vs. the opposite.

I give space, and have boundaries, and understand human psychology, sexuality and relationships in ways few others unless they are trained, can do.

I value MY time. so you can have space to value YOURS. I dont need to be in anyones pocket for a long time. I love being alone, and being around people who are stimulating, but draining people will be drained out of my life quicker than I intend. I am sorry for the people who felt I disappeared, when I was only trying to be 'fair', if I feel I'm a bad influence, I will work on myself until I'm not. I'm still working on it.

I also use this psychology awareness, to enhance communication, connection. you may or may not become an accidental guinea pig. I will be upfront that I am experimental, but that is part of the buy ticket and take the ride. lets work together. not apart.

I am coming from a place of love, and love is what I feel for my animals, which you will be adopting as children.which I want to stop experiments being done on. I love love, in all ways, but hate cruelty of animals and children, violence and suffering. I dont advocate justice, because I find life is fucking cruel, unfair and unjust. by default, so I focus on myself. what can be changed, and what I am able to do in my own locus on control. I will always find myself drawn to the outsiders, the misfits, the vagabonds, the misunderstood. I want to help people who are society, or socially, disadvantaged by trauma and mental illness, but only when I have ability to help myself.

it's a journey.

I will not date anyone who is cruel to animals, outside of specify magical sacrifice, there is not any place for that. nor will I date or fraternise with anything or anyone linked or associated with pedophilia. I won't judge anyone on anything that are outside animal cruelty and pedophilia. I don't and haven't. I keep on good terms with every ex, bar 1 whom I only apologised too this year. it felt good to do that. I change my behaviour.

I am open, but also highly attuned to both logical, factual, empirical , scientific worlds, and spiritual, intuitive, psychic and the "collective unconscious". I walk in both these realms, and I am "conventionally attractive". which puts a lot of pressure on me, to be "stupid". I am always dumbing myself down to fit into normality, but I look ridiculous if I do that so I peacock my intellect.

only to be misconceived.

I give up because I no longer care how anyone but MYSELF can see ME. I won't dumb myself down , but I can enhance you UP. prepare yourself for graded education, evolution and self-growth on mass scales.sorry not sorry.

that sucks for the people who want to be living vicariously through me, for making up to lost trauma years, for family who sold me out for the success I'd bring home, or fake trauma enmeshed friends, or whatever they want or need from me. I value my time and energy, and have given that in abundance, and if you want to be with nut only "one part of me that is alters". I can't provide that now. not sorry.

I have to work on something or not be in a dynamic at all.

I no longer can switch on demand to adapt for you, it will not be effective and that upsets a lot of people. especially now I'm sober. harder to handle this, as I see the world for its ways and why it is, more vividly. I haven't had alcohol for almost 2 months, although, I could drink, I haven't.

I can't do it, anymore. it, being, faking, my selves fronting to impress. I can't. I have no more left to give, and I'm expected by everyone to be a way I can't do it in the way they want.

I will go to another year long outpatient DBT, followed by 10 weeks of A-C-T therapy, and however many ECT OR TMS may or may not help. I'm told it won't (ect) work. but TMS, is something I am open too. but I am telling you, none of this psychotherapy, that will be based on dbt skills, day therapy, intensive skills training, recommencing my studying, and resuming "life worth living" will or can wipe the traumas I've "recovered" memories for.

I will also shut the fuck up, and tell nobody about this if you leave me alone, I told that to my family, and this is open letter to the watchers, stalkers and perps who read this openly as I track the hits on here and have 200+ visits a day every day for the last month. globally. no idea how or who you are but I think its the same people who called the police for the "ayreon song lyrics" seen to be a suicide not last October.

thanks for that wake up call, I have shut the fuck up, since December, more so now. I will burn the journals, or lock them up.

my recovery is not linear, not yet fully integrated and I trust nobody so I don't think my psychotherapy will be deep, I focus on things like ADHD AND my EDNOS. and dbt skills. I won't be talking about sexual traumas.

enjoy the update, and thanks for the "attention".

I have my goals, my work, my meaning and what my life should and could and will look like, but I will not share that with anyone. that means everyone right now.

I've been tested, traumatised and terrorised to the point of not-tolerant of anyone who may bring that back, and banish the fuck out of my sphere every moment I need.

take me as I am, or watch me as I go, which I will go, where I am not wanted I will remove myself, but I will find where I am celebrated because I create that.

I will rise up against all adversity every time but that is survival and that created a resilient and brave woman, in me. who will not be destroyed or decomposed by humans who are fundamentally fucking evil.

I gift you my truth, in progression, and give up the pain of the past.

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slowly-writing · 4 years

Text

Normal’s Boring

Natasha Romanoff x Daughter!Reader

Word Count: 2561

Part 2: Life Saver

a/n: This got really long, my bad. I hope you all enjoy it

Being a teenager living in the Avengers compound was a little weird. You constantly had Shield agents running in and out and there was always the fear of an attack. Maybe that was just the collective PTSD of your family, but they made sure you were always prepared. You learned how to fight and protect yourself at a young age, your mom was the Black Widow after all. The fact that you could take care of yourself didn’t change the fact that you essentially had half a dozen overprotective parents. They would all jump to protect you at the first sign of trouble. Having that many people living in one place made sure your life was never boring, that’s for sure.

“Hey, Uncle Tony!” You call as you walk into the compound after school.

“Hey, kid. How was school today?” Tony asks with a smile.

“Fine,” you say with a shrug, “schools boring, I could learn way more here.”

“C’mon, y/n. You need a well rounded education. You have to know more than just how to fight,” Tony argues.

“You guys could teach me! You and Uncle Bruce know way more about math and science than any of my teachers could ever dream of. Uncle Steve lived through all the stuff I’m learning in history right now! Did you know I learned about you guys last week? Do you know how embarrassing it is to have your mom be the topic of class? Everyone made fun of me for days! I stick out like a sore thumb!”

“I’m sorry kid, but that’s part of the experience. You gotta be around people your age sometimes.”

“Wanda’s practically my age! She’s only a few years older than me! She’d go to school with me if you all made her go,” you try and Tony shakes his head.

“This is a conversation you need to have with your mom,” he says, “I’m not getting in the middle of that fight.”

“Where is Mom, anyway?” You ask and Tony avoids eye contact.

“Last second mission, she should be back in a few days,” he explains with a sigh. Everyone knows how upset you get everytime she leaves. Not only is it frustrating that she disappears, you’re worried. You’ve lost track of all the times various members of your family have come back with injuries, some worse than others.

“Any idea where?” You ask and he shakes his head.

“That’s classified, kid. But I’m sure it’s fine. If it was big they wouldn’t have sent her in alone,” he says trying to calm you down.

“She’s alone?!” you yell and he winces.

“Okay, obviously shouldn’t have told you that. She’ll be okay, y/n. She’s the best there is. She always comes back. I promise it’ll be okay,” he says and you nod before silently leaving to go to your room.

This was the worst part of being an Avenger’s kid. Your mom disappeared constantly. You would never blame her for it, of course, she was saving lives. If it wasn’t for her missions she never would’ve adopted you

You were three years old living in Budapest with your family at the time. Hydra had popped up again and your town was caught in the cross hairs. It was chaos, people were down everywhere and buildings were on fire. You don’t remember very much, just being really scared and then suddenly Natasha and Clint were there. Natasha had taken you in her arms and gotten you to safety. You immediately felt safer in her arms. She brought you home with her, and the rest was history.

While her missions were important you couldn’t help but wish you could spend more time together. Growing up you were constantly thrown from Avenger to Avenger. Whoever was available to take care of you became the stand in parent for that week.

You shake your head softly and sit down behind your desk to start on homework.

~~~~

The next morning you were in a bad mood. Everyone was trying to help you out, but nobody quite knew your routine as well as your mom, you just wanted her to come home. Steve woke you up at 4am and you were halfway through getting ready before you realized you were going to be two hours early. You switched gears and got to train with him for a few hours though, which was fun. After a few hours you shower and start getting your stuff ready to go.

Clint had been trying to clean up yesterday and apparently moved your backpack to some mysterious location. You spent the better part of an hour searching the entire compound for it before you find it in Wanda’s room.

“I thought it was hers! You’re both teenagers. It’s hard to tell what belongs to who!” Clint argues and you roll your eyes.

“She doesn’t even go to school, Uncle Clint! Which is completely unfair by the way,” you say pointing at Wanda.

“That’s what you earn when you’re an Avenger,” she smirks and you glare.

“I’ve been here longer, I should be an Avenger by now,” you grumble, jumping on one foot trying to find your shoe.

“Here, y/n. I made you lunch,” Bruce says with a smile, handing you a paper bag.

“Thanks Uncle Bruce!” You say, pausing when you look in the bag. “Hey what kind of sandwich is this?”

“Peanut butter and jelly, why?” He asks and you grimmance as the entire room seems to stop.

“I can’t eat this.”

“Why not?” Bruce furrows his brow as Tony walks over.

“Peanut allergy, man. Are you trying to kill the kid?” Tony yells handing you a few bucks to buy lunch at school.

“Here, Wanda,” you call tossing her the bag. “A genuine school lunch, welcome to the real world.”

“Nobody tell Nat about the peanuts, she’ll flip!” Clint cuts in and you nod.

“Come on, y/n, you’re gonna miss the bus!” Steve calls and you glance at the clock.

“Uh, yeah that ship has sailed.”

“What? How? I woke you up three hours ago!” He yells and you raise your hands in surrender.

“Yell at Uncle Clint! He’s the one who hid my backpack!” you argue.

“Well why’d you leave it in the living room?”

“I’m in high school! That’s what high schoolers do! I guess I’ll just stay home today,” you try and you’re met with four simultanious eye rolls.

“Yeah right, your mom will kill us if we don’t get you to school,” Bruce says and you frown.

“Okay enough. Here, take a car,” Tony says tossing you a set of keys.

“Am I missing the part where somebody taught me to drive?” you ask looking at the keys in your hands.

“You’re seventeen! You don’t know how to drive?” Tony asks and you look around the room.

“Do you see the chaos that sprung from you guys trying to get me ready for school? Do you really think mom would’ve trusted any of you to teach me how to operate heavy machinery?”

“Why didn’t she teach you?” Bruce asks and you smile sadly.

“Do you see her here right now? She’s too busy,” you shrug and Tony sighs.

“Okay, come on. I’ll drive you,” he says leading you to the garage.

xxxxx

You sigh as you pull up to school. The expensive sports car doesn’t really help you blend in.

“Have a good day, kiddo” Tony calls after you as you head inside and you force a smile.

“Thanks, Uncle Tony.”

You can hear the whispers as you walk through the halls.

“How does she know Tony Stark?” a Sophomore whispers.

“That’s Black Widow’s kid! She, like, lives with the Avengers or something,” some Junior girl responds and you shove your hands in your pockets and hurry to class.

“Before we start today, I thought it’d be fun to discuss some more recent history. We’ll be discussing the battle of New York ,” your history teacher states and you sigh, trying to sink deeper into your seat, “Miss Romanoff, why don’t you give us a rundown of what you know.”

“An Asgardian brought an alien army down on New York. The Avengers fought him off,” you stated plainly. The teachers always called you out when it came to anything Avengers related, you hated the attention it brought.

“You must know more than that,” your teacher encouraged.

“Well yeah, my Mom and my Uncles kicked ass, but isn’t telling the class that your job?” you ask and your teacher glares.

“That’s very disrespectful Miss Romanoff. Do I need to call your Mother?”

“Like you’d have the courage to talk to her” You say with a huff, “you’d neve have get ahold of her anyway,” you grumble under your breath.

“Miss Romanoff! This is your last chance, would you like detention?” you know you’re right but you sigh.

“No, sir. I apologize.”

“Okay then, anyone else?”

“Sure made a hell of a mess in the city. It took the city months to rebuild,” a kid named Chad says and you glare.

“Let’s see you fight off an alien army! See how well you do!” You yell, slamming your hand on your desk. You can feel your face getting red.

“I’d at least-”

“Enough!” your teacher cuts you both off. “Battles always cause a mess. Look at any war in American history. Moving on, back to our discussion of World War Two”

“Your family fought in that one too. Maybe you’re the common denominator, Roamanoff,” Chad whispers from behind you and you clench your jaw, your teacher not hearing Chad’s comments.

xxxxx

“You sure are quiet without the teacher here to protect you, huh?” Chad says pushing you into the lockers, “where are your precious Avengers now?”

He punches you and goes to push you again. Your mom made you promise not to start fights when she started training you, but since he threw the first punch you have him on his back before he realizes what’s happening. He looks shocked and you roll your eyes, “I was raised by superheroes dipshit. Now run along and I won’t tell anyone how fast I had you pinned.”

He gets up rubbing the back of his head, he must’ve hit it when he fell. Your not too worried, it’s not like he can get any dumber. He looks at you over his shoulder as he practically runs down the hall. You straighten out your jacket and walk towards your next class.

xxxxxx

“Hey Uncle Steve? Can you help me with this?” you ask, walking into the living room.

“Sure, y/n. What’s your question?”

“I need to know what year Captain America started fighting during World War Two,” you say rolling your eyes.

“I’m part of your history homework?” he asks with a smirk and you nod.

“It’s kind of weird having to answer questions about my uncle for my homework.”

“I know kid, but hey, you have all the answers right here,” he teases and you smile.

“Helping my kid cheat, Rogers?” you hear from behind you and you jump up.

“Mom! You’re home!” you yell crashing into her arms, “Are you okay? How was the mission?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. It was fine, I’m okay.” She says holding you tight, “now what’s this I hear about cheating?”

“It’s not cheating, Mom!” You argue, “the questions are about him! I’m just cutting out the middleman!”

“You’re learning about your Uncle Steve in school?” your mom asks, her brow furrowed, and you nod.

“I learn about all of you,” you tilt your head, “did you guys not realize that? We talked about the battle of New York today. Almost got me sent to the office,” you grumble, crossing your arms.

“What was that?” your Mom raises an eyebrow.

“My teacher wanted me to tell everyone about it! Just because you fought in it! I’m not the teacher! That’s not my job! It’s his! It’s not my fault my family got mixed up in every damn battle in the history of the world” you argue and your mom sighs.

“I’m sorry, y/n.”

“What, why?” you ask, confused at the change of tone.

“It can’t be easy, living the life you do. You should get to live a normal life. I should’ve thought of this before bringing you home,” she says, looking down and shaking her head.

“Are you… are you saying you wish you didn’t adopt me?” you asks softly, tears welling up in your eyes. “I know it’s hard having a kid, but you still get to do your job. You’re gone all the time anyway-”

“Hey y/n, no!” her head snaps up and she takes your hands, “adopting you was the best thing I’ve ever done. Don’t think for a second that I regret bringing you home. Honey, does it upset you that I’m gone so much?” she questions and you look at the ground.

“Kinda,” you shrug, “I miss you a lot and everything’s a mess without you. Uncle Steve woke me up too early because he didn’t know what time I got up and I missed the bus and I couldn’t drive myself because I never learned how and Uncle Bruce tried to give me peanuts and I wasn’t supposed to tell you that. Please don’t be mad-” you start spiralling and your mom cuts you off.

“Y/n, look at me. I’m not mad,” she says softly, wiping the tears you didn’t even realize had begun falling from your eyes.

“I just get really scared everytime you leave. What if you don’t come back?” you whisper and she shakes her head.

“Love, I will always come back. I promise.”

“But you can’t promise that!” You yell, “people don’t always come back! My birth parents died on one of your missions. I can’t lose you too.”

“Okay, it’s okay,” she pulls you into her arms and you hold on tight. “How about this, I can cut back. I can’t promise I’ll never go on missions, but I can make sure I’m home more. I can teach you how to drive, and I can help you with your homework. I’ll make sure Bruce never touches your food again and I’ll make sure you can have a normal life.’

“Normal’s boring,” you cut in softly, “if I had a normal life I wouldn’t have been able to knock Chad on his ass when he punched me.”

“He what now?” Your mom pulls back with a glare and you’re suddenly very scared for Chad’s life. Your mom is an assassin after all.

“He was making fun of you guys and we got in a fight. But he only got one hit in! You told me not to start a fight and I didn’t! I waited until he did.”

Your mom shakes her head and pulls you into her arms again.

“I’m glad your home,” you bury your face in her shoulder, “I really missed you.”

“I missed you too, love. What about a movie night, just me and you?”

“Yeah!” you look up, seeing Steve has already disappeared and your mom leads you over to the couch.

You cuddle close to her as the movie starts, the safest place in the world to you is still in her arms. Sure, you may not have a normal life, but normal is overrated anyway.

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ferbmanofactionfletcher · 3 years

Text

Interview Process || The Flynn-Fletcher’s

Candace, Phineas, and Ferb sit down to interview Andrea on why she should get the chance to fill the roll she came to town for.

[TW: bad parenting, past trauma related to bad parenting]

@oh-phineas @i-want-candy

FERB

A time and place had been agreed upon for the interview of Andrea Martin. (Their house, afternoon.)

Ferb had no idea how to go about it and proceeded to spend the time leading up to it researching the interview process from the interviewer’s perspective. There were so many techniques, ranging from that of an employer looking to learn about a person that best suited a job to that of a screenwriter looking for research on a subject. He didn’t know which one to employ here since— well he didn’t know what exactly they were interviewing her for. What position was she wanting to take up?

A mother? She already had kids that she had a direct relationship to. And was he supposed to meet them? His half siblings? Or her husband? His step-father? What about—?

And he mostly got overwhelmed when he thought about it as one question would branch off into an infinite tree diagram. Though to anyone looking at him, he still looked like Ferb always did. Neutral and steady.

There were questions he had prepared but overall, didn’t know what to expect. But, that was the catch when it came to all people— he could never anticipate the outcome.

He sat at the kitchen table with Phineas and Candace, opposite to Andrea, who looked to be happily sipping tea. His eyes shifted to the Flynn’s, unsure if he was supposed to say something first since— well she was only here because of him. But they were so much better at speaking.

Andrea cleared her throat, leaning forward against the table top. “So! Where should we start?”

PHINEAS

Phineas didn’t really do as much research. His idea of an “interview” was mostly based on podcasts about tech startups and his own extremely limited experience. But he wanted to give Andrea hard questions (and yes, this was partially a result of his own humiliation at his Chapter Three interview). Part of it was a power trip, sure, but the other part was his genuine desire to protect Ferb. If this lady really cared about him, she would have to fight to be a part of his life.

“I’ll start us off,” Phineas announced, glancing at Ferb and at Candace. He signed as he spoke and translated for Andrea-- he didn’t want Ferb to miss any of this. It was his decision, at the end of the day. Phineas fixed Andrea with an extremely serious expression. “How many pennies, stacked one on top of the other, would equal the height of the Empire State Building?”

CANDACE:

Candace didn’t see the point of this. In fact, she thought it was incredibly stupid. There was nothing that Andrea could say that would convince Candace that she was truly back. Parents that left always left. They weren’t parents. They were sperm and egg donors. Nothing more. If only she could make Ferb see that.

Even if he did, she doubted that he would do the right thing and push Andrea away. He was too nice for that, too much of a pushover.

Well, if Candace was forced to be his big sister, this was how she would do it. By protecting him from a woman he didn’t even remember. So, even though she thought this whole thing was stupid and pointless, she was going to be here. For every step of it. And she’d expose Andrea for being just as flighty as she was before. People like her didn’t change. She’d make sure that Ferb understood that when all this was said and done.

She sat slightly slumped in her chair, arms crossed, glaring at Andrea. Phineas’ question wasn’t going to get them anywhere but at least it’d tell her if Andrea was willing to play along. Maybe Phineas would just wear her down by being obnoxious. That would be ideal, since at the very least, Candace knew Ferb would stick up for Phineas.

Candace didn’t say anything. She just watched.

FERB

Ferb didn’t really know where Phineas was going with that one. It seemed a little out of left field if they were supposed to be getting to know who she was. But he didn’t protest or shoot him a funny look, he trusted Phineas to know what he was doing— Ferb just blinked and turned to see what Ms. Martin would have to say while he worked it out for himself in his head.

(The height of the Empire State building [1,454ft, which converted to 443,179.2 mm] divided by the thickness of an average American penny [1.52mm] = 291,565.2632 or, rounding up since you couldn’t very well slice the penny, 291,566 pennies.)

At first Andrea could only stare, brow furrowed, at the question. She had prepared for numerous things to be asked of her. About her life, about why she had left, about why she hadn’t come back, about her other children, about her and Lawrence’s past relationship— but she had never expected she would have to do maths.

“The Empire State Building.” She smiled as she repeated him. It had still been such a surprise that Lawrence of all people had found someone to marry in America. Then she hummed, lips pressed together trying to think how she was even supposed to begin.

After a moment she simply shrugged, figuring it wasn’t worth answering something so silly. Surely it was some sort of joke Phineas wanted in order to break the ice? Andrea laughed a little before providing her answer. “I’m afraid I’ve no idea. I don’t even know how tall the Empire State Building is. I’m sorry.” She glanced between the three of them. “How many is it then?”

PHINEAS

Phineas smiled triumphantly, and scribbled down a few notes that didn’t actually mean anything but just to show Andrea he was taking notes. That he had opinions on that answer. He was going to turn it over to Candace for the next question, but Phineas couldn’t help it. He had to interject with his explanation.

“So, that question doesn’t actually have a correct answer-- well, it would, maybe, if I were interviewing you for an engineering job, but even then, there would probably be more efficient ways to test your math skills than a word problem about pennies and the Empire State Building. That was actually a test to see what kind of problem-solver you are. Whether you would even make an attempt, you know? And if you did, would you go at it from a mathematical perspective, or a more practical perspective? Or maybe you would have a question about the problem, like do the laws of physics apply here, and if not, could I stack the pennies length-wise instead of width-wise?” Phineas explained, a superior smile on his face as he signed the words. “So if you want to make another try, you can, but I think I got what I needed from that question.”

He glanced at Candace. “Did you want to go next?”

CANDACE: Not that Candace would admit it out loud, but she was actually kind of impressed with Phineas’ logic about the question. She wondered what weirdo interview site he’d read that on. Probably the hiring for Google or something. It sounded like a question they would ask you if you wanted to work at Google.

And she was unimpressed with Andrea’s answer.

At least come up with something, yeah? Ask a question? Don’t just give up. It showed a weak sort of character, if you asked Candace. The kind of character that would run out on her son at first opportunity. And would do it again without a second thought.

When Phineas passed the baton to her, Candace shrugged a little. “Sure, I guess.”

Candace didn’t know what she wanted to ask. She hadn’t come into this wanting to ask anything. Only looking for the satisfaction of Andrea failing. But, now that the opportunity presented itself: yeah, Candace had a question.

“Why now? Why are you back now? You never said. And I don’t want some bullshit answer. There has got to be a real reason.”

FERB

In all his research, Ferb hadn’t come across Phineas’ question, which made him wonder if his research had been thorough enough. Then again, that was why Candace and Phineas were here. To fill in the gaps that Ferb couldn’t.

It also made him uncomfortable once he realized what Ms. Martin’s answer reflected about herself. He couldn’t even muster up the courage to glance her way, knowing the second hand embarrassment would eat him alive if he did. This only grew as he watched Candace’s words popped up along his phone screen.

Andrea let out a little oh, falling back into her seat at the explanation. She folded her hands, one on top of the other, her confidence level having decreased significantly— and after only the first question.

As Phineas asked his sister if she wished to contribute Andrea picked her head back up, pressing a smile back to her features. Ah, now this she had been prepared for. Even if the way it was said was rather vulgar. That was fine. Even needed.

“I know it seems a little out of the blue. Believe me, it was for me, too. But— like I had said, I just couldn’t stay away any longer. There was no more reasons I could come up with or excuses that I could push in front of me to blame. I was watching my other children and I— I don’t know but I finally came to my senses. I realized Ferb was going to be a young man soon enough and I knew I didn’t want to miss any more of his life than I already had.” She looked over to Ferb now but when his head remained down, eyes focused on his phone’s screen Andrea returned her attention back to Candace. “I don’t know quite what you mean by the real reason. If it’s finances you think I’m after, I’d obviously be in the wrong place. The house was never in my name, there’s no secret will or treasure said to be buried in the floorboards that’s somehow come to light or whatever else. The only thing here is my son. That’s it, plain and simple.”

PHINEAS

Phineas liked to pride himself on being scientific and objective with these kinds of things. Logical. Sure, he was an emotional person and emotions often got in the way of good choices, but not with science. And that was what this kind of was, right? A science experiment?

Hypothesis: Andrea couldn’t possibly deserve Ferb.

Conclusion: ...Unclear.

It was getting harder for Phineas to separate his own baggage from this. Because, really, how many times had he imagined this exact scenario for himself? Fred showing up on the Flynns’ doorstep in Danville, begging for forgiveness, saying that he had made a mistake and that he didn’t want to miss another moment of his kids’ lives. Not so much recently, because Phineas had a new life and a new family and he barely thought about Fred anymore. But when he was in middle school? That had been a different time.

“What are you going to do to make it up?” Phineas interjected, his tone different now. Less smarmy, a little more genuine. A hint of a challenge in his tone, but a little bit of fear as well. Hopefully Candace wouldn’t catch on to what was going on here. “If you’re gonna walk out on your kid with no explanation, the least you can do is prove you’re sorry.”

FERB

“I’m not sure that there is any one thing I can do to make it up,” Andrea admitted with a small shrug. (Especially when the one she was even here for wouldn’t spare her a glance!) “Nor do I have any set plan in mind. That’s not really how you gain someone’s trust, is it? You can’t manufacture that. All I can do is make good on my word— which is that I’m here now and I will be for as long as I am welcomed. And even if it takes til the end of my life to repair the damage I have done and to form any sort of relationship with my son, then I’ll do it.”

This all seemed rather dramatic to Ferb.

Phineas’ and Candace’s body language read defensive while Ms. Martin was still one giant mystery, but she did seem tense. Immediately he wished he could call the whole thing off. Maybe he could fake an illness or something, say he got a text about some emergency— of course that wouldn’t work considering the only people who would contact him about that were all somewhere in the house.

He wasn’t so selfish to think that all of this was about him. The Flynn’s had lost a parent, one they had actually known personally, and he could guess this was poking at old, but still painful, wounds. But he was so selfish to think that none of this would be happening if it weren’t for him, and it was rather pointless to do so.

CANDACE:

No, it wasn’t about Ferb.

Not to Candace. She wasn’t mature enough to separate her own wound from Ferb’s. She projected her own feelings onto him, which was easy to do. He was quiet and reserved. She couldn’t read him, but she didn’t need to. She assumed she knew exactly how he was feeling, because it was how she felt:

Confused. Angry. Hurt. Her whole heart felt like a bruise. A lot of the time, it was easy to ignore Fred’s absence. It had been years and Candace didn’t need him anyway. She did just fine on her own. But, now that Andrea was here with her watery eyes and half-baked promises, Candace’s missing for her father had opened up like a black hole in her chest, sucking everything else into it.

It made her feel more protective of Ferb than any previous time. He was so soft. Such a pushover. He’d let Andrea back into his life even though she didn’t earn it and then get hurt when she inevitably left again. Candace felt like she had to protect him from this, the way she hadn’t been able to protect Phineas from the heartbreak of their father walking away.

“And what if he decides he doesn’t want a relationship? And that the damage you caused is irreversible?”

PHINEAS

Phineas glanced at Candace sharply. That was… an intense thing to say. And even if Phineas had come into this interview determined to drive Andrea away, he was starting to wonder if maybe he had judged her too harshly.

Because the truth was, Andrea was right. There wasn’t any one thing you could do to make something like this better. Phineas had never wanted Fred to come back with presents or stories or excuses. He just wanted a dad. Period. It didn’t matter, now, though, because he had Lawrence who was way better and would never disappear.

Sometimes he did wonder, though, what he would do. He and Ferb didn’t really talk about this stuff much.

“I mean, irreversible’s a strong word. Ferb isn’t damaged,” Phineas said quickly. “He’s, like, the most mature person I know. But I get what Candace is saying. It’s up to Ferb. I trust him.” He glanced at Ferb encouragingly. “Anything you wanna say, Ferb?”

FERB

Both Candace and Phineas were wrong.

Ferb was damaged— but it had not been because his mother had left. It was of his own doing. This was why he felt no anger toward the woman sitting on the other side of the table. Of course, it had hurt to have learned why she did not want him. It always hurt. It had hurt every time he had tried to communicate with someone at school or at the park or— anywhere, really, and they would ignore him. When his teachers would talk to Ms. Thompson instead of him despite it being his words she was translating. When his father would have to take over every conversation on his behalf at restaurants, stores, and just about everywhere else. It was why he avoided it now. The world. He had learned to know better than to inconvenience it with himself.

He watched Phineas’ question addressing him stare back at him from his phone and after a moment he lifted his head. It took him another to finally turn to find Ms. Martin’s eyes.

“I don’t want to deny you the opportunity you’re asking for but— you have other children. I fail to see what I could give you that they can’t.”

Andrea’s discomfort grew at the sound of her son’s voice. It was the first time hearing it. Even as a baby he had been rather quiet. She hadn’t expected it. Which was silly, considering, but still. It was off. Different. Made his lack of hearing all the more present to her. She tried not to let that show.

“Oh, darling, it isn’t about what you can give me! I’m supposed to be giving to you. And even if it were the other way around, you’re doing your part by just being you.”

There was a pause as Ferb had to read this over. She shifted in her seat. (Again, it grew.) “You don’t know me, though.”

“Right— that’s what I’m here to do!”

Pause. (Growing, growing, growing.)

“It won’t be worth it.”

Andrea’s smile fell. She blinked, brow furrowing as her eyes went to the other two sitting in front of her to make sure she had heard that correctly. “I’m— I’m sorry?”

“Objectively speaking, it won’t be worth it. Getting to know me. You live in another city where you live with your family and go to work. If you wished to see me you would need to travel which would cost you money and time you would otherwise be able to save. People would expect you to learn sign, which also takes up more time from your life. If you only wished to communicate through technology it would be a written relationship since you can’t call me, which would only take up storage space and, again, time. Either way you would have to contact my father, which he does not seem pleased with. People usually do not respond well to not being liked so your interactions will tax the both of you. And— I’m not worth all of that. You gain nothing from knowing me besides extra hardships which will only result in regret or resentment. Both of which are not healthy.”

CANDACE: Candace rolled her eyes at Phineas. She hadn’t meant that Ferb was like...broken or something, just emotionally damaged. Because having a shitty parent did that to you. Obviously. It broke your heart and your trust and made you feel like shit. It was damaging. End of story.

Listen to Ferb now! Clearly, he felt the same way.

It was hard to listen to because Candace had shit opinions of herself, but she had some redeeming qualities. And she would never admit to feeling them the way that Ferb did now. It was uncomfortable to say the least. It made Candace want to squirm.

So, she did what she usually did when she was uncomfortable: she turned it into something else. Anger. Anger at Andrea and any parent that thought just leaving a child was okay.

“See?” she said furiously. “That’s because of you. He thinks that way, because of you. He thinks he isn’t worth it because you left him. That’s fucked up and it isn’t something that is easily forgiven. You can sit here with smiles all you want, but what you did was horrible.”

She looked at Ferb then and she’d been signing this whole time...well, doing her best anyway. She still wasn’t totally good at it and she was too pissed. But, what she said now, she said very carefully and very deliberately.

“No one should make you feel like a transaction,” she told him, even if she had to spell out ‘transaction’ because she didn’t know the sign for it. “And it’s okay if you’re angry or upset. Just because she’s here, doesn’t mean you have to be polite.”

God, she wished Ferb had more of a backbone and would just tear into this bitch.

PHINEAS

Phineas, in theory, agreed with pretty much everything Candace was saying. Relationships didn’t work like that, the way Ferb was describing it: they were about love and reciprocity, and genuine care for other people. That was the way Phineas saw it, anyway. Sure, it was nice that Ferb could help Phineas when the projects got too technical and complicated for Phineas to do on his own, but Phineas that wasn’t why Phineas cared about him. It was because they were brothers now, and that was what brothers did. That simple.

But Candace’s tone annoyed him. Why did she know better than Ferb? She always acted like she was so much older and wiser, meanwhile, she was barely a year older than Phineas. She was right, but did she have to be so bossy about it? And even if what she did was kind of fucked-up, if Ferb did eventually want to give Andrea a second chance, what made it Candace’s business?

Phineas didn’t realize it, but he was maybe projecting a little too.

He had a lot of things to say, but it wouldn’t be professional to say them out loud, not in front of Andrea. So Phineas did the thing that was probably ruder— he took out his phone and texted the group chat with Candace and Ferb.

@Ferb that’s bullshit and u know it anyone would be lucky to get the opportunity to be in ur family and like obviously ur worth it

@Candace that being said can you chill with the psychoanalysis me and ferb r capable of making our own decisions

Satisfied, Phineas set his phone down and signed to Candace and Ferb, Check your phone, before turning his attention back to Andrea. “I think what we’re actually trying to ask is what you can bring to Ferb’s life, not the other way around. Let’s focus on that. And based on that, Ferb can make his own decision about whether it’s worth it to him.” Phineas shot Candace a look.

FERB

If Andrea hadn’t already folded under listening to Ferb talk, then she certainly would have upon Candace’s addition. She found she didn’t know what to say to any of that— and she thought she had prepared for the worst.

Ferb pondered over Candace’s words and concluded that she wasn’t really talking about him. He didn’t think that way because of Ms. Martin, he had always thought that way. His brain had made it easier with its ability to recall everything it had ever come into contact with. He also hadn’t said that he was worthless, just that he wasn’t worth spending time with. That was a fact, proven by many, many, many failed attempts to prove the opposite.

And he was upset that Ms. Martin was here, but he had taken to not showing his emotions out of self preservation. It wasn’t out of politeness, though, he did have those hardwired into him, too.

His eyes flickered down to his phone as Phineas’ texts came through. Phineas was obviously biased, but Ferb appreciated the kindness nonetheless.

This whole thing wasn’t out of a want for a mother or because he sought to gain anything from this— it just seemed like the fair thing to do. Ms. Martin had asked for a chance. Ferb did not want to deny her that, even if she had wronged him. It was the right thing to do.

Andrea cleared her throat after Phineas addressed her, nodding. “Of course! Yes, you’re right. I completely agree. I don’t mind traveling at all and I’m certain Lawrence and I can be civil to one another, so, please, you’ve nothing to worry about as far as logistics go.”

Ferb blinked and she was beginning to think that was a good thing rather than him responding. So far, he only replied with bad news.

“As for what I can offer, it’s only what anyone else could— myself. And while I know my past record doesn’t reflect that being a very good thing, but I want to be here. I want to know him— you. Ferb. To whatever effect that may be! And not because I feel like it’s my obligation to do so.” She smiled, trying to get away from all the discomfort of the past few minutes. “We can start with interests! What do you like?”

Again, Ferb blinked, then shrugged, unsure of how to answer that. It was too broad of a question. What did she mean, what did he like? As in food? Colours? Coding method? Time of day?

“Right.” She glanced to the Flynn’s. “You two know him better than I do. Is he in anything? Sports? Clubs?”

CANDACE:

Candace ignored her phone because she didn’t care what Phineas had to say. She was right. Everyone here knew it. Andrea didn’t deserve to come back into Ferb’s life. Admittedly, she didn’t know what would qualify as enough penitence to come back into Ferb’s life. She hadn’t ever thought about it. When Fred had left, that had been it. Candace had spent months, crying and waiting for him to come home. Calling his cell phone only to receive a dial tone.

She had held out hope until her birthday, but when he didn’t show up. Or call. Or even send a card, Candace knew that he was gone and she’d cut him out of her heart then. Of course, it was messier than she liked to think when she look back now, but what was done was done. Every missed birthday, graduation, milestone had only hardened her heart against him. Fred was a sperm donor. Not a dad. If he showed back up she’d—

See, she didn’t know, because she never thought about it.

Whatever Andrea was doing wasn’t it, though.

“This is stupid,” Candace declared, pushing back from her chair. “You aren’t even talking to him, himself!” Her hands flew erratically as she tried to sign but was too pissed off to do so very well.

“Whatever. I’m not dealing with this. If you want to “get to know” Ferb, fine, whatever. But count me out.” And with that, she stormed out of the kitchen, Agent P scrambling at her feet playfully.

PHINEAS

Phineas was annoyed. At everyone. Candace was being unreasonable, Andrea was being awkward, and Ferb was… well, Phineas figured he probably shouldn’t get to decide how Ferb should feel about his estranged mom showing up, but he wished Ferb would say something. Even if Phineas thought Candace needed to calm down, he did agree that it rubbed him the wrong way that Andrea was talking about Ferb instead of to him.

He watched Candace storm off and raised his eyebrows, shrugging apologetically.

“Sorry about her,” Phineas said. He glanced at Ferb, trying to see where he was coming from. “But she does have a point. You can’t just talk about people right in front of them. Anyway, we’ll be asking the questions.”

He smiled and folded his hands, satisfied with his own assertive attitude. “Describe what you would do if Ferb got detention.” Ohhh yeah. This was a trick question. Ferb never got detention.

FERB

Goodness, Andrea thought, but forgave the girl as soon as she left. It wasn’t her fault. That came from upbringing, clearly. And Candace hadn’t really been the person Andrea had been here for anyway.

“Oh, that’s alright. She’s fine, I understand.” She nodded to Phineas, folding her hands back over one another on top of the table.

Ferb, on the other hand, felt all the more guilty. He shouldn’t have said anything. He should have just sat there. He shouldn’t have invited her back. He shouldn’t have come down stairs at all the day she showed up. He shouldn’t have—. Well. That list could consist of an infinite amount of answers, or just one that would make everything else moot.

He didn’t look back at Phineas this time, too ashamed now to do anything but keep his eyes on his phone because surely Phineas would be angry with him, too. Yet he kept his anxieties from manifesting and despite the dread sitting in his stomach like a pit, he remained still and seated, even if he wanted to leave the table, too, to go find a hiding place that would last him for all eternity.

Andrea didn’t really have to think that hard about this question since she did have experience with figuring out punishments for her own children when getting phone calls from their schools! What she hesitated on was the fact that it was a child who was asking the question. Surely he would deduct points if she answered like a parent should. Or maybe he was trying to see if she would sugar coat it for the sake of trying to appeal to them?

Oh, she was just overthinking it. This was a child! “Well, depending on what he was in detention for, I would vary the consequences. He would have to apologize to whoever, if anyone, he had hurt, and then probably be grounded for some time, again, depending.”

PHINEAS

Phineas smirked. “Trick question. Ferb doesn’t get detention. The one time he did was because he covered my ass. So… nice try, but incorrect,” he said, a tone of superiority in his voice as he signed. He winked at Ferb.

Candace was gone and as much as Phineas wanted to milk this opportunity to be in charge, he figured there wasn’t much point in continuing to grill Andrea. Phineas didn’t hate her, after all. He was a little suspicious, but for the most part, she just seemed like a well-intentioned person who didn’t realize she was kind of in over her head. That was Phineas’s assessment anyway.

“Listen, I wouldn’t take Candace personally. She’s just… like that. I do agree that this is kind of out of nowhere, and I think you have a lot of making up for lost time to do, but the end of the day, it’s Ferb’s decision, not ours. Excuse us for a moment.”

He turned to Ferb and signed, Do you want to make a decision now, or sleep on it?

FERB

Andrea sat there a little shocked. He didn’t get detention? She blinked, jaw slack, as Phineas informed her. It wasn’t as if she had been expecting Ferb to be a troublemaker or anything, but never? On his own accord, anyway? Goodness. Even her other children had gotten punishments at school. A call home here or there for something. It was only natural.

She only gave a weak nod and smile to match as Phineas tried to apologize for his sister. Again, Andrea really paid no mind to Candace. She wasn’t the one she was here for and nor did she seem particularly close to Ferb in the way the boy sitting next to him was. Andrea sat back, left to twiddle her thumbs as the two of them began to speak in a language she couldn’t even begin to make out. (Which was more from a lack of not trying than anything else.)

Ferb thought over this question and could see no reason to prolong the inevitable. Ms. Martin had given her answers and she had still seemed like she wanted to know Ferb. For whatever reason. In his mind, it was only fair to give her a shot. She had apologized and said she would do more to make amends. There was really nothing else he could think to ask for.

Also, this was perhaps a chance for him to make up for his own failings. All those years he had spent trying to actively gain people’s friendship only to be ignored. Now, he was met with someone who had ignored him for years who was wanting to do the opposite. That had never happened before.

Now, he signed, both hands at his ribcage, palms to the ceiling, bobbing up and down twice. He then turned to Ms. Martin and spoke aloud. “Okay. If this is what you want.”

She nodded enthusiastically. “It is! Of course. Erm— oh here.” Andrea reached across the table to take Ferb’s phone, which caused a spike in his nerves since he 1. No longer knew what she was saying and 2. Well. She had his phone. After a few painful seconds of her tapping at it she pushed it back across to him. “I put my number in so you can call or— contact me whenever!”

Ferb, having not gotten any of that, just nodded. Andrea smiled, eyes moving to Phineas. “And thank you so much! This was delightful, apart from— well. Anyway, I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other soon!”

#interview process #oh phineas #i want candy #fern

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loverboybarnes · 4 years

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for the two of you - ch. 1

GradSchool!Bucky x GradSchool!Reader

Summary: You are in your last semester of grad school, so close to finishing with your college career forever. One requirements is to take a writing class that requires interpersonal communication with your peers, and you as a Computer Science major and a single mother of a 3 year old, are not familiar with personal relationships. What happens when you’re assigned to get to know James Bucky Barnes? How will he affect you, if he does at all?

Word Count: 1,626

Warnings: none really, but maybe young mom? i’m sorry, new to this so not entirely sure please help!

a/n: Hi! I’m new to this whole fanfiction writing and publishing but I just have so many ideas and want to try and execute them as best I could. This is my first fanfic so please don’t be so mean :( I will take constructive criticism though! I want to get better because there’s so many fic writers that I look up to! Anyways I hope you enjoy this beginning chapter :)

One semester. One semester left, you thought to yourself as you got your stuff ready for your last semester of grad school. “Come on, come on where is it?!” you whisper-yell to yourself as you ruffle through your bag looking for your apartment keys. “They’re right here” you hear your roommate and best friend, Wanda say from behind you. You turn around and sure enough you see Wanda wiggling your keys in her fingers. You smile lightly as you hurried to her and grabbed the keys “Thank you Wanda, you’re truly a lifesaver” you warmly say, turning around heading for the door, “I wish I could stay for breakfast bu-” “Yeah yeah first day of last semester of college” she says excitedly giving you a big smile. You smile back, “Dinner tonight at the restaurant down the street?” “You got it. We’ll be there, go on now get your study on” she smiles and with that you’re out the door.

The ride to your first class of the day doesn’t take too long, you’ve mastered the subway routes and times after being in the city for the past 2 years. Luckily, your last semester isn’t a full schedule as you’ve taken multiple classes over the summer to ensure that you graduated on time. Your schedule this semester includes 3 classes in total; Human Communication in Writing 502 on Wednesdays, Cyber-Security 500 every Mondays and Wednesdays and Human Computer Interaction 415 on Mondays and Wednesday as well, the first class of your day.

Your first class goes by pretty fast, knowing all you do on first days is go over the syllabus and expectations of the class. You have a few hours before your next class but you decide not to go home just yet, as much as you want to go home, you know if you did, you would never get anything done. With a groan, you head to the nearest cafe as you cover your body with your big coat. January in New York City is the coldest time of the year and after 2 years you are yet to get accustomed to the cold weather, which you’re not typically used to and have clearly not bought enough warm clothes to give you the warmth you so desperately needed as you sped-walked down to the cafe. You arrive at the cafe and see it’s not really packed, which you’re thankful for. As you take a seat at an empty table, you grab your laptop from your bag and set it down in front of you, opening it to your class syllabus. You hoped you would be able to identify all of the classwork ahead of time and plan time for your assignments so you don’t fall behind as you already presume is going to happen.

After going through the syllabus you bring your thoughts back to the real world and not the one you just planned around with your assignments, and notice that it’s late and you have exactly 17 minutes to get to your last class of the day. “Shit!” you mutter as you get up gathering your things and rushing out the cafe door. Not paying attention to the people around you, you bump into a big tall figure. “Oh I’m so sorry, I’m really sor-I-” you stumble on your words as you look up and see beautiful blue eyes look at your frazzled state. “It’s okay, it’s okay don’t worry about it” he smiles at you and you can’t help but feel completely vulnerable under his gaze. Why do you feel like that? You gasp quietly at the realization that he’s the first guy you’ve interacted with in a year, apart from the occasional class partners from school. “Do you need help with this?” he asks, bringing you out of your thoughts, looking down at your messy pile of papers. “Oh no no, but thank you. I’m actually in a hurry and have to go but really, I’m sorry for bumping into you” you say and smile apologetically at him. He smiles, shaking his head, muttering something about it being no problem but you can’t make sound of it as you’re already back on your feet to rush to your class, which you’re for sure going to be late to on your first day. Great.

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

Your day comes to an end pretty fast after your being tardy to your class. Again, it was just going over your syllabus for the semester. You walk out of your class and look at the time on your watch and realize it’s close to time for dinner and you’re getting pretty hungry, which is very evident when you hear you stomach growl which is expected as you only ate the one croissant and hot coffee from the cafe earlier in the day. You pulled out your phone, calling Wanda as you headed towards the nearest subway station. She picked up almost instantly and greeted you with a cheerful hello. “Hey Wands, it's me, how's it going?” you asked, your heart warming up at the picture that popped in your head. “Going amazingly, having so much fun! Is everything okay?” she asked. “Yeah yeah, everythings good, I just finished class and was hoping it was okay if we grabbed an early dinner? I’m pretty hungry and wanna see you guys” you say softly. “Yeah yeah, we were actually getting pretty hungry too. Wanna meet at the restaurant?” she asked. It wasn’t long before you hung up after agreeing to meet at the restaurant, which made your stomach grumble once again at the thought of food in your system.

The ride to the restaurant seemed like it was never going to end, when in reality, you realize it only took 23 minutes to get to your destination. As you enter the restaurant, eyes wandering around looking for Wanda, you automatically smile as you hear your daughter laughing alongside Wanda. Your heart warms at the sight of her cute little smile, as you reach over and cover her tiny body with yours in a tight hug, “what is Auntie Wanda saying that is making you laugh so much huh silly girl?” you ask, laughing with her too. She instantly turns around and gives you the biggest hug, “Momma!!” she screeches into your ears, making you pull away from the hug, still having the biggest smile on your face. “Hi pretty girl, I missed you a lot today. Did you have fun with Wanda?” you asked softly pulling her chin. She smiles and nods, “We had the best day today! She let me color and we ate ice cream!” she says but immediately covers her mouth, as if she wasn’t supposed to say anything. You and your daughter look over at Wanda who has her jaw on the floor, making direct eye contact with her. “Rosemary! I cannot believe you outed me like that!” Wanda exclaims, “I’m sorry auntie it was an accident!!” Rosie yelled running over to give Wanda a hug. “It’s okay, I forgive you” she replies, giving Rosie a kiss on the head, “but lets see, will your momma forgive us?” she asks, looking at you with pleading eyes and you can’t help but laugh at the sight of your best friend and daughter. “Yes I forgive you” you laugh, waving them off as you sit down in a chair next to Rosie. “Only because I’m starving and I had a long day without you” you say as you pick up the crayon that was on Rosie’s placemat which is also a coloring page. “Me too, momma” Rosie says. “So how was your day?” Wanda questions from across the table. You look up, “it was okay. The same old same old, just going over the syllabus and getting my assignments in order for the semester, I still have one more class to go to on Wednesday.” Wanda smiles, and you know its genuine. Ever since you got to New York for grad school 2 years ago, Wanda has been the biggest supporter of you, big enough to revolve her school schedule around yours as well doing school days on days you don’t and vice versa so you guys could take turns of watching Rosie everyday without having to pay the crazy university daycare that they charge. You were extremely and beyond grateful to have Wanda, who took you in when you didn’t know you needed it. She knew that you were always there for her too, for anything and everything. Including helping her study for a mandatory computer science class she had to take, even though she hated anything that had to do with math. Luckily for her, computer science was the one thing you were best at and you were more than willing to help her pass the class, whatever it took. Whatever the case, you were there for Wanda and Wanda was there for you and it was an amazing set-up, even when things didn’t always pan out the way you expected. “Thank you Wanda, seriously” you grab her hand “I don’t know how I could have made it to my last semester of grad school without you” you smile softly. She squeezes your hand tightly, “You have no reason to thank me, you and Rosie are the best people I’ve ever met” she smiles widely. “You too” you say before letting go of her hand and grabbing the menu in front of you. “Okay let's eat, what are you gonna eat baby?” you ask Rosemary, who’s having the time of her life coloring in the big fish printed on the paper in front of her. After a long day, coming home to Rosie and having Wanda as a best friend makes you incredibly content.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #loverboybarnes

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starlocked01 · 4 years

Text

This Do I Swear, I Will Be There

AO3

Masterpost- Previous- Next

Summary: Logan had faith in his soulmate until an unfortunate accident blinded him. Content Warning: Unsympathetic Patton, Unsympathetic Janus, Physical Injury, Manipulation

Day 22 Logicality- When you close your eyes you can see through your soulmate’s eyes.

Small hands on a windowsill, pulling up and gazing out into the night sky. Focused on the brightest star in the Northern Cross, Deneb. Everything went black.

Logan smiled and opened his eyes, climbing on his bed to look out the window and find the same constellation and star. He and his soulmate would do this every night, a reminder that they were under the same sky, sharing the same star.

He didn't know much about his soulmate yet- until recently their vision had been blurry. Logan supposed getting his own glasses had prompted them to get their vision checked. He shut his eyes again.

Blackness, eyes fluttering open again, hands held up cupped together in the shape of a heart around their shared star, hands on the windowsill climbing down back under the covers decorated with tiny frogs, the ceiling, blackness.

Logan opened his eyes and climbed under his own covers, falling asleep quickly in the quiet night. ---- Sometimes it was easier to concentrate on his teachers' voices when he watched his soulmate’s classes. Logan never recognized the teachers or other students, and sometimes found his soulmate staring out the window instead of focusing. Perhaps this was his version of a window.

One time, Logan managed to catch his soulmate signing a test to hand in.

Patton Connelly . Standing and walking to the front of the class, nervous finger taps, drop the paper, and retreat. Lay head down on the desk. Blackness.

Logan quickly opened his eyes and jotted his own name down on his notes.

Logan Crawford. :)

He added the smiley face, hoping Patton would like it. He certainly liked the name Patton. He closed his eyes.

Blackness, head lifting and pulling out a pen and post it. :3 Blackness

They had never written notes before. It felt like cheating to use words, but then again he wanted to know more about his soulmate. Logan opened his eyes and drew the symbols for male and female and a question mark. It wasn't cheating if they only drew pictures, right?

Patton drew the same symbols then circled the question mark

Well, that was, not straight-forward.

Logan drew a small heart around their initials L+P and closed his eyes for a response.

Patton's hands forming a heart before they lay their head back down on the desk.

Logan sighed and went back to taking notes. ---- Moving truck. The grass along the highway. A familiar road sign and a turn signal. A pad of paper and pencil.

I hate moving so much :< ---- Logan had watched Patton clean their glasses so many times, he knew exactly what the frames looked like. It always amused him that they matched his own.

He would have recognized those glasses anywhere, but he didn't expect them on the kid whose locker was next to his. Logan closed his eyes.

Books and a well-worn backpack, putrid neon green lockers.

"Patton," his voice came out a whisper.

Head turning. A boy with his eyes closed and mouth agape.

Logan opened his eyes again and smiled widely. Patton looked confused and closed their eyes for just a moment before reopening them with a happy grin.

"Logan!"

Logan took in every part of his soulmate that he could see, "it's good to finally meet you!"

Patton nodded with tears in their eyes before wrapping Logan in a hug and burying their face in his chest.

The pair were inseparable. They studied together in the library and went on dates around town. They found a hill away from the worst of the light pollution and would lay on a blanket just watching the stars together for hours talking about everything.

Logan listened as Patton told him about the pain of moving every few years to a new school and a new group of friends. Patton was sympathetic as Logan ranted about ecology and the damage being done to the Earth each day. They were there for each other, and when they weren't together physically they still had their summer star. ---- Logan didn't want to believe the moving truck in Patton's driveway was real. This was still their senior year, why now when they were so close to graduating?

Patton looked deep into Logan’s eyes, "I will find you again."

"I know it's just hard, Pat," Logan ran his fingers through their hair.

Patton smiled sadly and hugged him tight, "just close your eyes and remember this," they squeezed tighter.

Logan nodded and let the tears slip down his face. ---- Patton was too far away to make it back for Prom and Logan’s parents wouldn't let him go to theirs. But they still made a point to show Logan the dress they were going to wear.

Maybe Patton didn’t realize that Logan could see their date to the dance behind them in the mirror.

Logan didn't want his soulmate to be lonely but it stung to see the boy in a yellow and black tux dancing with Patton all night. His smiles at Patton pierced Logan, but he couldn’t look away. He was thankful when Patton pushed the boy away from trying to steal a kiss. Logan didn't want to share them like that.

Logan focused on his studies, excelling in college prep classes that earned him college credit. He was able to talk the university into allowing him to take a chemistry lab during his first semester.

Logan always wore safety glasses, but the explosion was strong enough that it didn't matter. He was rushed to the hospital but it was too late. Logan had been blinded.

He spent a week in recovery after surgery. Most of that time he spent watching Patton's life. Patton didn’t seem to notice until they tried to find their star and Logan didn't reply. Logan watched them panic, texting him. His phone had been a casualty of the lab accident.

Patton tried to see through Logan’s eyes several times throughout the week to no avail. Logan watched as Patton reached out to friends for comfort. He screamed, scaring a nurse when he saw Patton text that his soulmate must have died.

He wanted to tell them the truth. He wanted to find Patton and know things would be okay for the two of them. ---- Swirling white skirt and sleek white pant legs, what a beautiful combination of dress and tux, the smile on Patton's face for their big day.

Logan was still finishing his degree. It had taken the better part of a year to learn how to physically cope with blindness, and the next five years to work his way through his classes.

Patton was doing just great, apparently. Logan wished he could look away from the point of view of his soulmate walking down the aisle toward another man. Something inside Logan broke. This man had stolen his soulmate and he couldn't win them back. Patton looked happy. Logan didn't deserve to try and win them back for himself.

The voice in his head whispered but you're soulmates and he pushed it down. What did soulmates matter? Just because his heart was bleeding didn't mean he had the right to stop Patton's from continuing on. ~~~~ Finding Logan had been the happiest day of their life. Patton had known the moment they saw Logan that they were complements, meant to be together in life.

Moving before their senior year had been torture, but they quickly found friends to keep themself from feeling empty without Logan by their side.

Their heart was cracked when Logan couldn't come to their Prom. They heard Janus’ silvery voice reassure them that Logan would still want them to go and have fun, so they accepted when Janus asked them to go with him.

Patton never felt smart enough to keep up with Logan, but they were so happy for him when he got into an ivy league school.

Janus was there for them when their world went blank. Janus reassured them that Logan wouldn't purposefully keep them in the dark. There really was only one terrible terrible explanation.

Janus held their hands as they cried. He comforted them and told them Logan would have wanted them to be strong enough to live on without him. Janus said a lot of things. Patton started to agree.

Patton said yes when Janus proposed because it meant they wouldn't be alone. Logan wasn't there to object and Janus wanted them. At least they could pretend that being wanted was being loved.

They adopted a baby daughter together and once again Patton began to feel love in their heart. She was brilliant and Janus let them name her Mercedes. Patton was so proud of their little girl. Their life was so happy now.

Patton didn’t even think to question Parent-Teacher Conferences. Mercedes was a good student, excited about math and science and she just couldn't wait for Dad and Noni to meet her science teacher Mr. Crawford.

Mr. Crawford looked up, startled when Patton and Janus wordlessly entered the room. Patton knew that face, even though it had been years since they'd seen it last. Janus and Mercedes didn't know anything was wrong. They feared what Logan would say in front of their family, how they would explain themselves.

"Well, shall we begin, Mx. Shepard?" Logan's voice was even, betraying no emotion.

"Actually it's still Connelly. I didn't take my husband's name," Patton's voice came out a whisper and Janus gave them a strange look at the word "still".

"My apologies, Mx. Connelly. My TA must have mistranscribed it into my computer. Now Mercedes is a wonderful student. She could almost be my daughter," Logan's face twitched in the barest hint of a smirk as his words cut Patton like a saw.

"Mr. Crawford is so cool! Nani, did you know he's blind??" Mercedes bounced in her seat with a huge grin.

"Blind?" Patton's voice faltered.

"Oh dear, if you don't mind me asking, since birth?" Janus sounded genuinely concerned.

"No actually, it was a lab accident my freshman year of college," Logan stated simply and heard a sob from Patton, "there's no need to get emotional about it. I've adapted to losing my sight. Mr. Shepard, your partner is quite empathetic. No wonder you two make such a great team raising Mercedes."

"Logan! Please stop!" Patton cried.

"Logan?" Janus looked confused but quickly put the name in its place and his face paled.

"I'm sorry, is something wrong, Mx. Connelly?" Logan's face was set hard.

"Janus, take Mercedes. I need to have a word alone with Mr. Crawford," Patton stood, squeezing Mercedes' hand before Janus led her out of the room, "blind? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why didn't you wait? Or find me, like you promised?" Logan could feel the anger boiling like acid in his stomach. It felt cold and caustic and unimaginably dangerous but he lived with it constantly beneath the surface. He had been waiting for this night from the moment he met Mercedes in his class, "the only things I can ever see are snapshots of your happy life without me, Patton."

"I didn't know," Patton looked as if they were seeing a ghost.

"Did you think I didn't notice Janus was there? Even before you thought I died. We shared our star each night and you shared your heart each day. We're done here," Logan snapped his laptop shut and crossed his arms. If he could see he'd be seeing red.

"But I love you, I thought you would want me to be happy."

"Are you happy? Then go be happy. What I want has never mattered to you because you don't love me. The boy you left behind is dead and you know nothing of the man I've become," Logan stood forcefully, "now, if you don't mind, I have other students."

"Logan let me try again, please," but their request fell on deaf ears. Patton sighed and left the room, glancing back at his soulmate one last time.

Tag List: @stoicpanther @ifrickenhatedeverythingaboutthis @idontgiveafuckaboutshit @tsshipmonth2020

#tsshipmonth2020 #Soulmate September 2020 #logicality angst #logicality #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #oops all angst #hurt #angst #moceit #unsympathetic janus #unsympathetic patton #u!patton #u!janus #nonbinary patton #logan is a little unsymp too #everyone is an ass

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