#it's FINE it's cool ive got an outline and that's what matters

[essektheylyss]

I hadn't really decided if I was going to even attempt NaNo, let alone what I was gonna write, but I just remembered I have a novella to write that is technically on deadline and I haven't started, and FUCK.

#in fairness the editors have not actually GIVEN me a deadline considering the timeline got fucked lmao #it was supposed to be September and then i didn't even get lore until almost October #and here we are lmao #it's FINE it's cool ive got an outline and that's what matters #megs is writing

[hawkland]

Dear Fandom5k Author

My AO3 account (sidewinder)

Hello and thank you for writing for me! I’m excited to give this exchange a try for the first time and cannot wait to read what you can come up with for one of my requests. Please note I’d love any of them equally, no matter if I have more prompt ideas for one or the other. Some I seriously would love just about anything about since they are so rare, others I have more specific requests to scratch itches I haven’t seen written before (or that much.)

General Likes:

Soumates with a twist. I love soulmate/soulbond AUs, as long as it’s just not a shortcut to happily-ever, no-conflict fluff. I want there to be some difficulties or angst involved. For instance, I’d love seeing any fusion/inspired-by fics based off the concept of the AMC Soumates series - where there’s a newly-developed scientific test a person can choose to take to find their soulmate (if the other person out there has also taken the test). That way it’s a choice to find out or not. Would an already established couple want to take the test to find out if they’re really “meant” to be together or not? What if they find out other people are their “soulmates”? What about the possibility of platonic soulmates vs romantic? Discussions for the future if/when one partner dies before the other? I’d love to see these questions played out with one of my fave ships in either a  happy or somewhat angsty/dark way.

Vacation/travel stories. Being unable to travel this past year+ thanks to covid-19 has me desperate to explore and live vicariously through my favorite characters! So I’d love a story involving travel to somewhere new (to them). It could be a romantic getaway/honeymoon trip to somewhere special - and I love it when an author “takes me” to a favorite city/place of their own. Or two friends just going on an escapade together, maybe one sensing the other needs some time away from a stressful situation or workplace.

Smutty likes: I love extended kissing scenes, frottage, light restraint play, sharing-one-bed-for-~reasons~-ooops-how-did-we-wake-up-cuddling, bathing/caretaking an injured partner-turns-erotic, desperate/reunion sex.

Canon-divergent AUs - I’m always good with fix-its, shifts in canon that only change one thing and see what happens next or instead.

Do Not Wants:

A/B/O dynamics, mating heats. (I do like Supernatural fics that explore Castiel and the angels having bird-like behaviors and instincts, however.)

animal abuse/death

anything related to pregnancy/childbirth/kidfic (except for Jack in SPN)

formalized BDSM relationships

scat/watersports

unrequested alternative-universe scenarios such as high school/mundane/genderswap/coffee shop/fantasy/etc. There are a few ships/groups where I would enjoy specific AUs, and those are outlined below.

Completely sad endings/permanent character death or injury that isn’t part of canon

Rape/non-con between requested characters. Dubious consent is fine in situations like magic spells/possession/fuck-or-die, however.

Supernatural

AU - Canon Divergence, Character Development, Established Relationship, Getting Together, Fix-it fic, Interpersonal Drama, Smut, Angst, Canon-Style Plot - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery/Procedural, Slice of Life, Worldbuilding, Horror

In general for SPN, I love canon-divergence AUs at pretty much any point in time (especially as they kept having so many dumb reasons in canon to keep Dean & Cas apart just when one or the other seriously needed support or TLC!) I’m okay with post-series Heaven fics as well as canon fix-its/completely ignoring the finale, and I like exploring both human!Cas as endgame or Cas keeping/getting his full angelic grace back (which is a slight preference to me, as he repeatedly seemed to genuinely value/want to be an angel? But exploring all possibilities in fic is cool for me.)

I’m a sucker for Castiel Whump/hurt!Cas in general, so long as the author remembers Cas is a bad ass and not just a baby in a trenchcoat. If he’s going to suffer, I want him to suffer stoically until he just cannot keep up the facade any longer.  

SPN-specific DNWs: mentions/implications of Wincest, past or present; extreme bashing/characterization of John and Mary Winchester, or Jimmy Nowak, as homophobic. 

Group: Castiel/Dean Winchester Group: Castiel/Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester

Give me all the finale fix-it fics - no I’m still not over it, I’m still happy to read any new twist on how Cas got out of the Empty and got back together with Dean (and Sam). If Dean still dies early/ends up in Heaven, I’d like a story that explores what happens when one gets bored of peace-and-happiness-ever-after. (Yes, I’m a big fan of The Good Place and as such it makes me wonder if eternity with no conflict and everything you could ever want would just melt your brain and identity after a few millennia.) So what then?

I’m also stealing a Tumblr rant as a prompt I’d love to read, if you want to get into some good dirty smut:

ive had it up to here with fictional gays being like “i love you and if all i can ever have is that knowledge it’s enough for me” we need more “i have been struck down by horny insanity and i beg you to fuck me once. i’ve had three smirnoff ices and i’m gonna be crazy now. we can pretend it didn’t happen i don’t give a shit just gimme daddy’s blunt instrument” it’s more realistic [x]

Um so yeah. I’d love an au where, anywhere along the line when it’s been their/someone’s/the universe’s life on the life, Cas takes the initiative decides they’re gonna have crazy sex even if it’s just once before the end of the world/we die. But then, oops, we’ve survived, now we have to deal with it. ...Please?

For something different, maybe more romantic/fluffy, I’d really love a vacation/getaway story here, since they never really got anything like that of substance on the show. I want to see Cas take Dean somewhere beautiful and amazing in the world he’s never gotten to see before. Show him there’s more than just greasy diners and the landscape of America to enjoy and experience. If you want, they could stumble on a case/haunting/monster from another part of the world while they’re at it...but I just really want to see Dean having some mind-opening and expanding experiences beyond what’s he’s known and seen so far in life.

In specific with Cas/Dean + Sam, I love another tumblr idea I saw recently where Sam totally keeps bringing up the idea of “Sastiel” as a fun joke between him and Cas, and Cas plays along, and it drives Dean up the wall. Cas has to just keep re-assuring Dean that no, he doesn’t see Sam that way...but why does it bother Dean so much? A.k.a. Dean has to finally own up to the fact that it bothers him because he wants Cas to feel that way about him.

Castiel (Supernatural)

I just love Cas, period, end of story, he’s my One True Character of SPN. I love any stories that try to explore him more fully—be it his relationships in the past with other angels and being a BAMF commander/warrior of Heaven, or what specifically it is that keeps him so tied to the Winchesters. I love stories that feature his true-form in some fashion or try to dig into the alien/different nature of angels vs. humans.

Also, another Tumblr-musing-turned-prompt (I lost who posted it, sorry!) I'd love to see explored in a canon divergence fic focused on Cas. Specifically: 

"I would have loved an arc for Cas (after he got his grace back) where he wanted to help people, like he was helped. Spending time in soup kitchens or healing people, and through that developing a sense of self purpose, leading to his grace replenishing unexpectedly. Sort of fulfilling the traditional angel role (as we know it nowadays) by replacing his faith in heaven/dean with faith in himself, to redefine himself as a protector of humanity instead of heaven's soldier."

Group: Castiel/Dean Winchester & Jimmy Novak Group: Castiel & Jimmy Novak

We know Cas carried a lot of guilt for what happened to Jimmy and his whole family. So I'm interested in a post-finale, canon-compliant (I guess?) fic where Cas tries to reconcile things with Jimmy in Heaven. Maybe Jimmy & Amelia were one of his first "projects" or test cases in trying to build a new and better Heaven with Jack? (And it's what he was so busy with while Dean was still alive.) Or, is it weird in Heaven with Cas and Jimmy looking so similar? Does Cas still fight doubts as to whether Dean really loves him, or just desires this body/form that isn’t his own?

Otherwise, I've been thinking about Endverse!Cas, who had lost his grace/powers as the angels have all left and abandoned humankind. What happened to/where is Jimmy in all of that? (If we go by the canon that Jimmy was not killed, nor went to Heaven, until the end of Season 5, when Lucifer blew up that vessel and Cas was resurrected by Chuck.) Are they now two "mortal men"/souls trapped sharing one body? Is that why Cas is so messed up/always seeking an escape through drugs and sex? (Besides of course Dean having changed so much.) This is one prompt where I don’t mind a very dark/not-so-happily-ever-after ending.

The Police

Angst, Character Development, Established Relationship, Getting Together, Humor, Interpersonal Drama, Smut

Group: Sting/Stewart Copeland

Yeah I’ll always request these two together even though I know it’s a long shot to find anyone else as obsessed about them as I am. Really anything at all whatsoever would make me happy for this ship: Reunion Tour-era fic, early punk days before they grew successful, soulmate AUs...

I’d also love a spooky story where they’re on tour/on the road somewhere and end up in a haunted hotel. Or their tour bus/van breaks down in the middle of nowhere and they have to seek shelter in an abandoned house or farm or something...and supernatural weirdness ends up affecting them or bringing them together.

If you want to go the crack route: it wasn’t enough for Miles to take them all around the world to tour in “exotic” locations back in the day. He’s arranged for them now to go on the ultimate tour...of outer space and alien worlds.

Crossover Fandom

Action/Adventure, Character Development, Interpersonal Drama, Angst, Canon-Style Plot - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery/Procedural

Group: Abe Morgan (Forever TV) & John Munch (L&O: SVU)

I’ve had a long running headcanon that these two could have been friends back in their respective 60s/early 70s hippie days. I’d love either a story set back then, “pre-canon”, or them running into each other in NYC later in life. Munch ending up in Abe’s antique shop, for instance, while on an investigation?  

Group: Dean Winchester (Supernatural) & Ezekiel Stone (Brimstone) Group: Castiel (Supernatural) & Ezekiel Stone (Brimstone)

I’m fascinated by the idea of crossing over these two canons. Even if there’s some conflict in their approach to Hell/Lucifer/demons, there’s still a lot in common. Dean & Ezekiel having both put in their time in Hell and being demon hunters, for instance, and their complicated relationships with (fallen) angels. I’d love to see them bonding over their experiences (Maybe they even meet in Hell? Time DOES work differently there…) Maybe somehow after Ezekiel completed his mission for the Devil, he did get his second chance at “life on Earth”…but the devil’s trick is that it’s not HIS Earth, it’s in a different dimension (Supernatural’s). I’m also curious how Ezekiel might respond to Castiel as an angel–perhaps he mistakes Cas for a demon at first, with his powers, but then they realize they are in fact hunting the same demon? Cas is stuck in an alternative dimension and recognizes Ezekiel as a similar soul to Dean’s, and seeks out his help?

Basically I’d love some kind of casefic/demon hunt here, with the characters bonding over their shared/similar past traumas, taking care of each other when/if injured on a hunt, and/or perhaps helping them sort out their complicated feelings for another (ie, background Cas/Dean and/or Zeke/the Devil are TOTALLY welcome here, as I ship both of those ships.)

Law & Order: SVU

Group: John Munch/Odafin "Fin" Tutuola

Character Development, Established Relationship, Humor, Getting Together, Interpersonal Drama, Canon-Style Plot - Freeform, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery/Procedural, Slice of Life, AU-Genre shift

Munch/Fin is one of my eternal OTPs so I’m always happy to see something new featuring them! I’m always good for procedural/case-fics. And this is one request where I’d love to read some AU-Genre or setting shift, reimagining the two in some other situations besides police work. I’ve always loved the idea of John hosting a conspiracy/weird news radio show or podcast, and Fin as someone completely skeptical but who gets wrapped up in one of John’s mysteries. Or John as the owner of a bar somewhere that Fin is one of his regulars, and over time their friendship develops/deepens into something more.

Supernatural RPF

Misha Collins/Jensen Ackles Established Relationship, Getting Together, Smut, Fluff, Slice of Life, Humor

It’s odd for me to be into an actor RPF fandom (I usually only fall for music/band-related ones), but what can I say...these two just make it almost impossible not to see the possibilities!

I was thinking I’d love something set post-Supernatural...their first time seeing each other again after a long time apart? (What with the show ending, covid, Misha’s surgery, etc etc.) Could be at a convention or maybe they get to go off on a getaway together somewhere private/romantic and it’s...kind of tense and maybe nervous/angsty at first? Like with doubts about whether they can/should go back to the way things were before.

Or: putting tin-hatty speculation about the “secret/real identity” of Alma Perpetua aside, I love their poetry and I’d love any “Cockles” fic using one of their poems as inspiration.

#fandom5k #dear author #exchange letter

[feel199x]

             TO PROTECT OUR DISTRICT - THE EVER WATCHING EYE

I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X   m.list

♘ ceo!hwang hyunjin, mafia!au, mafia boss!hwang hyunjin

♘ warnings; fighting scene, hospital setting, swearing, murder/kill mention

♘ summary: reader has to go save yet another person for her conspiracy

♘ a/n: *rubbing my evil little writer hands* hehe enjoy (also this chapter is short but i wanted to post i...sorry

You woke up, thrashing against yourself, even before you realized where you were. And when you finally did, the white of the walls infuriated you. You screamed and hissed to people who weren’t even there. You were giving god a show. It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, but you could’ve sworn all you knew was white, the color white, like in your eyes and your vision. The cool metal of the handcuffs burned its form into your skin, and as your arms were planted on either side of you, there was no way to break your own thumb to escape them. The door opened almost imperceptibly, and in came the small form a boy. 

 Felix.

 In his hands were two cups of coffee, and he settled himself at the side of your bed. “____.” his voice was low and scraped you like sandpaper, “I’m going to uncuff this hand. Don’t do anything stupid, yeah?”

 “Fuck you.”

 “Always the charmer, can’t imagine why Hyunjin left you.”

   He fished a key out of his pocket and you stared, grinding down on your teeth. His face was blank, even as he met your eyes. You waited as he placed the coffee in your hands, and you sat it between your legs. “I suppose you know what I’m here to do. Again,” he paused, taking your chin into his thumb and his index, “No funny business, yeah?”

 He sat comfortably in his chair, taking a long sip of coffee. “Please,” you murmured.

 “Please?”

 “Please uncuff my other hand. It hurts, please. Please just give me this. I have to be stuck in here, let me move.” You were crying. “Uncuff me. Please. Please. I won’t do anything. It hurts, Felix. It hurts.”

 He watched you carefully, “I’ll think about it, now,” He adjusted himself in the chair to face you, “I have in mind to get a few answers from you.”

 “You went off grounds without permission, we know that much,” he paused to look at you, watching for any trace of a reaction, “And there was a robbery at the diner you went to. We’re aware you know we sent them.”

 You watched him watch you. Your eyes leveled on him, “So what?”

 “So,” he folded his hands on top of his lap, “We want you to kill one of them. One who crossed us.”

 Your breath caught in your throat, trapped and expanding. “Okay.” you said, “But uncuff me.” He thought about it for a moment, his hand pressed upon the outline of the small key in his pocket. He pulled it out, finally, and made you wait as he turned the key slowly. Your hands sat limp in your lamp as you stared at the red marks on your wrists. Without thinking, you grabbed the cup of coffee and threw it at him, spilling the warm coffee all over his white button-up. He got up, his chair spilling onto the white floor and he got up after you. You felt him behind you as you exited, and turned your torso as you kicked at him. He caught your leg, but you lifted yourself up, twisting and using your other foot to kick at him and make him fall.

 You pressed your knee onto his chest as you panted, barely noticing your audience. Another figure started to make his way towards you, and you punched and scratched, feeling feral and unravel. 

 “Do not fucking touch me,” you looked at boy before you, “Don’t you fucking touch me, Hyunjin.” You pushed him off you, not feeling an ounce of guilt for the light red scratches on his arm. “I’m not an animal,” you screamed, “I am not a fucking animal, so don’t you treat me like one.” You stood there, in the middle of the observation room, your silk pajama shirt torn and off your shoulder. “Fuck you guys.” 

 It was only after you left the observation room that you realized how your legs wanted to give way. No one came after you, but you were sure they could see you anyway. You hadn’t realized that you had no actual idea where you were, only hearing about this place in the Hwang Estate through conversations that your dad whispered to shadows at the front door. You found a corner to slip by and let yourself slide down the wall for your breath to even out. The place was a labyrinth, and no doubt it was meant to be this way. The dam of your heart broke and your tears flooded. You sat there, sniffing and heaving, mourning what was lost and could not be found. You gasped for air in between fits of crying, letting go of the voyeur of the eye. In the shadowed corner, in the light, you just were. 

 You curled up, against the white tiles, tear-stained and pathetic. And they found you, they always would. Humiliated and sacrificed, what lame lamb you were.

 You don’t know how long it was, but all that mattered is that you were back to your parent’s shell of a home. You sat at the table and stared at the empty chairs by your side. On the table was the file, the file of the one who had crossed them. Kim Yugyeom was at your mercy.

 The plan was simple, slip in and slip out. No cameras, countryside hospitals can’t afford it. Cops? All bought. 

 Except you weren’t going to kill him. He needed your help, and you needed his.

 Mr. Hwang had given you a train ticket, and you eyed it carefully. You knew that he’d rather someone bring you, and you knew you had to bring something to proof of the kill. It was a trap, simply. You left as the world slept, and the shadows crept up from the abyss to play. Watching, always watching. How could you exist, how could you breathe knowing you were being analyzed. So you watched back, looking for anything and everything. And you found nothing, nothing in the dark, but it did not comfort you. The train ride, however, was as close as comfort as the blanket of stars could warm you in their dying heat. The sun cracked the sky, and bled its light and color into the day over the green tongues of the earth and brilliant life of the flowers. The caterpillar train crawled along the track and peace found it’s fleeting moments in the calm transition of the day. The train halted to your stop, and you stood, holding the pole as your feet seemed to sink into the floor. 

 You walked down the road, and at the very end, facing the greenery in all its glory, there stood a simple hospital. You walked in casually, the receptionist paying you no mind, and the emergency room empty with a sports game narration filling the air. You walked down to his room, and he laid there, the plain white blanket pulled up to his chest. You felt your heart weaken at the sight of all the white, and your eyes go blind. 

 You stood at the edge of the bed, “Yugyeom?”

 He opened his eyes and looked up at you, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

 “Waiting for what?”

 “For you to kill me.”

 You stared at him, and he did it right back. He grabbed your hand, holding it tightly, and raised it to his chest. “Can you hurry up?”

 “Awfully excited for your death, aren’t you? Get up.”

 “You’re gonna shoot me execution style?”

 “You’re making me want to.”

 He smiled, and you found yourself mirroring him. You noticed the bow of his lips, and the slope and button end of his nose. “You’re gonna have to help me out, you shot me in the foot remember?”

“But…” your voice trailed off took and you took out your scissors, and he gave you a look.

 “What’s that for?”

 “I need proof that I’ve killed you.” 

 He grimaced, running his fingers through his hair, “Okay, but not too much.”

 You bit your lip, holding in a laugh, “What a shame it would be if I..”

 He grabbed your hand, giving you a superficial dark look, “Don’t even think about it.” 

 You laughed a bit, cutting only a bit off and tucked the lock of hair in your pocket.

 He moved carefully off the bed, “It’d be nice to know the name of my knight in shining armor.”

 “______.”

 “______,” he echoed, “Pretty name.” He turned to face you, “Prettier face, though.”

 He smiled at you, and you avoided his gaze, walking to his door. You watched outside his door, sat him in a wheelchair, and quickly wheeled him out. “If you’d like to know,” he said as you wheeled him into the train station, “the gunshot was mostly superficial. Looks like you’re a bad shot.” He got up, slightly limping but stood smugly and licked his lips. 

 You crossed your arms, and tapped your fingers against your upper arm, “At least I got a shot in. Besides, I could’ve killed you if I wanted. Twice, actually.” 

 He walked closer, pushing your hair behind your ears, “Just teasing.”

 “Are you always this flirty with people who can kill you?”

 He laughed, “Sorry,” he grabbed your shoulders, “it’s just too easy.”

 He rocked on his heels absentmindedly and then winced when he remembered his ailment. He shook his hair out of his face. Both of you waited in silence, a ways apart, mulling over your own thoughts. You watched the wind blow the hair out of his face, and his earring dangle a bit more. 

 “You’re staying at my house. I checked for bugs, I couldn’t find any, so we’re probably fine.”

 He stared out the window and nodded. “Well, my gang’s basically out to hunt me so, glad you found me and not them.”

 He looked at you then, his eyes glassy and drooping. “Thank you.”

 You looked at him for a long time, and finally said, “You deserve to live.”

 For a long time, both of you just looked at each other, silent and ambiguous. “You look tired,” he patted his shoulder, “Let me be your peace.”

 “Ain’t no rest for the wicked,” you murmured, letting your head fall on his shoulder. You listened as the conductor called out the name of each stop. 

 You led him through a trail you and Hyunjin had marked behind your house when you were kids, you led Yugyeom through it, hissing at him to be careful and quiet. You had scouted it before, looking for anything that would make you have to look for an alternative route, but there was nothing. Finally, you got to the backdoor. 

 You opened the door, and who was sitting there, but Hyunjin himself.

 You were thankful you had made Yugyeom sit in a bush as you checked your house, but a fire arose from the pit of your stomach. “What are you here for?”

Hyunjin stood up and fixed his shirt, “I wanted to check up on you.”

“Cut the shit.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “You’re a part of the team. Just wanted to see if you’re able to perform as expected.”

 “Well, thanks. I’m at optimal performance, fuck off. I don’t report to you.”

His face grew darker, “Oh, but you do. I run this shit, don’t you forget it, _____.”

 “Yeah, when you had me to cover and protect your ass.”

 He sucked his teeth, smirking at you, and walked towards you. You stood your ground, looking him dead in the eye. He lifted your chin with thumb and index fingers, “Heartbreak hurts, darling. Get well soon. Good luck on the mission.”

 You hated him, god you hated him. 

 But you wanted him, more than anything.

 You waited until the door closed, and even then you watched him from the window to ensure he’d left. You met Yugyeom out back, and led him to your room, where he flopped down and rolled. “Isn’t your boyfriend going to be jealous that I’ll be staying here?”

 “He’s not my boyfriend.”

 Salt in the wound, huh.

 “Damn shame. He must be real stupid.”

 You shrugged, pulling off your jacket and throwing it onto the floor. “You have to tell me what you did.” 

 “I told the cops,” he said bluntly, “Just, the wrong ones.” He continued, looking up at the ceiling, “Man, I knew the Hwangs had an empire, but not like this.” 

 “You have no idea.” You laid on the bed, by his side, “Tomorrow, you need to keep a low profile. I can’t take you to work, so I can’t protect you.”

 “I can take care of it, you know. I’m not completely helpless.”

 You turned your head, to find him already looking at you.

 “But, who’s gonna protect you?”

#stray kids #stray kids au #stray kids hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin imagines #stray kids hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin fic #skz hwang hyunjin #skz #skz imagines #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines

[shadedrose01]

Maybe There's a Reason (To Believe You'll Be Okay)

Relationships: Harley Keener & Tony Stark (platonic), Harley Keener/Peter Parker (at the end)

Summary: Harley has a crisis, and Tony helps him through it (with a hint of parkner at the end).

Tags: Remix, Parkner Remix Event, Even though its barely parkner whoops, Emails, Letters, Phone Calls & Telephones, Tony Stark Acting as Harley Keener's Parental Figure, Sexual Identity, Identity Issues, Coming Out, Kinda?, Sexuality, Gay Harley Keener, Crushes, Harley Keener Needs a Hug, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Acceptance, Self-Acceptance, Love, Parental Love, Tony Stark is Good With Kids, tony stark is a dad, why is that not a tag, Parkner is only at the end, for like a paragraph, Just so yall know :)

For the Parkner Discord Remix Event!!

A remix of @official-impravidus ' fic "Sincerely, Me" (which you can read here!)

This is longer, so ao3 link is here!

Hope you all enjoy! Love you lexie!!

--

Wednesday, May 8, 2013, 1:24PM 

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Relationships and Mark V

I don't understand dating. Like, my friend Bryan started dating Rachel today, and that's fine, whatever, but I just don't get it. All they did was hold hands and kiss each other all day. Is that all a relationship is? What even is the point of it? I mean, I know humans are animals and our instincts give us our need to reproduce so we need to find a viable mate and all that stuff, but why do you need to always be together, and hold hands, and do all of that gross stuff too?

Either way, I finally got around to building a mark V for my potato gun! It's just a few upgrades up from the mark IV, for faster shots and farther range, but I think it'll be cool once it's done. 

I hope your day is going okay.

-Harley

 

~~~

 

Wednesday, May 8, 2013, 10:43PM 

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re: Relationships and Mark V

Relationships are complex, and complicated. Humans are born to reproduce, yes, but dating, and finding a partner is more than that. It's finding someone you're compatible with, who can be there at your best and at your worst, and a bunch of other deep seeded emotions that are hard to explain.

You don't need to worry about that now, though. You'll understand more when you're older, anyways, so I wouldn't worry about it.

My day has been good. More of a lazy day today, Pepper and I ordered some take out and watched movies in our pjs. I didn't have my phone on me per Peppers request, or I would have answered sooner.

As for the Mark V, the updates sound good. Keep me posted, kid.

  -The Mechanic

 

~~~

 

Monday, September 8, 2014, 4:57PM 

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Middle School!!

I started middle school today!! And honestly? It wasn't as exciting as I thought it was gonna be. I knew that movies and tv shows oversell the wow factor of middle school and high school but I didn't think it'd be this dull. I'm still in the same class, with all the same classmates, and my classes are still crazy easy. I had hoped that the increase in grade would make it even a little bit harder, but I knew everything on the outline they gave out before the teachers even started teaching!! It's bonkers!

Apparently this middle school also has a STEM, or "gifted" kid program for kids like me though, so hopefully that'll be harder. I'm still gonna be so bored in my normal classes though. Ugh.

I have the STEM classes tomorrow, so I'll tell you how it goes. I know you've been stuck in those awful meetings lately, but I hope your day is going better than mine.

  -Harley

 

~~~

 

Tuesday, September 9, 2014, 5:04PM

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: STEM Program

I had my STEM class day today, and it went a lot better than yesterday did! My teachers are all super nice, especially my math teacher, Mr. Trevor. He immediately starting teaching today, which was awesome, because all of my other normal teachers had a Ice Breaker class first (which I hate, we all already know each other, why do we have to say our names and something about ourselves??), but he just went right into it, and started teaching us trigonometry. I haven't learned any of it before, and I'm super excited to dig into it and find out how it works. It's seeming pretty simple so far, just formulas and using calculators right.

The only bummer is the class I got put with. They all seemed to click and get along well together, but none of them really talked to me much. I don't mind though. I'm more focused on my education anyways.

Also! I saw that Captain America and Black Widow took down SHIELD's headquarters on the news. What was that about? Do you know?? Apparently they leaked files too or something???

I hope everything is okay.

  -Harley

 

~~~

 

Friday, September 12, 2014, 10:27AM 

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re: STEM Program

Hey kid. Sorry for the late response, things have been hectic here, as you probably know. It's been a PR nightmare, with the whole "Cap took SHIELD down" fiasco. I can't say more than that though. Legal things, NDAs, you know how it is.

I'm glad the STEM classes are testing your abilities more. I know the regular classes can be boring for someone of your intellect, but try to enjoy them while they last, okay? Soon you'll be an adult, and doing adult things, and trust me, it isn't as fun as they make it out to be in the movies either.

Don't worry about those kids too. Give it time, they'll come around.

  -The Mechanic

 

~~~

 

Friday, September 26, 2014, 9:02PM

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Update?

Hi. Just emailed to give an update on me. Everything's been pretty normal, I guess. Abbie's loving elementary school, her teacher, Mrs. Millar, is really nice. I did my trig test today, and I think I did well. Mama's working late again tonight, but that's just normal at this point too.

Have you ever, I dunno. Felt like you were weird? Or strange, or broken? Like, all of your friends are one way, and doing some things, but you aren't, and everyone looks at you weird, and treats you differently?

I don't know. I don't know where I'm going with this. I just feel off tonight. Think I'm going to go to bed early.

I'm sorry.

  -Harley

 

~~~

 

Friday, September 26, 2014, 9:48PM 

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re: Update?

 

You don't need to apologize, kid. You did nothing wrong.

I used to feel like that, quite frequently if I'm being honest. When I first went to MIT, I felt weird. I stuck out like a sore thumb, and had people talk about me behind my back because of how young I was. But then I met Rhodey, and things got better.

And then Afghanistan happened. And the invasion. Let me tell you kid, I've never felt more broken and alone after that. I had panic attacks, as you know, but I also struggled with a lot of paranoia. Lack of sleeping or eating properly, mixed with trauma does that to you. I was a wreck, and I was so certain I couldn't be fixed. That I'd be like that forever.

And to an extent, I will be. I'll always struggle with it, but it's much, much better now than it used to be. I went to therapy, talking about my feelings, which sucked ass (don't tell your mom I said that), and learned mechanisms to help myself. Learned breathing techniques, practiced meditation, focused more on self care, and now I'm doing so much better.

So, moral of this long, way too personal story. You aren't broken, kid. Whatever is going on, whether it's similar to me or not (I hope not), it'll be okay. You will be okay. Things will work out. And don't worry about what other people think. Focus on yourself, and do what makes you happy, no matter what.

I'm always here if you need to talk, Harley. I might not be much help, or be very good at this whole hormonal preteen emotions thing yet, but I can try.

I'm glad things are going okay outside of that though. I'm glad your sister's settling in well, and I'm sure you aced your test. You're a smart kid.

Goodnight.

  -Tony

 

~~~

 

Tuesday, October 7th, 2014, 3:38PM

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Call

Hey, can we call? I know you're probably busy, and we don't normally do that but I'm kinda freaking out about something and I don't know who else to talk to. My number is (___)  ___-____

  -Harley

 

~~

 

Tuesday, October 7th, 2014, 3:41PM

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re: Call

Nevermind, ignore that last email. I was being overdramatic, and stupid. I'm fine, everything is okay.

Sorry for bothering you.

  -Harley

 

---

 

He didn't expect anything from the emails. He assumed the older man would've read his last email, and shrugged it off, pretending the previous didn't exist like Harley longed for him too. As he said, he was being dumb. It didn't matter that his heart was pounding, that his brain was screaming at him that he was a freak, and dirty, and so so so wrong , that he was shaking like a leaf and on the verge of tears. It didn't matter. It was stupid. It didn't matter.

He didn't expect that Tony would actually still call him.

He stares at his vibrating cell phone through teary eyes, blurry vision, the number unknown but he knows who it is, knows it because nobody else calls, because when his friends call, they call the home phone, not his phone, so who else could it be?

He blinks the tears out of his eyes, rubbing them away quickly when a few escape, swallowing down his fear and panic and self hatred as he scrambles to pick it up before the call ends (he doesn't think Tony would appreciate it very much if he let it ring to voicemail), stuttering out a shaky, higher pitched "H-Hello?"

"Hey, kid." Tony's voice, much lower and rougher than his, rings through the phone, and Harley braces for the questions, the interrogation he knows is coming, knows Tony's gonna ask him about it, about what's bothering him. Why, why did he email him? Now he's gonna have to tell him what's wrong, now he's gonna have to admit it, admit how wrong and messed up and broken he is- "How was your day?"

Harley jerks back slightly, mouth gaping and eyes wide, caught off guard by the unexpected tame question. "Huh?"

"How was your day?" The man repeats calmly, tone smooth, even, relaxed, like it's a normal conversation on a normal, boring day. Nothing like how Harley is feeling, nothing like the swarming thoughts in his mind, like the flood of emotions in his chest, like the churning in his stomach, the burning ache in his lungs. 

"U-uhm," Damn his stutter, he had grown out of it years ago, why was it suddenly coming back now? "I-it was good." He lies, trying to keep his voice from wavering, trying to keep it steady, trying to stay composed as the tsunami of emotions tries to pull him under. "Yeah."

"Yeah?" Tony prods lightly, voice softening slightly, and Harley shakes his head in a nod, firm, even though Tony can't see it, even as tears start to burn at his eyes again, even his chest winds tighter and tighter and tighter .

"Mhm." He forces out, not trusting himself to speak anymore, his throat closing as his feelings start rising up his esophagus, a sob clawing its way up his throat, trying to escape.

There's a pause, then, a moment when everything freezes. A moment right before the iceberg tips, right before everything crashing and burning down around him, right before the beginning of the end. And then, time starts again, as the mechanic asks, quiet, hushed "What's going on, Harley?"

And Harley crumbles .

The sob rips from his throat, echoing loudly in the large emptiness of his garage, a trembling hand covering his mouth as soon as he does. But the floodgates have already opened, tears are streaming full force down his face, his body shuttering through shaky gasps and shattered sobs. "I-I-Im sorry ," He chokes out as he sits down heavily in his old, pachy wheely chair, curling into himself as his body shutters again. He rubs his eye with the hand on his face, sniffling and coughing through a whimpered, "I-I know you're- you're probably b-busy, you- you don't h-have to-"

"I have nowhere else to be." Tony murmurs simply, cutting off Harley's poor attempt at waving him off, at delaying the inevitable for any longer. Harley lets out a small whine as the older man speaks up again, soft, soothing, repeating gently, "What's going on, kid?"

"I-I dont-" He hiccups, running a hand through his shaggy, too long blond curls, tugging slightly as his knee bounces rapidly. "M-My friends, or my classmates, they- lately, they've been, I don't know, they've been talking- talking more about crushes and girls and stuff." Harley sniffles, tugging his hair harder as his vision starts to blur again, the words tumbling out of his mouth now. "And- and I never really c-cared about it, you know? I never really- really unders-stood it, didn't see the appeal, s-so I didnt m-mind it. But they- they just keep talking about it, and getting g-girlfriends, and-and talking about their bodies and I didnt get the- the i-interest, so I thought maybe something was wrong with me-"

"There isn't." Tony chips in, but Harley just runs right over him, keeps blabbering. He knows it's rude, knows his mama taught him better, but he can't seem to stop talking now that he started, his words getting more and more wobbly, panicked the longer he goes.

"But there is , there is something wrong with me, I- I know there is now, be-because when I-I went to school today, the- the past few days really, I started- started noticing that I started f-feeling weird, and- and it sounds- sounds similar to how the- the others say they feel, but it doesn't make sense , it can't be that, I dont- I cant-" Harley's breath catches, and he grinds his teeth together, refuses to speak another word, refuses to accept it, refuses to admit the god awful truth, refuses to utter the words. Because it can't be right, it can't be true, it can't be-

They sit in silence for a few moments, when he assumes Tony thought he would continue speaking but he wont, he refuses , until the softer, calmer voice returns, slightly staticky through the speaker, but barely more than a whisper, as if he spoke any louder, Harley would shatter. He probably would. "So, if I'm understanding correctly, you think you have a crush, and you're... scared?"

He doesn't sound patronizing, just honest, if a bit curious, but it doesn't help calm Harley any, a higher pitched, frustrated noise escaping the back of his throat, his free hand going out of his hair going back to rubbing at his face, rubbing off the tracks of tears, trying to rub away any sign of upset, until his skin is red and raw. "No, I-I mean, kinda- its not- I can't- god , this is so stupid."

"Its not stupid. I get it." The man responds, and Harley wants to laugh, feels the bitter feeling bubbling in his chest, because does he? How can he get this? Harley doesn't even get this, it doesn't- he shouldn't- "What's her name?"

The sound erupts out of him at that, but instead of laughter like he thought it would be, it's just another pitiful whine, another loud, agonizing sob. Because that's the thing, the thing that's been haunting him ever since he figured it out earlier that day, the issue that's been plaguing his mind and freaking him out, winding him up more and more and more as the day went on until he got home and sent those messages. 

Because- because when he thinks back to earlier that day, he thinks of lunchtime, of sitting at his lunch table with his "friends", of them talking and laughing, of Harley feeling those weird feelings again, especially when he looked across from him, and saw big, forest green eyes, saw a big, toothy grin, saw two small dimples and scattered freckles, saw short, short black hair, saw a sharper, thinner jaw, saw male male male, felt butterflies flutter, and realized he was wrong, wrong, wrong .

Because- "It's not a girl." His voice is small, defeated, barely a whisper, his whole body tensed up in fear, waiting, waiting for his reaction.

There's a pause, before a faint, quiet, sympathetic, "Oh, kid." That Harley immediately the wrong way, because he hates him, oh god he hates him-

"I'm sorry!" He gasps, jerking upright, sitting ramrod straight and the apologies spilling from his mouth. "I'm so sorry, I didnt- I dont mean to, and I-I know its wrong, and I shouldn't, and I-I know I'm weird and- and a freak , and-"

"Hey, hey, woah!" Tony's voice is louder now, stronger, and Harley hushes up immediately, his mouth slamming shut, even as his body trembles with a silent sob. "It's okay, kid. You aren't any of that."

"But- but I am!" Harley whimpers. "I'm w-weird, and everyone else isn't like this , and-"

"Am I a freak?" Again, the random question sends Harley for a loop, trying to grasp onto any of his quickly scattering thoughts.

"W-what?"

He can hear a faint smile, faint amusement in Tony's tone as he asks again, still so so calm, so reassured, "Am I a freak?"

Harley narrows his shining eyes, still full of tears, staring down at the wooden table in front of him, at the chips and nicks covering the side of it, wondering if this is a trick question. "N-No? Of- of course not, you're Iron Man."

He can hear some noise in the background of the call now, squeaking as if someone's leaning back in a chair, before Tony speaks up again, voice full of warm amusement now. "Well, Iron Man has had a few rendezvous with men in the past, and still likes them to this day. Does that make him, and therefore, me, a freak?" When Harley doesn't answer, mostly out of pure shock than anything else, Tony keeps going, tone going serious again. "Kid, I'm gonna get this out there right away. There is nothing wrong with you for liking boys, you hear me?"

He swallows, and wants to agree, longs to agree, but- "But- but my friends, they all like- like girls , and mama, she- she said that traditional marriage was what God wanted and-"

Harley cuts himself off this time, and Tony only waits a few beats before murmuring softly, "Is that what you think?"

He just shrugs, picking at the table, sniffling, whispering quietly, "I don't know what to think anymore."

There's a soft hum and another pause. "You're different, Harley. I'm not going to beat around the bush, you are different." Harley stomach drops. "But," Tony continues, "Kid, you've always been different. You're so smart, way too smart for your own good, if I'm being honest. And there's nothing wrong with that. People may try to bring you down, or kick you while you are down, but you've gotta remember that, okay? There is nothing wrong with you."

Harley waits a few moments, let's the words wash over him and wrap him in a blanket of warmth, of security and comfort, but there's still one little thing that keeps rearing its ugly head, that's still making him antsy. "But, what if I'm just- overreacting? And I don't actually... y-you know." He finishes lamely, still not ready to completely admit to everything yet.

Tony doesn't seem to mind. "Then that's okay too." He says simply, a bit of shuffling coming through the line. "Kid, how old are you again, like twelve?"

He can hear the teasing in his tone, and rolls his eyes as he huffs out, "Thirteen." 

The older man chuckles for a second, before his voice goes back to calm, quiet. "Seriously though, you're thirteen , Kid. You don't need to have everything figured out right away." He snorts, then. "I sure didn't. I think I was a mess at your age, wasn't even thinking about relationships. At least, not long term." There's a pause. "Point is, you don't need to know right now. This might be a fluke, and you might end up liking only girls from here on out. You might end up just liking boys, liking both, or neither, who knows? But you've got time, kid, and that's the key. Give it time . And whatever it ends up being, whatever ends up happening..." His voice softens at the end, a smile prominent in his tone. "It'll be okay. You will be okay." 

For the first time all day, Harley finally takes a deep breath. His shoulders finally relax, his body practically melting back into his chair, and a smile grows on his face, warmth blooming in his chest. "...thanks, Tony." He whispers, hoping that the amount of pure, unfiltered gratitude he's feeling can be heard in his tone.

He thinks it can, as there's a hint of embarrassment and awkwardness in Tony's voice as he responds with a simple, "Don't mention it, squirt." 

Harley just chuckles at the sudden discomfort of the older man, before his eyes widen. "Oh! While you're here, did I tell you I passed my trig test?"

"Hey! I knew you would, kid, I had no doubt." Harley's grin widens, before he throws himself into another story, feeling warmer, safer, and happier than he has in a while.

A few years later, Tony was getting off of the elevator to his penthouse with a huff, having just gotten back from a rough meeting, when he freezes. His heart warma and a smile grows on his face when he notices Harley, now 17 years old (almost an adult, god he was so old ), curled up into Peter's chest, his face pushed into his neck, seemingly fast asleep. Peter's head rests on top of Harley's, eyes open but hooded, as if keeping them open was getting difficult. They glance over to Tony immediately, though (damn his spider sense and increased hearing), and a faint blush forms on his cheeks even as he smiles lightly, his eyes softening as he glances back down at his boyfriend and presses a firm kiss onto his head. Tony watches the interaction with a soft grin, before quietly stepping away, his chest full of mostly warm, sappy feelings, but also full of pride and joy, knowing his pseudo son is accepted, happy and loved.

#parkner #parkner remix event #harley keener/peter parker #remix #fanfiction remix #harley keener #peter parker #tony stark #tony stark is a good dad #tony stark is a dad to harley keener #fanfiction #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfiction #parknerpalsremix

[dank-hp--memes]

Pulling at Heartstrings: Chapter 1

This focuses on Ulana story with Valery. She falls ill and has an all but pleasant encounter with Comrade Charkov... This will be an ongoing story (for now).

-

Tags: @shit-in-silk-stocking

-

-

September 1986

Ulana's apartment, Minsk

-

Ulana is sitting alone in her kitchen, a cup of tea sitting in front of her along with a desolate slice of toast. It had been six weeks since she had last seen Valery in person. She had holed herself up in her apartment, feeling extremely sick almost every day that week, and it was only getting worse. She had returned to Minsk to work and to attempt to understand what exactly happened at Chernobyl. Ulana had assumed that the comfort of her own home may help her concentrate; though, she rarely spends any time at home. Over her week at home, Ulana has hardly eaten, for there is very little food in her house. Even if there was food to be made, Ulana is a hopeless cook. Not that it mattered much, for she had been struggling to keep almost anything she ate down. Anything she did not throw up did not have much sustenance to it. So, she sits in silence, staring at her tea, cautious not to drink too much, fearing it may make her sick.

Overwhelmed with exhaustion, Ulana rests her head on her hand. It had been weeks, maybe even months since she has slept properly. Even before the Chernobyl disaster, she rarely got a good night’s sleep. As of late, she had succumbed to horrible headaches. At least once a day, causing her to need to lay down. Though she often lays down to rest, she still struggles to sleep. Many nights, Ulana is haunted by nightmares, waking after only a few hours in a cold sweat; sometimes, there is no nightmare at all, and she simply jolts awake. When it isn’t her horrible dreams, Ulana is kept awake by her nausea. Some nights, she sits on her bathroom floor wrapped in a blanket, leaning against the wall as she waits for the nausea to pass.

She stirs her tea and sighs. It had not only been six weeks since she had seen Valery, but it had also been six weeks since she had heard from him at all. There had been no phone calls or letters, it almost seemed as though he had forgotten her. Like he had pushed the thought of her aside. Ulana sighs and proceeds to pick apart her cold toast, crumbling up the pieces. It was one of the few things that did not make her feel ill. She sighs and rubs her temples, not knowing what to do.

There is a gentle knock on the door, making Ulana jump. She looks over at her door, wondering if she should answer. There is another knock. Ulana swallows and stands up, slowly walking to the door. Upon opening the door she sees her colleague, Dimitri, standing just outside. A look of relief washes over his face at the sight of her.

“Dimitri…” Ulana says in slight surprise.

“So, you just don’t show up to work for a week. I thought you might have died” Dimitri says, laughing a little as he gives her a gentle hug.

“I-I haven’t been feeling well” Ulana says softly, a bit relieved to see Dimitri.

“I can tell. You look like shit” Dimitri says, chuckling as he steps inside.

Ulana watches as Dimitri looks around her apartment, it is dark and dingy. She has been living on her own for over ten years now, and she is normally never home, leaving her apartment rather messy.

Dimitri walks around, looking at her kitchen first. Her sink is full of dishes, and her kitchen is generally messy. He opens up her refrigerator. It is empty except got a few odd items. He uncaps the milk and smells it, gagging because of the rancid smell.

“Good god, how old is this?” Dimitri says, laughing as he dumps it out.

Ulana sits back down at her kitchen table and shudders, able to smell the expired milk from where she sits. “That’s a good question” She says, chuckling tiredly.

Dimitri shakes his head and smiles as he glances at her. “You’re hopeless” He teases as he begins to shuffle through the few things in her barren pantry.

There is an almost empty container of oats, a small bag of rice, some sugar, and a tin of tea. Dimitri shakes his head and glances at Ulana, wondering how she has survived this long on her own. He straightens up and proceeds into the living room. It is rather dark and dusty. The windows are covered by a set of particularly ugly patterned curtains that Ulana had never gotten around to changing. A few blankets lay bunched up on the couch, and some extremely old newspapers sit on the coffee table along with a pot, containing the remnants of a long dead plant. Dimitri throws open the curtains and suppresses a cough from the thick layer of dust that was disturbed. He thinks to open the window, but decides against it, remembering the radiation reading of eight milliroentgen. After folding the blankets and discarding the dead plant, Dimitri returns to the kitchen. He approaches Ulana and leans against the table. She looks up at him, and the severity of her exhaustion becomes more apparent. Her eyes are bloodshot, and her dark circles are more visible in the light. Ulana’s hair is greasy and tangled, and her grey hairs seeming more apparent. She seems to have aged years in the week she had not been to work.

“Why don’t you get cleaned up, and I will go out and get some groceries. I will make you breakfast” Dimitri says as he leans on the kitchen table.

Ulana looks up at him and shakes her head, smiling a little as she looks back down at her tea. She takes a sip and sighs.

“You are too kind Dimitri. You do not have to cook for me” She says softly, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“You obviously cannot cook for yourself, and you are horrible at asking for help” Dimitri teases, tilting his head as he looks at her.

“You are not wrong” Ulana says, taking another sip of her tea and pausing for a moment, “Fine, you can cook for me, but nothing too fancy Dimitri”

Ulana then gets up and disappears into her room, she grabs the spare key to her apartment and gives it to Dimitri.

“Just holler when you get back” Ulana says as she finishes up her tea.

Dimitri smiles and takes the key as he pulls his coat back on. Ulana watches as he leaves, the smile fading from her lips. A moment passes and she glances at the sink, then at her mug. Slowly, she gets up and places the mug amongst the many overflowing dishes within the sink. She looks down at them, shuddering as she is overcome by nausea. She leans over the sink, her hands gripping the counter, as she uses what little strength remains in her exhausted state to suppress the urge to vomit. She opens her eyes as the nausea passes, sweat glistens on her flushed cheeks. Ulana straightens up, her vision becoming tunneled and blurry. Upon taking a step, she collapses, hitting the side of her head against the table. She falls unconscious, blood gushing from a gash on the side of her head and pooling around her. Ulana fades in and out of consciousness, groaning softly as she feels someone lift her off the ground.

She came too in a room that was not her own, the gash on her head wrapped in bandages. Whitewashed walls surrounded her, and the lights in the room are blinding. Ulana’s eyes wandered around the room, her vision blurry and eyelids heavy. She could see the outline of a figure sitting beside her bed reading a rather large book. For a moment, hope surges through her, maybe it was him.

“Valery?” She mumbles, not truly able to make out who it was.

“Oh, Khomyuk, your finally awake” A voice says, but it is not Valery’s.

It is a voice Ulana does not recognize. The voice is greasy and cold. It sends chills up her spine and makes her hairs stand on end. She groans a little as she attempts properly sits up. She blinks to clear her cloudy vision. An older man with grey-white hair and ashy, wrinkled skin sits beside her bed. He wears thick-rimmed black glasses with dirty lenses that obscure his icy eyes. He slowly grins, showing his slightly yellowing teeth. The sight of his maniacal grin makes her shudder.

“Who are you?” Ulana asks, her voice shaking with fear and confusion.

“Do I not get a thank you? I did save your life after all?” Charkov says, raising the two furry caterpillars he calls eyebrows in surprise.

“How can I thank a man I do not know?” Ulana replies, leaning back against her pillows, unable to hold herself up much longer.

Charkov smiles, finding her amusing. “I am the KGB's first deputy chairman, Charkov” He says, a nefarious grin crossing his lips.

It takes a moment for Ulana to process this information. She sits, staring at him. Her eyes wide, and her lips slightly parted. It is as if her super-computer of a brain cannot comprehend the words that just came from the man’s lips. Ulana shakes her head and looks at him, her eyes burning into him. The sudden cautious and accusing look almost startles Charkov.

“What would you want with me?” Ulana growls, becoming very defensive against Charkov as fear rises within her.

“Oh Khomyuk, the KGB must keep a close eye on the most inquisitive of citizens. And you, my dear, have been caught sticking your nose where it does not belong” Charkov says, giving her a faux-friendly smile.

“But why are you here… Do you not have more important things to do?” Khomyuk whispers, still glaring at Charkov, who is sitting beside her IV/morphine drip.

“Well, I came because I wanted to take a look at your chart myself. So, this has become something of a personal trip…” Charkov says, his greasy voice hanging in the cool air as a sadistic grin crosses his face.

“W-Why would you want to-” Ulana begins, overwhelmed with a sense of confusion and dread.

“Comrade, you and I both know that a seemingly healthy woman does not just suddenly become sick and collapse” Charkov says, clicking his tongue and shaking his head as he grabs her chart.

Ulana struggles, trying to get up, but Charkov stops her, turning up her morphine drip. He doubles her morphine dose, turning it up from 3 mg to 6mg every four hours. Ulana lays back after a few moments as the morphine begins to take effect, her body feeling as though it is made of lead. She slowly becomes drowsy, feeling lightheaded as the room begins spinning. She forces herself to stay awake, watching the perverse expressions that cross Charkov,s face as he reads.

“My my Khomyuk, you have been a busy woman” Charkov says, a vicious look crossing his face.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Ulana says, gritting her teeth as she glairs at him, her fists clenched around the sheets of the hospital bed.

“Oh, so you didn’t know” Charkov says giving her a look of sadistic joy.

“Well, you shouldn’t be allowed to keep it, assuming he is really the father” Charkov mumbles, more to himself than to her.

“What the hell are you talking about” Ulana growls, his vagueness absolutely infuriating her.

Charkov chuckles a little. It is a cold and vicious chuckle that should not belong to a man. He reaches down and places his hand on the small curve of her stomach, caressing it with his thumb, causing Ulana to shudder.

“I thought you would have realized, comrade Khomyuk. You are pregnant” Charkov says, licking his lips as they curl in a fiendish grin.

Upon hearing this, Ulana’s lips part slightly and she stares at Charkov in horrorstricken awe. She looks down at her stomach for a moment, thinking back to the last time she and Valery had been together. Her heart began to ache as she recalled that blissful night around six weeks ago. It was their last night together before she returned to Minsk. After that, she had not heard from him. Almost as if she were forgotten, like a foggy memory, pushed to the back of one’s mind.

“So, what makes this any of your business?” Ulana says defiantly as Charkov caresses her stomach with his rough hand, making her hair stand on end.

“The love child of a top Soviet scientist is my business comrade” Charkov says, tilting his head slightly as he looks down at her.

Charkov then pauses and runs his hand down her stomach. His hand travels beneath the hospital sheets and down onto Ulana’s soft thigh. He can feel her shivering from his touch.

“Quite the stubborn woman you are Khomyuk” Charkov says with a cold chuckle as his hand slides up her hospital gown.

There is another pause as Charkov traces his finger over her, violating her. Ulana grits her teeth glaring at him with pure rage.

“Of course, we cannot allow you to keep the baby” Charkov says as he places his hand back on Ulana’s stomach, running his thumb along her stomach.

“I believe that is my decision to make” Ulana says, her voice breaking as anger rises in her and tears come to her eyes.

“Oh Khomyuk, you are so naïve” Charkov mumbles, shaking his head.

Slowly, Charkov moves his hand up her stomach. He cups it around her breast as he gives a cynical grin, squeezing her tender breast a little, causing her to flinch.

“I doubt you did not notice how tender your breasts have become…” Charkov whispers, his greasy voice making her shiver.

He places both of his hands upon her breasts and squeezes them, causing Ulana to whimper.

“Stop!” Ulana groans in disgust, trying to pull away, but her body hardly moves. Charkov ignores her pleas and leans down over her, his nails digging into her soft breasts, drawing blood in some places.

“You have been very naughty Khomyuk, I do hope you will learn your lesson” He whispers, as he puts all of his weight on her chest, causing her to gasp for air.

Charkov chuckles a little at the desperate look on Ulana's face. He and shakes his head as he leans back, taking the pressure off her chest. “Get some rest comrade Khomyuk. I have heard that the recovery you will be going through is a long process” he says, his voice icy as he ups her morphine dose once again. He has had his fun with her for the day, now he has real work to do. Ulana watches as Charkov puts her chart back, her vision beginning to fade as he leaves the room. Hardly a few seconds pass after Charkov leaves before Ulana has passed out.

#Valery Legasov/Ulana Khomyuk #chernobyl #chernobyl hbo #chernobylhbo #ChernobylHBO fanfic #ulana khomyuk #valery legasov #boris shcherbina #Emily Watson #Jared Harris #Stellan Skarsgard #fanfiction #fanfic #chernobyl fanfic

[toast-tit]

Piano Man

Chapter Eight

mob!Tom x reader

Warnings: language, violence

A/N: Thank god this is the last chapter holy shit. I liked writing this but ngl there was no outline so I was pulling everything out of my ass and it shows lol. Anywho...I’ll probably have something else within the next few weeks or if any of you guys have any requests I’ll take them.

Summary: The Ecclesiastes Pub catered to a plethora of people. Prostitutes, college students, successful businessmen and London’s most wanted. Bartenders and waitresses learned to tune out conversations from their customers quickly if they wanted to keep their head. However, people will still come looking for trouble, even if that trouble revolves around Tom Holland, the most feared mob boss around.

~ ~ ~

I woke up to the faint beeping of the heart monitor, signifying the fact that I was still alive. Blinking rapidly, I tried to get ahold of my surroundings until I realized I was in the hospital. Beside me were two large vases of flowers and some other gifts and the walls were a blinding white that I had no desire to see ever again. I sat up and groaned at the pain, wishing there was more morphine in my system.

To my right, Harrison was on his phone, tapping his foot obnoxiously. “Can you please stop doing that?” I croaked and his head shot up, clearly surprised that I was awake. “Holy fuck, you’re up,” he was breathless and stood up, about to rush out of the door and when I told him to stay.

“I need to tell Tom, Y/N,” he argued, but I shook my head. “I have questions,” I began to stutter around the last word, more or less because I was exhausted and would kill a man to go back to sleep. Harrison shook his head and shrugged, “Tom knows a lot more than I do. Let me get him.”

Harrison called Tom’s name and I heard shoes clang against the tile of the hospital, almost like he was running. Tom came into the room and his eyes widened at the fact that I was moving and awake. “Y/N,” his voice was barely audible. Before he came in, I figured I wouldn’t feel anything, it would just be him being concerned and whatnot, but I was dead wrong. Seeing his face was like flying; I felt the feeling in my stomach and chest that you get before you fall from a great height. My heart was practically living in my ass currently and my breathing began to quicken and I felt tears coming. It was almost definite by now that I was in love with him.

Tom had a few bruises and scratches on his face, but they looked pretty healed. Nevertheless, he looked fucking hot like that, like a sexy pirate or something. There was a look of concern and happiness plastered on his face and I badly wanted him to hug me, even if it would’ve been painful.

He made his way to my bedside and asked, “How do you feel?” His voice was soft and full of concern. I smiled lopsidedly and moved a little bit, wincing as I did so, “Like I got hit a fucking train. What about you? I see some battle wounds.” I lifted a shaking hand and placed it on his face, my thumb circling over a cut on his lip. He smiled slightly and put his hand over mine, “Nothing as serious as yours. Are you sure you’re fine? You can go back to sleep.”

I shook my head, “No, I have questions.” Tom nodded along, “Okay then, what are they?” “How long was I here, Tom?” I asked him and he put his hand on mine and stroke my thumb. “You were in a coma for six days, love. You lost so much blood they thought you weren’t going to make it,” he answered.

“Then how am I still here?” I asked. Harrison piped up, “Your blood type is very rare, Y/N, and it’s the same as mine, so I donated almost two pints.” “Jesus, that could’ve killed you!” I exclaimed, my throat hurting as my voice grew louder. Harrison shrugged, “I took my chances. I felt exhausted afterward, but not to the point where I was going to die.”

I felt tears welling in my eyes, gratitude washing over me. “Thank you so much,” a tear ran down my cheek and Harrison grinned happily. He winked and said cheekily, “You’re owe me one now, Y/L/N.” Giggling slightly, I sighed and asked, “When can I leave?”

Tom pondered for a moment before he said, “Tomorrow, I believe. But if you’re beginning to feel better, we can always do early checkout.” “Excellent,” I said whilst standing and stretching, wincing at the soreness. Harrison and Tom exchanged looks, but they did not doubt me. Instead, they helped me take the IVs out (which hurt like a motherfucker 10/10 would not recommend) and bring me a wheelchair so that they could escort me out.

It was a brisk Monday morning; the wind demanded to be acknowledged by those who dared to trek outside and the sun was hiding behind the clouds as if it were shy. The cool weather felt good and the fresh air was almost euphoric. I closed my eyes and soaked in whatever I could. “If you want to get a tan, I suggest a salon,” Harrison opened the car door for me and I entered giving him a dirty look.

I took a look of myself in the mirror and I wanted to cry. There was an ugly scar around my throat surround by massive blotches of purple, blue, and yellow. The bruises on my neck were either big or fingerprint shaped. My face was also very bruised and there was a scar on my cheekbone from I know not what. I’ve never really been insecure about what I had looked like before, but now I felt undeserving of the outside world. I felt like I should just cover up and stay quiet.

The ride home was indeed quiet. I stared out the window and pondered the manner of things as Tom and Harrison quietly conversed. They’d ask for my opinion on a few things, but never often. Harrison pulled into the house and Tom helped me out. My leg was still a bit bum, so he let me lean on him for support as we made our way in.

“You hungry?” Tom asked as he walked to the kitchen. I smiled shyly and shook my head. I instead went to the sink and filled a glass of water, downing it in seconds and then refilling the glass for a second. Tom leaned against the counter and looked at me. His eyes scanned up and down my body, making me feel like I should cover up more despite being in sweats. “Something wrong?” I asked, taking another sip of my water. He sighed and said, “You lost a lot of weight from the coma, just took me by surprise.”

I shrugged, “I’ve been meaning to lose some fat off my stomach for a while.” The two of us chuckled awkwardly, a thick silence began to shroud over us. “I’ll probably gain the weight back anyway once I get back in the gym with Harrison and all,” I sliced open the silence, “I’m sort of looking to build muscle more than anything. Plus, your cooking’s pretty phenomenal.”

Tom smiled sheepishly before he killed it off right away with a grimace. “I need to show you something,” he lightly wrapped his hand around my wrist and pulled me along. Tom opened a door and I was led downstairs into the basement, thought it seemed like a medieval dungeon with how poorly it was lit.

Any noise or humming that you could hear upstairs was immediately terminated from the basement. The only things I could hear were our footsteps and our breathing. As we kept going, I grew more anxious, asking Tom what was wrong.

Soon enough, he led to a closed door and he let go of my wrist. “Before I open this door, Y/N, I just want you to know that I’m deeply in love with you,” he was sincere, which scared me, “I know that we started on the wrong foot and we still might be on the wrong foot, but I’ve never met anyone who could get as close to me as you did. It’s only been weeks I know, but-“ “Tom please tell me what’s happened,” I cut him off, not being able to hear anymore.

He sighed and opened the door, letting me go first. Tentatively, I stepped in and took a look around the room. To my left, Cooper was in chains, a sock stuffed into his mouth. His face was unrecognizable and his clothes were tattered; he was practically dead. I covered my mouth with my hand and backpedaled into the wall, memories of that night plaguing my mind, and yet I didn’t want to leave. I couldn’t, something was compelling me to stay.

I looked at Tom, “What is this?” My voice started to waver. After all, Cooper tortured me. I was going to be afraid of him, even if I was protected by Tom. “An ultimatum,” Tom whispered, pulling a gun out of the waistband of his pants. He opened my palm and placed the gun in my hand and said, “I’m not a good person, Y/N, never was. I don’t want to hurt you anymore than you have been, so here’s the choice. You can end Rigsby’s suffering with a bullet to the head and live with the guilt, staying with me, or you can give the gun to me and live the rest of your life happily and we’ll never meet again.”

I looked at the gun in my hand, and then I looked at Tom. He was going to define our relationship by the murder of a man. Even worse, it was the man who had tortured me and killed his brother. I was surprised Cooper wasn’t dead already, having to face six days of Tom’s wrath, and by the looks of it, it was worse than hell.

Turning the gun over in my hand, I examined it. Could I do this? Could I kill another man? All so that I could be with someone who could grow tired of me in a matter of weeks? I ran a finger down the barrel, feeling the rough texture glide against my nail. I had never held a gun before, even though I lived in the most dangerous part of London, it was just something I never could do.

Tom stood stoically, analyzing my movements and body language, trying to pick out what I was doing, I could tell. He was just as nervous as I was, but he portrayed nonchalance well. “Well?” He asked. Taking one more look at Cooper, who watched me with tired eyes and Tom who watched me with anxious ones, I sighed and said, “You’re insane.”

Tom hung his head down, “I know.” He walked towards me and began to take the gun from my hand when I aimed at Cooper’s head and shot. I didn’t stop at one, I kept going, feeling the gun kick back each time a bullet left the magazine. By now, I was in a blind rage from that had happened. Each bullet began to signify a person: Ellen Rhie, Chester Harris, Harry Holland, Tom, and me.

Soon enough, I was pulling the trigger and hearing the click. I kept clicking before I fell to my knees and sat in silence, looking at the practically headless corpse of what was once my closest friend. Does friendship always end this way? In the end, one person makes the choice that pulls the trigger and you’re left in chains, without a heart to love or a mind to believe what had happened.

“You’re insane to think I’d ever leave you,” I met Tom’s eyes. He looked at me with compassion and adoration, something I longed to feel and I did. He held out a hand and helped me up, wrapping his hands around my waist and pulling me closer. His breath tickled my lips and I oh so badly wanted to close the gap between us. “Are you sure this is what you want?” He asked.

I pulled back and stared into his face. Flashes of memories seeped into my mind as I recalled the night we first met and how I “saved his life”. We were both even now, I guess. I remembered how scared I was to even be breathing the same as him and I remembered every single time he went batshit crazy. The man was crazy and he will never stop being crazy; he has an organization to run after all. But was I crazy? Was I mad to even let my feet fall to the floor as I worshipped his presence? Would it be deemed insanity if I admitted to loving him with each passing second? Or was I crazy to even consider leaving him, even though he was my life support?

After a long silence, I grinned and nodded, “It is.” Tom sighed and smiled too. He leaned in and we kissed, fireworks exploding in my heart. I pulled away and rested my forehead on his. “I love you too,” I breathed and he chuckled. “I figured after the seventh or eighth bullet,” he retorted and I slapped him on the arm.

We pulled away and he held out his arm. “My love,” he said and we both linked arms and walked out the door, ready to face the future we now shared.

TAG LIST:

@nobodyslord @financialinstability @spider-stud @wywholland @magical-fairy-princess-stuff

#fanfic #fanfiction #imagine #mob!haz #mob!au #mob!tom #spiderman #spiderman: far from home #spiderman: hoco #spiderman: homecoming #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland au #tom holland x fem!reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland

[touchmyhobi]

Professor Kwon: Chapter IV

Genre: Teacher AU, Smut, Fluff, Angst.

Word Count: 3,119

Chapter: 4/?

Pairing: G-Dragon x Reader

Warnings: I know I said there was gonna be smut here but I changed how I’m going to plan my chapters so you’re just gonna have to hold on until then ;))

Although I hadn’t lived there long, the light brown hallway leading to my apartment had become a huge comfort for me. I observed each pathway the patterns of carpet could take as I slowly walked down the corridor, using the time to clear my mind of Mr. Kwon’s strange mood shifts. Just as I found a new intricacy to follow, my shoulder hit something, causing me to lose my balance and fall backward.

“Shit! I’m so sorry, I should have been paying more attention. Are you ok?”

I looked up to see an oddly familiar stranger peering down at me with a hand outstretched and offering assistance. As I cautiously took the help, my eyes analyzed the man’s every feature in an attempt to make a connection. His brown hair was quite long and styled into a middle part. However, his most obvious features were his sharp, serious eyes and beautifully tan skin.

“Are you ok?” he repeated his question.

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine. It was my fault anyways, I always daydream when I wander down this hall,” I tried to laugh it off.

“No, it’s all on me. I was too busy staring at my phone to even notice you,” he apologized yet again. However, the contorted face of worry did little to help me match his features to that of those I have met.

“Don’t worry about it,” I reiterated, causing the man to look down at his feet and that’s when I recognized him. “So do you live on this floor?” I asked.

“Oh no, but my girlfriend lives in apartment 26,” he pointed behind him as he spoke.

“That’s where I know you from!” I exclaimed, much to his confusion.

“Excuse me?”

“I live in apartment 26 as well. Your girlfriend is my cousin!” I explained, but his face was still twisted with confusion. “What I mean is, I saw you over the other morning when I was leaving for school. I’m Y/N by the way”

“Oh, well it’s nice to finally meet you Y/N. I’m Youngbae,” he looked as if he was going to speak again until his phone began vibrating uncontrollably. “Listen, I have to get going but next time I’m over we’ll get to know each other.”

With that, he was speeding off down the hall before I could even respond. I watched him as he disappeared, before shaking my head and skipping to the door of my apartment.

“Ji Soo! I’m home!” I exclaimed. However, she did not respond. “Ji Soo?”

Suddenly, a head popped out of the bathroom and a hyperactive Ji Soo came barrelling toward me.

“Hello lovely. How are your one on one sessions with Mr. Kwon going? Did you kiss him yet?” she giggled as she wrapped her arms around my waist and clung to me like a koala bear.

“No, Ji Soo!” I scolded her with a smack to the arm. “We’ve done nothing but strictly school work. I can promise you that.”

“Ugh, boring!” she yelled loud enough to create a minor echo. “You need to get in on that action soon before you miss your chance.”

“Enough Ji Soo!” I raised my voice at her, growing tired of the teasing. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What action have you been getting?” I interrogated her. “I just met your boyfriend in the hallway.”

Suddenly, Ji Soo’s eyes widened and her face changed to one of concern.

“You didn’t!” she nearly shrieked.

“Oh I did! Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend!”

“Listen to me Y/N. I can’t tell you why but you need to stay away from him. There’s a reason I don’t want you to be around when my friends are over and he is part of that reason. So please, do not speak to him. Ever,” she warned me and the frantic look her in eyes scared me into compliance.

I nodded and swallowed nervously. Ji Soo looked so far away, as if the cousin I had known all my life was hidden and longing to be released. Suddenly her phone vibrated in her hand and her face contorted into an undecipherable expression.

“I need to go again kiddo, I might not see you tomorrow either. Take care of yourself okay? Promise me you’ll actually eat supper for once tonight?” I promised and she pulled me into a desperate hug. “I love you Y/N.”

“I love you too Ji Soo,” I mumbled into her shoulder. “Please stay safe.”

She pulled away and looked at me with an apologetic expression before running towards the door.

My heart sank with worry. Ji Soo’s taste in men had frequently gotten her into trouble in the past and I could see it unraveling before me once again. But, no matter how bad the situation ever got, she always managed to find a way out. With a sigh, I dismissed my worries and prayed that this would once again be one of those circumstances.

Staying true to the promise I made her, I grabbed the food Ji Soo left me in the fridge from yesterday and set up my laptop at the kitchen table. I pulled out the notes Mr. Kwon had given me and decided to work on my sonnet to take my mind off of Ji Soo.

My mind refused to grasp the words on the page and soon numerous lines faded into one giant black abyss.

-

“Many sonnets have been written on the topic of lust. Most notably forbidden lust,” Mr. Kwon looked at me from behind his desk. A devilish smirk teased his lips as he made his way towards my desk. “You’ve felt that before, right Y/N? That overwhelming feeling you get when someone is so close and so willing but you have to restrain yourself simply because, it’s the ‘right’ thing to do?”

I swallowed, preparing my dry mouth to speak only to discover my inability to form words. Mr. Kwon’s face was now mere centimetres in front of mine, staring daggers into my eyes.

“You’ve felt it haven’t you? The immense tension. That heat in the very core of your being whenever that certain someone is around. It’s thrilling isn’t it? Imagine what it would be like if you acted on it,” he was closer than ever. His hand had snuck onto mine and soon he was running his fingertips gently up my arm.

I couldn’t move or speak. I was frozen in place and I began to panic as I struggled to communicate with my provocative professor.

“Admit it Y/N, we’re both aching for it. Make your move,” with that he leaned in and I finally managed to release the tension in my muscles and move toward him.

Suddenly, I woke up only to find myself lying on the floor with Mr. Kwon’s course outline held tightly against my chest. As I regained consciousness, I realized my steamy exchange with my teacher was all just another one of his malicious appearances in my dreams. In a bout of frustration, I sat back up at the table determinedly and proceeded to do exactly as I was told in my dream and write a sonnet about forbidden lust.

The next morning I made the dreaded trek to school with the poem tucked away safely in my book bag. With each step I took toward Mr. Kwon’s room, I felt a strange burn building in my stomach. However, the moment I entered the room, the heat exploded and spread like wildfire to the rest of my body. Without even bothering to look at my professor, I looked down and made my way to an empty seat near the back of the class. I didn’t dare look up until my temperature had cooled and when I did I found Mr. Kwon staring at me with confusion woven into the lines on his forehead.

My gaze shot back down to my desk immediately and I stared at the carvings in the wood until I heard his voice.

“Now that everyone is settled let’s get started,” was all I heard before I spaced out; my mind now occupied by much more pressing matters than grammar.

Am I being too bold? Is he going to tell me off when he reads it? Am I going to look like a fool?

I was treading into very risky waters. Although it wasn’t blatantly about him, the poem was obvious enough that the risk of him understanding the inspiration was all too real.

“We’re going to begin a novel study as you all may know. I hope you’ve all brought your books today. I’m going to give you the rest of class to begin your novels if you haven’t yet. You should have three chapters done by next Wednesday,” he instructed the class before turning around to erase the words he had scribbled on the whiteboard mere minutes ago.

Fuck, I totally forgot.

I must have been so focused on the poem that I forgot to check my other due dates. Stress immediately overwhelmed me as I now had to worry about Professor Kwon’s reaction to not only my poem but my lack of preparation as well.

To avoid looking like I was doing nothing, I took out my notebook and finished writing out some definitions for my philosophy class. Hoping to God my absence of a novel did not catch my teacher’s eye.

Nearly twenty minutes into the reading time, footsteps rang out within the depths of my ears. The distinct sound of expensive dress shoes clicking against the ground. I knew who it was, but I refused to face him. As the footsteps reached my side I heard them come to a sudden halt and I immediately immersed myself into shamelessly not doing the assigned work. Much to my surprise, his footsteps resumed yet again and before I knew it, class was over and everyone was collecting their things in an impossibly fast blur. I struggled to keep up with the pack and ultimately ended up being the last student to exit the classroom.

I approached Professor Kwon’s desk. Looking up only to meet his suspicious gaze.

“I - ahem - I finished my sonnet,” my shaky hand delivered the papers to his steady one.

“I’ll take a look at this tonight. Thank you Y/N,” he said and I started for the door only to be stopped by his gentle voice. “Oh and I expect you to have your independent study novel on your desk by tomorrow. I appreciate you putting so much effort into extra studies but you cannot let your main class work falter as a result,” I nodded again but was met the same disruption. “Also, take care of yourself Y/N. You seem off today.”

If you only knew, I thought to myself before finally exiting the room.

The train ride home was comfortably lonely. As I normally spent the entire commute home with Seungri talking my ear off, having some time to collect my thoughts in seclusion was more than welcome. Unfortunately, that peace of mind proved to be short-lived.

“Why didn’t you get off at your stop?” a soft, foreign voice whispered from behind me, shocking me like a jolt of electricity. Before I knew what my body was doing, my hand had connected with the side of the stranger’s face. Only to discover he was not a stranger at all. He was Seungri.

“Why would you do that? I thought you were a stalker?!” I scolded the boy as he clutched his rapidly reddening cheek.

“I thought you would recognize my voice!” he whimpered.

I looked around the train at the scowling faces surrounding the scene Seungri had inspired. I sighed heavily in an attempt to gather what little patience I had left.

“I’ve only talked to you once. How would I know your voice?” I pulled his hand away from his rosy flesh to survey the damage. “I’m sorry for hitting you. Next time please just approach me face first so I don’t feel like I’m about to be abducted.”

“Fine,” he pouted, continuing to play up the hurt little baby act.

I rolled my eyes and proceeded to treat him like the child he wants to be and ignore his tantrum. Turning my attention back to the window in front of me, it didn’t take long for the boy beside me to suffer from attention deficit.

“Well?” he urged, causing me to stare at him expectantly. “Why aren’t you getting off the train?”

“Why aren’t you?” I shot back.

“Because we’re hanging out. I go where you go.”

“Since when?” I began to challenge him until I realized what would truly deter him. “You know what? Fine. If you want to hang out so bad then you can come along with me to the bookstore.”

“Why would you want to do that?” the disgust in his voice was evident.

“Because I need a book for class. If you don’t like it, don’t come!”

“No, no! I love the bookstore, go there every day!” he slapped his hands together and rubbed them as if he were about to sink his meaty paws into a large feast.

I just stared at him in disbelief.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Thank you!” he beamed.

“I didn’t mean it in a good way,” I muttered.

Seungri must not have heard my final comment as he jumped straight into another topic. As he rambled on about the party he somehow ended up at on the weekend, I began to realize something about Seungri; he genuinely loved the sound of his own voice. Which surprisingly made his company quite easy to swallow. Albeit annoying, I soon realized that I could just space out and leave a few “hmm’s” and “ahh’s” of understanding to keep him validated. Maybe we could be friends, I thought to myself as the train halted at my stop and I exited, Seungri following diligently behind.

Jiyong’s POV

“Lee Seungri. Fifth year student, hoping to be final year student. I’ve written this paper five years in a row. Therefore, do you need to know more?” I spoke the final sentence of my recurring student’s four sentence paper with a sigh.

“When is that boy ever going to leave my class,” I chuckled to myself as I gave him a zero and moved on to the rest of the papers waiting to be marked.

I reached for what felt like the final paper, but as my eyes met the 12 point font I soon realized it was not an essay but rather, a sonnet.

Eyes locked on the sheet below me, I retrieved my special crimson pen. A strange urge built within me. I longed to actually use that marker of error this time. Why? I didn’t know. I didn’t want her to fail. In fact, I desired her success. However, that itch remained and with that I immersed myself in her thoughts.

Wicked whispers of naive schoolgirl desire,

Tantalize my ears long before my tardy eyes.

A pulse pounding in my veins, a fear of fire.

My averse pupils become gossip’s allies.

Fleeting glances of observation trace,

Features that could grant any absolution

Inky strands frame a benevolent face.

The forbidden fruits of bland institution.

Omens of red flash hazardously in my mind,

Resistant, I heed the inflamed warning.

But discovery finds his grace entwined,

In a silken, dreamy web before morning.

With lust now on his lips, I feign control.

Whilst frantically seeking the shreds of sanity he stole.

My arms went numb and my heart began to pound until my chest rattled like a cage. The realization of what this poem was about struck me immediately. However, this violent physical reaction I was having was not a negative one. Although the situation was taboo and inappropriate, it only made me more excited. My student had feelings for me, lustful feelings. Feelings that I reciprocated. A smirk caught the edge of my lip as I re-read the poem and felt just how frustrated she was becoming.

However, as excited as I was, I knew I shouldn’t get too ahead of myself. For all I know her feelings may have been unknown to her, totally subconscious. So I decided to lay low and wait until she makes the first move. I’ve worked too hard to achieve my position and I would not let a mere hunch jeopardize my life.

With that thought, an alarm went off on my phone, signalling the beginning of my class.

“Y/N, when are you going to tell me what’s going on?!” a familiar voice echoed through the exodus of students filing through the door.

“Seungri! Enough! Stop asking!” my head shot up at the sound of the second voice and my heart sank.

Y/N was staring back at Seungri with an aggressive, warning glare.

If looks could kill, I thought to myself.

However, that glare was beside the point. What truly caught my eye was her unusual state of appearance. From the puffy eyes, black bucket hat, and uncharacteristically oversized clothing, I could tell she had a rough night. I couldn’t hold myself back…

“Seungri, do us all a favour and find your seat,” the blonde-haired boy stared at me briefly before turning to Y/N and sending her the most indiscreet eye roll I had ever witnessed. “Far away from Y/N,” I added and he sighed pathetically before stomping away. Without missing a beat, I looked at the hidden girl in front of me. “Are you okay?” My words took form in a whisper as I was careful not to show too much emotion.

“I’m fine,” she spoke without looking beyond the rim of the hat that was currently eating her alive. “You didn’t have to do that. To Seungri, I mean. It’s my fault for making things obvious”.

“What do you mean? What did you make obvious?” I asked as my head clouded with confusion.

“It’s nothing,” she peered up at me for a split second. Her eyes looked nervous, scared almost. “Thanks anyways”.

I tried to stop her. I nearly reached out to grab her sweatshirt clad arm, but I restrained myself. I had to remind myself that she was a student and grabbing a student would only spur an investigation. Instead, I watched her retreat to a seat at the back of the room. Far away from me.

The patient gaze of twenty-something students brought me back to reality. Although tearing my heart away from the faceless girl proved to be a more of a struggle, I proceeded with my lesson. My torn priorities taking solace in the fact that I would have her alone after class. I just hoped she’d reveal to me her face.

#kwon jiyong #jiyong #gdragon #gd #g dragon #g dragon smut #g dragon fanfic #g dragon scenario #g dragon imagine #bigbang #bigbang fanfic #bigbang scenario #bigbang smut #g dragon fluff #bigbang fluff #bigbang imagine #kpop smut #kpop fluff #seungri #lee seungri #dong youngbae #youngbae #taeyang

[toosicktoocare]

For @prompt-master and @obsessive-enthusiast :) :) :) 

Walking to school is a sacrifice Jeremy still makes, even without the SQUIP, to try and seem a little cooler than he is. He knows it doesn’t matter anymore, that everyone at school likes him now. But, small things, he thinks to himself. He still refuses to be a junior riding the bus to school, even if it is February and incredibly cold.

He hates that Michael can’t drive him, not with Michael’s parents not wishing for Michael to drive with a passenger in their car quite yet. Jeremy doesn’t understand what the big deal is, but Michael has fought tooth and nail on this, so much that his parents have threatened to take his driving privileges away. So, Jeremy reluctantly assured Michael that it was fine; the walk to school is only ten minutes after all, so he can manage, even though the icy wind pierces through his too light jacket.

Sometimes, he cuts down an alley once he reaches the square; on a good day, this will cut the time to get to school by at least a minute and a half. And, today is one of those days where he finds himself turning a sharp right down the alley because he’s frozen solid and just wants the school’s heating system. He keeps his head bowed against the wind that sneaks down the small alley as he walks swiftly, and Michael’s headphones are loud enough to mask any outside sounds. 

He’s half way down the alley when he’s shoved hard, hard enough that he loses his footing and falls forward onto his hands and knees. Years of bullying have introduced him to this sort of behavior, so annoyance takes center hold in his chest as he slides his headphones off with a huff.

“Seriously,” he starts as he whips his head around, but whatever angered response to follow shoots back down into his gut when his eyes fall onto the distinctive glimmer of a knife. Panic swells within his chest and pushes against his lungs until his chest is rising and falling in stuttering gasps.

“Wallet.”

The man’s voice is thick, gravelly, and Jeremy nods and reaches into his pocket for his wallet. It’s a fold one that’s colored black and lined with rows of Pac-Man faces; Michael has a matching one. The two had won them during a night at the arcade, a time that seems so long ago now.

He hands the wallet over, and the man flicks through the meager contents: seven dollars in ones, a few arcade tokens, a poor quality photo-booth picture of he and Michael, a condom from his brief relationship with Christine that never went passed hand holding, and a folded, crinkled paper that has his class schedule scribbled on it.

“You must have more money than this.”

“I’m a high school student without a job,” Jeremy says, voice shaking. “That’s all I’ve got.”

“That won’t do.”

Before Jeremy can offer his backpack filled with textbooks that would probably pick up a pretty penny on Amazon, he’s being kicked hard in the side, fast enough that he doesn’t have time to shield himself. He topples over with a loud groan and brings one arm up to his face just as the boot covered foot moves toward it.

He loses count after the tenth kick. His entire body is searing hot and screaming in pain, but the pain doesn’t bleed into his voice. He stays silent, only letting out hushed cries with each kick, and finally, the man gets bored and shoots down the alley, still with his wallet.

Jeremy tries to move, but every inch of his body is throbbing hot despite the steady tremors coursing across his limbs. He manages to shift until his back is pressed against the brick wall, and just that slight movement has tears leaving deep tracks down his cheeks from the burning pain. He weakly pats at his pocket and feels the familiar outline of his phone, and he thanks whoever the hell is listening that the apparent mugger didn’t ask for his phone.

*****

Michael stares at Jeremy’s empty seat; the latter hadn’t said anything on the phone last night about missing class, and the teacher is due to walk in any second now. He slips his phone out and opens Snapchat, snapping a quick picture of his face with the caption “where u at bro?” just as the teacher walks in. 

He keeps his eyes glued to his phone, where he has it hidden under his desk, as the teacher begins rambling about verbs, or something. Michael isn’t really sure anymore because he’s got a new snap from Jeremy.

A smile teases at his lips as he hunches forward and clicks to view the snap, but whatever trace of amusement he’s been housing drops to concern the second he sees Jeremy’s battered face across the screen with a caption that says, “ran into some trouble.”

He leaps to his feet, chair scraping loudly against the tiled floor. The teacher falls silent, and every single student turns toward him, but all Michael can see is the fear and pain coloring Jeremy’s eyes. He stumbles toward the door, fingers wrapped tightly around his keys in his jacket pocket, and he only stops when his teacher calls out to him.

“And just where do you think you’re going, Mell?”

“I…” He tries, unable to form words around the panic gripping at his heart. “I’ve got to go,” he manages before turning toward the door and racing out the hall. He can hear his teacher calling out to him, but he ignores it in favor of running toward his car as fast as his legs will allow.

*****

Consciousness is fleeting. Jeremy tries to keep his eyes open, but sleep is tugging at every edge. His entire body is numb, and his eyelids are fluttering against blurring vision. He vaguely hears someone shout his name, barely sees a red blur racing toward him, but suddenly there’s Michael crouched in front of him, cupping a hand to his face and speaking so fast that Jeremy can’t pick up on any word. Warm hands smooth gently over his arms and chest, and seconds later, Michael’s red jacket is being wrapped around his shoulders.

Next thing he knows, he’s being pulled to his feet, and the numbness from before drops way to emphasize pain across every inch of his body. A strangled gasp claws up his throat, and he wants nothing more than to fall back to the ground, but Michael’s arm is suddenly wrapped carefully around his waist. He’s being pulled toward Michael’s warmth, and despite how badly it hurts, Jeremy leans into Michael, and the two stumble out of the alley and toward Michael’s car.

*****

Jeremy wakes to muffled arguing. He pries his eyes open, squinting against bright lights that burn his pupils. He forces his vision to cooperate, and it doesn’t take long to catch onto that he’s in a hospital. There’s an IV stuck into his arm, and while moving hurts, it’s nothing like the pain he previously felt. He’s finding it rather concerning, though, that breathing brings a sharp pain to his sides. He assumes it’s his ribs, and the thought brings back vivid images of the man and the knife and the kicking.

His heart begins to race, if the increasing beeping of the heart monitor is any hint, and he’s only pulled from gripping thoughts by Michael’s sharp voice from the hallway.

“I don’t care!”

Jeremy swallows thickly and glances toward the door. He can’t see, but Michael sounds mad, frustrated.

“Son, I understand what you are saying, but we need-”

“I don’t care what you need! He was mugged for fuck’s sake! Can’t he have a day to recover before you and your crew go barging in with questions?!”

The conversation to follow is quieter, so much that Jeremy cannot hear, but moments later, his door is being opened very slowly, and Michael steps in.

For a moment, neither say a word; they only stare at one another as if in deep, silent conversation, but Michael caves, worried face breaking way to a wide expression of relief.

“Jeremy.”

Jeremy can’t feel the tears slipping down his cheeks, but Michael can see, and in just seconds, Michael is easing himself gently down onto the edge of the bed and cupping Jeremy’s cold hand in his warm one.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

Jeremy knows this; he knows he’s okay. He’s not sure why he’s crying. He’s never been too fond of crying in front of Michael. He nods, sniffling quietly, and Michael’s hand tightens around his hand.

“Sorry,” he finally gets out along a shaking breath. “I just… You know…” He doesn’t want to say that he’s terrified, but luckily, he and Michael always work on the same wave length, so he doesn’t have to say. Michael knows. Michael always knows.

“You scared the shit out of me,” Michael opts to say in hopes to lighten the mood, and Jeremy lets out a weak laugh.

“The guy got mad at me because I only had seven dollars in my wallet. For some reason, he still took my wallet.”

“Guess we will have to find new matching wallets.”

Jeremy shakes his head, a small smile pulling at his lips. This is what he needs, he thinks. A sense of normalcy. Tomorrow will bring cops. A few days later, and he will have to go back to school, where everyone will already know that he’s been mugged.

But, right now? He’s here with Michael, and his father is on the way. His body hurts, he’s short seven dollars, but Michael’s here.

He leans forward and drops his forehead against Michael’s shoulder despite the pain it brings to his sides. “Thanks for rescuing me.”

“Seems like I’ve been doing that a lot recently.”

Jeremy knows Michael is referring to the play. “You’re good at it,” he says, and Michael breathes out a deep laugh.

“Yeah? I’ll keep being your superhero so long as my superhero name is really cool. Like, a mix between Captain America and Spider-Man kind of cool.”

Jeremy looks up with a smile teasing at his lips. “So, Captain Man or Spider-America?”

Michael laughs again, lighter and full of amusement. “We’ll work on it.”

#be more chill #bmc #whump #prompt #whumpfic #my writing #my bmc writing #jeremy heere #michael mell #boyf riends #tw: mugging #hi i'm sorry this took like a thousand years #someone should write 'sorry this fic took so long' on my grave tbh