#the worst thing i think was probably feeling sick and anxious this morning before work but kther than that work was good

[viralhoax]

me vs. evan williams vs. elvis

i live off a highway exit with a few gas stations, a pharmacy and a liquor store all within the same vicinity. if they weren’t split by the road itself, they could all share a parking lot. the liquor store is on the right, always my passenger side. and i think about the women that run it, and how kind they are, and how nice it smells, and how one bottle of champagne from there and a couple bottle of orange juices from the gas station might just stave off this sadness for a little longer…

but then the light turns green and i go home instead. but for about five seconds, i have a decision to make that is all my own. i don’t have anyone who has stake in this game like i do. i could fold on this hand or go all in, empty my bank account, bet it all and hope i hit 21 this time. and if i hit 21 this time, i’m done for good, i’m satisfied, i’ll go home, i never need to do it again. but if i’m able to just pull off this one-night-of-fun, i can stop now and never again.

okay, yeah. sure. because that’s exactly how that works. you get one big win and one great feeling and then you never wanna do it again, right? mhm. 

i pass the liquor store and go home instead. and the sadness stays, but the sadness would be there whether or not i chugged that bottle or not. as someone who has had clinical depression since age 15 (or prior, but who cares to keep track of points at the trauma olympics?), i know that i will wake up in fear or i will wake up in fear with a headache. i’d rather wake up without the headache.

two years ago, i got drunk at an emo night. and it wasn’t drunk-drunk, really (because we have levels for drunk — there’s buzzed, drunk, drunk-drunk and vodka courtney). i was more regular drunk teetering closer to buzzed. but i remember how little i enjoyed myself. and i remember just wanting to feel sober again, which is something i always remembered wanting to feel in my worst days. the spins, the fear, the lack of control… i wanted it all to be over. and it was, the next morning, until i was plagued by anxiety regarding what i had done, what i had said, who i had hurt, etc. because i knew myself (we’re pretty well-acquainted at this point) and i knew that i was going to start drinking and the shit talk would commence. some of it shitty and gossipy, some of it just venting about my feelings i kept deep inside during the times i was sober. regardless, the damage wasn’t really existent, because i had behaved myself and retained the majority of my memories. but what lingered was the awful, gnawing feeling of “fuck, i shouldn’t be doing this”.

i hit the genetic lottery. i have bad knees, a fucked up back, coarse ass eyebrows and genetic alcoholism and mental illness on both sides of my family. drinking was pounded into my head as a teenager as the worst thing i could do from my mother (next to like, lying and murder), while my father’s family celebrated alcohol in all its forms. the first time i got drunk i was 13 and alone, depressed and anxious over some boy and something stupid he did. skyy vodka vanilla and sparkling blood orange juice. fancy screwdrivers for a little fucking degenerate. i had three and faked being sick to not go to school the next day. i drunk dialed people though, so that was a fun one to have to explain.

i smoked a ton of weed (spoiler: i still do, so i can’t even claim full on recovery or sobriety because i know i have my vices) up until i was 16 and another boy cheated on me and broke my heart and taught me that i am triggered very much by being ghosted. gin and sprite to the brim of a regular kitchen glass. probably 2 or 3 glasses before 12pm because i was home alone. i called said boy who was cheating on me and i don’t remember the conversation except for the fact that i definitely embarrassed myself. i napped, went to work, got too sick to work on the line, lied about being sick, went home, puked, and lied to my mom’s face when she asked if i was drunk. i didn’t start drinking until college intermittently with 19-20 being my kick-off years of drinking alone, drinking so much i puked, crying, and doing a bunch of shit i wasn’t supposed to be doing.

in my early 20s i left one tumultuous relationship where i was drinking a lot for a worse one where i was drinking much more. the difference was is that in the first one, it got called out. i remember my ex looking at me and telling me i was drunk all the time, that i was turning into an alcoholic, that i was never home and always at the bar at the job we worked at. i threw it back in his face because i didn’t want to listen, bitched about how much weed he smoked and made him look like an asshole for showing what was most likely genuine concern (or maybe just frustration, either way, he was right). 

when we broke up (jesus, a pattern!) i was drinking wine from the bottle, at parties with people i shouldn’t have been, ending up with scars on my hands from eating shit walking home from the bars or from other people’s houses. i wore someone else’s shoes home once. i didn’t give a fuck about my own well-being. i went to my office job hungover and bragged about drinking evan williams from the bottle. i was behaving so recklessly and i was consistently enabled to behave that way because my friends were already wild and i was the “innocent” one. 

we won’t get into my single life, because i barely remember it. and what i do remember, i regret with all of me.

i ended up living with someone who made my substance abuse problems look like they were freckles on the face of mount rushmore. i was enabled a lot, my tolerance for alcohol went up and drinking was one of the few things i looked forward to. we bonded through drinking on the weekends together and listening to music. it felt like the only time i had his full attention after a while. but things turned south once my unresolved trauma i repressed started to leak out of me like a burst pipe. it annoyed him, i could tell, but i couldn’t stop and would work myself into panic attacks almost every weekend. all of the things i let lay dormant came up and it wasn’t something he wanted to deal with. he had his own shit he was focused on. 

i don’t want to get into how alcohol almost ended my life one night, so i won’t, but it’s something i live with every day and still have to work through 4 years later.

at the end, i was looking for any type of connection i could find outside of a person i felt like hated me. i bonded with my new coworkers at bars, drinking heavily, behaving recklessly, back to attention seeking behavior and no regard for my own well-being. not eating, not sleeping. just trying to make it through each day feeling as little as possible. the mounting guilt of my lifestyle and decisions were weighing on me and i refused to let myself process any of that. get up, chug caffeine, work retail, eat lunch in backroom, wait all night at shop to go to bar, go to bar, somehow get home. if i ever for any reason had to go straight home, i dreaded it and ended up drunk there too.

that relationship ended and my first healthy relationship started, but we still were drinking to excess. it made me the worst version of myself. it was the only way i felt i could relate to people. i felt stunted — i had no friends my own age anymore after fleeing my past life to try to make a new one. and i know i left hurt in my wake to try to be free, but it felt like it was freedom or death. but i was trying so hard to be relatable, and the only way that i felt like i was worth being around was being the funny drunk who had all the tea. and it made me a bad person. drinking helped me be the worst version of myself. 

i think one of my worst points that made me really truly realize i probably had a problem was being so unbelievably high on a trip to see my favorite artists, taking my anti-anxiety meds and then drinking 4 beers and not remembering anything except for what images and videos i had in my phone the next day. i kept fucking up though, because fucking up is easier than feeling all the shit you don’t wanna feel. 

so november 20, 2021, i stopped. and i don’t foresee myself ever going back. i woke up the night after emo night and was convinced i had done something terrible. the people i was with looked perplexed and said no, you were pretty normal. i didn’t believe them. the paranoia was so intense, it felt like i was being hunted for sport. so i started a counter and said “i’m never feeling like that again”. 

and i know they’re still in there, lurking, this little winged demon, this evil part of me that doesn’t need enabling. this edgy little asshole who needs to be terrible to get noticed. it’s a contest for who can say the worst thing and i refuse to lose. but even stronger than that is the need to feel like i am able to self-govern. and when i get my substances of choice involved, i become ungovernable. my emotions are strong and feel all-encompassing as it is, i don’t need to try to numb my senses even further than i have.

and yeah, i do miss brunch bloody marys. i miss nighttime mimosas. i miss midnight vodka red bulls and weeknight chugging evan from the bottle. i miss being able to relate to other people in a way that felt effortless, in a way that made me open up, in a vulnerable way i felt may be endearing enough to win over people who were never focused on relating to me anyway.

but life isn’t effortless. and sometimes the things that surround us to make life seem a little easier end up making everything so much harder.

i could take the shortcut if i wanted to, but it isn’t worth the reroute. 

i could watch the highlights, but i’ll never experience the full flick.

i could take the shot if i wanted to, but it isn’t worth the hangover.

[possum-tooth]

gooooood evening! today was a good day :)

#im trying to like. reflect back on my days more so i can actually Remember them but today was good #talk tag #the worst thing i think was probably feeling sick and anxious this morning before work but kther than that work was good #and i went to w*lmart w my friend to pick up a few extra things and we went to dinner :') #by 'went to' i mean we ordered thru the drive thru and sat in the parking lot and watched the line shift lmao #anyway! gonna keep today in my memory bank when i undoubtedly feel like shit and wanna d*e again :) #love you all!!!! hope yall had a great wombat wednesday love you 💞💞💞

[bucksfucks]

𝙁𝘽𝙍𝙊 ; 𝗯𝘂𝗰𝗸𝘆 𝗯𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗲𝘀 [𝟳/𝟭𝟭]

summary┃bucky’s past comes back with a vengeance and you’re determined to get the answers you’ve been searching for. 

pairing┃roommate!bucky x f!reader

word count┃2,682 words

warnings┃bucky’s past is revealed, character mentions; [sam wilson, natasha romanoff, tony stark], pet name [kid (platonic), sweets & baby], threats made against bucky + reader, trust-issues, mention of hit-men, brief mention of death, phone sex, praise kink, masturbation, mention of toys, slight angst, soft ending — 18+ ONLY • MINORS DNI

notes┃there is A LOT of plot here but also some filthy goodness and a sprinkle of angst <<3

SERIES MASTERLIST

     Ex-wife.

    Bucky’s words echoed in your ears as he didn’t dare to look at you.

    His ex-wife was threatening you.

    And he didn’t think to mention her? Ever?

    “Can I please explain?” Bucky croaked finally, voice sounding broken as you shrugged your shoulders — in a state of shock.

    That was all he needed before he recounted his previous relationship with the woman who was now sending you threatening emails.

    Married young, too young and too fast and it ended up blowing up in their faces.

    Well, clearly she hadn’t gotten over it.

    “I thought I lost her,” he explains. “I thought that moving halfway across the country would be enough.”

    You finally looked up to meet his eyes, glossy, sad and terrified as you sniffled.

    “There’s a reason only Tasha calls me James.”

    It broke your heart hearing that, the way his head hung low and he nearly winced at the sound of his own goddamn name.

    But you didn’t know who to trust anymore.

    Bucky always glossed over how he, Sam, and Nat knew each other — telling you that they were old friends that go back.

    How far back?

    You needed to know, but clearly you weren’t about to get answers from him.

    “Buck,” he stopped you, taking a step closer as his eyes begged and pleaded you not to finish your sentence. 

    “I can’t,” he shook his head, “I need some time.” 

    You couldn’t bring yourself to say those words that would shatter both of your world’s. But you had no idea what the hell you had gotten yourself into and you needed answers. 

    And you knew exactly who to go to for them. 

    “I understand,” Bucky sighed. “I’ll stay at Sam’s for some time, okay?” 

    You could only nod your head, watching him walk past you and into his door. 

    Then he shut it, something he never did because his door was always open for you. No matter what you needed and no matter what time of day it was. 

    It felt...wrong. 

    But you couldn’t dwell on it, grabbing your keys, phone, and whatever other important things you could think of being you nearly bolted out of the front     door. 

    You plugged your headphones into your phone, hitting shuffle and descending down into the subway. 

    The entire ride made you anxious, slowly approaching your stop and you were way out of place in this crowd. 

    People rushed by you in expensive suits and what you could only guess were the infamous red-soled shoes that were worth close to your monthly rent, if not more. 

    You cringed, thinking of the man you were about to see in his stupidly tall office building that you had to crane your neck at an uncomfortable angle just     to get a look at. 

    The elevator could not have taken longer, tapping your foot impatiently as you rode up to what felt like the heavens before the doors opened to revel smooth wooden doors that reach from the ceiling to the floor. 

    You were so close, before you were stopped. 

    “Ma’am, I’m sorry, you can’t be here right now.” A man’s voice stopped you, dressed in a security guard uniform and oh, this was so him. 

    “I know him,” you said, intent on seeing the man probably sitting behind those large doors. 

    “I’m sorry, I can’t let you do th—”

    “It’s okay, Marv. I know her,” his voice came not from behind the doors, but from the long hallway to your left. 

    The security guard, Marv, nodded his head as he looked at you once more before retreating back to where he was leaning against one of the walls. 

    “This is a surprise,” you rolled your eyes, “Tony, please. I don’t wanna hear it.” 

    He walked over to you, embracing you in a hug, “oh c’mon, I’ve missed you, Kid.” 

    You shook your head, “I haven’t been a kid in years,” you tried to remind him, but it was Tony, he wasn’t going to listen as he just laughed it off and welcomed you into his office. 

    It was much different from last time, all new furniture and appliances, but nothing lasted more than a year with Tony. 

    Tony was an old friend, sort of.

    He was an old friend of your father’s, something like an uncle, but also like your older brother. 

    So just one giant pain in your ass.

    “So,” Tony sighed. “What trouble did you get into this time, Kid?”

    You told Tony everything. 

    From being roommates with Bucky to the way he asked you to be his fake girlfriend to Sam’s wedding and all the way to the situation you were in now. Confronted by his ex-wife without any idea of what she was going to do. 

    Tony had that look on his face. The one where he was going to tell you that you were crazy. 

    “I don’t know how you manage to get yourself into these situations,” he chuckled, hand clamping over your shoulder as he walked around his desk and typed something into his computer. 

    “Last name is,” he looked at you. “Barnes.” 

    He nodded his head, typing away at his computer again before he stopped. 

    There was a brief moment of silence, Tony hiding behind the computer screen before he stood up and walked back around the desk, “I’m gonna need some time.”

    You understood, shaking your head. You were asking Tony to hack into any known database and collect as much data on Bucky as you could. It was wrong, but you just needed to know who you were dealing with. 

    “Thank you, Tony. I-I really appreciate it.” You weren’t good when it came to...well, the heartfelt side of things but luckily neither was Tony. 

    “Don’t get sappy on me now, Kid. You know it makes me sick,” he joked playfully, smile on his lips as you stood up to give him a half hug. 

    “I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.” He promised before you walked out of the too-tall building with far more questions than you came with. 

    It was a waiting game that you didn’t want to play, but you didn’t have a choice. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

    It seemed like your relationship with Bucky was doomed from the start. 

    Friends to lovers rarely, if ever, works out in anyone’s favour. 

    The fake dating trope you could handle, pushing your feelings aside to help Bucky win a bet didn’t seem like the worst thing in the world. You had a great time, great fucking sex, and a trip out of it. 

    Then Steve wouldn’t leave the picture. Going as far as coming to the wedding as Natasha’s boyfriend to spite you not realizing that you and Bucky had gotten married. 

    Married. 

    You and Bucky were married. Bonded in a whole other way and now, his ex-wife was out for you and him. 

    Maybe this was a sign from the universe, a big red fucking flag telling you that it wasn’t worth it and yet...you couldn’t let go. 

    The apartment felt empty without Bucky, his bedroom left the way it was in the morning with your favourite sweater of his laid out on the covers and a little post-it note on top of it. 

    You never could really decipher Bucky’s handwriting. It was absolute chicken scratch as you picked it up and managed to make out in case you get cold scribbled onto it. 

    It was an easy decision to pull it over your head and drown yourself in the scent of Bucky’s cologne as you fiddled with the small gold band you now wore around your neck as a necklace. 

    You didn’t want anyone other than Bucky. There was no in the world who understood you better. Who knew how to make you laugh when you were having a bad day. 

    Everything led you right back to Bucky. 

    So when your phone rang from the other side of the couch, you were secretly hoping it was Bucky. 

    Instead, Tony’s name flashed and your heart sank into your stomach as you quickly hit answer and held the phone up to your ear. 

    “You’re not gonna like this, Kid.” Tony’s voice flowed through the speakers as you took a shaky breath in and braced yourself for what Tony was about to tell you. 

    “He did a damn good job at erasing his history, but you can’t erase all of it,” Tony chuckled as you rolled your eyes, “quit stalling.”

    He sighed, “the Howling Commandos was an organization tasked with,” he paused, “tasked with collecting intel and making sure that information never got released to the public.” 

    This time, it was your turn to fall silent. 

    “Like, spies?” You asked and Tony hummed, “sort of.” 

    “They had spies, agents, hit-men.” 

    No. You shook your head, no. 

    “James Buchanan Barnes was their highest ranking hit-man. Him, along with Sam Wilson and Natasha Romanova worked as a team. A spy, agent, hit-man trio.” 

    You had to shake yourself out of spiralling, what you needed was everything Tony could possible tell you. 

    “Anything on his ex-wife?” You then asked and heard shuffling on the other line, “not much. Mary Barnes, but I doubt that’s her real name, was part of a training initiative the Howling Commandos were testing.” 

    You bit your lip, at least you had a name, even if it wasn’t her real name. 

    “By that point it looks like James—” 

    “Bucky. His name is Bucky.” 

    Tony cleared his throat after a moment’s silence, “Bucky looks like he had disappeared. Blipped off of the face of the Earth. There’s nothing in his file after 2014.” 

    That makes sense. Bucky was perhaps the most old-fashioned man you knew, only upgrading from his flip-phone just a few years ago. He barely knew how to unlock it, though. 

    “Sam and Natasha went on to live normal lives, Kid. I’m sure that’s all Bucky wants.” Tony tries to assure you and you laugh, “you sound like my dad.” 

    He laughed on the other line, “oh gross.” 

    “Thanks for everything, Tony.” You said, “you know what number to call in case you’re in trouble.” 

    With that, you both hung up, tossing your phone away from you to digest everything you’d just been told. You knew you had to talk to Bucky, but you didn’t know when. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

    “So you’re tellin’ me,” Sam was confused. “That this is the same Mary that tried to get you killed?” 

    Bucky rolled his eyes, taking another swing of his beer as he rounded Sam’s kitchen island. 

    “That’s the one, you know, the undercover agent working for Strucker.” Bucky scowled at the name. 

    He was angry, beyond angry at the fact that his past was creeping up on him despite how far he had gone to erase it. 

    “But why now? Why come after you now?” Sam poses the question that even Bucky doesn’t have an answer to. So he just shrugs his shoulders and finishes off his beer. 

    “Unfinished business.” 

    They stand in silence for a little while longer, listening to the old ticking clock hanging on the wall before Sam takes a step towards Bucky. 

    “Whatever you need, you know that Tasha and I are here for you, right?” He whispers and Bucky feels the warmth blooming in his chest as he gives him a half-smile. 

    “Yeah,” he nods his head, “thanks, man.” 

    Sam knows that Bucky was never really good at the sappy shit, so he doesn’t force it. Instead, he offers him another beer, bottle necks clinking as Bucky’s thoughts race. 

    He was worried. 

    Not about himself, but about you. 

    And you were worried about Bucky, curling up in his bed as you sighed and tossed and turned. There was no way you’d be able to fall asleep alone tonight. And hugging his pillow just wasn’t enough. 

    So you grabbed your phone, hitting his name and waiting for the ringing to sound before he picked up — tired and groggy.

    “We need to talk.” You didn’t give him a chance to greet you. He sighed on the other line, but hummed in agreement, “tomorrow?”

    You hummed in response to his question, the sound of his voice soothing as you played with the sheets of his bed.

    “I miss you, Sweets.” Bucky whispered, your breathing hitching at how low and raspy his voice really was.

    “I miss you too, Bucky.” You admitted, shifting as you got comfortable on the pile of pillows against your head.

    There was a moment of silence before Bucky spoke again.

    “You know what ‘m really missin’ right now?” His words sent a shiver down your spine as you shakily inhaled, “what?”

    Bucky sighed, reminiscent of how he sighs when he runs his hands all over your body. 

    “I miss that sweet cunt of yours.” Bucky purrs, you know he’s smirking, possibly even dragging his tongue across his bottom lip as he closes his eyes to imagine you under him. 

    You’re at a loss for words, feeling your panties grow damp, core aching and you’re going to have to touch yourself soon. But that’s all part of Bucky’s plan, you think. 

    “Here I am, all alone, with my hand wrapped ‘round my cock,” he whispers, but you can hear him stroking himself. 

    “And all I can think ‘bout is that way your tight little pussy grips me and milks my fuckin’ dick, baby.” Bucky was always so good with his words, knowing exactly what to say to make you melt. 

    And it was working, because you were a squirming mess in his bed. 

    “Well,” you could tell he was smirking by his tone, “what’re ya waitin’ for, Sweets. Go on, touch yourself. I wanna hear you work your clit.” 

    Your hand flew under your panties, being given the permission only made it sweeter as your fingers came in contact with your soaking folds. The sensitive bundle of nerves needed desperate attention as you slowly circled it. 

    “Good girl, that’s my girl.” Bucky praised, continuing to work himself. 

    “God,” he hissed, “can’t wait to have you all to myself again. Bury myself deep, maybe even have you sit on my cock as you beg me to do somethin’.” 

    You worked yourself a little faster, applying some more pressure as you let out a whine at his words. 

    “Add two fingers, Sweets. I know how much you love bein’ stretched,” Bucky chuckled deeply, “been thinkin’ of gettin’ you a mould of my fuckin’ dick for when ‘m not home.” 

    Oh my God. Oh my God that shouldn’t be so fucking hot so why does it make your walls flutter and breathing uneven as you have to stop yourself from actually fucking cumming. 

    He chuckles again, “yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” 

    You can’t verbally respond, too focused on the tight coil in your abdomen that’s ready to snap. 

    “I know you’re close, can hear it in how fuckin’ desperate you sound,” he pants, “so why don’t you make a mess all over my clean sheets.” 

    You gasp, how did he know, but you don’t get to dwell on it for much longer than a moment because your orgasm rips through you and leaves you panting Bucky’s name. 

    Both of your breaths are uneven and ragged through the phone’s speakers, bed springs creaking on Bucky’s side as he hums. 

    “If only you could see the miss I made for you, Sweets,” you shuddered at his words, closing your eyes to relish in the moment. 

    “Now get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.” His tone has changed, entirely sweet and caring as you grab the phone to bring him closer to you. 

    “Okay,” you reply, another lick of silence before you hear Bucky going to end the call but you stop him. 

    “I love you, Bucky.” You quickly blubber out and it feels good to finally say those words because there’s no more denying how you really feel about him. 

    “I love you too, Sweets.” 

    It’s a bittersweet ending to the phone call, thoughts and emotions running wild as you’re forced to remind yourself that Bucky has a lot of explaining to do. 

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes headcanons #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes oneshots #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #roommate!bucky #bucky barnes series

[flareish]

Anxiety

kuroo x reader

summary: you hide your anxiety from basically everyone including your boyfriend, until he finds out for himself

genre: hurt/comfort

warnings: Emetophobia Warning! description of nausea/vomit, anxiety, bit of angst but ends in fluff

word count: 2.0k

a/n: I tried to make this as close to my anxiety since I hadn’t known anyone with my kind of anxiety(symptom wise) until I was seventeen, which was a good ways into when I realized I had anxiety. So here is some nausea anxiety representation!

masterlist

You tap your fingers in a mindless rhythm. Alternating the fingers and repeating them back and forth, trying to make it a game, a challenge. You did this over and over again to distract yourself from that all too familiar sinking feeling. That feeling like your stomach has managed to twist and knot itself a million times. Each bump of the bus made acid crawl up your throat. You crunched a mint in your mouth hoping the peppermint would soothe some of the nausea. It didn’t, but the thought was there. You just will yourself not to throw up on the bus, anything but that. The thought in itself makes you even more nervous, and in turn even sicker.

You don’t even know why you are anxious. Today is Kuroo’s big game, but it isn’t yours. You’ve been to a hundred of his games before but never before did you feel like this. Normally you get cute little butterflies, not an angry swarm of bees. The worst part is, there is Kuroo sat next to you happy as can be, completely oblivious. He keeps trying to drag you into conversations but you fear if you open your mouth for too long, all that will come up is vomit. So you keep your mouth firmly closed only smiling tightly or shaking your head at his prompts.

It's not exactly his fault though. He doesn’t actually know you have anxiety. It’s not something you really like to talk about. You are all for promoting the acceptance of mental health but you just find every time you tell someone the dynamic changes. Either they flat out don’t believe you since you “don’t seem like the type with anxiety”. Well duh, I don’t have social anxiety, I have situational anxiety. Like here in this situation. That or they suddenly treat me like I am incapable of handling myself. That whenever a slightly stressful event comes up, I am going to melt into a puddle of pure anxiety. Sorry but I’ve made it this far, I may have to throw up a few times on the way but I am still making it. 

So you just haven’t told Kuroo. You're just nervous that it will change the dynamic. You also don’t want to steal his spotlight. Today is supposed to be all about him. It's his big game. To suddenly speak up and tell him that his game is giving you anxiety would be selfish. So like you always have, you put a brave face on and face it head-on.

“Hey, are you okay?” Kuroo asks you, now facing you, “You look a little pale.”

“Hmm?,” You also turn to look at him, “Oh I am just a bit tired that’s all. I will be fine in an hour or so.” You hope at least. He nods relieved it's not something worse. 

You finally pull into the stadium and everyone is pushing their way off the bus. Luckily Kuroo is right by you to make sure you don't get accidentally pushed down the bus stairs and trampled. The team makes it’s to the bulletin board where they are given their matchups. Nekoma is paired with a pretty hard team. Suddenly, out of nowhere, you dry heave. You knew at the point you were going to throw up and within the next few minutes. 

“Hey I think I left something in the bus I’ll be right back.” You say to Kuroo before dashing off. He goes to reply but you are already gone. 

You make it around the back of the building before you throw up. At this point you’re kinda out of it, your mind is occupied on emptying your already empty stomach. Then you feel someone pull your hair back and gently rub your back. You don’t even have to look up to know it’s Kuroo. When you finish he hands you his water bottle.  You waterfall it and rinse your mouth out of that acidic taste. 

“What’s going on are you okay?” Kuroo asks full of concern. You hesitate for a moment, thinking of telling the truth. Then you remember this is supposed to be his day. 

“Sorry I must have caught a stomach bug.” He doesn’t completely buy it so you quickly add to it.

“I didn't feel great on the bus but I just thought it was because I was tired.” You feel bad lying, “I also don’t want to distract you before your game.” At that Kuroo quickly pulls you into a hug, “Your not a distraction, I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Your cheek is pressed against his chest and your hands grip the front of his shirt. 

“We should probably head back.” You mumble.

“Yeah.” He leans down to kiss you but you duck away. He looks incredibly offended and hurt at this.

“Dude I just threw up I don’t know if you want to do that.” 

“…Point.”

The two of you head back inside to the team, you feeling much better after throwing up. Before you know it, the competition has begun and Nekoma has won. You run down and celebrate with the team and it’s a happy day.

On the bus ride home Kuroo has a strange energy about him. Not like he’s mad more just like he’s just realized something. You nudge him and smile hoping to break him out of his little funk. He immediately smiles back and goes back to celebrating with the team. His reaction was almost like putting a mask on. You watch him for a moment before slipping into a conversation of your own.

When you make it back to school you go your separate ways. Him going to shower, and you to get home before it gets too late. A big hug before pushing away. You still refusing to kiss him after throwing up earlier in the day. 

You are laying on your bed, exhausted. Anxiety really takes a toll on your energy. Your thoughts are broken when your phone chimes with a text.  Leaning over to grab your phone off your bedside table you see it is from Kuroo. 

“Can you come over? I want to talk.”

No cute pet names. No slowly easing into it. Actually using proper grammar. Nothing in that message was a good sign. Just “I want to talk” was enough to make the acid begin to crawl again. You knew it had to be about today. Especially after you saw him zoning out on the bus. It had to be your anxiety episode. You knew he wouldn’t be happy you lied but going to this extent. Like he just found out you have anxiety and this is what he hits you with? The world’s most nerve-wracking text message. The only worse place than this would be “we need to talk”. That’s when you have really screwed up. So maybe you’ve only minorly screwed up since he said want not need. Does that mean you have the choice to say no? That was kind of tempting but you knew you would be tossing and turning all night thinking about what might be wrong. 

“Okay.” You reply to the text. Short and sweet. Putting on some shoes and grabbing a hoodie, you quietly slip out of your house. Kuroo’s house wasn’t too far but it was far enough. Enough to continue to stir in your intrusive and unstoppable thoughts. You eventually make it to his house and head in going straight for his room. Before you reach the door you hesitate and gather yourself. Preparing for whatever was about to come. 

When you go in you find Kuroo sat on the floor of his bedroom, back pressed against the bed. He jerkily looks up and you and gives you a tight smile. None of this is giving good signs. Something is very heavy on his mind. You sit down across from him, your back against the wall your feet almost touching. 

“So what was it you wanting to talk about.” You break the silence. He doesn’t respond for a moment. Just as you are about to try again he speaks up.

“Do you still love me?” Your face drops into confusion.

“Why wouldn’t I love you anymore?” You ask, suddenly realizing this wasn’t the conversation you were prepping yourself for. 

“You’ve been distant lately. You don’t tell me things like when you don’t feel good. I thought about it when I got home and I was wondering if you weren’t actually sick but just making the excuse because you got caught.” He’s very serious at the moment and his words hold a cold edge. 

“What do you mean get caught?” You match his tone. You weren’t planning on fighting but something about how he said it just set something off in you.

“You didn’t want to be there. Ever since this morning you were quiet and reserved. Even after the game, you wouldn’t even kiss me-”

“Yeah, cause I threw up! And how could I be faking it when I literally threw up.” You snap.

“You’ve been like this before though! Like last year’s big tournament you would barely talk to me.”

“That’s not true!” Although it kind of was just not the reason he thought.

“Oh yeah? What about at training camp you wouldn’t talk to me then either, you didn’t even eat with us you just sat on your own.” He threw back.

“Yeah, cause I have anxiety!” The words left your mouth before you knew it. Kuroo looked taken back.

“What?” His brow furrows, “Since when?” He’s not sure what to believe. You’re not surprised since you have worked very hard to hide it from everyone, accidentally sabotaging your own relationship without even knowing it. 

“Since forever. I just never told anyone.” You quietly say, ducking your head down.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You didn’t even need to look up to see the hurt on his face, it was apparent in his voice. You start playing with your finger, tapping them in rhythms.

“I wanted to,” You mumble, “But whenever I do stuff changes and I didn’t want anything to change.” He shifts forward and you think he’s going to leave. Instead, he grabs your hands, stopping the pattern you had going. You look up.

“Did you think I would judge you?” He was staring straight into you, willing the truth to come out.

“Whenever I tell people they either don’t believe me and brush it off or treat me like I’m incapable of handling any amount of stress. I’ve never seen anyone react any differently so I was scared you would fall into one of those reactions and I didn’t know how I could handle that. I didn’t want my anxiety to be the thing to tear us apart. But I guess it still was.” By the end of your speech, your gaze has returned back to the floor, unable to hold eye contact for that long with him staring at you so strongly. You hear him sigh then you are pulled forward and into his arms. 

“I want to be your pillar of support. I want to be that third reaction that is one of acceptance, one that doesn’t drive you crazy.” He strokes your hair soothingly, his words making you tear up, “When you are ready I want you to tell me everything. From when you first noticed it, to where it is now, to how you deal with it, everything.” By now you are fully crying, absolutely collapsed into his chest. “I love you so much.” It gets muffled in his shirt but he hears it.

“I know, and I love you.”

It would take some time for Kuroo to get used to this change but slowly but surely he will be different from the rest and he will support you no matter what. Although he also respects your strength and knows you can handle your anxiety on your own, he is always there when you need it. He becomes the third unexpected and unheard-of reaction; acceptance.

#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #nekoma #kuroo #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsuro imagine #kuroo tetsuro oneshot #kuroo scenarios #kuroo hurt/comfort #kuroo x reader #hq kuroo

[islesnucks]

LAST NIGHT I TOLD YOU I LOVED YOU - NOLAN PATRICK X READER

this started as a tyler seguin fic, was almost a brock boeser one for a second and turned out to be about Nolan lol

this was not proofread so yeah keep that in mind as you read it 

Word Count: 2k

Warning: mention of alcohol (?)

Smmary: the morning after you drunkenly confessed your feelings to Nolan - slightly inspired by the song Last Night by Lucy Spraggan

Masterlist

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-

Last night I told you I loved you

Woke up blamed it on the Vodka

I genuinely thought I was dyin'

And I could see that smile you were hiding

-

You woke up and the first thing you felt was pain. There was a banging in your head and your stomach felt sick. Memories from last night were blurry, there surely was alcohol involved. The last thing you remembered was walking into the bar with Nolan and TK by your side, then there was vodka involved. Or was it tequila? Maybe even both?

Feeling like the slightest move would make you throw up, you decided to snuggle further into the sheets trying to go back to sleep, hoping a couple more hours of sleep would make you feel better. That’s when you heard barks coming from outside the room, making your head pound. Then your eyes went wide when it hit you: you don’t own any dogs.

Looking around you confirmed this indeed wasn’t your bedroom, it was Nolan’s. The curtains were shut so the room was dark and you couldn’t see much, but you were able to make out your dress from last night folded on top of the armchair beside the bed.

You looked down and realized you indeed weren’t using your clothes, instead you had one of his old shirts on. Then you noticed your underwear was still on, a good sign you thought. But still you couldn’t remember anything from last night and that terrified you.

You weren't scared of what you could have done, you knew having the boys by your side ensure you nothing bad would happen. So you weren't scared that you had somehow ended up drunkenly dancing on top of  a table or making out with a complete stranger. No, the problem was that alcohol always loosened your tongue. What you were scared of was having confessed something you had worked so hard on holding in.

Gathering a little courage and still feeling like you may throw up any second, you got out of bed and made your way out of the room. The clacking of a pan and smell coming from the kitchen let you know Nolan was probably there cooking some breakfast or maybe lunch, you didn’t know what time it was. Taking one last deep breath, trying to calm your nerves, you made your way down the hall to the kitchen.

He was with his back to you, too busy stirring something on a pan to realize you had entered the room. That’s when his dogs approached you excited to see you, making him turn around to find you still half asleep, hair in a messy bun, some rests of makeup from last night on your face, dressed in his shirt that were long enough to cover everything. You were sure you looked horrible but he found it cute, the smile that formed on his face showed it.

“Hey, you’re alive.” He turned off the stove and proceeded to place what turned out to be scrambled eggs on two plates.

“I feel like shit.” You took a seat on one of the barstools by the kitchen island.

“Sorry, did the bark wake you? I was keeping them in the living room so they wouldn’t bother you but Charlie sneaked out.” he said, giving the dog a stern look, but Charlie was too distracted enjoying as you petted him to notice.

“No don’t worry I was already awake, agonizing in bed, but awake.”

He placed the plate with everything he had cooked and a cup of coffee in front of you and you thanked him as he took a seat next to you. He was quiet per usual, but the Nolan you knew would have thrown some snarky remark about how much of a lightweight you are and he’s never going out with you again. That concerned you a bit. However he seemed normal, no awkward looks or anything that made you think you had messed up in any way last night.

“Do you remember anything from last night?” he suddenly said bringing you back to reality. There it was, something did happen. You could feel your heart in your throat, but you tried to play it cool.

“No… Wait we didn’t-”

“No!” he was quick to cut you off, slightly offended that you thought that could’ve happened. “You were wasted Y/N, I’d never take advantage like that.” He then realized he admitted nothing happened because you were drunk, not because he didn’t want it to happen; but you were too busy panicking to realize.

“I know, I know. It’s just that I woke up in your bed, with your clothes on.” you tried to explain.

“We ubered back here, you were asleep the whole ride, I helped you change your clothes and gave you my bed. I slept on the couch.” Relief washed over your body, deep down you knew nothing like that could have happened, but hearing it made you feel better, like a huge weight was being taken off your shoulders.

“Thank you Nols, you didn’t have to.”

“Leaving you alone in your apartment in the state you were in felt wrong.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m glad to know I didn’t do anything too stupid at the club.” you said, letting out a deep breath you didn’t even notice you had been holding on to.

“Well you didn’t do anything stupid at the club...” He didn't finish but that was enough to make you choke on the coffee you had been drinking.

“Shit what did I do?”

“Nothing, nothing. Don’t worry.” He brushed it off as he stood with his empty plate in hand and walked over to the sink.

“Nolan …” you questioned him, but he still wouldn’t look at you. Yet you could see the smile he was trying to hide and that was all the confirmation you needed. Something definitely happened. You got off your seat and made your way around the kitchen island.

“Nolan James Patrick. What did I do?” Your stern tone made him finally turn around with a look on his face you couldn’t quite explain, which only made your nerves grow.

“You said something.” 

“Shit.”

“You really don't remember?” He walked till he was standing next to you. “We were here, I had already helped you change, you were in bed ...” he started to explain, hoping it would refresh your memories because he didn’t have it in him to actually tell you what you had said.

And just like that the memory from last night hit you.

~

“This sucks.” you said letting yourself fall on the bed, not even trying to position yourself correctly.

“Well you should’ve stopped after the third shot like I told you.” Nolan was too busy folding your clothes to see the way you rolled your eyes.

“Not that. This. You are being so nice with me and it sucks.”

“You lost me there princess.” he said confused, brows narrowing but with a playful smile still on his face, the way you rambled incongruently was too cute for him not to.

“Because I’m just going to fall harder for you and I shouldn’t because we’re friends Patty. I can’t be in love with my friend.” you let out matter-of-factly, clearly all products of the alcohol that was still running through your veins.

He could not believe what he was hearing. His heart stopped at your words, but he tried to convince himself he had heard it wrong, God knows the many times he dreamed of you saying those words.

“It sucks that I’m in love with you.” you added and there was no denying it, he heard it clear this time.

“Y/N …” he started to say as he turned around but words died in his mouth when he realized you were already asleep.

~

“Shit!” you let out and your hands instantly went to cover your face. You had screwed it big time. Sure you could blame it on the alcohol but Nolan knew you, he knew you wouldn’t just invent something like that. And even if it worked, your friendship would never be like it was before.

“Just forget I ever said that, okay? I was drunk and I didnt know what I was saying. Fuck. I'm the worst'' you started to ramble as you walked around the kitchen, unable to keep still because of the anxious feeling deep in your chest. It felt like your world was spinning out of control and all you could think about was all you had lost the moment alcohol got the best of you and you confessed your feelings.

All of a sudden Nolan was standing in front of you, placing his hands on your sides to stop your pacing. You couldn’t look him in the face, knowing the moment he saw you he’d realized how much you meant everything you said last night.

“Hey calm down” He started caressing your arms gently up and down in a reassuring manner.

“I'm so sorry.” you said, tears threatening to fall down your face any moment. 

“Well I'm not.” he replied with a humorous tone that threw you off. You shoot your head up at him with a confused expression that only intensified once you realized he was smiling sheepishly at you.

“I’m actually really glad that happened because now I don’t have to worry about how you may react when I tell you how I feel about you.”

“I think the alcohol killed all my brain cells because I don’t understand a thing you're saying.”

Nolan rolled his eyes at your comment but couldn’t hide the smile on this face. His hands went to cup your face, pulling you closer to him as he wiped away gently with his thumb a few tears that you hadn’t been able to keep in.

“What I’m trying to say is: I love you too.” he said looking into your eyes tenderly.

“I swear if TK comes out of nowhere holding a camera or something I’m murdering both of you-”

“I’m not joking! I love you Y/N. I have for the longest time and I’m a little embarrassed it took you drunkenly confessing how you feel for me to have the balls to say it.” Nolan’s cheeks turned red and you had to bite your lip to not make a comment about it. His eyes full of adoration never left yours, making you feel the all too familiar butterflies, but this time it didn’t feel wrong. This time you didn’t have to hide it or push it away. No, because this time you knew he felt the same.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked softly and all you could do was nod. He started to lean in, heart beating fast in his chest just like yours. 

“Wait.” you said, stopping him when he was less than an inch away from connecting your lips. He pulled away to look down at you confused, hands still resting against your cheeks. “I haven't washed my teeth.” He let out a chuckle.

“I couldn't care less.” he said, leaning down to finally kiss you.

It started sweet and gently, neither of you could believe it was happening, too scared any second you’d wake up and realize it was all a dream. That was until your hands met on the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair and bringing him closer, deepening the kiss. His hands left your face and moved down your back, pressing you against him as much as possible, clutching to you in any way possible. The kiss intensified with the second and you could not stop, you had been craving each other for so long it felt almost intoxicating to finally know what the other’s lips felt like.

-

thank you for reading, hope you liked it! likes and reblogs are always appreciated!

taglist: @glassdanse @2manytabsopen @barbienoturbby @petey-patty @chieflawyerpastatoad @iwantahockeyhimbo @fallinallincurls @jamiedrysdales @jordiee95

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#nolan patrick #nolan patrick imagine #nolan patrick x reader #nolan patrick imagines #nolan patrick fic #flyers #flyers imagine #flyers fic #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey #hockey imagine #hockey fic

[bobohu4eva]

Pink Lace - Chapter 5

Characters: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: College AU, stripper AU, fluff, smut, slow burn

Summary: Baekhyun, a philosophy professor with mysterious wealth, got himself completely fucked over a girl who can’t let him into her life.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: sex work, mentions of sexual assault, adult themes/situations, eventual smut

Tag list: @smolbeanmika @leave-me-in-the-summertime @totallynerdstuff @bbhmystar @nana-banana @kimyhappy @thegreatandi @geniusloey @deligxt @baekswifey @bbhyun506 @lovebuginlove @bellamendoza @baekyeonoreo @bobohumyonlyboo

Masterlist

After your conversation with Baekhyun Monday evening Tuesday was spent desperately trying to get Baekhyun off your mind, with little success. He’d asked you if you liked him like that, and you couldn’t tell him no. Hell, you knew in the back of your mind that the answer was definitely yes, you just couldn’t bring yourself to say it to his face. 

As much as you did like him, the prospect of starting something with a customer who was also your professor was still terrifying. What if you two got together and people found out? Or what if things started to go south and you were still stuck with him as your teacher? 

Despite your other schoolwork, and cleaning basically everything you possibly could, your mind just kept racing with every different possible scenario for if you did tell Baekhyun how you felt. And most of them were quite unpleasant. He could lose his job, you could make class absolute hell for yourself if things didn’t go well, and so on. Different possibilities played themselves out in your mind over and over, and there was little you could do to stop it. 

However the thoughts that stuck with you the most were the ones where things didn’t end badly. Thoughts of his arms around you, his comforting words whispered in your ear, and the gentle touches of his pretty hands on your skin. As much as you fought it, the attraction was there. 

The way your mind bounced between thoughts was stressful to no end. Every time you tried reasoning with yourself, you just thought about how good he made you feel when you were alone together. 

Baekhyun was always so willing to be vulnerable with you, it made you feel appreciated. He was so open about his feelings, and honest with his intentions towards you that it made it difficult to push him away. You wanted to be able to show him the same kind of vulnerability as well, but the possibilities if you did still frightened you too much. 

You knew you wouldn’t be able to go on like this forever, sooner or later you had to figure out what to say to him. 

Your essay was plaguing you as well. You’d tried to start it on several occasions, but Plato’s writing was so old timey and incomprehensible you didn’t even know where to start. It also didn’t help that every time you tried to start writing, all you could think about was what Baekhyun would think. The idea of turning a shitty paper in for him to read and grade made you feel sick. You knew you were shooting yourself in the foot putting it off but you just couldn’t bring yourself to start it either. 

“You’ve cleaned everything in the apartment. Twice. What’s with you today y/n?” Mia asked as she walked out of her bedroom and into the common area, finding you once again wiping down all the surfaces in the kitchen. 

“I’m trying to distract myself, was that not obvious?” You knew what was coming next. 

“Baekhyun still on your mind?” 

Yes. He was. In every possible way, good and bad, and you couldn’t stop it. 

“I think I do like him.” 

“See! I knew it!” You rolled your eyes at her. “Anything exciting happen yesterday? Did you decide to keep the money?” She asked, sitting down at the dining room table, you sitting down across from her. 

 “I’m keeping it, I tried giving it back but he told me some stuff and turns out he doesn’t need it after all.” 

“So he IS rich?!” 

“Yeah... although not from anything cool or fun. His rich parents died recently.” 

“Oh shit, that sucks. That must’ve been an awkward conversation.” 

“Not really. I don’t know why but talking to him is getting easier and easier. I even stayed after he told me I could go.”

“You really must like him then, damn. Can’t blame you though, he is hot.” You shot her an angry look but you both knew she was right. “So what are you gonna do about it?” 

“Do about what?” 

“You liking him. He obviously likes you a lot too, so what happens next?” 

“Nothing. He’s my professor.” 

The look she shot you next said something reminiscent of ‘are you fucking serious’.

 “Oh come on y/n this guy is hot, and rich, and super into you. Even if he is your professor you can’t pass up a fling at least.” 

“And when it ends? What then? Or if someone finds out he’s fucking a student? He’d lose his job and it would be my fault.” 

“No, it would be his fault, and he’s rich anyway so it wouldn’t even matter.” 

You thought back to your last conversation with Baekhyun, and what he said about his parents. Even if he did choose to risk it for you, the thought of him losing a job that meant so much to him still didn’t sit right with you. 

“It would matter to me. Either way I don’t want other students shit talking me either. If my classmates found out there was something between us it would be hell.” 

“All I'm hearing right now, is that you just need to not get caught. The semester is only 16 weeks, as long as nothing gets out while you’re in his class nothing too bad can happen. You just have to be careful.”  

You thought about it, and she wasn’t exactly wrong. As long as nothing got out while you were his student, nothing too bad could happen. 

“He won’t lose his job if people find out we’re together later on when I’m not his student anymore, right?” 

Mia shrugged. “He doesn’t hold any power over you anymore then so I don’t see why he’d get in any trouble. People might just think it’s weird since he’s older. How old is he anyway? He looks young.” 

“I’m not exactly sure... Somewhere around 30? Late 20s maybe? I should ask him.” 

“Yeah you should. I still have homework I need to do, I should get back to that.” She said before getting herself a glass of water and retreating back to her bedroom. 

~

The next morning you were exhausted. You hadn’t gotten much sleep because of everything that was going through your head. You wanted Baekhyun, and he wanted you, but there was still too much risk involved. But part of you kept thinking about what Mia had said as well. Could a fling really be that bad? 

You were nervous to see him too. You still hadn’t given him an answer to his question, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to dodge it forever. Lying seemed like a decent option, but you knew with how honest and vulnerable Baekhyun always was with you, you wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to lie to him. Especially when you did want something more with him, you were just scared. 

As philosophy class drew closer and closer you felt uneasy. You felt bad seeing Baekhyun again without giving him an answer, but you didn’t know how or what to say. You only hoped he wouldn’t press you for it. 

Class went by and you didn’t speak to him. He didn’t keep you after either, which was a relief. You had been hoping he’d at least go over some stuff that would help you on your essay, but you had no such luck, and you needed it done by midnight if you wanted any credit. 

When you got home you cursed yourself for procrastinating so much, but you had other homework too and you knew you’d be able to focus on that better, so you started it first. 

Eventually your mind got sucked into your physics assignment, and you forgot about Baekhyun and the essay, too focused on the task at hand. 

By the time you were done with your other assignments it was 8pm. Four hours until you had to submit your essay. One hour went by just reading and rereading the text you were supposed to write about. Another was wasted on an intro paragraph you kept deleting, because you still couldn’t understand the text. When 10pm hit, and you started to panic.  

You realized that you weren’t going to be able to do it. Your mind was now in freak out mode and you couldn’t concentrate anyway. Either the paper wasn’t getting turned in at all, or you needed to do something fast. In any other class you would’ve BS-ed  your way through it to turn at least something in, but you just couldn’t do that knowing Baekhyun was going to read it. You weren’t going to be able to submit it that night, but you needed to at least contact him and explain so he wouldn’t think you were stupid. 

By 10:30 you found yourself scrolling through your contacts, staring at his name. You’d thought about emailing him, but he probably wouldn’t see until morning and you didn’t have that much time. 

In hindsight you probably would’ve been fine to just send an email and try to get an extension, but the combination of anxiety over your grade and wanting to talk to him had his name in your phone looking better and better. 

So you called. 

Your nerves were on fire as you waited for him to hopefully pick up. Was this stupid? Would he even answer? Worst of all, what if he was disappointed in you for not being able to do the assignment?

After a few rings, he picked up. “Hello?” 

“Hi Baekhyun, it’s y/n.” 

“Y/n? Are you alright what’s going on?” You could hear the concern in his voice even over the phone, and you remembered why he gave you his number in the first place. 

“I- I can’t do the essay.” You felt your voice shake, before unloading all your grievances in one breath “I read the thing a million times and I still have no idea what it’s about and I put it off until tonight cause it was making me so anxious but I still can’t focus and now it’s too late and I don’t know what to do and I’m freaking out.” 

You heard him sigh. “Slow down, It’s okay, I know it’s a difficult assignment. Have you at least started?” 

“No..” You felt tears swelling in your eyes, threatening to spill and you’re sure he can hear it in your voice even over the phone. “Can I just skip this one? I tried to start it so many times but I don’t know how to analyze something I can’t even understand.” You choked out. 

“Y/n...” You could tell he was thinking of what to do. He probably shouldn’t give you special treatment, and you knew that but right now you hoped he would just give in. Unfortunately you had no such luck. “I’m sorry but I can’t let you just not do it. It would make it too obvious that I’m treating you differently than other students.”

“Then can you at least help me? Or give me more time? Please?” You begged.

“I’m still in my office. I can help you if you meet me here.” 

You felt your palms get sweaty and your heart beat faster at the idea of going to his office again after what had happened last time, especially this late at night and in such a fragile state. 

“O-okay. I’ll be there in 10. Bye.” You said, hanging up before he could respond.

Quickly you got on some shoes and drove yourself to the building his office was located in. Last time you’d been in there he’d asked you about your feelings for him, and now you had to go back. You told yourself to just focus on getting the essay done, but the thought still hung around in the back of your mind as you walked down the hall towards Baekhyun’s office. You felt jittery and embarrassed, but you needed to do this for your grade.

After taking a few deep breaths to ready yourself, you knocked on the door, and heard a muffled “Come in” from the other side, so you let yourself in. Baekhyun was sitting at his desk, which was covered in papers you assumed he’d been grading. Instead of the nicer clothes he would usually wear during lecture, he was just wearing a black t shirt and sweats now. 

“You know you scared the shit out of me when you called. I thought you were in danger or something.” He said to you as you sat down in front of him. “I really didn’t think you’d call me over school work.” 

“I’m sorry..” 

“It’s okay! I’m not mad or anything, just surprised. What part of the text are you having trouble with?” 

“All of it...” You felt your lip starting to quiver. “I’m sorry I know this sounds so stupid and you probably think I’m just trying to take advantage of how you like me but I promise it’s not like that.” You said, looking down and fidgeting with your hands, trying to hide the frustration on your face.

Baekhyun crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, smiling. “I never said I thought that. I told you it’s not an easy assignment, it’s ok if you’re having trouble. Plato can be difficult especially for people who aren’t used to reading things that old.” 

“I should’ve at least started earlier...” 

“Probably, but it’s too late to dwell on that now. Let’s just try to go over the reading together, yeah?” You nodded. 

He moved his chair to your side of the desk before opening your textbook to the reading for the essay. 

“So the first thing that makes The Ring of Gyges so confusing is that you don’t really know who’s talking. Basically it’s a conversation between Plato and his brother Glaucon where they’re discussing justice, and it’s actually Glaucon speaking for most of it, not Plato.” 

You were listening to what he was saying of course, but you were still distracted by the proximity. Baekhyun was sitting right next to you now, arms almost touching. The only other time the two of you got that close was at the club. And you did not need to be thinking about that while he was explaining your assignment to you. 

“Are you following me so far?” 

Your eyes immediately shot up from the book to meet his, and you quickly nodded. Having him look you in the eyes again like that made your face feel hot.

“Glaucon argues that people only peruse justice for the benefits of it, and not because they actually want to be good people. He uses the example of a ring that grants it’s user invisibility, therefore allowing them to do unjust things like steal without being caught. He tells Plato a story about a man who finds such a ring and uses it do overthrow the king.”

You groaned. “It still doesn’t make sense though, what does some story about a stupid ring have to do with justice?” 

“Well, if you were given the ability to steal and deceive people for your own benefit, without ever having to worry about getting caught, wouldn’t you do it too?” You stayed silent. “Basically, what you need to understand is what Glaucon is arguing. He’s saying that doing good deeds isn’t a part of human nature, and everyone would behave unjustly if they knew they would never get caught. Therefore, justice is something people pursue not out of want, but out of fear of the consequences if they don’t.”  

All you could do was stare at him. It was infuriating how attractive he sounded while explaining it to you. 

“Do you have a bit of a better idea what to write about now? Remember it’s only two pages, so don’t stress too much.” 

You snapped yourself out of your thoughts. “Yeah, it makes a bit more sense now... do I still need to finish it tonight or?” 

“Friday. Just email it to me by midnight on Friday and I won’t count it late.” He said, smiling again. 

“Thank you for doing this, I’m sorry it was so late and everything.”

Baekhyun just chucked, “You know if it’s you I don’t mind. You could keep me here all night with questions and I wouldn’t stop you. But you understand now, right?” 

The way he was smiling at you now along with the closeness was making you slightly dizzy. 

“I think so, Glaucon is basically saying that injustice is better than justice then right? Because everyone would do unjust things if they’d always get away with it.” 

Baekhyun nodded. 

“So according to him the best way to live life would be to do things you know are wrong, but without being caught.” 

“Exactly. See, I knew you were smart, y/n.” A smirk had made its way onto his face as he spoke. 

You couldn’t help connecting what he was saying to what you were feeling inside towards him. You wanted him, and you knew it was wrong, but how could you deny it to yourself when it felt so right? 

“Baekhyun...” You asked, hesitantly. “D-do you think it’s okay to do things you know are wrong, as long as no one finds out?”

“I think it depends what you’re talking about.” He answered, now looking you in the eyes again with intensity. “I would never kill anyone, for any reason, even if I knew I could get away with it. But, if I really wanted something, I think I would take it.” 

You were hyperaware of how his eyes were now scanning your face, lingering on your lips. “Take what?”

A hand made contact with your thigh, slowly moving up until he stopped, right below the hem of your shorts. His thumb drew soft circles on the sensitive inner flesh, giving you goosebumps. 

“I know you feel it too, you want this, don’t you?” Baekhyun asked, now moving a stand of hair out of your face. He let his hand rest on the back of your neck, keeping you facing towards him. 

Your heart felt like it was about to short circuit from how fast it was beating. Your palms were sweaty and you could feel yourself shaking slightly. The way his thumb stroked your neck beneath your ear made you shiver, and you knew he saw. All you could do was stare back at him, dumbfounded. Any words you tried to get out stuck in your throat. He was right, you did want it. Now more than ever. 

“Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me you don’t want me to kiss you right now. I dare you.” He said, running his thumb over your bottom lip, eyes fixed on how it trembled beneath his touch. He was slowly moving your face closer his, but you didn’t stop him. 

Your silence told Baekhyun all he needed to know, and his lips quickly found yours. Immediately you let yourself melt into the kiss. You felt your whole body buzzing, finally getting what it had wanted for so long. His lips felt unbelievably soft against yours, moving in a slow rhythm as his other hand came up from your thigh to cup your face as well. You wrapped your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, letting it become messier and more desperate. 

“I like you” you pulled away just enough to whisper “so fucking much.” You felt him grin into the kiss as your lips met again. 

He tasted like strawberries, and you felt high as your lips kept crashing together with more and more need. Your whole body felt like it was set on fire and simultaneously dunked in an ice bath, every nerve vibrating with want.    

When Baekhyun pulled your bottom lip gently between his teeth you let out a soft moan, and he started to lose it. He broke the kiss, standing up and pulling with him, before backing you up against the wall, a hand on either side of your head. 

“Sweetheart, don’t push me” He breathed, and started peppering kisses along the side of your neck, from under your ear down to your collarbone, sucking and biting on the way. 

Trapped between him and the wall, you felt weak and breathless. Your brain was in overdrive and you gasped at his ministrations, hands burying themselves in his soft hair.  His hands had traveled down to your waist, holding you against him tightly.

“Baekhyun” You breathed out, rubbing your thighs together as he sucked on a particularly sensitive spot. 

“Fuck, y/n. Don’t say that.” He forced the words out through gritted teeth.

His body pressed you into the wall, and your arms wrapped around him pulling him into you even tighter. He was completely consuming your senses and your knees felt wobbly from the intensity of it all. He was already smothering your entire front, but you tried to pull him even closer regardless.

You felt something hard press into your hip as his mouth covered yours again, and this time you shamelessly moaned his name into his open mouth. 

Much to your disappointment, Baekhyun immediately detatched himself from you, backing up until his back hit the opposite wall of the office. You could see how turned on he was by the outline of his dick through his pants and the pained look in his face. 

“Fucking christ...” He said, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes. You just watched from the other side of the room. He kept his eyes closed and you observed as his jaw clenched and unclenched before you heard him continue. “You have to go. If you don’t I’m gonna fuck you on my desk and I won’t be gentle.” 

Your throat went dry at his crude words, but you couldn’t deny your own arousal. You walked back towards him, reaching out to touch his chest which was now rising and falling rapidly, but he grabbed you before you could make contact. His grip on your wrist was so tight it was almost painful. His knuckles were white, and you could see a drop of sweat trickle down the side of his face. 

His eyes bore into your own with a stare that warned you not to try anything more. 

“I’m sorry y/n but you have to leave. Not tonight. Not like this.” With his free hand he grabbed your belongings off his desk, shoving them into your arms. 

Still speechless, he opened the door and pulled you outside before going back in and closing the door behind him. You stood and stared at his office door for a minute, recollecting yourself and processing what the hell had just happened. 

Eventually your shaky legs began making their way down the hallway, back towards your car. You were pretty sure a janitor saw you as you turned the corner just down the hall from Baekhyun’s office. You kept your head down, trying to hide your face best you could while hurrying past. 

Once you were sitting in your car, you slumped into the seat, mind still in a daze after what happened in Baekhyun’s office. You waited for your breathing and heartrate to slow down before you drove away. 

Baekhyun left shorty after you as well, unable to concentrate on anything but the sound of you moaning his name. He felt terrible for throwing you out of his office but he’d meant what he said. He didn’t want his first time to have you to be in his office, purely fueled by pent up lust. He wanted to give you more than that. 

More than anything, he just couldn’t believe he’d gotten what he’d wanted for the entire summer. It didn’t seem possible, but now it had happened. And you actually kissed him back. It felt too good to be true. He felt himself once again struggling to sleep, but this time because he was too excited. This time, he didn’t have to keep himself up wondering, he knew he had you. He just couldn’t wait to see what would happed now.

You on the other hand couldn’t stop worrying about that exact thing as you stared at the ceiling above your bed. What would happen now? The thoughts weren’t fearful anymore, there was just too many of them to shut your mind down enough to sleep. 

You’d finally allowed yourself to give into him, and there was no more turning back. 

Next Chapter

#baekhyun #exo #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fanfic #exo fanfic #exo fluff #exo smut

[leafcabbage]

what about ranboos stays after knocking on the apartment door and tells tommy and tubbo what happened and ranboo was too tired to run away when tubbo said he loves them

you got it!

ranboo stays

ranboo doesn't have the moment of "why am i here" before tubbo opens the door. there's obviously something wrong so tubbo pulls them inside, he makes them sit down and he and tommy try to figure out what's wrong, and because ranboo chose to go there and isn't fully isolating themself yet, they tell tommy and tubbo what just happened. although this happens in a very close vicinity to the other one i'll write, ranboo going there on their own accord makes it different. they choose to tell the truth, even though they regret it the next day, they cant lie their way out of it. tommy and tubbo know and they know that ranboo is only 17 at this point and this is where they bring in puffy. ranboo can't really argue because since there is now an adult who knows, in their mind they could get in trouble for being under 18 with no guardian (you think this anxious kid knows how anything works? no, they're sitting there like "oh god im gonna go to jail because i didnt tell the government im an orphan")

puffy figures things out. i dont know how this shit works but like, by the time anything happened on the government/social services side of things ranboo would be 18, so she's probably just like, it's okay i can be the adult in your life, you're tubbo and tommy's friend, you don't have to do this alone, we'll figure this out.

and they do! ranboo is adopted into the family far earlier, how are they gonna say no to the thanksgiving invite? how are they gonna say no to celebrating their birthday with the puffenbargers? they're still struggling, their health still isn't great, but they have people to help far earlier. tommy and tubbo easily figure out that they're being overworked and help them out there. they dont stop any of the tutoring so finals are easier. the bathroom breakdown never happens because they're never pushed that far in the first place. things are just... better :]

ranboo doesn't run

it obviously starts the same. tubbo waits outside the student union, he says his piece, ranboo asks tubbo not to lie to them, tubbo is confused, ranboo tries to run, but their lack of taking care of themself actually catches up with them and their legs end up just giving out (well i guess their right leg gives out but a person often needs two legs to be standing). they definitely hurt themself in some way, falling onto concrete will do that to a person, and tubbo doesn't even think before going to them and kneeling beside them trying to figure out if they're okay and what happened and if he needs to get someone to help. and at this point, while ranboo is certainly not at their worst healthwise, they're still exhausted and aren't eating much and literally just got the news that lorraine died and tubbo is being so caring when they're already struggling with him saying he loves them and they're so lost and confused and they just kinda break down. it's not as severe as the senate breakdown later on, but it's certainly enough for tubbo to be like "yeah im not leaving you we're gonna figure it out."

he convinces them to come back to the apartment with him, he says it's just for a few hours, just to make sure they're not too hurt, they can just leave after that, they don't have to stick around. and ranboo goes because they can't really argue at this point, their thoughts are such a mess and they've kind of defaulted to following tubbo because it's easier. so they go back to the apartment, and tommy is there, and he's both very happy to see them and incredibly concerned.

tommy and tubbo manage to get ranboo to eat something, they manage to get them to stay the night (in tubbo's bed alone, like chapter 9), and the next morning they try to get them to talk about what happened. and ranboo lies. they lie and say they're just stressed, that they've been feeling sick, that they'd just gotten nervous the other night when they went to tommy and tubbos then ran away, that really everything's fine they're just not adjusting well. and tommy calls bullshit. there isnt an argument per se, because this is ranboo we're talking about, but they absolutely do not respond well to that approach and they're already struggling with having gone there at all and their conversation with tubbo (if you can call it that) from the night before is still on their mind, and its too much and they just shut down. its not the comforting experience in chapter 20, its overwhelming and too much to handle, and tommy and tubbo both feel bad and let ranboo leave.

it sets things back between the three of them. ranboo is certain that the conflict is what did it and they've accomplished what they were trying to do in making tommy and tubbo stop wanting to be around them. tommy and tubbo feel bad about the whole thing and want to give ranboo space. there's fewer phone calls, less trying to check in, tutoring stops. ranboo is far more alone and much sadder, and have a much harder time believing that tommy and tubbo care about them from the breakdown on. it takes time to rebuild things. they get there eventually.

#what ifs #thats the new tag #drdi drabbles #dis-cat-ded #cabbage answers #drdi

[thegreenmetblue]

STARKER FESTIVAL SUMMER BINGO : 2nd square

not a date

read on ao3

Peter was utterly anxious. To be honest, he’s not even sure anything in his life stressed him more than that. To be fair, he wasn’t expecting this. At all. Let’s go back to earlier in the day. This morning to be more precise.

Peter was lying in his bed, watching some weird videos on YouTube. But it was Saturday morning. It’s what teenagers do on a early Saturday morning (read : at 10 am). Not that the boy was gonna say it out loud but it was either that, either reading fanfictions about Spiderman and Iron Man. But shhh if you ask him, he’d say it’s only for checking how people are describing him.

Anyway, he was watching some hilarious videos Ned has sent him for the last six days when his phone stopped the video in exchange of Tony Stark’s face. Peter’s heart skipped a beat in his chest, like every time Tony’s calling him. “Yes ?”, he answers with a faint voice. Most of the times, he has no issues talking to Tony face to face but god knows why, Peter has still big issues with calls.

“If this isn’t my favorite young adult. Hi, Pete. Im sorry if woke up you. Or maybe not that sorry, it was time to anyway.”, Tony’s voice says in the speaker. Peter’s cheeks redden at that. He doesn’t know the reason of it, but it’s been almost two months Tony stopped calling him a kid. And now he just said young adult, it gives hope to Peter’s poor heart. Maybe Tony stopped seeing him as a kid. Maybe he sees him more as an equal now ? Lost in his thoughts, the boy doesn’t even realize he didn’t answer to the man on the other side of the phone.

“Alright, imma take that as a no. Gosh, I wondered what happened to the boy that was practically begging to have all my attention.”, Tony laughs softly. Again, he just said Peter wasn’t that boy anymore. The boy makes a little shame sound to the man’s comment about his behavior, feeling his cheeks burning even more.

“N-no, im sorry, im here mr. Stark. You didn’t wake me up. And please take that back, I was never asking for you attention, old man.”, Peter shoots back. He loves doing that. He loves talking back to Tony. “Imma pretend I didn’t hear what you just called me. And Im also gonna pretend like you’re not shamelessly lying to me at the moment. Anyway, you have plans tonight ?”, Tony asks, a bit of growling in his voice. This automatically warms Peter’s heart. He’s probably gonna go to Tony’s lab tonight.

Peter was trying not to smile too much when he remembered Tony wasn’t actually there. “No, I don’t have anything. You want me in the lab ?”, the boy asks and immediately regrets his choice of words. want me in the lab. Fuck. He was gonna say sorry to that, but thanks god Tony speaks before he can make it even more awkward. “No actually I was thinking of something a little more fun. What do you say about eating in a fancy restaurant tonight ?”. Peter’s heart doesn’t skip a beat this time, it skips severals. Tony wants- what ?

“What ?”, he lets out, without even realizing it. “Should I take that as a no again ?”. Tony’s voice echoes in Peter’s brain but never gets analyzed. The boy’s still frozen, his phone hanging in his hand, the sound of his beating heart ringing in his ears.

“Peter ? Fri just told me your heartbeats are unsually high, are you okay ?”. And this time, that wakes him up. “Wh-what ? Oh.. no that’s- im okay, it’s just- MJ!”, Peter stutters as an answer. He swears he can hear Tony’s frowning’s expression in the silence that follows.

“I mean, she- MJ, she sent me a funny, a text, it reminded me of something and I huh.. yeah. No, that’s yes.”. Another long silence. that’s a yes. Peter feels like he just answered a proposal. “Yes as in, im free for tonight, mr. Stark.”, Peter finishes, his cheeks burning with shame.

“Great. And Im not gonna question what just happened, alright ? Be ready for 7.”, Tony simply says before hanging up. Just like that. Just like he didn’t just made Peter’s brain completely fry.

“Did Tony just asked me on a date?”, Peter asks himself out loud, alone in his bedroom, his jaw hanging in shook. What the hell ?

That’s how Peter started the most stressful day of his entire life. Exams ? Spiderman ? Thanos ? Forget all of this, he has a freakin’ date with Tony freakin’ Stark, that is the real stressful shit. He spends half of the day walking in his apartment.

Around 3, he starts to panic hard because Tony said fancy. But Peter doesn’t have fancy clothes. He stayed in front of his phone, hesitating to send Tony something about that or no. He doesn’t want Tony to think he only has kid’s clothes. But then, better this than showing up in a fancy restaurant with a pun-sweat right ?

PP : How should I be dressed for tonight ?

Peter finally sends, not asking but hoping Tony’ll understand what he meant. His smile increases when, 6 minutes after, his phone rings.

TS : Happy is gonna drop you a suit at 5.

Peter’s inside catches fire at that. The words sugar daddy are ringing in his ears. Tony is gonna buy him a suit. Just for tonight. For their date. “Oh my god, imma be sick.”, Peter mumbles. His heart has been beating so fast since the call. And he feels like he’s gonna throw up. And he’s also happy. So happy. But- a date ? With Tony Stark ? Peter has been in love with the man for- he can’t even remember. Of course at first it was just a fan crush, then a real crush, then it bloomed into full love. And Peter never thought he could had a chance. But- Peter’s thoughts get cut by the entry door opening.

It’s May. And it’s been 5 hours now that Peter is combusting with impatience all alone in his apartment that he just can’t help himself. As soon as May starts taking to him, he blurts out : “I’ve got a date tonight!”

That’s how the hundreds of questions start. May knows he’s gay. However, May doesn’t know he loves Tony and she definitely doesn’t know the actual date is with Tony. So when she starts asking who he is, Peter realizes it maybe wasn’t the best idea. So after receiving the 5 hugs May felt like she needed to give him for that, the boy sends another text to Tony.

PP : Can we meet at the park next to my building please?

And then, he lets May giving him advices for tonight. “Alright, I get why you won’t tell me. Even if Im a little concerned, I get it. Where is he taking you ?”, she asks, a big smile on her face. “I don’t know actually, he just said it was somewhere fancy.”, Peter answers, trying not to let his smile gets to him too much.

“And how are you gonna get dressed ? You maybe can try some of Ben’s suit ?”. And Peter’s heart warms at that proposition. “It’s alright May, I already have something to wear actually.”

The two next hours aren’t better, they’re worst. May continues giving him advices. For his sakes, Peter swears himself to never use some. Then he takes a shower, the longest he never took. Just in case. He wants all of his skin to smell good for Tony. His cheeks brun at this thought. Are him and Tony gonna.. ? Now his whole body is warming up and Peter can’t help but jerking off at the thought of him and Tony going home tonight and having some fun.

When Happy leaves him a text saying the suit is in the mailbox, the boy sneaks to get it. Once the suit is on him, Peter can’t stop looking at his own reflection in the mirror. It’s a light blue suit and fuck, he does look good in those. His whole skin is shivering because Tony bought it to him. Tony’s money is touching his skin. The boy snorts at his own weird thoughts. But he can’t help it.

A small whine escapes his lips when he realizes there’s still 1h30 before Tony comes to get him. And that’s the absolute worst feeling ever. Peter tries to work, to watch a tv show, to talk with May, to phone MJ or Ned, to build lego, but nothing is able to make the time look less slow. And the more the time passes, the more Peter’s stomach gets stress crushed.

When 7 pm is finally approaching, Peter’s not even sure he can breath anymore. “Peter, hey- Peter, please can you stop ?”, May finally snaps and Peter turns to her, ready to burst at her that she doesn’t know how he feels right now, but she shushes him before he can even start.

“Everything’s gonna go well, angel. But please, you’re gonna faint before you’ll even get there, alright ? You’re handsome my baby, he’s gonna love you.”, May tries to calm him by hugging him. He was about to answer her when the clock beside them shows that 7 pm is in 5 minutes. Peter jumps saying he’s gonna be late and rushes out of the apartment.

He went down the stairs, crossed the street and went to the park in a 1 minute time. His heart is menacing to get out of his chest. And when he finally hears Tony’s voice behind him, his whole body jerks and he turns to the voice.

His heart stops again. Holy fuck, Tony is- he’s god-handsome. Peter’s jaw opens and doesn’t close.

“You’re doing alright Peter ?”, Tony asks, after a few seconds. Peter tries. He tries really hard. But Tony is in front of him, in a grey suit that looks absolutely heavenly hot on him, and they’re going on a date and-

“Peter ?”, this time, he forces himself to answer before Tony decides to leaves him there. “Hum… huh- yeah? Yeah you look good. I- I mean.. Im good! Im doing… good.”. He watches in horror as Tony tries to not laugh at him. “Blue suits you, by the way.”, Tony comments and Peter tries not to blush or smile at that.

Then the older one shows him the car behind them and Peter hurries inside.

“So. Why the park ?”, the man asks after a few seconds. Peter’s brows frown in confusion. “Forget it. Everything alright Pete ? You look… tense. Did something happened while you patrolled ?”. And this time, Peter’s sure he’s blushing. Why can’t he just relax ? Okay it’s a date but it shouldn’t be any different than the rest of the time they spend together.

“Yeah.. Yeah im sorry I was just a bit nervous, you know… I… Im happy you invited me tho! So.. where are we going ?”, the boy tries to show he’s grateful for this. The last thing he wants is Tony thinking he’s not happy about the date.

“It’s an Italian restaurant, my favorite one. You’ll see, everything that’ll get into your mouth tonight will make you fly.”, Tony answers and there’s a silence. Peter’s cheeks burn hot now. Did Tony really said- oh my god. “Im just realizing how it sounds. Maybe not my best choices of words.”, the man laughs. laughs, as if he didn’t created a whole fire in Peter’s body. The boy just prays not to pop up a boner just because of a single sentence.

The rest of the ride is just small talks and when they finally arrive, Peter stays close to Tony, it makes him feel protected. And he likes it. The smile on his face is uncontrollable. He can’t believe he’s on an actual date with Tony Stark. His heart is about to burst from happiness. And the place is stunning, and Tony’s stunning. And Peter sees people watching them and he feels proud. He knows how much people want Tony. But Tony’s there with him.

Once they’re seated, Peter can’t help but stare at Tony who’s in front of him. And the only thing he can think of is that he loves him. But the boy shuts up. Tony didn’t mentioned it being a date yet, and even when he does, Peter can’t just say he loves him already.

When the menu comes, Peter just stare at the Italian names blankly. “I… I don’t understand anything that’s written.” , he murmurs to Tony, a bit ashamed. But the man just fondly snorts in response and translates him the different propositions. But after the explanations, Peter’s still lost as fuck. what the fuck are all of those ?. Tony laughs again, louder this time, noticing Peter’s lost face.

“You know what, I’ll order for you. How does that sound ?”. The boy’s heart stops and he flushes different shades of red at once. Tony is gonna order for him. “That- That sounds good. Im sorry I don’t know what are those.”, Peter finally says. “Hey, none of that Pete. Plus, Im kinda excited for you to try what I’ll pick for you.”, the man says, like it wasn’t making Peter squirm in his chair. Oh my god, he’s gonna die.

To give himself a bit of capacity, he pretends to read the menu once again and pouts noticing the prices aren’t there. Meaning it must be like, super expensive. He knows Tony can pay, and there’s a side of him that likes it. Because it’s easier for him to call Tony Daddy in his head. But there’s also a part of him that hates it because it feels like he can’t complete. May and Peter are kinda broke and Peter would have liked to be able to pay a restaurant to Tony too.

“What’s up with the pout ?”. Shit. “N-Nothing, mr. Stark really. It’s just… you know, I can’t… it’s a fancy restaurant and May and I aren’t…”, he begins but Tony cuts him. “Im stopping you right there, Peter. Im sorry if me picking a fancy restaurant embarrassed you, I should have asked where you wanted to go first. But don’t worry about that, okay ? Im not asking you to pay for anything, I invited you there.”. Peter feels his heart beating hard in his chest. “No, Im really happy to be there, I swear! I just… I just don’t want- I don’t know, forget it.”.

Tony does what Peter asked him, he drops the subject and start talking about Peter’s project in the lab. And that, it allows Peter to relax a bit. Because it suddenly feels like a normal time with Tony. And not a date. Well, a date yes but not an awkward one. And if Peter chokes on his own saliva when Tony orders in fucking italian in front of him, then at least, the man acts like he didn’t see it. And Peter’s happy there’s a table because explaining to Tony why he’s hard right now would have been real awkward.

It becomes a bit more awkward again when the meals arrive. Because Peter gets aroused by how good the food Tony picked for him is. Because Tony looks genuinely satisfied with the fact Peter moans at every bite he takes. And because watching the gorgeous man eating in front of him is also a whole show.

Peter is too occupied staring at Tony to realize he’s missing his mouth with the next bite he takes. The man laughs gently at him and Peter wants to fucking hide under the table because now Tony’ll think he doesn’t know how to eat.

“That’s good huh ? Knew you would like it.”, Tony smiles, after a minute of silence. The smile on Peter’s lips grows automatically. He likes that. He really likes that Tony knew what he’d like. “That’s… the best thing I ever ate mr. Stark!”, Peter answers, beaming with happiness. Even the awkward moments can’t ruin this for him. He’s so happy.

The rest of the evening goes well. So well even. But the more the end approaches, the more Peter can’t help but asks himself if something’s gonna happen or not. Like… Is Tony gonna bring him home ? Is he gonna kiss him ? Even the thought of that is enough to make Peter’s head feel dizzy. He can’t even let himself imagine something more than a kiss would happen. And if he does, he’s gonna combust in front of Tony. And before his mind decides to picture them having sex, Peter shakes his head, his cheeks reddening with both shame and want. He had so many dream about Tony, so many wet dreams about Tony. He has been dreaming about the man since even before they actually meet. And Peter feels like he would cum the second Tony lays a hand on him. That’d be pretty awkward. And then, Peter can’t help but wonder what Tony sees in him. He’s nobody. Tony can have whoever he wants, and still, he chose him. Does Tony know he’s a virgin still ? Would he care ?

“Okay, have you even listened to a word I just told you ?”, Tony asks, a jaded look on his face. Peter realizes the man has been talking to him and blushes in shame. “Im so sorry! I was thinking… I got lost in my thoughts, sorry.”, he apologizes, hoping Tony won’t think he’s boring him.

“Wow, he’s getting invited to the fanciest restaurant ever and still act like it’s not enough. What more do you want Parker ?”, Tony jokes and one part of Peter is happy he didn’t get upset. Another part of him just wanna scream he wants Tony to kiss him once they’re out of the restaurant. But what if Tony wanna take his time ? He doesn’t wanna sound as desperate as he really is.

“I’d really love for a car.”, Peter jokes back, glad he made Tony smile. “Ask and you shall receive.”. And Peter doesn’t know how honest Tony is with this. He hopes the man is joking. But Tony’s intense look in his eyes when Peter said those words is enough to make him realize the man is serious about this. “I was joking, mr. Stark.”, the boy adds, just to be sure he won’t receive a car tomorrow. Tony doesn’t answer anything to that, which is kinda weird, but Peter doesn’t think too much about it.

When the server comes back and asks if they want a dessert, Tony answers for him again. No. This time Tony doesn’t wait for Peter to even asks him, he just orders him something in Italian again.

“I could have asked him for ice cream you know…”, Peter whines, faking a pout. “Oh so he understands Italian now.”. And the smile Tony had on his lips almost all night is making Peter heart feel so light.

“I don’t, but I don’t think I need a italian degree to understand ‘gelato’, old man.”, Peter teases, making himself feels hot all over his body. He sees Tony’s gaze changing a bit too. Is Tony loving this as much as him ? “Brat.”, the man accuses and Peter stops himself to make a punishment joke. They’re not there yet.

The boy is now eating his damn vanilla ice cream and can’t help the blush creeping on his face again. Tony is staring at him. Not watching. Staring. Peter’s senses can feel his intense gaze on him, on his face. And the boy feels like he doesn’t know how to eat anymore. He’s sure he’s putting ice cream everywhere on his lips and wants to die about it.

“Y-You didn’t want to take something ? Huh… dessert or- or coffee ?”, he stutters, to make things less intense, because Peter is seconds away to moan under Tony’s gaze. “Im all good, thanks Pete.”, Tony answers and the boy doesn’t know if he’s dreaming or not but Tony’s voice sounded more… low ? He goes back to eating his ice cream, hoping it’s the last ice cream he’ll ever eat in his life.

When they finally go out, Peter feels drunk. He’s so happy, so nervous and so horny at the same time. He’d say so in love but let’s not brings more awkward to this. They walk in silence to Tony’s car. And just before Tony can open his car, Peter blurts out : “Thank you so much for the dinner mr. Stark! It was really really good and really fun. I liked it… a lot.”, he says, knowing he’s blushing again but doesn’t care at this point. Maybe Tony is waiting for him to make the first move. Because he doesn’t wanna rush him.

“Pleasure was mine, Pete.”, the man answers, a soft smile on his lips. And then, Peter doesn’t even realize what his body his doing, but that should be the good time no ? His heart is pounding so fast and loud in his chest, ears and whole body as he leans and kiss Tony. A smack. Just a smack. Because Peter doesn’t even know how to kiss. It was fast, but enough to make Peter’s heart explodes in his chest.

But then he sees Tony’s face. Tony’s frozen and shocked face. Shit. Did it was too soon ? Did it sucked ? Did Tony expected someone who could actually kiss him ? Peter wants to throw up. ”Mr. Stark ?”, he asks faintly.

“Peter. What… What was that ?”, Tony questions, his tone dangerously flat. “I- I thought… Im so sorry I... You know with the date and all, I thought maybe… maybe it was a good time to kiss you, you know ? Im sorry if Im not a g-”, Peter painfully begins but gets cut by Tony. “Wait- A date ? It wasn’t a date.”, the man says, his voice suddenly high. Peter’s blood turns cold in his whole body.

What ?

“Wh- What ?”, he breathes, voice already trembling. Oh god no. No no no no, this can’t be happening.

“This. That’s- Christ, Peter. It wasn’t a date. I- I didn’t- We’re not- Fuck.”, Tony panics, his voice almost screaming the last bit, stepping back from Peter. Peter who’s still frozen, watching what’s happening in front of him without being able to move.

“Oh god, Im so sorry if I made you think it was a date, kid. Im- It wasn’t my intention.”, Tony tries to apologize, clearly still panicking. The only word echoing in Peter’s brain is kid. Tony hasn’t called him like that for months. And now he’s doing it again.

“Peter, kid. Shit, you can’t cry- I- Peter Im so sorry I shouldn’t-”. And it’s only when Tony says that that Peter realizes tears are rolling down his cheeks. His heart feels heavy in his chest. No. His heart feels completely crushed in his chest. And the humiliation. The boy still stands there, only capable of crying in front of Tony, who’s panicking on his own.

“Kid, you- Im sorry, Im not mad I swear, we can’t- We just can’t. We’re not… that.”. And Peter’s heart feels like breaking again. “D-Don’t call m-me k-kid.”, and it’s the only thing Peter can lets out before fully starting to cry. Small hiccups escaping his lips.

Tony watches in horror, unable to do much. “Peter, im begging you- stop crying, im not mad, you’re- kid I-”, the man starts and if he wasn’t so much in pain, Peter would have been genially shocked to see Tony struggling so much to speak. “Stop ca-calling me a kid!”, the boy almost screams, surprising both himself and Tony. The man steps back again. There’s a silence. A loud one. A painful one.

“Im sorry. It’s my fault if you thought- Jesus, it’s my fault if you mistook this, Peter. Im sorry I let you think this was a… a date. You can’t- it’s not on you, Im not mad.”, Tony speaks again. But it’s only words. Peter’s brain shut himself. He doesn’t understand what Tony is saying to him. He just wants to die.

“But- But I lo-”, he starts, desperately, only to get cut by the man in front of him again. “No. No you don’t. You- Jesus ki- Pete, it’s not-” and there’s a silence again. “It’s not wh-what ? True ? H-How would you know ? And wh-why… what was al-all of this for if-if it was- n’t a.. a da-date ?”, the boy desperately questions, in between cries. Tony’s pained expression intensifies. “Pete, stop crying.”.

“Answer me!”, the younger one screams. He can’t believe Tony. It’s not true. Tony is just being- delusional.

“Christ why are you doing this ? Peter, it was just- just… us.”. Peter never heard Tony’s voice sounding so desperate before today. But he can’t care. He feels like he’s been crushed by a fucking plane right now.

“Us ? Ye-yeah and Im- im saying that us, is me lo-lo-loving you and you- you looking at me with- with that look in your eyes.”. And Peter can sees Tony’s eyes watering. Again, it’d be the first time he sees Tony crying, but he still can’t care. The man just steps back and sighs, passing both of his hands on his face.

“You stopped calling me ki-kid. And- and you order for me- and- and sh-shit! I- I know you like it. I know i-it because I can se-see it, mr. Stark. I- I want- I want you… pl-please.”, Peter cries even harder now, his voice constantly cut by cries. “Please.”, he begs again. And it’s even more painful because Tony doesn’t answers anything. The man just stand in front if him, completely frozen, with a pained expression on his face. But he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t deny it. Why doesn’t he deny it ?

And suddenly, Tony’s warms hands are on his cheeks, trying to wipes the endless tears coming out of Peter’s eyes. But the sensation of the hand on his cheeks only makes Peter cry more. “Peter… Peter, baby.. please. You- fuck. You have to stop, alright ?”, Tony whispers, so close to him, but yet so far. baby.

Peter doesn’t realize he leans on the touch, he doesn’t realize Tony’s other hand is clenching hard on his light blue jacket. And despite everything that is happening right now, Peter only wants them to kiss. A real kiss.

But the next thing he feels is Tony’s strong body against him. The man is hugging him and Peter can’t help but hug him back, his cries still loudly getting out. “Peter, please. I can’t. You know I can’t. Im so sorry. I shouldn’t have invited you, I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have let myself- I can’t.”, Tony murmurs those things in Peter’s ear, tightening his arm around the boy’s body and it only hurts Peter more. Why is Tony saying all of this ? What does it mean ?

“Please…”. It’s all what Peter is capable to say. Please love me. He feels Tony’s body, Tony’s warmth getting away and hates it. And the boy can’t take it. It hurts so much. So before Tony can even answer with another apologize, Peter’s wrists move on their own, and the next second he’s not there anymore, he’s on the top of the building next to the restaurant. He has to get away from Tony. He can’t stay there.

And if Peter hasn’t jumped on another building right away, he would have been able to hear Tony whispering on his own. “Pete… I wished you’d understand why this can’t be a date, why I can’t let you love me back.”, finally letting himself cry now that Peter ran away.

second square for @starkerfestivals 🙈🙈

alright so first of all im so sorry for this fjndldl 😭😭😭 this bingo is challenging me so much tho bc i wrote my first tony fucking peter and now i wrote my first sad ending

its just the first thing that came to my mind seeing ‘not a date’ so i followed my idea

also i edited it three fucking times bc tumblr was being a bitch with me today 🔪

#starker #ironspider #leah writes sometimes #starkerfestival summer bingo #starkerfestivals #starkerfestivalsevents #sfsummerbingo21

[sachigram]

With Teeth Chapter 4

((click here to read on ao3!))

The next few days pass by normally for Shizuo. He's been making more of an effort to be social, doesn't want to make his friends feel left out of his life. He could see how it hurt them before when he pushed them away. As a result, he has more things to do, and he feels better than he has in ages.

Tonight, he's sitting across from Tom, next to Vorona. They're all having drinks to celebrate a successful week at work, and Shizuo is looking forward to the weekend. He doesn't have any plans on his off days, but he likes not having to worry about tracking down some low-life, even if he's only free of it two days a week.

“Any plans this weekend?” Tom asks them both. He's flushed, clearly tipsy already. Shizuo has a high tolerance, and he's pretty sure Vorona does too, because she's drinking faster than either of them, and she seems perfectly sober.

“Negative,” Vorona replies while Shizuo merely shakes his head. “I may go to the bookstore tomorrow.”

“Your checks all go to books,” Tom says. “You should live a little.”

“To acquire knowledge is life's goal.”

Tom looks from her to Shizuo and raises his eyebrows. Immediately, Shizuo feels like Tom is about to do something stupid.

“Why don't the two of you hang out together? Since neither of you have plans.” Tom sips his drink, a smug look of satisfaction on his face. Shizuo's blood boils.

“I—“ he starts, but is interrupted when Vorona speaks.

“That would be nice.”

“Huh?” Shizuo asks, turning to face her. She's looking at him with her usual indifferent gaze, not the least bit affronted by the idea.

“If it would be agreeable for Shizuo-senpai, I see no reason we cannot meet tomorrow,” Vorona says, and she tosses back the rest of her drink. It's straight gin, no mixer, no rocks, but she doesn't even flinch. Just the smell of it has been burning Shizuo's nose.

“Oh, um. If you want to,” Shizuo says, unsure of what's even happening.

“So it's a date then,” Tom announces, and he goes to get them all more drinks.

***

“You shouldn't have done that,” Shizuo grumbles later, after Vorona has split away from them to go catch her train. “You made her feel like she had to agree.”

“Shizuo, come on, man. How do you miss the way she looks at you? She's had a thing for you since she started working with us.” Tom is stumbling a bit as he walks, and Shizuo considers letting him face-plant if he falls.

“She does not. And even if she did, what the hell am I supposed to do about it?”

Tom looks up at Shizuo, giving him such an incredulous look that it's almost reminisce of the way the flea looks at him.

“What are you supposed to do about it?” Tom repeats, and then he laughs. “Oh, my god. You're killing me.”

“Shut up, you know what I mean. I'm not someone that anyone should have a thing for. I'm dangerous, and it's only gotten worse.” Shizuo looks up at the sky, sees the lights of airplanes flying overhead. “I don't want to hurt her.”

“You don't hurt people who don't deserve it,” Tom replies, and Shizuo thinks of that strange dream he had before, the one where Izaya was there, seeing his worst memory. “Give yourself some credit, would you? Have fun. Try to be happy.”

“I am trying. This is a bad idea.”

“Well, too late now. If you stand her up, you really will be an asshole,” Tom says, and then he falls on his face. Shizuo makes no move to help him up.

Shizuo doesn't sleep that night. He's too anxious about his “date” with Vorona, has no idea what they'll do or what they'll talk about. He's tried before to think of himself as the kind of guy who would be lucky enough to have a pretty girl on his arm, but it's always too much of a fantasy, something unattainable and pointless to hope for. Vorona is strong, and she's seen him fight, knows what he's capable of, but it's different to behold someone dangerous from the sidelines and then up close, when it's turned on you. He imagines her look of indifference changing to real fear when he lunges at her, and he doesn't realize until he's waking up that he actually managed to slip into unconsciousness.

“Fuck.” He gets up from the bed, moving to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. He's terrified of what will come, of what he is. More than anything, he's sick of being so terrified. His reflection is older, maybe wiser, but all Shizuo can see is that same snotty kid who hurt someone he wanted to protect once.

***

He meets Vorona at the train station. She's dressed the same as she always is, and he's grateful she didn't do anything different in her routine for his sake. She lifts a hand in greeting, studying his face.

“You appear tired,” she says.

“Yeah. Didn't sleep well last night. Sorry.”

“No apology necessary. Perhaps we could get coffee first, both wake up a little more.”

As it turns out, following Vorona around isn't too different from trailing after Tom. She doesn't talk nearly as much, but she doesn't seem to mind taking the lead, and she doesn't take his silence as disinterest. They wind up going to the bookstore Vorona mentioned, grabbing coffee from a little kiosk outside before wandering the aisles. Vorona picks up a book every now and then, explains it to Shizuo in a way he can understand without being pretentious about it, and he finds that he's actually enjoying himself.

After Vorona purchases some new books, they make their way down the street to a restaurant she says she's been wanting to try. This is the part Shizuo was worried about, having to sit alone with her and have her realize he's got absolutely nothing interesting to say, but they manage to keep the conversation going. It's easier than Shizuo expected, and he finds himself thinking he should thank Tom later for setting this up.

“You seem happier than before,” Vorona says when they're walking out of the restaurant. “You were so quiet for so long.”

Shizuo opens his mouth to ask what she means, but he thinks he knows. He was feeling sorry for himself after the bite, wanted to keep everyone out, pushed them away. He is happier now than he was then, but he's still a coward, and he's still scared of anyone learning his secret.

“I'm better now,” he says, feeling that it's true.

“I am very glad,” she replies, and she gives him a rare smile.

That night, as Shizuo walks home after escorting Vorona to the train station, he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket.

“Yo,” he says, picking up the call.

“How did it go?”  Tom asks.

“It was...nice,” Shizuo says. He can practically feel Tom's frustrations through the phone.

“Nice? That's not telling me anything!”

“We had a good time. It was much better than I thought it would be.”

“I guess that's all I'm going to get from you. Either way, I'm glad. I think you'll both be good for each other.”

“Yeah,” Shizuo replies. For the first time in his life, he can picture a girl on his arm. “Me too.”

***

The days that follow are slow, but enjoyable. Shizuo goes to work, hangs out with Tom and Vorona, makes plans to spend time with Vorona again on the upcoming weekend. He's almost able to forget all about his ailment, and the bullshit alliance he has with Izaya, who has been silent since storming out of his place the morning after the full moon. Shizuo will have to see him soon so he can stock back up on his potion, and he's not looking forward to it. Part of him worries what Izaya might do if he learns Shizuo is dating Vorona. Izaya wants to ruin every good thing in Shizuo's life. There's no way he wouldn't interfere.

Still, Shizuo is enjoying his period of peace. He's able to sidestep his involuntary entanglement with the other world, with Izaya. He's enjoying feeling like himself again, whoever that may be.

Friday night, before his date with Vorona on Saturday, he's able to find sleep easily, but it doesn't feel like sleeping. He closes his eyes in his room, opens them somewhere else. He hears the sounds of crying, of screaming, and while he should move away from it, he finds himself moving closer. There's a familiar scene before him, one of himself standing in front of a small boy cowering in a corner while two toddlers scream in their cribs. It feels like he's been here before, but he can't place why, not until the small boy looks up at him.

“Izaya,” Shizuo breathes. He doesn't know his own age here, but he can see how small Izaya is, how scared. It's unsettling. Shizuo has never seen fear on Izaya's face before.

“Who are you?” Izaya asks him, looking up at him with wonder.

“You don't know me?” Shizuo asks in disbelief. Izaya has his webs of deceit stretched over everything, over everyone, so time and space probably mean nothing to him either. But when Izaya shakes his head, Shizuo finds he instantly believes him.

“Am I dreaming?” Izaya looks around. “Are you a vision? You're not a ghost, right?”

“No,” Shizuo says. “I'm dreaming. I don't know what the fuck you're doing. You're a witch, right? You've gotta be the one doing something.”

Izaya flinches at the word “witch”, and he looks nervously around himself before looking back up at Shizuo.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Shizuo snaps, and Izaya flinches even more. Shizuo feels concern for the kid in front of him, even knowing who he is, or at least who he'll grow up to be. Is this real? It's not real; it can't be real. It's a dream, one of those lucid dreams he's heard about. He'll ask Shinra about it later.

“Your mind is loud,” Izaya says, and he stands up, padding across the floor to stand in front of Shizuo. How is the flea so tall? He's a small kid, can't be more than twelve if the twins are still toddlers, but Shizuo is looking in Izaya's eyes. Izaya snorts, amused. “I'm not tall. You're the same height as me.”

Shizuo looks down at himself, realizes he's a kid here, too, but with all his memories of the future. He looks back at Izaya, dubious of him, and the amusement drains from Izaya's face.

“You really don't like me,” Izaya says, and he fidgets.

“You ruined my life,” Shizuo spits. “Or you will, anyway.”

“Oh.” Izaya's voice is small. “I've sensed terrible things to come in the future. Things for myself, especially, but I don't know how to stop any of it. I don't think it can be stopped.”

“The future is shitty already, but you make it worse. You enjoy making people suffer. The Izaya I know is—“ Shizuo stops himself, realizes he was yelling. Izaya seems terrified of him, but also curious, his eyes shining even in the darkness of the room.

“You're the realest vision I've ever had,” Izaya says. “I hope I remember you. I forget them sometimes when they're over.” The lights of the room begin flickering on and off, and Izaya puts his hands over his ears. “Go away!” he shouts towards the corner of the room.

“What's happening? Who's doing this?” Shizuo asks, feeling like he should protect this child version of his greatest enemy. The Izaya before him is just a kid, and Shizuo doesn't know how or why, but he can feel how incredibly lonely Izaya is.

“A ghost,” Izaya replies, and he narrows his eyes at Shizuo as if daring him to argue. “I see them all the time, and they want me to help them, but I don't know how. They won't listen to me when I say that.”

“Where are your parents?”

Izaya shrugs, and Shizuo feels rage boiling inside him. He remembers hearing from Shinra once that Izaya's parents were never around, that Izaya raised the twins practically on his own. Mairu and Kururi are weird, certainly, and Shizuo isn't fond of the idea of letting them anywhere near his own brother, but he think they're good kids, all things considered, especially if this is how they were raised.

“My grandparents are around,” Izaya says, seeming to read Shizuo's thoughts. “Or, they will be tomorrow. They already came by today to bring food.”

“That's so fucked up,” Shizuo blurts, and to his surprise, Izaya smiles.

“My parents aren't bad people. They're incredibly busy, and they weren't expecting to have more kids.” Izaya looks to the the twins, who are watching him, still warbling even though the lights have stopped flickering for now. Their little hands are reaching towards him through the bars of their cribs. “As for my grandparents, they're not in great health. They can't do much to help aside from cooking and checking in every now and then.”

“Sounds like a lot of excuses,” Shizuo says, thinking of his own family. His mother never even wanted to leave their family overnight, much less weeks, months at a time. Izaya shrugs again.

“Maybe so. It doesn't matter much to me anymore. They never listened to me even when they were here.” Izaya studies Shizuo for a moment. “Your mind is—“

“Loud, yeah. You keep saying that.”

“It's more than that! It's like static and whirlwind mixed together. I can feel you wanting me out of your head, but you keep letting me back in, pulling me in, really. It's like you want me to hear you.”

“I don't,” Shizuo says flatly. “How are you doing any of this, anyway? I'm not anywhere near you in the present right now. Why are we sharing the same dream?”

“How should I know? I was born with this power, but I don't know how to use it all yet,” Izaya says, and Shizuo frowns at him, wants to bring up the future and all the terrible things Izaya will do once he does master his stupid power, but it would be pointless. This Izaya has no idea of the future, probably isn't even real. This is a dream, probably, Shizuo's brain attempting to humanize the flea.

“You called me a witch,” Izaya murmurs, more to himself than to Shizuo.

“That's what you call yourself,” Shizuo says.

“I've never had a word for it before. I just knew I was...different. People romanticize it, you know, being different from everyone else. Standing out. Maybe for a while, it was fun. But lately I'm like an island in myself, and every day the distance to the mainland grows.” Izaya pauses, as if hearing himself say so out loud is illuminating in some way. “I'm being dramatic, aren't I? I didn't mean to say any of that.”

“I know what you mean,” Shizuo finds himself saying. He doesn't elaborate, but he doesn't really have to. He can feel Izaya in his head, like a prickle on the edges of his subconscious.

“Why aren't we friends?” Izaya asks, and the question is so earnest, so innocent, that Shizuo finds himself bolting upright in his bed, jerked back into wakefulness.

“Fuck these fucking dreams,” he hisses, rolling over to check his phone. It's a little after seven in the morning, an hour before his alarm was set to go off. He's already got a message from Vorona, telling him she's looking forward to their outing.

He doesn't know why he can't get Izaya's face out of his mind.

***

Shizuo's second date with Vorona goes well.

They meet at Sunshine 60, have some drinks with their food. Conversation comes easier this time, and there's hardly any silence between them. While they walk, Shizuo finds her hand in his, and he doesn't hate it. Her hand is soft, but not too soft. She has the same callused hands he does, and it reminds him that she can take care of herself, that she can handle him, so long as he's careful to remain human around her.

He drank enough to have a little bit of a buzz going as they make their way up towards the observatory. Vorona says she hasn't seen it yet, and wants to. It reminds Shizuo that this is the sort of thing people who visit Ikebukuro find exciting, while it remains mundane to the locals. He trails after her as they walk, and he doesn't know why he notices a familiar face off to the side, outside a comic book store, but he does notice, and he stops in his tracks. Vorona looks up at him questioningly.

“What is it?” she asks.

“Hey, I'll meet you up there. I need to ask someone something really quick.”

Vorona studies him. “Affirmative. I will go on ahead.”

Shizuo watches her go for a moment, and then he turns back to the comic book store, making his way through the crowd. A redheaded man is leaning against the building, his arms crossed. He grins up at Shizuo when he notices his approach.

“Well, well. Heiwajima Shizuo. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I don't remember your name,” Shizuo says bluntly, and the man laughs.

“Yeah, why would you? I'm sure you've got more pressing things to manage these days. You can call me Akabayashi, if you bother to remember it.”

Shizuo recognizes him from all that shit with Akane. Akabayashi also was there with the twins that day at the dojo, Vorona's first day of work.

“You know, don't you?” Shizuo asks, keeping his voice low. Akabayashi raises an eyebrow.

“You'll have to be more specific.”

“Cut the shit. You know what I am, and you know who did it. I wanna know why.”

“Well, let's see,” Akabayashi says, scratching his chin. “As I recall, you don't keep your head down much. In fact, you've gotten involved in plenty of things you shouldn't have been. You know that already, so your pressing question really is who, isn't it?”

“I already know Izaya ordered it. I wanna know who it was that did the dirty work.” Shizuo glowers at Akabayashi, hating how amused the man seems. He's not scared of Shizuo in the least. It's refreshing, but it's also irritating.

“Don't make assumptions that we take orders from the likes of that brat. Anyway, yeah, I know who did it, and so would you, if you saw him. He's laying low for now, under orders. I can't give you a name. You understand.”

“Bullshit, I do!” Shizuo snaps, and he lifts Akabayashi up by the collar of his suit. “Give me a name, dammit! It's the least you fuckers can do after you all stood back and let me turn into this— thing!”

“This is the problem with youngsters like you. You're too emotional. It's okay, kid, I was like that before, too, but this city has a way of beating passion right out of you.” Akabayashi doesn't seems concerned at all, even as his feet dangle. In fact, he looks like he's having a blast. “You'll know in due time. A little patience would do you good.”

“It's been seven months,” Shizuo says, offended at the idea he hasn't been too patient already.

“And? What do you want, a medal?”

“You fucker—“

“They had it! They really had it!” A small, excited voice says, and Shizuo finds himself looking down into the wide eyes of Awakusu Akane. She's carrying a bag from the store, clearly over the moon about her purchase.

“I'm glad,” Akabayashi says. “You can tell me all about that story of yours while we get lunch.”

“Shizuo-san...” Akane whimpers, and Shizuo releases Akabayashi. “You're not here to fight, right?”

“I was thinking about it,” Shizuo admits, “but I decided against it.”

“I'm not ready to fight you yet!” Akane says, her voice more determined now. “But I will be! I'm trying extra hard at the dojo, and I can challenge you soon!”

“I look forward to it. Just don't work too hard, okay? Getting strong means taking it easy sometimes, too,” Shizuo says, putting a hand on her head.

“Right! I'll do my best!”

“Anything else, or can I take the little miss to our lunch date?” Akabayashi asks, and Shizuo glares at him.

“I'll ask you again later.”

“Go for it! Maybe I'll give you an answer. Maybe you could ask that information broker friend of yours, too.” Akabayashi turns on his heel, pulling Akane along with him with one hand, his cane in the other. “Or then again, steer clear of that one. He's not right in the head.”

“Bye, Shizuo-san!”

Shizuo growls after them, and then he goes to meet Vorona. Akabayashi was right; Shizuo does have more pressing things to worry about.

***

After parting ways with Vorona at the train station again, Shizuo considers going to see Shinra and asking about the dreams he's been having, but he decides he'll do it later. He had a good day, and he doesn't want Shinra dampening it with his overstepping. Especially while Shizuo has something else even more terrible to deal with.

He knocks, and it takes a few moments for the door to open. Finally, an irate brunette appears, glaring at Shizuo.

“What do you want now?” she asks, and her voice sounds accusatory, as if Shizuo is interrupting more than just her current peace.

“I'm here to see Izaya,” Shizuo says, and she rolls her eyes.

“I didn't think you were here for anything else. Come in, I guess.” She steps to the side, allowing Shizuo inside. He doesn't see Izaya anywhere.

“He left something for you,” she says, moving to the corner. She emerges with a large box in her arms, and she shuffles towards Shizuo, letting him take it from her. “He said he knew you were coming, and that he didn't want to see you.”

“Of course,” Shizuo spits, taking the box that's filled with his potions. He doesn't know why he expected to see Izaya here, why he's disappointed he didn't.

“Please tell me you didn't give him anything to use against you,” the woman says. Shizuo frowns at her.

“What was your name again?” he asks.

“Is that really relevant? I'm your mortal enemy's secretary, and I also hate him. Watching him be angry about you is one of my few joys in life.”

“That's pathetic,” Shizuo says, feeling a vindictive sort of satisfaction when her lip curls at him.

“I wasn't looking for your approval. Answer my question.”

“Where is Izaya?” Shizuo asks, bypassing her and her scrutiny.

“Does it matter? Out. I thought you'd be happy. Now answer me, dammit. What's he holding over your head? Is it worth seeing him so frequently? To my understanding, the two of you only crossed paths before by accident, and it was always antagonistic.”

“If you hate him so much, you shouldn't work for him,” Shizuo snaps, disliking her and her unwanted insight into his life. “You seem capable enough to handle yourself. What do you need him for?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” she says flatly, and he scoffs.

“Yeah? Well, I asked you first. The thing is, we both know what we're getting from him, right? And neither of us feel the need to share it with anyone else.”

“Whatever. Sue me for wondering. I won't take pity on you again.”

Shizuo is all but shoved from the apartment, the box of potion vials in his arms. He doesn't like anything about the way he feels, but he trudges home, his stomach in knots the entire way. Not seeing Izaya feels like an omen of sorts, like a harbinger of things to come.

***

He dreams later, first of nothing, and then of that same room, of the twins screaming in their cribs, and Izaya crying out in fear. It seems like the slate has been wiped clean, like this version of Izaya never spoke to any version of Shizuo. But that's accurate, isn't it? This is all pretend. It's all just a dream.

“Why do you keep coming back here?” Izaya's voice asks, and when Shizuo meets his eyes, it's the present version of Izaya. He's standing in the corner, right beside his past self, who doesn't seem to be able to see either of them now.

“I don't know,” Shizuo says. He's not a kid this time. He's towering over Izaya, but of course Izaya isn't backing down. “How are you doing this?”

“Me?” Izaya asks, incredulous. “How am I doing what? You're the one spying on my past.”

“I'm not the one with magic!” Shizuo roars. “Don't act like I'm invading your privacy, not when you're the one who's always linking us. It's not my fault that it goes both ways.”

Izaya pales, as if this thought only just occurred to him. He recovers quickly, schooling his features, turning away from Shizuo in a show of nonchalance.

“You got what you wanted from me. You got your potions, the ones that keep you so fucking tame—“

“Who are you to tell me what I want?” Shizuo interjects. “I never wanted to deal with you at all, especially so frequently. And even then, you couldn't leave well enough alone, right? You had to start haunting my dreams, too.”

When their eyes meet again, Shizuo is filled with a sudden onslaught of understanding, thoughts he knows aren't his own. Izaya isn't doing this on purpose, doesn't know how it keeps happening, doesn't like it any more than Shizuo does. Shizuo's mind is almost impossible for Izaya to pull away from, like a black hole, and even with Izaya trying to pull back, Shizuo doesn't seem to be allowing it. In fact, Shizuo is strengthening the link by being here, by interacting with Izaya's past. He's the one pulling Izaya in, like a child in desperate need of company.

“That's not true,” Shizuo growls, not appreciating Izaya's comparison. He can't help looking over to the younger version of Izaya, who is still crying pitifully. Shizuo feels the need to protect him from his future self's callous words, too, even if he can't seem to hear anything other than the twins and the ghost terrorizing them.

“In case you haven't noticed, I have been leaving you alone. I'm incredibly busy, and every time I actually manage to sleep, here you are, poking around. Snooping. Don't you have better things to do, like entertain that Matryoshka doll of yours?” Izaya asks, and Shizuo whirls back to face him, his mouth a twisted snarl of rage.

“Don't you fucking talk to me about her.”

“Don't talk to me at all. Get the fuck out!” Izaya shouts, and the door behind Shizuo opens. He's yanked backwards by an incredible force, and he falls through the doorway. He keeps falling through black nothingness, images flashing before his eyes as he does, memories he knows aren't his own. He tries to grab onto them, tries to make sense of any of them, but he can't. They're gone as soon as they appear.

Right before he hits whatever ground is below, he jerks awake, finds he's twisted himself into his sheets and managed to topple over into the floor. Cursing, he untangles himself, and he thinks back to the dream, at least, the parts of it he can remember. The image of a young, nervous Izaya talking to older men in fine suits is at the forefront of his mind.

Miles away, he knows Izaya is awake, too.

#with teeth fic #shizaya #Shizuo Heiwajima #Izaya Orihara #werewolf shizuo #witchy izaya

[chaerrie-on-top]

Another Member Comforts You After A Fight

you fight with him & another member comforts you (maknae line)

JUNGKOOK:

you couldn't believe you had fought with jungkook over something so petty, and even more than that you couldn't believe you had left the dorms over that.

hugging your arms close to your body, you strode out into the bitter winter air, regretting wearing only a small jacket to protect yourself from the weather. you knew it wasn't wise to walk to walk the streets at nighttime by yourself, but at this rate you didn't care.

glancing up, you noticed a tall man in your path, and you were growing closer to him. he was perched against a building, his back pressed to the cold brick wall as he stared back at you. your heart rate sped up, and you were afraid to walk past him.

there was always the possibility of crossing the street to put more distance between the two of you, but that wouldn't stop him from possibly following you.

"y/n!" a voice called from behind you, scaring you so bad you jumped. the voice surely didn't belong to jungkook, so you turned and looked over your shoulder.

jin came jogging down the street, slowing to a walk when he was beside you. relief flooded through you now that you weren't vulnerable to strangers, but you had wished the boys would leave you alone.

"what are you doing?" jin gingerly grabbed your wrist, pulling you to a stop. "you know it's not safe to walk by yourself."

you shrugged. "i'll be fine." you tugged your arm free, secretly yearning for jin to not let you go.

"what's wrong y/n?" jin walked beside you now, instead of putting up a fight. "i heard you and jungkook arguing... he's an idiot, y/n. don't get upset over him–"

"it's my fault, anyway," you interrupted him, shivering as a cold blast of wind attacked.

jin noticed and silently shrugged his coat off, placing it around your shoulders. you looked up, heart clenching.

"keep it," you went to take the coat off, before he held out a hand to stop you.

"i have a sweatshirt on, you don't."

"thanks..." you stopped in your tracks, looking down at the ground in shame.

"you didn't have to follow me. just go back to the dorms, i'll be fine."

"come back with me," jin pleaded. "jungkook is probably worried–"

"i don't care. you can come with me if you want, but i'm not going back to see him."

TAEHYUNG:

it had been days since you'd talk to taehyung, and you were honestly falling apart on the inside. a few days ago you both had gotten into the worst fight you've ever been in, and it had led both of you to temporarily parting ways out of anger. you shouldn't have let the things he spat out at you with anger get to you, but it did.

groaning at the sound of a knock coming from your door, you paused the drama you were currently binging on, before standing up from the couch. wrapping your blanket around your shoulders, you shuffled over to the door. reaching up and looking through the peephole, you, oddly, found yoongi standing there.

the anxious expression he was holding was what made you even open the door, in fear of something bad happening. "hi..." you'd trail off, staring up at him with confusion. "um.." "hey, can i come in?" he responded. you nodded, swallowing thickly as you stepped to the side to give room for yoongi. once he entered you'd close the door, welcoming him into the living room to sit. "look, i know things you and taehyung aren't on speaking terms right now but–" "if you want me to talk to him i'm sorry but that's not happening, so don't waste your time," you interrupted. "y/n..." yoongi trailed off, frowning at you. "i don't know what happened but he's really hurt over this and–"

"you think i'm not hurt?" you'd suddenly burst out, making yoongi flinch. "taehyung screamed at me until i started crying, yoongi. i'm sorry, but if he expects an apology from me i'm not giving him one until he does it first."

tears filled your eyes, and you bowed your head to hide the fact you were starting to cry.

"he hurt me..."

you brought your hands up and cradled your face as the tears that had been itching to finally spill, after being held in for so long, finally escaped. yoongi wouldn't speak at first, and would instead come over and sit beside you, gently patting your back.

"stop crying, y/n. it'll be okay," he'd plead, his hand gingerly ghosting over your back.

yoongi wasn't always one for physical touch, but seeing you break down in front of him would shatter his heart, so he'd pull you into his chest and just hug you.

"sh, it's okay," he'd coo, rubbing your back as you cried into your chest. "it's not good to hold things in, y/n. it's okay..."

none of your friends knew about the fight, so you'd have kept it to yourself for the past three days of not talking to your boyfriend. it hurt to hold something like this in, but you had managed to escape the pain by drowning yourself in parties and work. in the end it had all caught up to you, and now you were crashing. you were grateful to have yoongi in this moment, since something about the way he hugged you and reminded you everything would be okay was reassuring. like a parent comforting their child who had fallen off their bike for the first time.

and yoongi was more patient than he might seem, so he'd sit there and hug you until you could no longer cry, which was another thing that was reassuring about him.

"are you okay now?" yoongi would hesitantly asked, once your cries had died down.

"yes, i'm sorry," you'd pull away, wiping your dampened cheeks.

"don't apologize y/n," he'd give you a warm, sad smile. "now tell me what happened please, so i can help you."

JIMIN:

you loved jimin more than anything, you really did, but the more often he'd blow up on you after a stressful day he'd have was starting to make you sick.

why did jimin have to take his anger out on you when you did nothing wrong?

it wasn't fair, but because you cared about him you let it happen. until jimin finally crossed the line and had screamed at you for being 'annoying' and 'too góddamn clingy'.

you ignored his calls for two days, and avoided him at all costs. he'd visit your apartment in attempts to make things right, but since you were determined to distract yourself from him you were never around.

just as you were munching on leftover pizza in the kitchen of your apartment, a gentle knock came from your door. rolling your eyes, you sneakily crept over to the door, looking through the peephole incase it was jimin. to your luck, you were met with hoseok.

you almost smiled upon seeing his face; hoseok was probably the boy you were the most closest with and you loved him for bringing light and happiness to everyone's lives.

opening the door, you poked your head out.

"did you bring jimin?" you asked quietly, turning your head both ways to survey the halls of your apartment complex.

"no, just me," hoseok gave you a small smile. "can i come in?"

you shrugged, stepping to the side to make room for him. after shutting the door behind him, you led him to the kitchen and sat down with him at the bar.

"i heard about you and jimin..." hoseok hesitantly began, eyeing you with an unreadable expression.

sighing, you pushed your pizza to the side, no longer hungry. "and...?"

"and i think you should talk to him. he really misses you."

"i don't have anything to say to him," you declared, eyes narrowing. "he finally told me how he really feels about me–"

"what did he do?" hoseok asked, eyebrows knitting together.

"he said i'm annoying and clingy, when all i did was ask if he wanted to talk since he had a bad day," you ranted. "he's started taking his frustration out on me, and i'm sick of it. why would i go back to him?"

"because he makes you happy," hoseok argued. "a-and he would never mean that. he cares about you."

"i'm happier without him," you lied; the past few days have been torture.

waking up to no morning texts or calls, not hanging out with him, face timing at night even if you were just together, made you miserable. your life was dull without him, but as much as your heart ached for him you didn't plan on returning until he made things right.

"are you really?" but hoseok saw through you, one reason why the two of you had grown so close in the span of your time with jimin.

"no..." you sighed, a single tear running down your flushed cheeks.

"aw, y/n don't cry," hosoek whined, reaching over and snaking his arms around you. "you'll be okay, don't cry."

"i b-broke up with h-him, hoseok," you sobbed into his chest. "i love him and only him and i lost him."

"sh," hoseok's heart broke at the sight of you so upset. "you didn't lose him, he still loves you."

this whole time you had felt nothing but anger towards jimin, but now your bottled up emotions had finally spilled over and you couldn't take it anymore. your heart ached to be with him, and you knew you were meant to be, but could things ever be the same again?

"he's an idiot, y/n. he only said those things to you out of anger," hoseok rubbed your back, giving you a small squeeze. "you know that."

"calm down, y/n. everything will be okay if you talk to him," hoseok whispered.

you nodded against him, holding onto hoseok tighter. "i'm sorry, you probably don't even want to deal with this."

"don't say that," he patted your arm in disapproval. "will you come back to the dorms with me and talk to him? please?"

you pulled away, looking up at him sadly.

"just come over. if he doesn't apologize right away i'll hurt him for you, okay?" hoseok joked, flashing you a small smile.

you nodded, bringing the sleeve of jimin's hoodie up to your face to wipe the tears away.

"okay, come on y/n. he's a mess without you," hoseok patted your back before standing up, reaching down and taking ahold of your hand to lead you from your apartment.

***

Part 2?? Yes or no?

#bts imagines #bts scenarios #jeon jungkook #kim taehyung #park jimin #jungkook imagine #taehyung imagine #jimin imagine #bts maknae line #bts

[chickenmcfly1]

Marty with superpowers headcannons?

(Again, I have no idea how the science behind any of this would work so just bear with me)

So the exposure to plutonium without cell rejuvenation gives him superpowers. Marty can briefly manipulate time by freezing and speeding up time around him, and he can manipulate space by phasing in and out through solid material

basically since his powers came from the DeLorean and interaction between radiation and the flux capacitor, Marty basically becomes a weak human flux capacitor and can manipulate space and time(sketchy science is sketchy)

He discovers them about a week after part three ends because his body finally transitions out of survival mode.

Through the trilogy, Marty is running on like 12 total hours of sleep, 1 meal, no water, 4 head injuries, 3 of which are traumatic brain injuries he doesn’t really accidentally draw on said powers. He’s weak, pretty injured, and exhausted, and his body’s probably focused on healing and staying upright, not manipulating space and time (also I always forget that by definition and time spend unconscious, Marty sustained three traumatic brain injuries in the span of 18 days? That’s gonna be fun for his family doctor to deal with at his next wellness checkup)

After he returns to lone pine 1885, Marty hasn’t really been sleeping bc he’s plagued by near constant nightmares and he’s been super on edge and anxious so he hasn’t really been eating and he’s overwhelmed and exhausted and just crashes in bed one day. And his body is like “oh we’re finally resting! we feel better! Let’s check out these new body functions!” (Again, This is not how bodies work but just humor me)

Then, the next morning, Marty wakes up under the bed? And Marty knows he’s a weird sleeper and he kinda just assumes he thrashed and moved around in his sleep and fell off of the bed, but that’s not possible bc he’s in the exact position he was on top of the bed. There’s also this heavy plastic keyboard case next to him, blocking the only side of the bed he could’ve rolled under from. Otherwise he would’ve had to roll over his guitar, fallen off of the bed, and rolled back under?

But Marty is 100% not in the mood to deal with any more strangeness and weird situations. He’s already overwhelmed and confused, he misses Doc so much it physically hurts, and he’s got real gigs lined up through the holidays and he really doesn’t have the mental energy for this so he just kinda ignores it and goes to school

But strange things keep happening? In math, when he knocks his calculator off of his desk during a test, panicking about how embarrassing it’s going to be when it hits the ground and makes and noise, making everyone turn around and look at him, the calculator just slows down, almost ceasing it’s free fall until Marty grabs it? And the few people who were turning around to look at Marty also have stopped, heads turned halfway to Marty before jerking back to their tests?

The worst one is when he’s on his way home, about to get on his skateboard. Instead for getting on, though, his foot goes through his skateboard. And just when Marty thinks that ordeal is over, his hand goes through the bumper of a car he tries to grab, sending Marty spiraling into the street. As cars zip past him and Marty’s in the middle of an intersection, thinking about how Doc was right and this little car surfing habit of his is gonna end him up in the hospital, the cars around him suddenly stop and seem to freeze then move in slow motion, just long enough for Marty to get to safety before continuing to speed down the streets as if nothing ever happened

Marty continues his commute home, feeling absolutely sick to his stomach, because there’s really one reason he could be passing through solid objects. He’s fading from existence. And that doesn’t explain the other weird stuff, but Marty’s way too worked up to consider the little details. The only thought running through is head is that there’s absolutely no way this can be happening again because this was supposed to be done it was all supposed to be better now

He goes home to get his truck, barely concealing his near-hyperventilating from Biff who always seems to be waxing one of their cars, and his dad who’s sitting on the porch, and drives to Doc’s. The lab is obviously empty, but being here makes him feel a little safer, and a little more clear headed.

He doesn’t eat or sleep that night and that puts his body back into survival mode, so his powers calm down again and Marty is beyond confused but just chalks all that up to exhaustion induced hallucinations? Which is a little scary because Marty is absolutely sure that all of that happen, and he’s really hoping he’s not going insane, but he’d rather be insane than fading from existence because option b means he messed up the time stream and that means that a bunch of other people potentially in danger and Marty’s already bucking under the guilt of 1985 A, he doesn’t need this too.

Obviously Marty has not been the same since time travel, but Jennifer notices he seems extra off as of late, so after school that day, she drags him to her house and asks her to tell her everything. And he knows he shouldn’t, but Doc’s not here and desperately needs to talk to someone and Jennifer is always so grounded and level headed and he needs that right now.

After 18 days of trauma chaos and Marty’s new affliction is described, Jennifer, who is a huge comic book and science fiction nerd, tells him in the most cheerful but matter of fact voice that he obviously has superpowers!

Marty just gives her his signature look of wide eyed, panicked confusion

Jennifer reassures him and tells him to leave a note for Doc where Doc left the DeLorean for him and ‘55 Doc. Marty likes that idea, but he’s still not entirely sure about the whole superpowers thing. So Jennifer tells him to attempt doing those things on purpose, and sure enough, all the things Jennifer makes fall off of her desk chair, including herself (which is the scariest trust fall of Marty’s life) slow just long enough for Marty to right them. Similarly his hands and legs pass through objects. Jennifer suggests he try to phase through the wall to see how strong his powers are, but Marty has a horrifying image of him stuck between Jennifer’s bedroom and closet wall forever, and he decides he’s not trying that own without Doc.

After a few trial runs, a very excited Jennifer’s going on about all the good things he could do the community with these powers and all the cool things he could do, but Marty’s anxious and overwhelmed and just wants to lay low. So he has powers, doesn’t mean he has to use them. Besides, Marty doesn’t know how to explain to Jennifer that after all the ‘good’ he did in 1985A and other timelines, the best way for Marty to serve the community is to probably stay far far far away from where he can mess anything up. Jennifer is, of course very understanding and she accompanies him to leave a letter for Doc

That night, Marty’s scared awake by a sudden rap on his window and wakes up to see Doc? And after Marty’s fight of flight response calms and his heartbeats slows enough for him to function, he just kind of sits there, convinced this is a dream and any second now, Doc will open up his lab coat, revealing bullet wounds and collapse and Marty will have to watch again. But then Doc calls his name and tells him he got his letter. And Marty is overwhelmed with joy and after flinging open the window and tackling Doc with a hug and then giving Clara and the boys another one, they go to the lab and figure everything out

Marty does, indeed, have superpowers. He’s basically a mini flux capacitor and Doc is over the moon thrilled, then panics and checks Marty over to make sure he’s still fine and healthy and that there are no negative side effects, then goes back to being thrilled

Idk what direction I wanna take this in? Whether Marty is just a normal person doing normal person things who just happens to have superpowers or if he and Doc get another crazy adventure, this time, involving superpowers, but yeah. If anyone wants to add on and take this in a direction, pls do bc I have no idea what comes next, lol.

#back to the future #marty mcfly #doc and marty #doc brown #bttf #Jennifer Parker #george mcfly #lorraine mcfly #biff tannen

[yellowocaballero]

Not Your Queer-Coded Disney Villain: Annabelle & Web!Jon Ficlet

Got bored again today and forced myself to write something that wasn’t gratuitously long. Set in the same universe (or, one of the universes) as The Convention on Chronographer Lane, but it’s completely unnecessary to have read that one before this. 

Content warning for (apparent and fake) predation of a student by a teacher, body horror, and spiders. REVERSE content warning for A PSYCH 101 LECTURE WRITTEN BY SOMEONE WHO WAS A TA FOR PSYCH 101. ACCURATE SCIENCE, BITCHES. 

“What am I turning into?” Annabelle asked, after a half-second of rapid thought. “Who are you? And what do spiders have to do with any of this?”

Jon smiled again broadly, grey eyes dancing with a barely hidden delight. “You’re fully aware that these are all the same question.”

“Then answer them. You said you’re here to help me. Then help me.” Annabelle narrowed her eyes. “We’ll negotiate a price later.”

“This one is a freebie,” Jon said. He leaned back, face fading into the shadow of the dim yellow light of the hanging light. “You’re turning into something much akin to myself.”

In the darkness, Annabelle saw Jon open his eyes. And his eyes. And his eyes. And his eyes…

Annabelle was sleeping through Psych again.

In her defense, she was really tired. The nightmares had been getting worse every day, and yesterday she hadn’t gotten more than forty minutes of sleep without jolting up in the middle of the night. She had flipped on the light five times during the night, hysterically convinced that bugs were crawling over her and earning the eternal ire of her roommate. Whatever - Irene would forgive her once she bought her an iced coffee from that campus shop she liked. If Annabelle gave it to her later at night, she’d stay up later and would be less likely to bitch when Annabelle inevitably made a stink at three am again.

It didn’t matter. Psych was tediously easy anyway. Not that everything wasn’t tedious, but there were few things more boring than listening to the drone of Mr. Sims’ voice. She had no idea how that guy had a fanclub. Emmanuela Odugawa had asked her if she thought that he recited Piaget’s developmental stages in bed. Barf. 

Thankfully, Annabelle had mastered the art of sleeping with her eyes open in class and barely aware enough to recognize when somebody called her name a decade ago, and she ruthlessly used this skill now. She dropped into a half-doze, and was only startled into awareness when she heard the word that had been running in a nonstop track loop through her mind for the past month. 

“Phobia: an extreme or irrational fear or aversion to something.” Mr. Sims adjusted his glasses, pressing a button on his laptop that advanced the slides. “It’s an interesting definition, in my opinion. Like many things in Psychology, it is almost infuriatingly vague. How do you define ‘extreme’? How do you define ‘irrational’? Oftentimes, that label is determined by society, science, and our therapists. However, I believe you can argue that phobias are the most rational thing of all.”

Annabelle rubbed her arms, suddenly cold. These auditorium classrooms were always freezing. 

“The concept of aversion is heavily rooted in evolution and biology. Anyone here ever eat any bad shrimp?” He didn’t wait for a response. “The smell of seafood probably made you sick for weeks afterwards. Our bodies are primed to detect poison, just as they are to detect danger. Phobias rooted in modern, abstract concepts - clowns, elevators, airplanes - are easy to extinguish. But phobias rooted in real, present, perpetual dangers, the sort of dangers that threatened the lives of cavemen, are far more difficult to ignore.” 

Despite herself, Annabelle found herself awake. She found herself listening. 

“Snakes. Heights. The Dark. Dogs, bears, large animals. Storms, driving, insects.” Mr. Sims’ looked up at the auditorium, and Annabelle could have sworn that he was looking right at her, he was looking at her. Annabelle’s breath caught, her heart thumping in her chest - a little differently than it used to. “Spiders.” 

A horrible clicking echoed in Annabell’s ears. She was afraid that it was her. 

Then he looked away, and the spell was broken. “Phobias are one of the most powerful and motivational forces in human evolution. Like mental illnesses, pack bonds, and emotional needs, the perceived weaknesses of the human mind can frequently be some of the most powerful forces that allow the survival of the human species. It isn’t a bug, it’s a feature. I find that a useful way to think of humanity, and of ourselves: that our weaknesses can make us very strong indeed. Next slide…”

If Mr. Sims said anything after that, Annabelle didn’t hear it.

She didn’t pay any attention to anything he said until the end of class, when she shrugged on her cute little silver backpack and merged into the stream of students filtering out of the classroom. A few students had stayed behind to talk to Mr. Sims, and he appeared wrapped in conversation with the giggling girls, but somehow he picked her out of the thick crowd. 

“Annabelle?” Mr. Sims asked. “Stay after, please.”

So she leaned against the long sweep of desks, left with nothing to do but squint at Mr. Sims as he spoke with another student about the requirements for the upcoming paper, wondering why he looked so familiar. 

All of the other students had assumed he was in his late twenties - “total DILF”, they all inanely assured her - but Annabelle wasn’t so sure. Despite the already graying hair, small glasses, and severe expression, she really wouldn’t put him any older than 23.

Maybe his greying temples were hair dye. Or stress did that to you, right? Annabelle squinted. But when Annabelle looked closer, if she really focused, then she really wasn’t sure it was his hair color at all. 

So she looked closer. Her eyes had been itching for the past week. She had caught her skin flaking and peeling, and instead of pink raw skin underneath there was hard and scratchy black necrosis. Her eyes itched now, as if they were striving to split apart, and if Annabelle only let them then they would burst. And as her eyes itched in a horrible, visceral pain, she thought that maybe the white at Mr. Sims’ temples was the thin, sticky webs of spider-silk. 

“Annabelle? Are you alright?”

She snapped back to attention, fairly embarrassed. She had been zoning out more in the past month than she had her entire life. Her older siblings had said that college would be rough, but she hadn’t known it would be this rough. This wasn’t like her. None of this was like her. 

“I’m great,” Annabelle said reflexively. All of the other students were gone, and Mr. Sims was staring at her over his glasses. “Sorry. Is this about my test…?”

“No. You did quite well on your test. Best in the class, actually.” Mr. Sims smiled at her, as if this was a compliment or important. “Is that why you’ve been so bored in class?”

Ah. Busted. A rare thing for Annabelle. She affected a faux-abashed posture and expression. “Sorry, Mr. Sims. I’ve been staying up ‘til two every morning trying to get my homework done on time. If I’m ever going to go to med school…”

“I thought you were a poli sci major,” Mr. Sims said cheerfully. Annabelle fought a shudder - how did he know so much about her? This class had 200 students.

“Double major,” Annabelle said blithely. “I’m sorry about sleeping in class, I’ll manage my time better. It won’t happen again.”

“Yes, yes.” Mr. Sims waved her apology away, as if that wasn’t what he had been looking for. Then what had he been looking for? “I’m afraid I had somewhat of an ulterior motive for speaking to you today.” He leaned in a little, pulling his glasses down, and his foggy grey eyes - same color as the grey at his temples - focused solely on her. Annabelle made her eyes bigger, and she leaned in too, adjusting her posture so she looked smaller. “You’ve been doing very well in class. I actually wanted to invite you to a meeting. About...oh, your potential for med school. I’m excited to see you succeed. I think you could do quite well in whatever field you choose, and I’d like to help. It would be just us, of course.”

Ding ding ding. Annabelle affected a giggle. “I could totally use the help! Like, in your office? Or, like...lunch, or…?”

“I was thinking dinner, actually,” Mr. Sims smiled. “How’s Bombay Bicycle Club?”

Restaurant and bar, with a casual yet dignified atmosphere. Not formal enough to put up anybody’s guard, but nice enough that a freshman girl could feel treated and be impressed. Most importantly, it was popular among the businessman crowd and almost nobody on campus visited it. Annabelle used it herself to meet up with her sugar daddies all the time. 

For a brief, strange moment, Annabelle felt as if he did - but of course he didn’t. But it wasn’t impossible. But if he knew, then why wasn’t he blackmailing her? Was the blackmail for later, once he got her alone? This was probably a power play, getting her off balance by insinuating that he knows but not being explicit about it. He’d probably pull out the blackmail, ‘I’ll ruin your reputation you slut etc’, once they actually got there. Not that he could - Annabelle had contingency plans - but she would have to be careful to actually record him propositioning her anyway. Worst case scenario they had a MAD situation, best case she could squeeze him. Probably not for very much money, since grad students were poor as dirt, and she didn’t exactly need him to boost her grades...get him to slip her the test key and sell the test key? That could work. She could probably get him to strategically cut grades, which was a service that Annabelle could probably sell to students with a grudge…

But then Mr. Sims smiled at her, as if he knew what she was thinking, and Annabelle realized that she had been silent too long. She wanted to come off as panicked, maybe desperate, definitely flattered. 

“Sure!” Annabelle said, barely having to feign the anxious creak in her voice. “What time? I have night classes, so…”

“Next Friday at six,” Mr. Sims said instantly. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too.” Annabelle affected Smile #35 - shy virgin. Mr. Sims’ grin widened. Annabelle silently put aside the ‘Catholic schoolgirl’ outfit for Friday. “See you then!”

She turned around, gave him a shy smile, and bounced off. She had just opened the heavy door out of the room when she heard him speak again, freezing her in her tracks. 

“Oh, Annabelle - how is the study with Dr. Bates going?”

And his question panicked her so much, made her heart change rhythm and made her skin itch as if something was straining to come out of it, made her eyes itch and crawl and burst, that every calculated move went out the window. She didn’t answer his question, didn’t even give an excuse - she just ran out the door, bright purple vintage boots thumping against the linoleum, breath catching in a chest where she was no longer sure she even had ribs. 

Most of her was already calculating. She was already two months into uni, she had to start establishing her power base. The minute her sorority accepted her she’d have greater access to money, popularity, and influence, but she needed reach with the administration too.  Mr. Sims was her in. This was a good thing. 

But part of her was disappointed, because she had liked him, and she felt a little used. Feelings of disgust, as strong and vivid as in her nightmares, rose in her chest. She squished far down in her chest, familiar with the feeling and effortlessly repressing it.  

Annabelle was good with disgusting things. 

She had another session with the Arachnophobia study on Monday. Which went fine. It was fine! She didn’t wake up that morning so sick with nerves that she almost threw up. She didn’t stare at her email inbox for thirty minutes, begging herself to cancel and drop out of the study. Nope. 

She distracted herself by befriending all of her roommate’s friends and dropping faux-concerned gossip about how cranky and anxious Irene’s been lately, have you noticed she’s been blaming me for how badly she’s sleeping? It was really super sad, frowny face, how do you think I can help, frowny face frowny face frowny face? 

So Annabelle went to the Arachnophobia study (it was fine), had increasingly realistic and vivid nightmares about her chest caving in and a nest of spiders crawling out of her chest and eating her eyes, and slept through class. It was all fine. 

She should have gone to Oxford. It still made her a little bitter. She had been smart enough to get in, but she hadn’t been smart enough to get the full scholarship. She couldn’t afford it, so instead she was stuck in University of Surrey, where dreams went to die. Future politicians should go to Oxford. Yeah, Surrey had some peers and Parliament members, whatever. She needed better, Oxford and awards and money. From there, from some swotty school or another, it was easy street. Annabelle deserved easy street, and she deserved Oxford, and it just wasn’t fair -

After another three am nightmare, Annabelle blearily scrolled through her sibling groupchat. Barney was doing great in med school. Tricia had posted her maternity photos. Wow, look at that, Robin had gotten a commendation at his law firm. Whatever. 

No hope of distinguishing herself in the world. No hope of distinguishing herself in her stupid family. She was smarter than any of her siblings, brighter and better than those doctors and lawyers and accountants, but nobody cared. Mum and Dad were living their retirement in comfort and cooing over their grandchildren, finally rewarded in old age for all their hard work. 

If Annabelle dropped off the face of the earth, nobody would even notice. 

It should have been a depressing thought. The idea that nobody cared about her, not really, that nobody knew the real her. But somehow it just made her heart beat faster in excitement. 

The idea of disappearing from all of this, of cutting herself free from a thousand threads that brought her plummeting down to earth...in the cold hours of that dark morning, to an eighteen year old terrified and alone in uni, it was a siren song. 

It was a siren song that sounded, oddly, like the chittering and scuttling of a thousand tiny bodies, but Annabelle was learning to look beyond that. 

By the time next Friday rolled around, Annabelle was considering breaking her self-imposed rule against drugs and popping a Xanax. But that wouldn’t help her exhaustion, the persistent bone-deep frazzled sensation of going a week on almost no sleep whatsoever, so she settled for an espresso as she wriggled herself into a tight, slinky plaid dress paired with a puffy olive green windbreaker. She wasn’t sure if she owned any clothing that was made after 1990 - a habit born from a childhood of shopping from thirst stores, and continued voluntarily into high school when she started making her own money online fleecing suckers. It was her, so much as anything was. 

“Hot date?” Irene asked, bending over her Physics textbook without looking up. She glanced at her vibrating phone, scowling. Poor baby - her friends were staging an intervention. “New guy or old guy?”

“New guy,” Annabelle said vaguely, carefully picking out a bold red lipstick - or did that seem too forward? Should she go for a natural look? “If I’m not back by midnight call the police. I’ll text you a picture of his car.”

“Roger.” Irene flipped a page of her textbook, oblivious to the fact that she was one of the few people Annabelle genuinely liked. Not enough not to screw with her, but she liked her. “He’s not good enough for you, something something.”

“Darling,” Annabelle said, winking into the mirror, “nobody is.”

She hoped Irene believed it. She didn’t. 

It wasn’t a frequent occurrence that Annabelle wished she was stupid, but today she wished she was stupid enough to take a power nap during her ten minute Uber ride. Her mind felt frazzled and frayed, as if it had been taken out of her scalp and spread out with a rolling pin onto a floured countertop. She felt as if she was melting, her vision spiralling into fractals or blurring out. She wanted to sleep. God, she’d do anything for some sleep -

So she blared Bad Romance in her frayed earbuds instead, clutching her iPod Touch tightly, pulling herself together. Gaga, give her strength. 

By the time that she tipped her driver, effortlessly found Mr. Sims’ car in the parking lot of Bombay Bicycle Club and texted Irene the license plate (Volkswagen, obviously), she had dragged herself into focus. She stapled on her confident posture and walk - no, we’re going with ingenue today, make it shy and hesitant - and slipped inside the restaurant, making a show of holding her clutch tight to her chest and looking around with big eyes. 

She saw him instantly. He was sitting in a corner booth, head down and texting on his phone with a half-smile. The corner booth was poorly lit, light dampened by the wood panelling and soft leather seats, and half of his face was draped in shadow. 

Great. She had even arrived ten minutes early just so she could pick a brightly lit, intimate little table in the center of the room. This guy - he was almost like her. He was almost like her, but he was better. 

Annabelle fought the urge to grind her teeth. She smiled instead, waving cheerfully until he raised his head. He smiled back at her, wriggling his fingers, and Annabelle wove around the tables until she could slide into the seat across from him. 

“This is cozy!” She said brightly. “Thank you so much for inviting me out, Mr. Sims. It’s been ages since I got away from my books -”

“Oh, cut that shit out,” Mr. Sims said, bored. “I’m not going to sleep with you.”

Annabelle’s mind shut down. Error 404, blue screen of death. 

“I’m sorry,” she said pleasantly, smile frozen on her face. “What?”

But Mr. Sims just shrugged listlessly, slumping against the cushioned wall. His expression was no longer fond, indulgent, haughty. He just looked bored now, as if he was too tired and underpaid to deal with eighteen year olds. “I don’t want to sit through this entire dinner fending off flirting. We have actual business to talk about, and I am uninterested in beating around the bush when there’s no point. You aren’t even subtle.”

“Excuse me -” Annabelle started, enraged, but Mr. Sims put up a hand and cut her off. 

The change was instant. On a dime, Mr. Sims straightened his posture, swept a finger through his hair to transform it from slicked back professor type to windswept, adopted a friendly and casual expression, and leaned in as if he was happy and excited to be sitting with Annabelle. In a moment he dropped ten years. Barely a second after his transformation the waiter approached them, holding a notepad, and Annabelle realized with a start that he had noticed the waiter coming before she did. 

“How are you two doing tonight?” the waiter asked politely, smiling at the both of them in a rote routine that Annabelle remembered from her own days waitressing. 

“Doing great!” Mr. Sims said, and even his accent was different, closely matching her own. He glanced back at Annabelle, nothing but open and friendly. “Mum says get whatever you want, dork. It’s on her bill, so let’s run her out of house and home.”

Instinctually, Annabelle shot back, “Aren’t you old enough to take me out to eat with your own money, loser?”

“Not with your stomach!” Mr. Sims laughed, and the waiter chuckled along too. Mr. Sims effortlessly rapped out an order for the waiter, before Annabelle even got a chance to look at the menu, and when she floundered Mr. Sims just rolled his eyes and ordered for her too. It was, somehow, her favorite food. 

He waited for the waiter to move onto the next table, eyeing him carefully, before he let the persona drop. Mr. Sims sagged again, dropping the friendly act, sizing her up from half-lidded eyes. 

“How did he even believe that,” Annabelle said flatly. “We don’t look anything alike.”

“White people will believe anything,” Mr. Sims said, rolling his eyes. “I have the Belgian government convinced I’m an Iraqi scientist and most high profile Australian celebrities think I’m Egyptian royalty.”

“...does Egypt have -”

“Nope.”

Annabelle was beginning to feel a little like the star actress in the school play who got upstaged in every way by the villain’s performance. Nobody did what she did. Nobody did what she did, but better. 

“Don’t feel insecure,” Mr. Sims said, as if he could read her mind. “I’m a good actor, and I’m excellent at reading people. But I can’t plan or plot like you do. I’m shit at thinking three steps ahead, much less thirty. You can keep plots and schemes going for years - decades, even, if I were to guess. I’m not sure how someone as competent as you can have self-esteem issues.”

Annabelle bristled. “You try having nobody care about you for - how do you even know that shit about me?” Something terrible occurred to her. “Are you some kind of stalker, Mr. Sims?”

Mr. Sims shuddered in real disgust. “It’s Jon. And no, of course not. You just aren’t as subtle as you think you are.”

Yes, she was. She was subtle to everyone on the planet - everyone save, maybe, Jon. Annabelle narrowed her eyes. “What do you want?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Jon said immediately. 

“Liar. Everybody wants something.”

“I’m here altruistically,” Jon said, the perfect picture of innocence. “Really. I’m here to help you, Annabelle.”

“You are stalking me.” Annabelle leaned forward, but Sims didn’t move. “Are you even a real graduate student?”

“Absolutely not. I’m twenty three, I got my Psych degree last year and I’ve been bouncing odd jobs since.” Jon shrugged, as Annabelle felt silently vindicated. Nothing about this man acted like a twenty three year old - she remembered her siblings at twenty-three, there was nothing adult about them - but it was probably just another persona. She wondered how far she’d have to scratch to get to the real Jon Sims. 

“So you were just at Surrey to spy on me,” Annabelle said slowly. “I don’t know what country you’re from, but in England that’s definitely stalking.”

“I’d call it scouting,” Jon said. The waiter dropped by to place their drinks on the table - Jon had gotten a mule for himself, and he had ordered water for Annabelle in a move uncharacteristic for a sketchy guy. He waited until the waiter left to continue. “Call me a recruiter.”

“For who? What kind of job recruiter teaches a class for two months just to get to me?”

“How’s your study with Dr. Blake going, Annabelle?” Jon said, almost randomly, and Annabelle shut up. He must have seen something in her eyes, because a sharp little grin stretched in the corner of his narrow and sharp face. “Thought so. What do you dream of, Annabelle? In the cold corners of night, what fears come to life in the dark recesses of your mind?”

Maybe, Annabelle thought inanely, this was a dream too. Just an extended nightmare, one she hadn’t woken up from. It felt like that: distant and strange, hyper-real and unreal. This strange man sitting in front of her, who swapped faces so easily even Annabelle couldn’t keep up, was far too out of place to truly exist. 

Or maybe he was the first real person she had met in a very long time. 

Jon continued talking, as if she had responded. Maybe she had. “I am not a hero in this story. If I was, I would have come earlier. I would have deleted your name from the pool of subjects, and I would have made it so that you never got that call.” Jon looked away from her for the first time, letting a little sadness show on his face. “I couldn’t. No - no, I could have, I simply chose not to. You’re important, Annabelle. And I didn’t want to rob you of something that you may grow to treasure. I’m afraid that the choice you make now may not be much of a choice at all - but, perhaps, there is still a chance. At the very least, I would like to make this transition a little easier for you. It is a terrible thing, to have to do it alone.”

That…

“That was so vague it was completely meaningless.”

Jon barked a laugh, strangely delighted. “It’s not fair to speak in circles to somebody who’s gone a week without sleep!”

“But you’re doing it on purpose,” Annabelle said, too dead inside to feel mad.

“Oh, absolutely. I am not taking the risk of taking you on at full power.” Jon smiled at her, as if they were friends sharing a joke. “I saw what you did to that Walker boy in secondary.”

Despite herself, Annabelle smiled. “Hear he gets out on parole in five.” Something else occurred to her, a bit belatedly. “You are stalking me!”

“Does a spider stalk the fly that strikes a string on its web?” Jon asked cheerfully. “Or is it simply investigating an encroachment into its territory?”

“Does that mean that you’re going to eat me?” Annabelle said archly. “Thought you said you didn’t want to fuck me. Rude, by the way.”

Almost hilariously, Jon wrinkled his nose. “Sex is a waste of time, resources, and my attention. Can’t imagine why people are so obsessed.”

“I know, right!” Annabelle burst out, before she could help herself. “Do you have any idea how much money I get a month from guys just to talk to me? It’s like they’re aliens! Why do people fuck or date if it’s not to manipulate someone?”

“Right! It’s ridiculous.”

It was the first time anybody had ever agreed with her on that. It was the first time she had even told anybody she felt that way. For a brief second, Annabelle felt connected to Jon. It was the first time that happened in...a very long time. 

Jon was the first person Annabelle had ever met who was like her. Everybody in Annabelle’s life had always been either useful or useless. Jon seemed above that, somehow. To be beyond utility, to exist on your own power...what did that look like? To be the powerful, instead of the powerless?

No matter how hard she tried, no matter how many puppet strings Annabelle tied around her fingers, she was never powerful. Not really. She was eighteen, from a nothing family, and no matter how many molehills she made herself queen of she would never rule the mountain. She couldn’t get as far as she wanted with what she had. The only reason she had even volunteered for the stupid Arachnophobia experiment was because she needed to crush out weakness in herself, erase the hidden flaws in her mind.

But Jon said her flaws were strengths. What made her weak could be turned into power. 

Annabelle needed more, more, more. She needed everything, if she was to have anything. She needed what Jon had. 

Everything Annabelle said had a purpose. Every word she used was chosen carefully, every little gesture or body language was calculated. She said nothing without thinking, and she could do it so quickly nobody even noticed. Jon would notice, a con man as perfect as she was.

Let him. Give her two straight days to sleep, and they’d have a real battle of wits. In the meantime, she just had to pick her questions strategically.

“What am I turning into?” Annabelle asked, after a half-second of rapid thought. “Who are you? And what do spiders have to do with any of this?”

Jon smiled again broadly, grey eyes dancing with a barely hidden delight. “You’re fully aware that these are all the same question.”

“Then answer them. You said you’re here to help me. Then help me.” Annabelle narrowed her eyes. “We’ll negotiate a price later.”

“This one is a freebie,” Jon said. He leaned back, face fading into the shadow of the dim yellow light of the hanging light. “You’re turning into something much akin to myself.”

In the darkness, Annabelle saw Jon open his eyes. And his eyes. And his eyes…

All eight of Jon’s glittering black eyes shone in the darkness, straining her own and making her head thump. It was wrong, outside of humanity or reality, and it felt as if the very sight was straining the fabric of her delicately maintained life so tight it would tear. It felt as if it was tearing her, right in two, ruining her forever. Her eyes felt like they were going to burst out of her head. 

She didn’t want to know what would replace them. But she had the feeling that she already did. 

“Then what,” Annabelle gritted out, “are you?”

“I am the eldest and most treasured Son of the Mother of Spiders,” Jon said. He smiled at her, just a little, almost apologetic. “Sorry about that. I know you’ve always wanted to be an only child.”

Ah. Duh. Obviously. She should have known.

“...do I want to know who the Mother of Spiders is?”

“Your mother, should you choose to accept her,” Jon said cheerfully, leaning back into the light, and his face was normal again. Human as ever. Strange and foreign as ever - possibly everything, possibly nothing. “I know you aren’t strictly in the market for adoption, but you may not have much of a choice. You’ve felt her scratching beneath her skin. She’s going to tear out of you, and soon. Did you know some species of wasp lay their eggs in the body of spiders to provide food for the grubs?”

“During the next experiment,” Annabelle said dully, already filtering out Jon’s useless tidbits of information. That was a guy who spoke for the sake of hearing himself talk. “That’s when it’s happening. When I’ll...change.”

“Yes. It’s a painful process,” Jon said, and it was almost apologetic. “My own happened when I was fifteen - quite young, all things considered. I still remember the sound of my bones snapping as -”

“Don’t.”

“Of course! Anyway, I thought I’d make sure you had...to use the psych term, informed consent, before you entered the crucible. Our - my, sorry - Mother often foregoes true consent in our operations. The beauty of nature!” Jon laughed, as Annabelle felt sick. “Agnes wanted to put together a pamphlet, but then we let Gerry go wild on the clipart and...well, it’s better if I just explain. I can’t give you the full story now, but I’ll tell you as much as your mind can comprehend.”

Annabelle wasn’t sure she could even comprehend this. It was so much, and she was so tired. She had just heard that her body was going to rupture like a cocoon and give birth to a giant spider that may or may not also be her, and all she could think about was the fact that she wanted to go back to bed. Somehow, all she could ask was -

“Why?” She asked, so stupid and pointless, as if she was stupid, as if she wasn’t her at all. “Why are you doing this?”

“It’s like I said.” In the dim yellow lighting, Jon’s eyes glittered pure black, and in that brief and stupid second Annabelle felt as if they were the same in that way. “Nobody should have to go through this alone and ignorant.” Then the moment was over, and his eyes were a human grey again, just left of normal. “Besides. Siblings stick together, right?”

“I hardly need more siblings,” Annabelle snapped. 

“You’re about to lose seven of them real soon,” Jon promised, extremely worryingly, “so I’d take what you can get right now, Annabelle.”

“Are you going to kill -”

“Unfortunately, you may have to fake your own death!”

Then their food came, and Annabelle received her first lesson in the class of hard knocks. 

They talked for hours. It took hours, to even just get a picture of the story. Jon was patient, answering every question, and Annabelle strained so hard trying to fight through her exhaustion, trying to understand the answer, Jon’s motivation in answering it or what he could be leaving out, that by the end of it she felt as if she had run a marathon. She had never felt so tired in her life, in the most dangerous situation in her life, with the most dangerous person she had ever met. 

By the end of it, Irene was texting her to ask if she was dead, and Annabelle was falling asleep at her chair. Jon cut an end to their conversation when he slid out his wallet, covered the bill with a black Amex card, and slid a business card against the table. Annabelle squinted down at it. 

The text in the center just said [FREELANCERS]. That was it. She stared at it.

Underneath the vague word, she saw a phone number [555-555] and an email [[email protected]]. Annabelle looked up to stare at Jon. “Are you for real?”

“Almost never,” Jon said cheerfully, “but the card will make sense when it needs to. Let me take you back to your dorm, alright? You can get some sleep in the car.”

If he was a creep, she was dead anyway. Annabelle didn’t bother arguing. She grabbed her jacket and got in the passenger seat of his car, and true to his word Annabelle drifted asleep almost immediately. She even felt as if the ride took longer than ten minutes, as if he drove in circles just waiting for her.

For the first time in a week, Annabelle slept uninterrupted, and had no dreams.

Annabelle wanted what Jon had. 

And a week later, she took it. 

Shivering in an alley, clothing ripped to shreds, her own skin hanging off her triple jointed limbs, she dug out a creased and torn business card. She had been worrying at it intensely over the weekend, staring and it and clenching it tightly as if it was her only lifeline. It was, of course. But Jon had known that.

The card looked different now. The text now looked handwritten, but with a beautiful and old-timey slanted handwriting. It now just read: 

‘To Annabelle, with love. From your new friends Gerry, Jon, and Agnes’. There was a number underneath, and Annabelle frantically dug in her tattered leather jacket pocket to draw out her cracked phone. 

Annabelle hated taking favors from people. Everything she had, she had fought for herself. She would scrape, borrow, beg, and steal whatever she had to. But, when it came to siblings...maybe, then, it was okay.

Dizzily, as Annabelle let the phone ring, she thought: this is my supervillain origin story. 

The thought sent a slow smile crawling across her inhuman and warped face. 

Sounds like fun. 

#AROACE ANNABELLE RIGHTS #tma #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fanfiction #annabelle cane #jonathan sims #web!jon #realized while writing evilcon that annabelle was seven while jon was twelve #and that their sibling relationship must be a NIGHTMARE #anyway i'm trying to convince myself not to write a web!jon agnes and gerry fic where its basically a leverage au #and i am failing miserably #so i wrote this instead of that #GRIFTER!JON AND IN THIS ESSAY I WILL #my writing

[tomtenadia]

Island Dreams - Chapter 29

DreamsSo, chapter 29 is here and I am sorry. This chapter has angst. The angst gremlin was in a good mood and this chapter happened. I am sorry. So, so sorry. It does end with fluff but it takes a while.Also, there is a bit of a medical situation. I hope i got it right. I am not a med student. I just used years watching medical dramas and research on google to be accurate, but if i wrote some medical blunders I apologise. It's a fanfic :)Just have some chocolate ready :)

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It was a few days after Aelin and Rowan had come back from their small holiday in Glasgow. As planned they had taken a few more days to go back to the islands and they had a small and relaxing holiday on Skye. Aelin had been exhausted after their trip to the A&E so Rowan had decided to err of the side of caution and they had spent most of their time in the cottage or on a beach with a couple of drives through the countryside. Not what Aelin had dreamed but Rowan had been adamant that they were going to stay in the car. Even with the limitations, they still had a fantastic time but eventually they both had to go back to work. Rowan had begged Aelin to ask to start maternity leave a bit earlier on the basis of a at risk pregnancy, but she did not listen, so that morning she had left for work after he had made his displeasure quite clear and their fight had been quite epic. They had parted with no nice words and just ignored each other.

A really heavy rain with strong winds had been lashing the islands since the early morning. Rowan was checking the forecast website and the meteorologists had classed it as storm and once again it was going to be bad. He was in the shop and started pacing, while staring at the raging winds outside. Aelin was driving to work in those conditions and he was nervous. He should have offered to drive her, but he had been mad after the fight they had in the morning and now he regretted it. She was not used to drive in such conditions and although she didn’t have much to drive, he was still anxious. The short drive from their place to work had been horrific, even for someone with experience like him. The roads were flooded in most places and the very strong winds had made driving very hard. Anxiety rising he quickly phoned the A&E reception and asked if she was there already but the nurse told him she wasn’t. He didn’t want to phone her because that might distract her from driving and put her and the girls in danger. Lysandra was walking around the shop and sorting out a few things while he fidgeted nervously at the desk. “You seem nervous.” Rowan sighed “Aelin is on her way to work in this storm.” He took a sip of his coffee “I should have driven her. I called the hospital and she is not there yet. She should be. It has been fifty minutes already. It takes half an hour tops from our house on a bad day.” “Maybe she is just driving slowly because of the weather.” Said the woman trying to calm him down. Rowan closed his eyes and tried to slow down his heart that was racing in his chest. He was freaking out. He took a deep breath and went back to work. While he was working away on the computer, his eyes kept drifting to his mobile phone near the keyboard. He had asked her to text him when she had arrived. And the more the time passed without news the more nervous he became.

It was much later when his phone went off but not how he expected. An unknown number was calling him. He ignored it. When the number tried again after just one minute he picked up, maybe it was Aelin from the hospital. “Hello?” “Rowan?” He knew that voice. It was Malcolm. The panic rose. Why was he calling him? “Hi Malcolm? Is Aelin at work? She left a while ago and she hasn’t texted me.” “Rowan, something happened.” Rowan all of a sudden felt sick “I need you to come to the hospital immediately.” Rowan forgot how to breath. How to think or function. “Rowan?” “I… I am coming.” He breathed “Is she….” He could not add anything. Could not make himself think of the worst. “Not on the phone.” Rowan hung up. “That was Malcolm. I need to go.” That’s all he said to Lysandra. The woman had tried to ask for more info but Rowan had disappeared already. She knew Malcolm was Aelin’s second at the hospital and if he had phoned it meant something had happened. Everything was a blur. He was moving on muscle memory. He had no idea of what he was doing. He got in the car and drove to the hospital as if his life depended on that trip. He was at the hospital not long after and ran into the A&E and Malcolm was there to meet him. “Rowan, wait.” Said Malcolm grabbing the man’s arm. “Where is she? What happened?” Rowan’s voice was full of panic. His eyes scanned the beds for her but he could not see Aelin. Was he too late? His heart was racing and the feeling of sickness came back. She could not… “Come with me.” Said Malcolm calmly and with a touch of tenderness. “Mal, where is she?” He was on the verge of tears and almost shouted at the man. He wanted news. Malcolm stopped “She had an accident, Rowan. A bad one. A passerby called the ambulance when he saw her car…” and he trailed off. The man did not need the details “She was brought in urgently. She is in surgery now.” Rowan had to force himself to remember how to breathe again. He tried to say something but his brain was paralysed. “I don’t know anything. She came into the A&E, we stabilised her and went straight to surgery and I don’t have anymore news. She was alive though when she came in. We didn’t have time to check for the twins but Yrene was called immediately.” Rowan felt tears come out of him, his hand went to his mouth as if to stop the heavy sob ready to burst. “Sit down. I’ll come back as soon as I have an update.” Malcolm patted his shoulder and left him. Rowan sat down in the waiting room and stared at the window as his mind replayed every single word Malcolm had said. She was alive. What about the twins? Did they survive the crash? She is alive. He kept telling himself as a mantra. Forcing himself to believe it. Malcolm came back an hour later and sat down beside him. “I have an update.” Rowan nodded as in a daze and barely noticed the man sitting at his side. “She is still in surgery. She had internal injuries and they are working on stopping the bleeding and keeping the twins alive at the same time.” He paused and Rowan knew there was more “She has a head injury and they are checking the extent of the head damage as well. She is good hands, Rowan. They will be fine.” Rowan stood and left and went outside and stood under the sheltered area of the drop off section and stared at the rain in a futile attempt to empty his brain and dull the extreme pain ensnaring his heart. They had a fight. The last conversation they had was a stupid fight. He did not kiss her. Did not tell her he loved her like every morning before she left for work. Too mad and too proud to even try and fix things and apologise for the horrible things he had said. They both had said. It was the very first vicious fight they ever had. And now she was in surgery. Now she was fighting for her life and he could well risk losing her. If anything happened to her he would always remember the nasty things they had said to each other. He felt bile rise in his stomach. That could not be. He needed to apologise to her, tell her he loved her. He sat on the bench for a moment but then got up again, his body incapable of staying still. He felt like he was drowning in his grief. He started pacing and did not stop until his body started to protest and exhausted he sat again on the bench. He leaned forward and the pendant around his neck slipped off his t-shirt and the grief came rushing back. She had bought that for him. While on Skye they had found a shop that sold Celtic jewellery and she had bought him a necklace with a pendant of the Tree of Life. He had told her he did not wear necklaces but she, with her usual stubbornness, had convinced him and he had caved. Because he could not say no to her. Now he gripped the pendant in his hand as if to keep the connection with her “Don’t leave me…” he whispered as tears began flowing again “I can’t. There is no way without you.” Much later Malcolm found him again and Rowan felt fear grip him. He looked at Malcolm and he noticed a faint smile in the man’s face. He had just realised that Malcolm was just as worried as him. He and Aelin had become great friends and the man cared a lot about her. The man took his hand gripping it hard “She is out of surgery.” Rowan let out a breath he did not know he was holding. Out of surgery was at least a positive. “She suffered what we call a pneumothorax, one of her lungs collapsed from the crash. I fixed it when she came into the A&E. She was intubated on the scene. Paramedics said she was still conscious for a while but she was struggling breathing. Then she passed out, probably from the concussion.There was internal bleeding in her abdomen but the surgeon treated that and the twins are safe. Yrene was in the OR as well.” Malcolm explained while Rowan sat beside him, head hung low “The head injury was far less serious than thought. The concussion is still quite bad but the neurologist cleared her but they need to keep her under observation for all the reasons I mentioned.” Rowan heard Malcolm chuckle “At least being strong headed has its perks.” Rowan squeezed the hand back. “She is in the ICU and currently still intubated and unconscious. She is not out of the woods yet and that’s why she will stay in intensive care for a few days probably. Her being pregnant means we need to tackle things differently to avoid causing harm to the twins.” Malcolm explained and felt Rowan hand shake in his “when they brought her in…” he looked away “I felt as if someone had just kicked me in the guts.” Rowan noticed his voice shaking as well “I do this every day, but when they bring in someone you know, it gets impossible to think straight. All my years of medical and military training went down the drain for an instant. I could not move or act.” “Thank you.” Rowan’s words were a whisper. “I know how it feels…” the man said “To be on the other side. To wait for news…I lost my partner and I didn’t even get to see him because we were continents apart. I know the heart shattering pain behind the call. I took me a while to get the courage to call you. And Aelin…” Malcolm’s voice was on the verge of breaking “she is my best friend. I spent the last three hours camped in front of the door to the OR. It’s a miracle they haven’t kicked me out.” “Thank you.” Rowan had no strength for anything else. “We can go and see her if you want.” The man said standing up. Rowan did not move “we had a fight this morning.” He confessed with a weak voice “a really, really bad one. She was not at her greatest and I told her it was time for her to ask for maternity leave and screw the hospital. She did not like it. We fought. We told each other things we did not mean. She left the house so mad at me. I did not kiss her or told her I loved her.” He looked up at Malcolm “and all I have been thinking is that if I loose her I could not live with the regret that those had been our last words. And it’s killing me.” Malcolm sat back down beside him. “She knows you love her.” Mal placed a hand on Rowan’s knee “and I have been telling her to go on maternity leave for a while and I believe Yrene has been doing the same. I have tried taking over her on difficult cases and stopped her from doing surgery. But she is stubborn and you know it. And I had fights too. You are not the only one. She told she did not become a doctor to sit behind a desk. But I have been keeping an eye on her and probably the entire staff. She hasn’t been well.” Rowan sighed “we had a trip to the A&E in Glasgow.” He admitted. “By the time she recovers from this it will be time for her to deliver the twins.” Malcolm stood again “let’s go.” Rowan froze. He wasn’t sure if he was ready. Then he sighed and stood and dried his eyes with the back of his hand “Let’s go and annoy her for making us worry.” Malcolm laughed and for a moment Rowan relaxed as well until he stopped in front of the closed door of her room in the ICU ward. He put a hand on the handle and froze. He was now alone. Malcolm had to go back to his job but had promised to go and visit. Rowan was terrified of what was on the other side of the door. “Are you okay?” Asked a nurse at his side when she noticed him immobile in front of the door. “Yeah. I am just…” he noticed his hand shake. He was about to add something when a familiar voice called his name, he turned and noticed Yrene walking toward him. “Malcolm told me he phoned you.” She stopped in front of him. “How….? “I was in the OR. I checked on her. We thought for a moment we had to deliver the twins but we managed to avoid it. Still too early. But they are fine now. She is fine. She is strong.” Rowan hugged the woman “Thank you.” It seemed as if that we the only sentence he could utter. “I assume you are here to see her.” He nodded. “I can come in with you if it helps.” Rowan stared at the door “Please.” He wasn’t sure he could make it in the room on his own. Yrene opened the door and he paused before following. And when he saw her he froze on the spot and almost felt sick. She looked so small in the hospital bed. Her colour was off and her blonde hair looked dull. Heavy bandage covered one side of her head. A tube attached to a machine made sure she breathed properly a small one, a feeding tube probably, sneaked out of her nose, cables connected the pads monitoring her heart beat and plastic tubes connected the needles on her hand to the IV bag at her side. The he noticed the cuts and bruises on her arms and on her face. “Paramedics said she is alive because she was wearing a seat belt. The firefighters had to pry the car door open to extract her.” explained Yrene. Rowan heard the woman speak at his side. “It looks like she lost control of the car due to the heavy rain.” Malcolm had omitted those details and looking at her he realised how close he had been to loose the three of them. He could not breathe. He left the room and leaned against the wall trying to stop a panic attack from striking. “Rowan…” said Yrene placing a hand on his arm “I am sorry I didn’t mean…” Rowan slid down until he was crouching and he let the tears and the sobs go. “I almost…” he sobbed “I almost lost the three of them.” He finally allowed himself to fully shed the tears he had stopped before. “She is my everything.” He looked up at Yrene “the three of them. I…” his voice broke and he kept on sobbing while the doctor was kneeling in front of him. He started hyperventilating and Yrene placed a hand on his shoulder “Rowan. Look at me. You are having a panic attack.” She took both of his hands “Breath in and out. Do it with me.” And together they did it and after a while Rowan felt like himself again and started breathing normally once more. With the back of his hand he brushed away the tears and took one final deep breath. “I am sorry…” “For what? For crying? There is nothing wrong with it.” He nodded and stood. “Thank you.” He gave her another hug and eventually he got back in the room. He grabbed the chair and sat down beside Aelin and grabbed her bandaged hand into his. He sat in silence, listening to the storm raging outside and the steady beeping of the machines. Below it, there was another one giving a stranger sound and he assumed that was the babies heartbeat. He placed his free hand on the bump “Hi you three…” and kissed the bump and he felt a kick. That was a good sign “I have been so scared. I almost lost you all and the idea almost broke me.” He lifted her hand to his mouth “thank you for listening to me. I know that the seat belt while pregnant makes you uncomfortable but thank you for listening to this paranoid old man.” Tears were flowing again and he started singing Every River to her “there is no way without you…” he whispered again once he was finished. “I am sorry for this morning.” He kissed her hand again letting his tears streak along his cheeks “I am so sorry. I just wanted you to slow down and look after yourself. I don’t want to control your life.” He leaned his head against the bed and his shoulders shook with the sobs “I love you. I love you. You are my everything and I promise I will be a better man. I promise I will be worthy of you.” He squeezed her hand “Just don’t leave me, please.” He remained in that position for a time that felt like an eternity, talking to her and begging her forgiveness for his bad temper until he heard a knock and Lysandra appeared on the door. He lifted his head, eyes still puffy. He looked at Lysandra and realised her face probably matched his. Once he had an update on Aelin he had phoned Lys to explain what happened. He had left the shop like a madman. “Hey,” “Hi.” He managed, his voice still gruff. Lysandra waited on the doorstep but with his head he gestured to her to come in. “I will not stay long. I am not allowed in technically. I am not family.” “She would want you here.” His voice was flat and devoid of all emotions. “How is she? They?” Then as an instinct she went to the bottom of the bed and grabbed her chart. Far better than let Rowan retell her everything. The man looked like a wreck. “Looks like they have done a good job,” and placed the chart back. Lysandra moved a step closer to him and placed a hand on his shoulder squeezing. They both stood there in silence until Lysandra spoke “I really need to go.” She added “I closed the shop as usual. You don’t worry about it for the next few days. I’ll look after it. You need to stay with her, okay?” Lysandra’s words were said through sobs. Rowan stood and hugged her. “Look after her, please.” “Always.” He replied, brushing her tears away. Lysandra left and Rowan went back to his seat. He wished he had comforted the woman a bit more but he could barely think. So he relaxed and hoped Lysandra would understand. A doctor came in a few times and he gave him an update telling him that they were planning to keep her in the ICU for a few more days. He explained that she was not out of the woods just yet. As good news he told him that they were planning to remove the ventilator the following morning. Her oxygen levels had improved significantly and it was safe to let her breathe on her own. Rowan allowed himself to sigh relieved.

He had spent the entire night on the chair and when Rowan woke up the following morning by the noise of the nurses going about their job he felt stiff and sore. “I am sorry,” he apologised to one of the nurses “I fell asleep last night.” He turned to Aelin and noticed the tube was gone and looked at the woman. “The doctor removed it this morning. She is breathing with no problems and her oxygen levels are stable and good and there is no risk for the babies either. Their heartbeat is quite strong. Dr. McIver was in as well and he gave her a check up.” Then the nurse went to check her IV “her edema is improving as well. The doctor declared that her neurological responses are all normal. They are keeping her sedated a little longer to allow the body to rest.” Rowan almost hugged the nurse “They will be fine. She might have to stay in the hospital a little bit but they are okay.” She said affectionately “I will come back later. If you need anything I am here.” “Is it okay if I bring her own clothes? She must be uncomfortable with the hospital gown.” “Let me know when you are back and I will help you change her. She has tubes and all sorts of things attached to her.” Rowan nodded and the nurse left him. He leaned forward and kissed Aelin on the cheek “I am coming back soon. I am going to get you a few of my t-shirts and your nice comfy trousers.” Another kiss “I love you.”

When he came back two hours later he noticed Malcolm on the chair he had previously occupied. “Hi Mal.” The man stood in a swift motion “The doctor gave me an update, looks like she will be okay after all.” Rowan nodded “they removed the respirator.” “That is always a good sign.” Explained Malcolm “I sneaked a look at her chart and the test are all good and her neurological functions are perfect which was my fear. The head injury looked far more serious than what it turned out to be.” Rowan dropped the bag on the floor “Yeah, that’s what the doctor said.” “Have you eaten? Have you slept here all night?” Rowan nodded “On the chair and yes I had a quick bite at home.” “I can get you coffee, food, let me know okay?” “Mal,” Rowan asked quietly “Why is her head bandaged that way if the injury wasn’t serious?” “Rowan, every single head injury can be problematic. All I saw when she came in was her head covered in blood and a deep and long gash. That’s why I feared. But it looks like it was not deep enough to damage the skull and the swelling was minimal. It’s for protection. She will have stitches.” “Thanks.” He sighed “I keep fearing the worst. And all the bandages make it look terrifying.” “Do you trust me?” Rowan nodded. “I know that between the tubes, cables and machinery it might seem bad, but that’s the scary side of ICU. They want her here another day because before moving her, they want to be extra sure everything is okay.” “Thanks.” Then Malcolm chuckled “I am waiting for her to wake up and starting giving orders to nurses and doctors.” Rowan let out a gentle chuckle. The sound still felt alien. Malcolm pager went off “Aaaand I have to go.” He gave Aelin a kiss on the cheek and left. Rowan went to call the nurse and with her help they got Aelin into more comfortable clothes. “Thank you for the help.” Once the nurse was away he sat back down and grabbed a book “I brought our favourite book. I know angst is not what you want just now but I might read some of your favourite parts.” And gently he deposited a kiss on her head. Rowan kept reading all the way through the afternoon and once he was finished he placed the book on the nightstand and grabbed her hand in his “do you remember when I was the one who got in an accident and you had to pretend you were my wife?” He chuckled “it felt really nice to be your fake husband for a few hours.” He brushed her cheeks with the back of his hand, then his hand moved down to the bump and lowered the blankets enough to expose a bit of her belly and deposit a kiss on it. “Hi girls. I hope you are okay and keeping mum some company. She really needs you right now.” A small kick against his hand “I know, I am scared too,” another kick and Rowan finally found again the strength to let a small laugh go “I know, I love you too.”

It was two days later when Rowan was told by the doctor that they were happy to finally move her out of the ICU. They had explained that she had been stable enough that she did not need the ICU anymore. Yrene had further explained that they were going to move her in a room in the maternity ward. The pregnancy was the only thing that needed to be kept under control and Yrene wanted to have her under constant observation. “We are also removing the sedation. Which means she will slowly wake up. She will be groggy and with a monumental headache, but I expect her to wake up within a couple of hours.” “Are the girls okay?” Yrene leaned against the edge of the bed “She hit one side of her belly. It did not damage the uterus or the placenta but a trauma like this can cause what we call placental abruption, which means that the placenta detaches partially or completely from the uterine wall. A severe case can lead to death. I am checking her quite regularly to make sure nothing develops.” She explained to him “But when she gets discharged I want her on bed rest. She is not going back to work, she will only be allowed to get out to bed to pee. And I am not joking.” “I have been telling her to ask for early maternity leave for a while and I think Malcolm had been pestering her as well.” “Glad to know we are on the same side on this.” Yrene left and he sat on the bed beside her, one hand in hers and the free one on the bump “Did you hear Yrene? We are putting you under house arrest. But don’t worry, I’ll bring you books, I’ll cook and do anything you need. We’ll make a nice cocoon of the bed and have Netflix ready for you to binge watch when you are too tire to read.” He kissed her head “you scared the hell out of me, Fireheart. I thought I was going to lose you and the girls and and I almost went mad with grief.” He realised he had fallen asleep only much later when he felt a gentle pressure on the hand that was still holding Aelin’s. His heart raced all of a sudden. “Aelin, move your finger again if you hear me.” The movement this time was a bit more pronounced and he saw the finger bend against his hand. “Fireheart…” he called her. Slowly he saw her eyes flutter open. Her beautiful blue eyes staring at him. “Aelin…” he repeated with a broken voice. She looked at him and gave him a very faint and weak smile. She tried to speak but Rowan stopped her. “You were intubated. Your throat must be on fire.” He grabbed a glass of water “drink a little.” He brought the glass to her mouth and she drank. “What…” “You had an accident. You had surgery and had been out for three days. You also injured you head with a bad concussion.” He caressed her head “you got stitches and the doctor said you might experience headaches. You were in the ICU for three days but now they moved you to the maternity ward.” At those words Aelin’s eyes filled with terror. “The twins are fine. Yrene feared they might have to deliver early but in the end there was no need. But she is keeping you under observation for a pathology connected to the placenta. I don’t remember the term she used. “Placental…” she croaked “abruption.” Rowan nodded and took her hand when he saw terror in her blue eyes “You are fine for now. Yrene is just being very careful.” And at those words Aelin relaxed a bit. “You freaked out Malcolm.” Confessed Rowan trying to lighten the mood. “No way.” “You did. Big time. That’s how bad it was.” Rowan sat beside her on his chair and again took her hand “Lys was here very briefly. I am keeping her in the loop and she has been keeping the shop open.” Aelin gave him a tight smile. He then leaned forward and kissed her gently on her lips “Rest now, please. I will be here. I am not going anywhere.”

It was the middle of the night and Aelin woke up all of a sudden screaming “Rowan!” she shouted. He was awake in a second and noticed her distress. He turned on the light “What happened? Are you okay?”He then noticed Aelin was shaking visibly. In an instant he was sitting on the bed at her side and he pulled her up to him. Aelin kept shaking and started crying. “Let me out.” She started sobbing against his chest and Rowan’s heart broke. “Aelin, you are safe. It’s me. You are safe the girls are safe.” She shook her head and the shaking got worse and her breathing became laboured. “Let me out,” she screamed again, the panic thick in her voice. Yrene was in the room in an instant “I heard her scream.” Then she folded forward holding her bump. Rowan moved away and let Yrene work. “Aelin, I need you to try and breathe slowly for me.” She took a belt like device that was abandoned on her nightstand and tied it around Aelin’s waist. The monitor returned the heartbeat of the babies and it was not good. “Aelin, I need you to relax. It’s not good for the twins.” Rowan took a step forward and went to Aelin’s side. He pulled her head to his chest and held her close and started singing Every River to her and slowly she calmed down, her breathing returning to normal. For the babies it took a bit longer but once they were in the clear Yrene left them again. “I am sorry.” She blurted, her hands still shaking a bit. “No, mo chridhe, don’t apologise.” He grabbed her hand and kissed it. He had a feeling he would wake up with nightmares too for a while.

In the morning, while Aelin slept, Rowan had gone home, took a shower and grabbed a few more clothes for her and when he got back he found her in company of Malcolm. The two were laughing and the sound warmed his heart. “You should be resting,” was what he said as he entered the room. The bandages on her arms, the cuts and the bruises on her face and body made her look worse for wear. “He’s right,” said Malcolm standing “And I have to go back to work.” He kissed Aelin on the cheek and disappeared through the door. Aelin wanted to protest but she realised she had no energy. “I brought you clean clothes,” he put the bag on the floor and took out a clean t-shirt. Aelin smiled at him and he helped her remove the t-shirt she had on and replaced with a clean one. “It smells like you.” “Good,” he added kissing her forehead “How are you feeling?” “Tired, my head hurts and my so does my body and the food sucks.” She commented “As I doctor I never bothered but now that I am a patient I can see that food really is bad.” “Do you want me to get you something?” He sat on the bed beside her. “Yes please. A slice of chocolate cake from your aunt would be amazing to cheer me up.” Then she patted her bump “the girls want it.” “Using our daughters to satisfy your sugar needs is not very motherly.” “Rowan Whitethorn, I’ll sell you to the highest bidder for a chocolate cake.” “I love you,” he told her while pressing a gentle kiss on her lips.

When he got back to the room he found her talking to their daughters. “I bring chocolate.” “Come here you.” She extended her arms greedily. “I am starting to think you love chocolate cake more than me.” He joked. It felt good to to it again after the horror that his life has been in the past few days. “Of course, Buzzard. You have an aunt who provides amazing chocolate delicacies. Do you really think I fell for you for your charming personality?” He scoffed and left the room with the bag carrying the cake still in his hands. “Rowan.” She shouted “I am recovering, don’t you have a bit of compassion for a poor lady stuck in bed?” He popped his head in the room “Lady? I don’t see any lady in here.” And he disappeared again and Aelin groaned in frustration. As soon as she could she would get her revenge. Rowan came back a moment later and sat down on the chair in front of her bed. Showed her a fork and opened the cake container and with provocation took a bite of the cake and that was it for him “How can you eat something so sweet?” He said while flinching in disgust. Aelin’s stare was murderous. “Fine, you can have it.” He passed her the cake “You are going to be sick.” “I am not a newbie.” She started eating and felt her mood improve immediately. “Did Yrene spoke to you?” Aelin pretended not to hear him. “Aelin?” He tried to take the cake away from her but she protested. “Did you talk to Yrene?” “Do you want to know if she told me I am on bed rest until the twins arrive? Yes, she did. And Malcolm piled on as well.” “Good.” “And can I hope you will listen to them?” “I have to. Yrene is really preoccupied about placental abruption. She says that in the spot near where the bump took the hit there are warning signs appearing. She also talked about a scheduled delivery at 36 weeks. If no issues arise.” He saw fear in her eyes. Hopefully she would finally slow down “there is so much going on though. The house move is in two weeks and I won’t be able to help or do anything.” He sat on the bed “we have a lot already packed and Aedion and Lysandra have offered to help. You just heal and get better and look after Freyja and Morrigan and leave the house move to me, please.” He caressed her face “You should sleep a bit more, you don’t look well.” Aelin nodded and lay down in bed and Rowan took his seat back on the chair. “Will you stay here with me?” He gave her a kiss “Of course.” “I am sorry….” He lowered his head. “Why?” He could not look at her “The other morning, what I said. I was just so angry.” Aelin leaned forward and ran a hand through his silvery hair “Ro, I said horrible things too. We are both at fault. We both have bad tempers and no filters. And I regret very single word I said.” She leaned back against the pillow. She was exhausted but they needed closure on that fight “You were just trying to look after me. And you were right. I was not well I should have stayed at home. But I am stubborn and well… we know how it ended.” He finally looked at her and he felt his eyes get wet again “I thought…” a deep breath “While you were still in surgery I kept thinking that the last words I told you were out of a fight. I let you go without telling you I love you or a kiss. I almost went crazy with grief.” He took another deep breath “I love you. I love you. I love you.” He repeated almost to make up for all the times he did not have time to say it. “I want to be worthy of you. Of our daughters.” He confessed lowering his head in apology. “Rowan, mo chridhe, you are worthy.” Her fingers ran under his chin and lifted his head to look at her “You are my wonderful man.” Aelin extended her arms “Come here.” Rowan stood and sat beside her in bed and buried himself in her embrace and with his head in the crook of her neck he breathed in her scent “I know you don’t want to control my life.” Her hand brushed his back “I can’t believe that for a moment I compared you to Chaol.” She kissed her head and his arms tightened around her and as he leaned closer he felt a kick against his abdomen and a chuckle left him. “Our daughters are trying to put their two pence worth.” Aelin smiled against his head and continued “Ro, I know a relationship where a fight ends up in a contest to see who can be more hurtful and neither actually regrets the words. That is not us.” She brushed his long hair “we bicker and sometimes we fight as well, but never with the intent of hurting the other. And if I am nasty to you I regret it immediately and I know you do too.” Rowan looked up at her and kissed her deeply and Aelin leaned in into the kiss and when they pulled apart they were both breathless. “Plus, I need to keep being in your good books. You bring me cake.” Aelin laughed and Rowan kissed her again “I am happy to bring you cake forever.” “We should put it in the wedding vows.” He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand “We will, but for now rest.” Aelin nodded and ten minutes later she was fast asleep.

It was ten days later when Yrene decided to finally discharge Aelin and Rowan was in full fuss mode. “I got all the papers. We are ready to go.” He said as he brought the wheelchair in the room. He helped Aelin to get in it and then grabbed her bags with the clothes. Aelin said goodbye to the nurses and they finally left the hospital. The fresh June air hit her and after almost two weeks inside a hospital bedroom she welcomed the smell of summer. When they got to the car he noticed Aelin tensed. “Will you be okay?” “Is not that I have any other options. Plus, you are a good driver. I will be fine.” He helped her in the car and Aelin closed her eyes and pretended she was somewhere else. They were half way home when Aelin shouted at Rowan “Stop the car.” Slowly he found a safe spot to pull over and turned to her. In her face he saw utter panic. “Ae, I am going as slowly as legally possible, but we have to get home.” “I know,” she breathed, as the tried to stop herself from being sick “Give me five minutes.” He lowered the windows and let the fresh air fill the car. Then he got out of the car and went to her side and opened the door. He took her hand and pulled her out of the seat and in front of the car and off the road. He hugged, letting her lean completely on him. “What are you doing?” “Distracting you.” He kissed her. She snuggled against his chest and inhaled his pine scent “it’s working.” “Good.” “Kiss me again.” And he did that and felt Aelin relax in his arms “I think we can go home now.” Rowan nodded and helped her go back to her seat. Once inside Aelin started playing with the mp3 player “I think we need a good soundtrack for the last part of the journey,” and she blasted Peat and Diesel “and that’s the way we do it in the Western Isles.” She started singing. Rowan laughed and sang with her. Music had helped her not think about her fear and they made it back home without any further episodes. Once they got in the house Aelin was not prepared for the amount of boxes lying around. “You have been busy I see. When did you do this?” “While I was at home.” “So instead of relaxing you came home and packed?” Rowan nodded. “The bookcases looks sad without books.” “I know, but they are all packed now. That was the worst part. I donated a lot to a charity shop.” She glared at him. “Just my books. I haven’t touched yours. I actually had books that I did not care keeping and it helped. Just a little.” “Once we are in the new house I’ll do the same. I am positive that there are books I don’t want to keep.” Then she stood from the sofa where she had collapsed seated. “I need a shower. A real shower. I feel gross.” “Go,” he said “Are you hungry?” Aelin nodded eagerly. “Good, I’ll make lunch.” She turned to him and kissed his lips “you are the man of my dreams.” Rowan laughed and walked away to the kitchen. When she got to the kitchen half an hour later she noticed Rowan all busy cooking. “Nice shower?” “You have no idea.” She tried to take a seat at the high chairs at the kitchen aisle but failed. “Go to the living room and sit on the sofa, we are eating there.” “Thank you. I hate these things. Why can’t you have normal chair like everyone?” He kissed her “Because I have a kitchen island and a normal chair will not do. When I went for a fancy kitchen I had not taken into account that one day I’d have a pregnant woman in the house.” “Fine.” Aelin waddled all the way back to the living room and plopped exhausted on the sofa “You will need a forklift to remove me from here.” The sound of Rowan’s laugh echoed through the house. Not long after he arrived and placed the plates on the coffee table and passed one to Aelin. She placed it on her belly and smiled at him “my bump is the perfect tray.” Rowan scoffed and went back to his lunch “I was thinking something…” “That’s dangerous.” “Hear me out.” “Go on.” Said Aelin taking another bite of the amazing stir fry he had made. “I was thinking that once we are in the new house we could invite your mother to stay with us for a while.” He stopped with a finger as soon as he noticed she was poised to fight him “I need to be at the bookstore. But I don’t like the idea of leaving you at home alone. I can take the odd day off but there is a lot I have to do and I can’t dump everything on Lys. If you mother is here she could help. And when the twins come… she could help us a bit more. I have read all those books on parenting, but reading and doing it’s not the same and I don’t want to mess up, So…” “I think it’s a great idea.” Aelin admitted looking at him “Mum has already offered to help and she’d be happy to come here.” “You are not mad.” “Why would I? I agree. You need to go back to work. I am the one stuck at home. And mom will be able to help with the twins.” “Okay. Good.” And he smiled relived. When Aelin eventually fell asleep on the sofa later on he placed a blanket on her and lifted her feet on the sofa so that she would be in a comfortable position. He stroked her hair and the her bump “You three rest.” And in silence he went back packing.

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#rowaelin #rowanwhitethorn #aelin galythinius #rowan x aelin #fanfic #throneofglassseries #angst #fluff

[neopuff]

title: sleep ship: six/holiday word count: ~1600 summary: Six finds Holiday after the events of Plague. ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29835984

As soon as the virus was contained, Six opened his eyes wide and sat up with a start. He looked around himself to see Bobo asleep and several other officers slowly waking up. Memories flooded back as he thought back to the events from when he was last conscious - he’d been suddenly tired, more tired than ever, and fell asleep against Holiday’s lab desk - but somehow he’d been moved to the medical ward and there didn’t seem to be any doctors on duty. Where was Holiday? And where was Rex?

He hopped off the bed and quickly rushed towards the command center, hoping to find someone awake and useful enough to explain what the situation was. He forced himself to stop thinking about the worst possible situation and chose to focus on the facts: he fell asleep and then woke up in a different place surrounded by a ton of confused people who were also waking up. Not much to gauge from that.

The command center doors opened and Six was greeted by the sight of Providence employees grumbling and looking aimless and lost - clearly having just woken up at their desks and not knowing what was going on.

Even stranger than that - the camera for White Knight’s office was on, and it showed that he...wasn’t home. Six didn’t know what that meant, but he knew it wasn’t good. He quickly reached towards his ear to reach someone, but his comm wasn’t in. He huffed and glanced around the room to see if there was someone else’s he could grab, but suddenly his eyes landed on an all too familiar face.

And she was still fast asleep while everyone else seemed to be waking up.

Six rushed over to Holiday and reached out two fingers to her neck to feel her pulse as he assessed her situation. Her pulse seemed completely normal, she was snoring slightly, she had heavy bags under her eyes and strange bruises forming at her temples. What the hell happened while he was out?

He reached towards her ear and grabbed her comm, popping it in his own and pressing down. “Rex? Knight? Is anyone there?”

A short buzz. “Oh, hey Six! How’s it going?”

“How’s it-?! What happened? Where are you? Where’s Knight?”

Rex grunted and Six swore he heard the sound of metal scraping against metal. “Ahh, you know. Sleeping plague that didn’t affect EVOs so White the Nanite-less Wonder and I had to work together and save everyone. Go figure, huh?”

Six raised an eyebrow and glanced down at Holiday. She was twitching a bit and he felt an unshakable urge to lay his hand on her cheek and try to calm her down. He fought that urge valiantly. “So he’s with you?”

“Yeah. Hey Knight, wakey-wakey! Say good morning to Six!”

Six listened to a few grunting noises before the familiar baritone filled his ears. “Six. Is everyone waking up?”

“Everyone but Holiday,” he answered with an edge of worry. “Why isn’t she waking up? Is something wrong with her? Should I-?”

“Whoa, whoa, Six! Calm down!” Rex interrupted, and Six could practically see the kid waving his hands around to exaggerate. “She only fell asleep a few hours ago, just let her rest.”

“How did she-”

“Holiday kept herself awake so she could do her job, unlike some agents.”

Six grunted and held back a comment on how Knight sounded like he was barely awake himself.

“Why don’t you take her to her room, Six? She shocked her brain so many times she’ll probably be out for a week!”

The ninja didn’t respond - he just pressed the comm and kept it tucked in his ear in case they needed to contact him again. He looked down and finally noticed the two suction cups dangling on wires from the top of her lab coat. He followed the wire to her pocket and pulled out a small box.

He wasn’t an engineer by any means, but this device combined with what Rex said earlier painted an obvious picture. Six laid the device down on the desk Holiday had been sleeping against and realized he was finally losing the fight against himself - he reached out his hand and laid it against the side of her head, his thumb tingling against the circular bruise on her temple.

“Holiday…” he mumbled, wanting to scold her but knowing she did what she needed to do.

“Agent Six?” a voice behind him spoke, and Six quickly removed his hand from the doctor before turning around.

“What?”

“What’s...what’s going on?”

Six scanned the area and noticed that pretty much everyone in the room was staring at him. He wondered if they were watching the entire time, but shook it off - it didn’t matter. “All non-EVOs have been asleep for over 50 hours. They’ll be people everywhere that need our help to fix this, so start reaching out!”

The soldiers and scientists saluted and went to work, while Six glanced down at Holiday who was still looking absolutely miserable. He knew what he had to do and hated the publicity of it, but...this was Holiday and she needed him. If she slept like that any longer she’d wake up without being able to move her neck.

So without any further hesitation, Six reached his arms down and hoisted her up, bridal style, letting her head fall against his chest. Her snoring got a little louder as he adjusted her and he had to stop himself from thinking back to the last time he caught her asleep at a desk.

He shuffled out of the room without so much as a second glance at the other agents, taking his time walking towards the dorms so as to not accidentally wake Holiday up. He stole a glance at her face and felt temporarily captivated - her hair was sticking out every which way and her eyes kept twitching and he wondered how she was able to get those shockers on her head before succumbing to the sleeping plague like everyone else. She really was amazing.

Without realizing it, he’d reached her door, and Six lifted his hand up as best as he could to punch in her four-digit passcode that she’d trusted him with several years earlier. He used his elbow to turn on a low light to make his way towards Holiday’s bed and gently laid her down before getting ready to take his leave.

He paused, however, and got distracted by the bruises on her temple again. He admired her dedication and was grateful that it was probably thanks to her that everyone was safe, but there was this stupid tick at the back of his mind that said she shouldn’t have had to do that.

Six’s thumb brushed against her temple again and he sat on the edge of her bed, feeling oddly calmed by the sound of her snoring.

Holiday rotated in her sleep and suddenly his hand was cradling her cheek, his thumb hovering just under her eye. She looked so tired.

Tired, but beautiful, he heard in the back of his mind, and huffed out a loud breath of exasperation. He wasn’t trying to deny it, he just didn’t need to think about that at the moment.

Somehow, that exhale must’ve reached Holiday in ways that all the noises of Providence hadn’t, because she rapidly blinked up at him and Six tore his hand away like it was burning.

“Holiday, I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“Six!” she shouted suddenly, leaning forward and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Thank God you’re alright!”

Six stiffened on instinct, though a little part of him desperately wanted to wrap his arm around her waist and hold her tight against him. He was worried sick after seeing her asleep for ten minutes - he couldn’t imagine how she must’ve felt seeing everyone she cared about knocked out for two days straight.

Holiday backed away and moved her hands up to the sides of his face. “How do you feel?” She broke a few unspoken boundary rules of theirs and grabbed his sunglasses with one hand - pushing them up and revealing his eyes - then stretching the skin under his eyes with her other hand in her typical check-up routine. “Sick? Anxious? Well-rested? Anything?”

He shook his head and grabbed the sunglasses to pop them back into place. “I’m fine, Doctor. Rex, too. It seems like we’re all okay for the time being.”

She moved her hands down his face, holding them against his jaw with a surprising level of confidence. “Good,” she mumbled, staring up at him like he was the most important person in the world. “Good.”

Six, ignoring the warm feeling in his chest, reached up and wrapped his hands around her wrists, gently pulling them down to her lap. “You should go back to sleep, Holiday.”

“No, no,” she said against a quiet yawn. “I’ve had a few hours, that’ll be enough to keep me going while I-”

“Holiday,” he interrupted sternly, one of his hands cupped against her temple again. “Trust me when I say this: you’ve done enough. Too much, even.”

She lifted up one of her hands to brush his away from her head. “You don’t know what it was like, Six. It was terrifying enough when you suddenly fell asleep, but then...it was so quiet. I had to do something.”

He kept his hands to himself, but his eyes still focused on those little spots. “I know. But now it’s done and you need to go back to sleep.”

“But-”

Six leaned over and shoved against her arms, receiving almost no pushback as he laid her down on her bed.

“If you were anyone else…” she mumbled as her eyelids closed. “...I’d be mad about this…”

Six huffed and smiled the tiniest little smile. “Then it’s a good thing I’m me.”

“...yeah,” Holiday responded quietly, sounding like she was pretty much completely back to sleep. “...it is.”

#generator rex #holix #agent six #dr. holiday #rebecca holiday #carrofics #yeah i wrote genrex fic in 2021 thats how its gonna BE