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astranva · 3 years

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Falling Duet

Word Count: 2.4k

Category: Fluff but it’s so 🥺

Warning: Nothing

Request: harry dating singer!reader: he has to perform at some awards and he invites her to sing with him but no one else knows? love your writing🤧❤

Summary: You and Harry sing an unreleased version of Falling at an award show.

The lyrics used are of “Falling (other POV)” by THE cutie, Ally Naso 🤍

// masterlist //

**reposted bc tumblr is messing up the tags & nobody can view it. sigh.

It all started when a friend of yours had recorded you singing in your school’s bathroom during senior year.

7 years ago, you wouldn’t have believed it if somebody told you that you would be a 13-time Grammy nominated artist, as well as having 6 of that very award sitting on your shelf at your childhood home – one for Best Artist, and one for Album of the year.

You would have laughed even.

But it wasn’t a joke nor was it a dream you wished to never wake up from; it was as real as life could be.

You were successful in the industry and if any of your fans were asked, they would say that it was because of your immense talent and unproblematic, empathetic, kind character.

It was one of the many reasons why so many people on the internet had shipped you with a certain English man, him having been only 20 when you went viral and got signed.

A year into the industry, it was one day when you remember your Twitter notifications going crazy;

“HARRY STYLES JUST SAID HE LOVES YOUR MUSIC AND THINKS YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL”

“omg pls tell us you watched 1d’s interview with jimmy kimmel”

“IT’S FINALLY HAPPENING! CAN YOU PLEASE BE TOGETHER ALREADY???”

Looking back at that memory, you remember how you were a shaking and overwhelmed mess as you had clicked on the link everybody was sending you.

The video had begun with the audience cheering as the camera was on Jimmy and the 5 men near him.

And there he sat; in a black suit with a white shirt underneath, medium-length hair looking like he had run his fingers through many times, his hands clasped as he looked at Jimmy.

“Who’s most likely to let a woman split the band?” Jimmy had asked.

They had looked at each other, not answering for a moment before Niall chimed in with a laugh as he pointed at Harry, “Harry would let his celebrity crush do that.”

Harry rolled his eyes jokingly as his bandmates agreed and laughed, slapping his hands against his thighs in feigned annoyance.

“Who is that? Who’s your celebrity crush?”

“Just this talented person.” He had tried to smile his way through the question, but no one was having it.

“You know Y/N Y/L/N? She’s an amazing singer,” Louis told Jimmy.

“Y/N!” Jimmy beamed, “We had her on the show two weeks ago.”

“Yeah, he watched that.” Liam had gestured towards Harry.

Hiding his face in his hands for a moment, the audience cheered as his friends continued to laugh.

“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Jimmy asked Harry in a teasing manner.

Having had decided to get it over with, Harry nodded as he clasped his hands together again, “She’s very talented and beautiful.”

“Lovie, can you help me with the necklace? My nails are still drying.”

You looked up from your place on the couch, sitting in your long dress looking so beautiful that Harry had lost track of time of getting into his own suit because he was too busy giving you a photoshoot on his phone.

Standing up, you reached and clasped his necklace for him, dusting his shoulders to signal that you were done.

Turning, you were met with your boyfriend of 4 years beaming at you before he leaned to press his lips against yours.

“You look so good.” You smiled up at him, “So beautiful.”

“Have to try to catch up with how you look tonight,” he replied with a wide smile, “Nervous?”

“Not really.” You admitted.

Amusingly and completely and utterly in love, Harry tilted his head slightly, “Any reason why you’re not? You usually hate those.”

It was true. You didn’t really like award shows because of how tiresome all the process was; hair, makeup, dressing up, walking only to pause every second, the repeated questions you have been answering for years, how more judgmental the world was on nights like these.

But it was always when Harry was able to be by your side that you liked the night, and the tall man knew it, but he had always loved hearing you say it.

To feed his ego, you wrapped your arms around his neck, “Because you’ll be there.”

“Music to my ears.” He joked, shaking his head slightly.

“Just feeding that already overfed ego of yours, baby.”

“Excuse you.” He pecked your lips, “Let me add food for Evie then we can leave.”

“I’ll do it, don’t mess up your nails.” You patted his chest before moving away to attend to your cat.

The fans and reporters all had anticipated the moment of yours and boyfriend’s arrival, and the both of you knew it.

You were fairly private with your relationship. While everyone knew you were together, the both of you didn’t always post about one another but when you did, it went viral – something you and Harry, shamelessly, enjoyed.

It was why during moments like this, everyone was eager. Reporters were hungry for content, all having different intentions, but you spend enough time in the industry and you sort of begin knowing what to say and how to say it.

Harry was scheduled to perform, something everyone knew of, but it was the fact that you were joining him not on the red carpet, but on stage that they didn’t.

Getting out of the car together, the screams and flashing lights were then doubled.

Harry closed the door behind you with a polite smile to the security standing. Bending a little, he adjusted your dress’s short train for you as you looked back at it before you looked up at him.

As if they weren’t snapping pictures like crazy yet, you reached and fixed Harry’s hair at the front, his eyes looking up with a smile as you did so.

“Thanks, love.”

With that, Harry placed his arm around your waist as you walked to the first spot on the red carpet.

“When was the last time we appeared together? They’re going mad.” You whispered, looking at Harry as he smiled to the cameras.

He chuckled, looking at you, “I think we deprive them too much.”

“Let’s give them enough content to last a year.”

Nobody but the both of you knew what you meant, and it was why the flashing lights and camera shutter sounds were then tripled the moment Harry’s lips were on yours in a soft kiss.

“Can we sign stuff?” You asked a woman standing on the sides, “Can we see the fans?”

When she nodded at you, you and Harry ignored posing for a few minutes to converse and meet fans.

“I love you and Harry so much!” One fan said shakily as you signed a paper for him.

“Thank yo- Hey! I saw you in Amsterdam last year, right?” You grinned.

And that was another thing not only your fans loved about you, but Harry, too.

You were no stranger to connections. You were no stranger to making people feel seen and treating them in a way that no fan expected to be treated – a friend, and you remember friends.

“Harry, do you think Y/N will win Songwriter of the Year?” A fan asked.

Harry shrugged with a smile, “I hope so but we all know she is anyway.” He waved his hand with a joking manner, making the closest fans laugh.

“What about you? Do you think you’ll win Artist of the Year?”

“I don’t know,” he smiled, “There are so many amazing artists. I wish them all the best.”

“He’s a humble man,” you teased, patting his shoulder, “We all know he is anyway.”

You were confused as they, Harry included, laughed in shock. “What?”

“He literally has just said the same thing about you.”

You laughed, looking at Harry, “Shut up, no way!”

“The both of you have been doing that for years.” One fan commented with a grin, “It’s adorable. It’s like telepathy or something.”

“Oh yeah, we are telepathic,” Harry nodded, “It gets a little scary sometimes.”

“Heeey!” You laughed, “It’s actually helpful. One of us would be just walking at home and we’d look at each other and know that the other just means something like “feed Evie” or “take out the trash””

“This is so cute!”

“Harry, what are you performing tonight?”

“You’ll find out in a bit.” He pointed.

Shortly, you and Harry had to take more pictures and do interviews before you were escorted inside.

It was the little moments that fans also lived for; how Harry held your hand as you sat so discreetly, how the both of you chatted and giggled among one another and those around you, how Harry fist-bumped the air the moment your name was called to receive your award of Songwriter of the Year before kissing you. It was how they knew this was real – how love wasn’t something you only listen people sing about or write novels for.

It was in how Harry’s eyes didn’t move from you as you gave your speech, a wide smile on his face and eyes resembling twinkling stars for crying out loud.

It was in how you ended your speech with: “This is to the man who has inspired and pushed me forward to write every single day. I love you.”

It was in how you looked more nervous than Harry himself when his category was called before you were the first to get out of your seat with a happy “yes!” once they announced that he won.

It was in how Harry cupped your face that moment to kiss you before walking to receive his award.

It was in how you remained standing, those behind you only smiling instead of being annoyed, with your hands clutched together against your heart, tearful eyes, and the brightest smile in the room.

“You’re going to tell me this is cheesy,” Harry chuckled slightly, giving a shrug as he looked at you, “But I wouldn’t be standing here, holding this, if it weren’t for you. I love you, too.”

But then Harry was about to perform and you weren’t in your seat.

The award show had decided to make a skit of it, the host being Miley had held her microphone as she stood in the empty isle beside yours and Harry’s empty seats.

“We know Harry Styles is performing in minutes,” she said, looking at the camera with a playful smile, “But where is Y/N Y/L/N? We know, we know,” she nodded, “Probably backstage for some extra good luck but-” people laughed, causing Miley to pause and chuckle, “But seriously, guys. There’s a show and it must go on.”

“It’s going on.” Harry said from backstage into his mic before the stage went dark.

It wasn’t until piano tunes sounded that the arena grew dim, a spotlight on the piano at the center of the stage where you sat, your fingers gentle against the keys as you played the beginning notes of Falling.

“I'm in my bed,

And you're not here

And there's no one to blame

But the drink in my wandering hands.” Harry sang as he came on stage, holding the mic in his hand before taking a seat beside you.

Everyone had expected him to sing the next verse, but it wasn’t his voice that they then heard.

“I'm in my bed

Instead of yours

Cried to sleep turned off all of lights and locked all of the doors.” You sang, eyes on the piano keys.

“Forget what I said

It's not what I meant

And I can't take it back

I can't unpack the baggage you left.” His eyes were on you, body turned slightly towards you as he felt like the both of you were in your living room in front of your white piano.

“I replay what you said

Don’t know if it’s true

Left with two broken hearts and there’s nothing that we could undo.” You sang, closing your eyes as you got ready for the chorus.

“What am I now? What am I now?

What if I'm someone I don't want around?

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling.”

“What am I now? What am I now?

Don’t want to cry ‘cause I can’t stand the sound

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling.”

The both of you sang together, your voice being softer and quieter than Harry’s.

“What if I'm down?

What if I'm out?

What if I'm someone you won't talk about?

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling.”

“What if I'm down? What if I'm out?

What if you’re someone I can’t live without?

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling.”

It was a version nobody had heard before, and it was why everyone was quiet, the only sound coming from you, Harry, and your lone instrument.

It was something you had written together following a rough patch of your relationship, and everyone knew that it was more personal with the way the both of you sang.

When his eyes weren’t closed, Harry sang as he looked at you, and he knew that performing this song meant more to the both of you than anyone could imagine. One look at your face and Harry knew you were reliving the night of when the both of you had written this; eyes a little red from crying, bodies hot, Harry wearing a hoodie of yours while you sat in your underwear with his purple fluffy robe on.

“Can I do this alone without ever needing you again?”

“And I get the feeling that you'll never need me again.”

You both sang the bridge together, yours being shorter than Harry’s note as you carried a softer tone, closing your eyes as you played the piano, feeling your throat close up before gulping.

He knew.

It was why the final chorus was sung softer and quieter, Harry’s forehead resting against your temple for a moment as the both of you sang.

“I’m falling again, I’m falling again, I’m falling.” Harry finished, putting his mic down as he stared at you with a small smile, watching you in your element as you played.

Managing to look at him as you played single soft notes, you sang, “I’m falling again, I’m falling again, I’m falling.”

You played the end single notes, looking at Harry with tearful eyes and a bashful smile.

It was like you were unaware to the erupted cheer and round of applause, you threw your arms around Harry, feeling his arms wrap around you instantly.

Crying from the overwhelming emotions, you were thankful your mascara was waterproof. You called it.

“I love you,” Harry whispered in your ear, “I love you so much.”

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot

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tweedlydumbtweedlydoo · 3 years

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Live Stream Murderer (Part 1) | Spencer Reid x reader

Requested by @thatsonezesty13 / Summary: You’re kidnapped by the Live Stream Murderer, who is in search of his soulmate. He tortures the women for 36 hours and whoever lasts that long is in his eyes; his soulmate. Will you make it through the 36 hours of torture?

A/N: Tumblr won’t let me tag you, but I’m sorry for the long wait! I decided to put this into 2 or 3 parts, hope you don’t mind. I hope you enjoy!! xx

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

** Rules for Requesting **

** Who I Write For **

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

You and the team exited the SUV and headed into the hotel. It had been a long and exhausting day for all of you. The day had brought you no closer to finding the unsub. The city sheriff had called the BAU in for help in solving who was behind the live stream murders. So far that hadn’t been another victim since the BAU arrived, but you all figured a victim would be found soon considering he only keeps the women for 36 hours.

You all had nicknamed the unsub, “The Live Stream Murderer.” So far, the only leads you have been what he’d left behind; the videos of the kills. He would torture the women for 36 hours and so far, all of them had died in the end and been dumped. What the BAU hadn’t found out was why this guy was doing this. There were no clues in the videos in why, even Penelope was at a loss.

“Shit.” You muttered as you searched your purse. Did you leave your phone back at the station?

“What’s up?” Spencer had stopped to face you, the rest of the team heading inside.

“My phone.” You groaned, “it’s not in here. I must have left it at the station..”

“Maybe you left it in the car?” Spencer suggests.

“Maybe..” You sigh and glance back at the SUV parked at the corner, “I’ll go check.”

“I’ll go with you.” He kindly offers, “It’s late.”

You waved him off, “No it’s fine. It’ll only take a minute. I’ll be up in a second. Just let JJ know.”

He’s hesitant to leave you, “Okay.. just be careful.” He takes one more glance at the SUV and surrounding areas for any signs of danger. There wasn’t anyone around. He waited at the door to make sure you got to the vehicle safely and then proceeded toward the elevators where the rest of the BAU was waiting.

“Where’s y/l/n?” Rossi asks.

“She couldn’t find her phone, so she went back to the SUV to check.”

Everyone nodded, too tired to even think of what kinds of dangers could be lurking for you around the corner.

“damn it.” You huff in anger at no sign of the phone. “Where the hell..” You bent over to investigate under the passenger seat and spotted the phone. “There you are.” You mutter grabbing it.

He watched from the corner. Your back was to him and you were preoccupied with searching the vehicle to even notice as he approached. He’d seen you on the news this morning and his heart yearned for you. All the other women he’d chosen hadn’t been worthy. They weren’t strong enough to withstand life, withstand the torture and pain he provided. But you, you had potential. He just knew as a BAU agent you were strong. Maybe strong enough to be his soulmate.

His wife had died in a car accident. She’d been the love of his life, but she hadn’t been strong enough to endure the pain. He needed someone to be able to endure the pain so that he wouldn’t have to go through that loss again and you were a potential match.

You’d seen his reflection in the window when you’d shut the door, but it’d been too late; your reflexes were slow and exhausted. He’d grabbed the back of your head and slammed it into the window, leaving a crack the side of your head. You were knocked out instantly.

Spencer’s fingers tapped against his chest as he laid in bed. He wondered if you’d made it back to you and JJ’s room yet.

“Reid.. go to sleep.” Morgan grumbled from the other bed. He was sharing a room with Morgan, which was the usual, “Your finger tapping and foot shaking is distracting.”

“You think she made it back to her room?” Spencer voices his concern, glancing at Morgan.

“I’m sure she’s fine and sleeping peacefully. Like you should be doing.” He groans, turning over.

Spencer sighed before staring up at the ceiling again. He was right. They’d had a long day and sleep was needed right now if they wanted to be sharp and finally catch the Live Stream Murderer. He turned over and tried to sleep, but he couldn’t help the feeling that something was wrong.

The next morning when everyone was to meet in the lobby for breakfast, JJ was already there, but you weren’t.

“Where’s y/n?”

JJ stirred her coffee, “Thought she got up early this morning before I did. She may be in the gym or something.” JJ wasn’t bothered by it. You were usually up before her and she knew you could take care of yourself.

“I’ll go check.” Spencer heads that way but when he arrives at the gym, it’s empty. Don’t panic, Spencer. I’m sure she’s fine. He says to himself.

He hated to think the worst but ever since Maeve, he can’t help it. It had been a method of protecting himself to think the worst first, so he’d be prepared if had come to it. You’d been his saving grace and pulled him from a dark place after it happened. He told himself he wouldn’t pass up another opportunity to tell you how he really feels, but he never found the time right.

“Find her?” Hotch asks, glancing at his watch, “It’s time to go.”

“Gym was empty.”

“Maybe she got an early start at the station?” Rossi offers as they head toward the door.

Spencer pulls his phone out of his bag and dials your number as you all walk toward the SUV. Your cellphone rang nearby.

“I hear her-” Spencer started to say, but he’d stopped and seen what the team did.

There were your belongings on the ground beside the SUV and blood between the cracks in the window, but you were nowhere to be found.

The team had split up to look around the corners and in between buildings but there was no sign of you at all. “I knew I shouldn’t have left her out here alone.” Spencer points to the SUV, “I made sure she made it to the car safe and then I just left. I left her.”

“Kid, you can’t blame yourself for this.” Morgan tries to reason, “It’s not going to help us find her.”

Hotch’s phone rings, “Penelope.” He announces to the team before answering and putting her on speaker, “Hello?”

“t-the live stream! Y/n. She’s on the live stream. It’s everywhere!” Penelope quickly spits out. The team hadn’t had the chance to tell Penelope the news so imagine the shock it gave Penelope when she opened her computers at work to find her best friend plastered all over the internet.

Spencer’s already pulling it onto his phone and he almost wants to vomit at the sight. You were tied to a chair and screaming in pain as a man in a black hood pressed a hot poker into your leg.

“You son of a bitch!” You spit out to him, “I’ll kill you! I swear it!”

There was a small pile of blood under your chair and he could see the knife in the side of your leg, positioned to make sure there wasn’t any major arteries hit.

“oh god.” Penelope cried over the phone.

Hotch, the one who usually was strong and never let anything bother him actually pulled his eyes away from the phone and clinched his eyes shut. To see a member of his team in that kind of position, that kind of torture made him want to vomit. “Garcia, pinpoint the live stream.”

“Y-yes sir.. I’ve been trying all morning but it’s bouncing off everywhere that there isn’t even a small area I can pinpoint it too.”

According to the timer at the bottom of the screen the live stream had been going on for 8 hours. Which meant there was only 28 hours to find you. He just hoped you were strong enough to last through the torture that long.

“We have to find her.” Spencer chokes out, looking up at the team, who wear the same face of disgust and fear for their team member. “I can’t lose someone else.”

Criminal Minds tag list: @thelovelydreamer17 , @la-vie-en-amour1 , @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 , @astra-inclinant-sed-non-obligant (possibly: @astra-x-inclinant) , @bluerose512 , @lolychu , @varsityalthete , @tylers-missing-car-radio

*if your name is crossed out, tumblr is being stupid and won’t let me tag you.

All my works tag list: @blossomreed , @mggstyles , @simonsbluee , @thewolf-and-thesheep , @obxrafejjwhore , @abbiesthings , @itstaskeen , @reniescarlett

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farfromsugafanfic · 3 years

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Sutures - Chapter Four: Urge

Genre: Soulmates AU, Idiots to Lovers, slight Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Yoongi/Named Reader

Warnings (chapter specific): mentions of hickeys, Sumi’s ex is a dick, making out, heavy petting, smut lead up, smut themes

Synopsis: “A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it.” –Jean de la Fontaine

There was only one thing you and Min Yoongi had in common that night. You were both brokenhearted. You only intended to be together for one night, but when you both end up in the hospital the next day you discover that you are soulmates. It could kill you to be apart. As you and Yoongi attempt to sever the bond between you, will another be formed?

Notes: This was originally written and completed on Wattpad between 2018 and the beginning of 2020. I’ll be slowly posting the chapters here. I may make a tag list depending on if enough people want to follow along with updates. Leave me some feedback if you would like added to a tag list.

Previous | Series Masterlist | Next

You hugged Kitty to your chest and made your way to the kitchen. You heard the rustling of pots and pans and Jimin's laughter. Even though you'd only known Jimin for under two days, his laughter quickly become one of your favorite sounds, something that never made you smile. However, most of the time you weren't horrendously hungover.

"Morning," you said, trying to muster a small smile, even though your head was pounding.

Three of the seven boys who lived in the dorm turned to look at you. Yoongi was already sat at the table, scrolling through his phone, a bowl of fruit in front of him. Hoseok was in the kitchen and Jimin sat on the opposite end of the table from Yoongi, his legs swinging freely. You smiled at how close the boys were and how comfortable they were with each other. It made you feel even worse for intruding in on the bond.

"Good morning," the boys said, nearly in unison.

"Jimin," you said. "Did you put Kitty in the box to come here?"

Jimin shook his head, glancing down to the stuffed cat you held in your arms.

"No, I put him in the donation pile as you wanted."

"Huh," you said, holding Kitty out in front of you and smiling at her fondly. "Well, I'm glad she found her way here anyway."

Jimin smiled at you, his eyes some mixture of happiness for you and worry.

"Did we get internet back?"

The boys exchanged glances and nodded.

You looked over to Yoongi, who was now looking up from his phone. His dark eyes were boring straight into you, and you suspected he already knew what you were going to ask.

"Did you find out who got the shoes?"

The room fell silent, except for the tap which Hoseok accidentally left on as he had looked up at you. You didn't know who it could possibly be that would elicit such a response, but Yoongi's face softened as he stood.

"Park Minki."

You blinked in disbelief, wondering if the hangover had somehow messed with your hearing. Yoongi's eyes were softer, the softest they had been in the seventy two hours you'd known him.

"My ex?" you choked out.

Yoongi nodded.

---

You took a deep breath as you stood in front of the full length mirror and strategically placed the scarf around your neck. The bruises weren't as prominent as the day before, but you feared Minki would still notice them. The rest of your outfit was quite simple, a pair of jeans and a nice top. You wore your hair down, hoping it too would help hide Yoongi's marks on your neck.

When you'd broken up with Minki, you'd thought you'd never have to see the boy again. While you still loved him, you knew seeing him again would hurt you, but you wanted to handle this yourself. For whatever reason bought the shoes, you knew it couldn't be settled with money. He wanted to see you again, wanted you to see him again.

While you normally would just forget the shoes, Yoongi's reputation was on the line. And yours for that matter. You may not be an idol, but the fact you were connected to one, could be enough to destroy you.

"Do you really want to look that good for your ex?" Yoongi said, entering your bedroom with a soft knock on your open door. He was dressed wearing just a simple sweatshirt and jeans, a snapback covering his dyed hair and a mask pulled down under his chin.

"What? Jealous?" you smirked, giving up on arranging the scarf and turning to face him.

"No," he said. "I just thought you didn't care what he thought anymore." He walked closer to you, the faint smell of his cologne tickling your nose. His fingers reached up and moved the scarf so it that it covered the half of a hickey that was still partially visible. "Obviously, you do."

He stepped away from you the scent of him still lingering in his place. You were almost disappointed when he stepped away, wishing you could fall asleep in his scent.

"I'm sorry you have to come," you said. "And miss out on work."

"I can work when we get back," he said. "Besides, it would be a whole lot worse for both of us if I didn't come." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a mask. "Wear this, if we run into any paparazzi it will be harder for them to identify you."

You nodded, looping the mask around your ears and pulling it up over your mouth. Yoongi pulled his up and nodded to you, asking if you were ready.

You nodded in affirmation, but you felt the butterflies in your stomach. You didn't think you would ever be ready.

---

You entered the cafe first. You spotted Minki almost immediately, he was seated at a table near the middle, you could see the shoes placed on the table. You already felt a twinge of embarrassment, knowing he'd displayed them so publicly.

You pulled down the mask and sat down across from him. His mouth widened into a smirk when you sat down, something you used to love about him, but now it just felt like he was mocking you.

"You look nice," he said.

"Thanks," you said, trying not to meet his gaze.

You noticed Yoongi walk past you and sit at a table behind Minki's view, but facing you. You met his eyes momentarily but didn't want Minki to see your wandering gaze. Minki had a temper occasionally, and while he had never hurt you, you feared he wouldn't hesitate to hurt Yoongi. And even though you and Yoongi weren't exactly friends, you still didn't want him to get hurt because of you.

"So, why'd you leave the shoes at the bar?" Minki asked.

"Does that really matter, Minki? They're mine, I just want them back."

"You fucked him? Didn't you?"

You clenched your fists and looked at the black pumps sitting on the table. You sighed and tried to collect your thoughts.

"How'd you know they were mine?"

"You don't think I wouldn't recognize the shoes I bought you for your birthday last year?" The smirk was on his face again, like a mosquito that you wanted to kill, but that was just out of your reach. "I picked them out especially for you, remember?"

You did remember. How he told you that he went to multiple shoes, trying to find the perfect shoes. Settling on a pair of black pumps. "Simple, like you," he'd said when he gave them to you.

"Now that we've broken up, they're mine now? Since I paid for them?"

You wanted to bang your fists down on the table and scream at him until he was as scared of you as you were of him. You wanted to swat the smirk from his face. You wanted to point out all the things you'd bought him. All the baseball game tickets. The T-shirt he wore. Half the down payment on his car.

"I don't care," you said. "Do whatever you want with them. I just want to leave."

Minki softened then. He'd seen you break down multiple times before, he knew the signs. The way you hid your face. The way you tried to curl yourself into a ball, no matter where you were.

"He's here, isn't here?" your ex asked. "You're not mine to protect anymore." His hand cupped the fabric of your knee. You felt shivers run down your spine as tears pricked at your eyes.

You noticed his eyes wandering down to your neck and where the scarf had moved aside. There was no sense in trying to deny what the scarf revealed.

"Huh," he said. "You never let me do that."

"I never was yours to protect," you said, your eyes red and tear stained, trying to ignore his last comment. You reached down and moved his hand from your knee. You felt his palm beneath your fingertips and the sensation ran through your body. You felt his hands on you again, your body grew warm, but not in the pleasant way. You needed to get out. Without any more thought, you grabbed your things and ran from the cafe.

---

Yoongi's body stiffened as he watched Minki's hand grab your knee. He wanted to push Minki away from you, shield you from ever having to feel the other boy's touch again. He saw the way your cheek's flushed, although not in the cute way. He saw as you tried to shift away, he could feel your discomfort.

Your scarf had slipped slightly, revealing part of one of the bruises. Yoongi knew the other boy saw based on the way he shifted forward.

"Huh, you never let me do that," the other boy said.

Yoongi's jaw stiffened. Part of him wanted to rip him apart for bringing attention to something that you obviously hadn't wanted Minki to see, but there was a small buzzing inside of him. One night and you allowed him to do something you'd never allowed your previous boyfriend to do for years. He repressed the pride as you tearfully ran out the door.

Yoongi waited a moment to get up and follow you, not wanting to draw too much attention. He made eye contact with Minki as he walked past, pulling down his mask momentarily, but pulling it back up as he walked through the door of the cafe.

---

You curled yourself into the car seat, pulling your legs into your stomach and hiding your face against the car door. You put on your seatbelt, knowing Yoongi would follow you out.

Yoongi opened the car door a minute or so later, greeting the driver as he did so and telling him to take both of you back to the dorm. He pulled down his mask and put on his seatbelt.

"Why do you let him talk to you like that?" Yoongi asked.

You scoffed, trying to hide your tears. The last thing you wanted was Yoongi to see your tears, you felt like if you allowed yourself to cry in front of him, it would somehow strengthen the bond. Yoongi was so strong and allowing him to see your weakness terrified you.

"He's my ex for a reason, okay?"

"Well, we still need to get the shoes back somehow. You sure money won't work with him?"

"He just wants to humiliate me," you said, choking slightly on the words. "Do we really need to get them back? I mean, they're just shoes. How much harm could really be done?"

Yoongi's eyes widened and his form stiffened.

"You really don't realize, do you?" He looked out the window in slight disbelief before turning back to you. "I guess, this explains how you didn't recognize me."

"Yoongi..."

"Even just the rumors of what happened between us could destroy both of us," he said. "My fans need someone they can trust and look up to. Most of them don't even know I'm not with Jihee anymore. They know about the soulmate thing, but we only used that to find you. We're going to deny it later, anyway."

"You didn't have to sleep with me then," you said. "If you would've just pushed me off your lap, none of this would've happened."

"If you wouldn't have fallen in my lap, none of this would've happened."

You sighed, silence ensuing. The road noise the only sound. Even the driver was silent from behind the partition.

"Sumi..." Yoongi said, his hand suddenly coming to rest just above your knee. His fingertips digging into the fabric of your jeans. His touch was warm, but instead of overheating as you did with Minki's touch, your temperature matched his.

"What?" you asked, but your question was soon answered as you felt heat rise in your stomach. Suddenly, Yoongi appeared less like the image obsessed jerk of a few minutes ago and looked more like the man you met at the bar three days ago.

You unhooked your seatbelt and straddled Yoongi's lap, your hands coming up to cup his cheeks as his ran up to play with your hair. Your lips connected and nearly immediately his tongue slipped between yours.

Yoongi's hat--which you hadn't paid much attention to before--suddenly was in your way. You ripped it off, exposing his messy hair. It was obvious he hadn't styled it before putting on the snapback, but you liked it better that way, it allowed your fingers to tangle in his hair.

"The windows?" you asked, falling back onto the seat as Yoongi unhooked his seatbelt and hovered over you.

"They're tinted," he said, grabbing hold of your scarf and pulled it over your head. It landed somewhere on the floor of the car, out of sight. "Don't worry, no one will see."

He leaned down and latched onto your lips once again. His hands wandering under the hem of your shirt, causing it to ride up slightly. You splayed your fingers against his firm chest, causing him to stop momentarily.

"What?" he asked.

"I think...I think this is what the doctor was talking about..." you said. "I think we need to stop."

Despite your words, your hands slipped underneath his sweatshirt, feeling the warm skin beneath. You wanted to feel that skin against you, but before you could pull it over his head, he surprised you, by pulling up your shirt, exposing your stomach.

"I'll do it lower this time," he said, his voice raspy and lower than normal. "So you don't have to worry about hiding them." His lips latched onto the skin of your stomach, causing you to release a small moan as you ran your fingers from his hairline and down to the nape of his neck.

"Yoongi..."

"Why'd you have to wear that perfume for him? It drives me crazy."

He curved his two index fingers into the belt loop of your jeans and tugged slightly, not to pull them down, but rather to tease you.

"You're for my eyes only."

"Yoongi," you said. "We need to stop."

Yoongi pulled away, a sheepish look crossing his face. He pulled down your shirt and sat back in the seat.

You, too, sat back up, trying to catch your breath. Your heart was racing, partially from the thoughts of the feel of his lips, but you were scared. You felt so out of control, something had taken you over entirely. It wasn't a secret that you were attracted to Yoongi, you did willingly sleep with him, but the urges pulled you together, even when you least wanted it.

"That was...that was...weird..."

Yoongi nodded in agreement, reaching down and retrieving your scarf. You did the same with his hat and you exchanged the items.

You watched out the window as the car pulled into the driveway of the dorm. You glanced back over at Yoongi, noticing a bit of your lipstick managed to cling to his bottom lip. You chuckled slightly before reaching over and using your thumb to wipe it from his lip.

He watched you, not making any movement to stop you, but your gaze shifted downward, not able to meet his eyes.

"Lipstick," you said.

The driver opened the door and the two of you walked back into the dorm.

---

Jihee (9:02 am): Good morning handsome :)

Jihee (11:15 am): I heard about the shoe business. You always use to complain about having to take off mine.

Jihee (11:17 am): You should tell her to be more careful though. :)

Jihee (1:20 pm): Babe...please just respond to me...

Jihee (1:21 pm): You're making me seem desperate.

Jihee (4:45 pm): Her picture's out there now, you know? Some guy saying she cheated with you.

Jihee (5:00 pm): She doesn't look like the type to cheat.

Jihee (6:34 pm): The more I think about it...the less she seems like your type. Especially for a rebound.

Jihee (7:00 pm): You could do much better if you wanted to Oppa. She's kind of pretty and all, but don't you think she's a little simple?

Yoongi (7:02 pm): Whatever this is, is between us. Leave her out of it.

65 notes · View notes

jeranasblog · 4 years

Text

Welcome to Discord

Rating: E

Pairing: Peter Parker/ Tony Stark

Summary: Peter spends a lot of time on a kink Discord server, talking about his sexuality and accepting his kinks. When he met CallMeDaddy70, he is drawn in and it immediately clicks between the two of them. How could he have known that everything leads to a huge surprise?

Warnings: No major warnings, but since it’s smut, check the tags on Ao3

Notes: The idea is from @itfeelssogoodmrstark (All the credits for this to her, pls). I hope you like it <3

Read on Ao3

Peter was nervous. He sat on the couch, squirming every second, and his feet tapped rhythmically on the floor. His mind was filled with anxious thoughts, thoughts about what could go wrong, how he could fuck it up, and he was close to screaming and hiding under his bed after. His whole life depended on tomorrow.

Since he had been a little kid, Peter loved engineering. He built his first robot before he even went to school, studied day and night to get into MIT, and worked hard to graduate early. Everything to get his dream job, everything to work for Stark Industries. It wasn’t only the company, the attempts to make clean energy and save the world, no it was also Tony Stark himself, Peter was gone for. Stark wasn’t only an engineer, he was an inventor, and Peter would die to work for him, to help him save the world.

And tomorrow, he had to prove himself. Peter had applied for the job at SI months ago and after a few tests, he was invited to a job interview, not with just anyone, but with Tony Stark personally. His stomach turned when he thought about it. Tomorrow would show if his dream would come true.

Peter tried to calm down, he really did. He made himself a cup of tea, binge-watched Netflix, and called his best friend MJ to calm down, but nothing worked. In the end, he was as nervous as he had been before and there was no way he would find sleep tonight. No way but… Wait, there was one approach he hadn’t tried yet.

Suddenly giddy with excitement, Peter grabbed his laptop and opened Discord. The familiar screen was greeting him, his most visited server already opened. He pondered for a second before he decided to click on the “general” channel.

WatermelonSugar: Hey, guys. KinkyBastard1: Hey, Sugar. LetMeTieYourHands: Hey, Sugar. How are you?

Peter smiled a little. The people on the Discord channel were amazing and he felt welcome in the small community that had built up over the years. They had encouraged him to talk about his kinks, to accept himself and the things he liked, and even though not all of them shared the same interests, they were kind and understanding.

When he had first joined the kink Discord MJ had recommended, Peter had expected to get a dick pic in the first five minutes. He knew the internet, knew some people were only there to get a few nudes they could jerk off to, but Peter wanted something else. Sure, he wanted to talk to people about sex, might even want to video chat with a few hot and older men, but he also wanted to talk to them.

WatermelonSugar: I’m fine. Just a little stressed. LetMeTieYourHands: Oh, I’m sorry. What’s up? WatermelonSugar: Important job interview tomorrow. KinkyBastard1: Definitely crossing my fingers for you, Sugar. What have you applied for?

Peter smiled at the question. He hadn’t even told them his real name, but they still cared about him, his life, and his sexuality and the thought made him warm inside. From his real-life friends, only MJ knew what he liked. She knew Peter wanted to be with an older man, someone who calls himself Daddy, someone who could hold him down and praise him until Peter was a shivering mess. It took him quite the courage to tell her what he liked, but it had been so worth it because she recommended to try out the Discord. Holy, the decision had been a good one.

Peter had spent hours online, chatting with other Subs who liked exactly the same and Daddies who made him feel things he hadn’t felt before. He loved the freedom he had online, the anonymity. Still, no one had ever woken the wish inside of him to meet, they were amazing, but it hadn’t clicked until one day, Peter had met CallMeDaddy70 who ticked all his boxes.

CallMeDaddy70 was kind and sweet. He asked Peter about his day and his friends, talked to him about his interests, which they shared by the way because Daddy was an engineer as well, and he encouraged Peter to talk about his problems and fears. Peter had learned a lot, talking about his desires in bed and he was grateful Daddy was such a good mentor.

But when the mood struck, Daddy could be the complete opposite. Once in a while, their private chats had turned dirty and Peter couldn’t get his hands in his pants fast enough. The other man was shameless, obscenely describing what he wanted to do to Peter, and the thought of someone dominating him like this had made him come all over himself. And yesterday Daddy had offered Peter to set up a face call.

He was a little disappointed when Daddy wasn’t online yet because he had hoped to see the man for the first time. He craved the other man’s presence, although he hadn’t even seen him yet, although he hadn’t even talked to him yet.

WatermelonSugar: I’m applying for an engineering job. It’s actually a job I wanted since I was a little child. KinkyBastard1: That’s amazing. I wish you all the luck. WatermelonSugar: Ty

After that, Peter only skimmed through the other channels. He read a discussion of two members talking about their bondage fantasies and he admired the picture of LetMeTieYourHands who tried Shibari on his Sub for the first time, but nothing caught his eyes for a long time until a private message popped up.

CallMeDaddy70: Hey, Sugar. I’ve seen you’re online. How are you?

Suddenly, Peter was excited again, shifting on his couch to be closer to the screen.

WatermelonSugar: Great, now that you’re there. How are you? CallMeDaddy70: That’s cute, baby boy <3 I’m fine. A little stressed because my secretary made me sign contracts the entire day.

Right, Peter had forgotten it. Daddy owned a big company and the thought made him even more irresistible. It wasn’t even the money the man probably had, it was the power that drew Peter in.

WatermelonSugar: To be honest, I’ve been waiting for you.

Peter swallowed after he had confessed the truth and stared at the three dots on the screen that showed that Daddy was typing.

CallMeDaddy70: Is that so, baby boy? WatermelonSugar: YES. You promised me we could call soon, Daddy.

Usually, Peter wouldn’t be so straight forward, but he had been fidgety all day and he needed to find a way to get all the emotions out. Talking to Daddy would make him think about something else, and to be honest, he couldn’t wait to figure out how the other man looked anyway.

CallMeDaddy70: I did that, didn’t I? Alright, baby boy. Give me ten minutes. I set up my cam.

Holy shit. Even though Peter had suggested talking, he hadn’t been sure Daddy would agree. Suddenly, he was terribly nervous. What if Daddy wouldn’t like him? What if he made a fool out of himself?

Peter sprinted to his bedroom and opened his closet door. There was no way he would wear his old joggers when he saw Daddy for the first time, so Peter pulled out his velvet sleeping shorts and a cropped t-shirt. He wanted to look nice for Daddy, wanted the other man to like him.

Thankfully, Peter was back before Daddy called. He sat down in front of the screen, anxiously fumbling with the hem of his shirt and waiting for the green button to appear. He was startled when he heard the sound, nevertheless.

“Hey, Daddy,” Peter’s voice was trembling with excitement when he accepted the call. The screen of the other man was still black, and it took a second before he came into view. Holy, whatever Peter had expected, this wasn’t it.

Daddy was the most handsome man he had ever seen. He was older than Peter, but it wasn’t obvious how much older, since his face was still hidden in the shadows of the room. The suit jacket Daddy wore was opened, revealing a muscular chest no one was allowed to have, and Peter’s mouth watered in anticipation. He wanted to climb this man like a tree, rub himself all over him and bounce on his cock. But the worst were Daddy’s thighs, thick and muscular, straining the suit pants and seducing Peter into giving himself away.

Peter hadn’t thought it could get even worse until Daddy opened his mouth. “Hi, Sugar. I’m glad we could finally call. I’m sorry for keeping my face hidden, but I appreciate the privacy for now.”

God, the voice, a deep baritone that vibrated through Peter’s body, lightening him up and making him shake in arousal. He didn’t even care that Daddy was hiding his face, too delighted that they could finally talk after all. Apparently, Peter had been quiet too long because the man spoke up again.

“God, Sugar, look at you,” Peter immediately blushed. “I’ve imagined a lot of things, but I haven’t imagined you looking like this. So innocent, so beautiful. Are you even legal?”

Peter squirmed in delight and the words made his cock twitch in his shorts. He was riled up from the entire day and such a gorgeous man on top finally made him break. “Daddy, you’re so handsome yourself. And don’t worry, I’m twenty-three.” The words came out shy and Peter giggled afterward, hiding his smile behind one hand.

The reaction he got was a growl. “Fuck, sweetheart. I’ve planned to talk with you a little first, ask you about your day and the things you’ve planned, but forgive me, I can’t. Do you even know how you’re looking right now, baby? Tight little shorts that show off everything. God, look at your creamy thighs.”

It was the moment Peter whimpered for the first time and there was no way Daddy hadn’t heard it. He could see how the other man shifted in his chair, one hand moving and pressing down on his crotch. Although Daddy hadn’t taken his length out yet, the tenting pants were enough to show that the man was well endowed, and Peter whimpered for a second time.

“Daddy, I’m so sorry, I need you so much.” Peter’s body burned and he was squirming on the couch. He sat on his knees, thighs spread in front of the camera and he could no longer suppress the urge to pat his cock through his shorts. The fabric was thin, and even though he wore his favorite pair of white panties underneath, Peter could feel every touch.

“I’m a bad man,” Daddy sighed while he opened his zipper and pulled out his cock, the rest of his clothes still snugly in place. “I didn’t want to be one of those internet creeps, but here I am, cock in my hand not even ten minutes after I’ve seen you for the first time.”

Peter’s mouth watered and he increased the pressure on his groin, his hips slowly started to move. Daddy’s cock was everything he had ever dreamed of, long and thick, oh so much thicker than his own, slightly curved and an angry red. It invited Peter to open his lips and take him as deep as possible.

The arousal was heady, pushing his fear of embarrassment and rejection in the back of his mind while he watched the man stroking his own cock. “Please, Daddy. Can I touch myself?” He felt the sudden urge to ask for permission.

The noise he got in return was outright obscene. The man growled, his grip getting tighter and Peter could see that his knuckles turned white. He did this, Peter made this man lose control and he whined, still doing nothing but keeping up the pressure on his cock.

“Be a good boy for me, Sugar,” Daddy commanded, his breathing still even although his cock looked like it would explode any second. “Take off your shorts. Show me, baby. Show Daddy what he’s working with.”

Peter sobbed in relief when the pressure on his cock lessened and he couldn’t get out of his pants fast enough. He was a little sad Daddy couldn’t admire the white panties he had picked out, but the need to get off was too strong to ignore.

“That’s it, baby,” Daddy praised, and the word went directly to Peter’s cock and made him moan. “Look at this, Sugar. Your cock is perfect. So cute and wet for me. Spread your legs a little more for Daddy.”

There was no way Peter couldn’t obey, so he spread his legs as wide as possible. He leaned back; his body propped against the back of the sofa while he double-checked the view Daddy had. While the man was sitting in an armchair, only his cock on display, Peter was almost completely exposed. The thought of Daddy still being fully closed did things to him and his cock twitched against his stomach.

“One hand on your cock, baby,” the man instructed, and Peter eagerly followed his command. “Don’t grip it, baby. Just a slight caress on the side. Tease, Sugar.”

“No, Daddy, please,” Peter whimpered, but he obeyed nevertheless, keeping his touch painfully light. If his mind had been clear, he might have been embarrassed about the sounds he made, but there was nothing he could think about beside Daddy.

His pleads seemed to be the last straw because he could see that the man picked up the rhythm. Daddy’s fist was squeezed tightly around his own cock and he jerked himself off fiercely. “Sugar, do you have lube? Would you finger yourself for me? It’s okay to say no, but Daddy wants to see your tight little hole.”

Yes, yes, yes. Peter wanted it very much. As much as he liked playing with his cock, feeling something inside of him was just this tiny bit more. Suddenly, he was glad he had prepared himself and he fumbled for the lube he had hidden behind a couch cushion, his other hand not once leaving his cock. Peter opened the cap and dribbled a huge amount on his free hand.

“Can I, Daddy? Please, lemme?” It didn’t matter if he had to beg or plead, he would sob and scream just to get this delicious friction inside of him. Daddy was pressing all his buttons and he knew he had never been this aroused, this desperate, in his life. He was barely touching his cock, didn’t even have a finger inside, but Peter could already feel that he was getting close. Just from a few words and a whole lot of tension between him and the older man.

The man paused for a second and it was the first time Peter would die to see his face. He understood it, the man was probably important since he owned a company and he couldn’t show his face to just anyone on the internet, especially because they were doing a lot more than just talk, but he still wanted to see the other man’s expression. Would he look firmly at Peter? Would he smile or would he be serious? A sob left his lips, he couldn’t wait anymore, and the anticipation was killing him.

“You may, Sugar.” Finally. He couldn’t wait for even a second longer, pressing in his first finger in one go. Peter was used to this, he was fingering himself multiple times a week, so he thrust in once or twice before he added a second finger, moaning when he felt the delicious burn. His eyes had fallen shut, the sensation too much but not enough, and he could feel that his own legs started to tremble.

“God, Sugar, look at this. Do you see how your hole is swallowing your fingers? I’ve never seen anything so greedy before. Tell me, are you a slut, Sugar?”

The words were too much, Peter cried. Daddy figured out every single kink he had. The longing for praise, the desire to be humiliated, and the urge to give the control over to someone else. His walls started to clench, squeezing down on his fingers and although he hadn’t even touched his prostate, Peter was coming.

Peter arched his back, sobbing when the sensation washed over him. His cock was spurting weakly in his hand, but his hole clenched as if it wanted to milk his fingers. Peter could feel his conscious slipping, black spots danced in his vision while his entire body was shaking on the couch. He had never come this hard in his life before, not even during sex. Daddy’s presence alone made him go crazy and his words were just the cherry on top.

When Peter finally came to, his body still buzzing with endorphins, he took a look at the screen and saw that the man had climaxed as well. He was a little sad that he had missed watching Daddy during his orgasm, but if he would be lucky, this wasn’t their last time together.

“Sugar, you were amazing,” the man praised, and Peter blushed a little. His shamelessness was a little embarrassing now that he was spent, but the man seemed to like it, so Peter tried not to dwell on it.

“Thank you, Daddy. You were amazing as well. Do you think we can repeat this one day?”

The man chuckled deeply. “Sure, Sugar, but I don’t wanna hang up yet. Go and clean yourself. You’ve mentioned a job interview in the chat? Tell me about it.”

Peter smiled. This man was everything he had ever dreamed about and one day he wanted to meet him. Daddy wasn’t only looking for sex, although the fun they had together was amazing, Daddy was also interested in him and the thought made him feel warm inside. He had completely forgotten the interview, and even though Daddy had just reminded him, the nervousness had lessened. It was manageable now.

“Thank you, Daddy,” Peter whispered to himself and when he got up to clean himself, he could feel a single tear running down his cheek. Whoever Daddy was, Peter fell for him.

~*~

The next day Peter was sitting in the lobby of Stark Industries, the biggest tech company in the US. His hands trembled a little, but the panic wasn’t overwhelming. Daddy had cheered him up last night, assuring him he would do great and Peter believed him. He had all the qualifications necessary and now he only had to convince Tony Stark. Daddy had told him over and over again, that Peter couldn’t fuck it up if he wanted it so badly. He was burning for it and everyone would see it.

“Mr. Parker? Mr. Stark is waiting for you.” A beautiful blonde woman picked him up and led him towards an elevator. “Just get in. JARVIS will get you to Mr. Stark’s office.”

Peter smiled at her words. However the day will end, he had at least met JARVIS. “Thank you, Ma’am.”

When the elevator doors closed behind him, Peter felt the familiar nervousness coming back, but he concentrated on his breathing. He would do it. He wanted this, he just had to show Tony Stark that he was suitable for the job.”

A ping announced his arrival and he could see a familiar figure sitting behind a huge metal desk. Peter was giddy. He had admired Mr. Stark for years and this would be the time he could finally meet him. The man wasn’t looking at him, occupied with the phone in his hand.

“Mr. Parker, please take a seat.”

Oh, no. Peter froze. He knew the voice, there was no way he was wrong. “Mr. St-Stark,” Peter stuttered, and the two words were enough for the man to look up abruptly. The figure fit, but when Peter’s gaze wandered lower towards the thick thighs straining the suit pants, he knew he was right.

In the end, Mr. Stark confirmed his assumption. “Oh Sugar, I definitely didn’t expect this.”

Peter shuddered, still unsure what to do. Daddy was Tony Stark, the Tony Stark and if he played his cards right, Daddy was also his future boss. What a disaster.

#starker

201 notes · View notes

ethrenisnotthehero · 3 years

Link

Let’s talk about this now.

Everything that follows in this post is totally my own opinion. It has nothing to do with Jill; it wasn’t read by her or condoned by her. It’s my story and my experiences, and I think it’s important in this context because some of a survivor’s worst enemies are often other survivors.

As someone who has survived abuse, and as someone who is currently in training to become a Court Appointed Special Advocate for youth victims of abuse and domestic violence, I’m going to explain why internet callouts and motions like the #MeToo movement are not only something you can believe, but that you should believe because of the complete and systematic failures that continue to persist in our real-life institutions of justice.

Please heed the tags. Nothing is in too graphic of detail, but I remember when just the words were enough for me.

TW: Abuse, Neglect, Gaslighting, Sexual Assault, Pedophilia, Trafficking, Drug Use, Mental Illness, Violence

I spent a majority of the first years of my life in sexual slavery.

Before April, 2004, pseudoephedrine could be purchased over the counter and without an ID in the United States. Tablets of it were used across the nation to manufacture what some people still call “the drug of the 90s:” methamphetamine. In 2021, many people might know meth because of television shows like Breaking Bad, and make xenophobic jokes about Mexican drug cartels and the infamous “Wall” while breaking up blue-tinted sugar candy.

The truth is, few people our age this day remember methamphetamine use being the epidemic it was when Oklahoma enacted its ban of pseudoephedrine in stores. In 2005, which required medication to be sold at licensed pharmacies and for purchasers to present a photo ID to acquire limited amounts, OK officials located and shut down 334 home meth labs -- less than half of the 812 seized before the ban.

In fact, meth use was so widespread and easily accessible that 93% of people who went through rehabilitation for it would end up using again. It was viciously addictive, and the help that was offered was only a drop in the bucket of a growing sickness that the government wrote crime bills to control instead of trying to treat the symptoms. By 2004, it was too late for a lot of people. By 2004, it was too late for me.

My birth parents spent their entire lives addicted to meth. My birth mother grew up in the American foster care system and was adopted as a teenager by junkies in the deep South; my birth father was a paranoid schizophrenic who spent the first 7 years of his life locked in a closet by his parents until they lost custody, and then aged out of the system. She used drugs to get away from the fact that her birth parents despised her; he used meth to “calm” his paranoid rages when he couldn’t afford medication. They both tried rehab. They both failed to stay sober.

They had several children before us. My birth mother miscarried. She tried again. My birth father lost custody of his first before he met her, and they relapsed together and lost custody of a second child. That child died from complications of neglect.

They had me.

They stayed sober for six months. They relapsed again. They weren’t smart enough to make meth, so they bought it. They had another kid. My birth father lost his job. They couldn’t afford it. They couldn’t afford medicine or food. They had no money, they couldn’t get work, and so they gave up what they did have.

2004 was too late for me.

When the ban came, my parents moved to try to escape. We came to a new state. They found a job. My “uncle” became their new dealer and they paid the only way they knew how. One day, a SWAT team showed up at our door. They told us we could pack one box of our belongings, and that was the last time we ever belonged to those people.

The law chased them down, but not for what they did to us. They were given a plea deal; my birth parents would sell out their suppliers and their “business partners,” and they wouldn’t go to prison. The entire case would be locked up, the records closed, and they could try to get their kids back.

My parents never served a single day for their crimes.

They showed up once to visitation. They kissed me. They promised me they would come back. I privately wished that they would disappear forever, and they did. I later learned they relapsed the day before our next visitation, and had parental rights terminated.

The law does not protect children. It rarely protects the victims that it’s meant to, but it never protects people who can’t speak for themselves. Unless you have money, no one will care. If no one cares, your transgressors will never, ever answer for their crimes. To this day, the United States Justice System will not let me own records or copies of records of the case against my parents. I couldn’t speak until I was six years old. When I was put into foster care, I couldn’t eat solid food for three months. My gag reflex was so bad I couldn’t brush my teeth comfortably until well after I was adopted. I trembled under my bed because my nightmares blended into my waking hours and I was so scared I couldn’t even scream.

When I turned 18, my birth mother found me. She lives with my birth father in a state known for its rampant meth use. She had another child. He’s 14 now. He plays soccer, has girlfriend, learned the flute last year, and his favorite Pokemon is Rayquaza. He got all A’s in his final year of middle school. They started over.

I talk to him sometimes. I don’t talk to her, because when I asked her to apologize for what happened, she told me the government was lying to me. She told me there were two sides to every story. She told me that my adopted parents had poisoned me against her. She called me an ungrateful little whore and told me that God would punish me one day. She told me she was a victim, too, and she deserved a relationship with me.

She is a victim. I still remember the sound when my birth father broke her arm in a rage when she threatened to leave him.

I also still remember trying to hide with her as she lay on her bed, high as a kite, not so much as lifting a finger to help me.

Being a survivor doesn’t give a person the excuse to minimize the experience of other survivors. Some people get justice. A lot of people don’t. Sometimes the police swoop in and make predators pay. Sometimes they shoot mentally ill foster children to death because the alternative takes too much time and effort. Technology is a useful tool, because it gives a voice to the voiceless. It empowers people who are made powerless. My adoptive parents didn’t believe me when I finally had the words to say “I was harmed.” They beat the shit out of me when I was little for trying to draw out what was wrong. They stopped letting me see a therapist when she told them I showed signs of serious trauma from sexual violence. The internet gives a rope to people who are stuck in a whole with everyone around them calling them a liar. Technology gives survivors and outlet to make their story their own again.

Your story doesn’t erase other peoples’ stories. People who are nice to you can be hurtful to others. What you see isn’t necessarily the truth and until we have a government that survivors can rely on it’s always, always important to believe survivors.

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atinymonster · 4 years

Text

spilled beans

ateez 9th member.

jiyu’s news about her and sunwoo dating weren’t the only beans spilled the next day.

➴ masterlist

taglist ➴ @galacticstxrdust, @jiyeons-closet, @banhmi07 (can’t be tagged for some reason)

Eight pairs of eyes were glued onto Jiyu as the boys, with the exception of Yunho, sat and processed her news. When Jiyu gathered them onto the living room couch and announced at six in the morning that she had some news to tell them, they definitely weren’t expecting this.

“...I’m sorry, I think I misheard you,” Hongjoong said as he rubbed the sleepiness out of his eyes. “Can you say that again?”

Jiyu sighed as she shifted in the couch across from them. “Sunwoo and I are...dating...” she trailed off, no longer being able to look at them in the eye. She played with her fingers while waiting for one of them to say something. Even Mingi looked fully awake as her words processed in his brain. She quickly glanced at Yunho, who gave her a small, comforting smile.

Seonghwa slowly broke out of his daze. “Well,” he said, “that was certainly...expected yet unexpected.”

Jiyu couldn’t help but feel a slight twinge of guilt for the timing of everything. “I’m sorry. I know we’re in the middle of preparing for a comeback and—”

Yeosang couldn’t help but sneak a glance at Wooyoung, making eye contact with him. With a bitter smile, Wooyoung softly shook his head at — as if saying I’m okay.

“—but I promise I won’t get distracted—”

Hongjoong interrupted her. “Since when?”

Jiyu bit the inside of her cheek. “Last night.”

Hongjoong thoughtfully nodded. “And do you plan on telling the company?”

Taking her prolonged silence as a no or hesitation, he sighed and pinched his nosebridge. “I think we can all mutually agree that we want what’s best for everyone.”

Everyone nodded at his words.

“And if this makes you happy, then we obviously have no right to try to take it away from you. Especially with how stubborn you are,” he chuckled. “But I think it’s better if you tell the company now rather than have them find out later. It can cause repercussions for the both of you later on.”

“But we’re in the middle of preparing for a comeback. I just want to focus on that first,” she insisted.

Suddenly, Wooyoung stood up from his spot on the couch. He forced a small smile. “Sorry, I just remembered I didn’t brush my teeth yet,” he said before making a rather hasty retreat to the bathroom.

Jiyu raised an eyebrow. “That was weird...” she mumbled.

Yeosang pressed his lips into a thin line, conflicted on what to do. They were both his friends, his family—he didn’t want to hurt anyone.

Hongjoong glanced at the clock—they had approximately forty minutes left until their manager came to pick them up for the performance preview filming. He turned to Jiyu again. “Look, I won’t force you into telling the company. But I just want you to think about what’s best for the both of you when you make a decision.”

Jiyu slowly nodded.

“And,” he added, “if you do start getting distracted, we’re going to have a serious talk, alright young lady?”

Everyone quietly chuckled at Hongjoong’s warning. “Yes, dad,” Jiyu teasingly responded.

Giving a nod of satisfaction, Hongjoong stood up to get ready. “Now we need to get ready before manager–nim gets here and lectures us again for being late.”

“I said I was sorry about that time already!” Jiyu pouted.

During the filming, Jiyu noticed how different Wooyoung seemed. He didn’t seem like his usual, cheerful self. At first, she thought he was just tired, but as time went on, she noticed how distanced he seemed from her. Usually, he would always be around her and hugging her like a koala, but this time, he barely even talked to her. Even the other members were confused at Wooyoung’s odd behavior.

She decided to give him space for the time being, even if it hurt to think he was avoiding her.

Yeosang decided to just take the leap and tell Jiyu. It hurt seeing Wooyoung mope around, which in turn, hurt Jiyu since he was ignoring her.

“Baby monster, can I talk to you really quick?” he asked during one of their breaks.

Jiyu was watching their Inception recording. “Yeah, sure Sangie,” she said before following him to a more secluded area. “What’s up?”

“It’s about Wooyoung,” Yeosang carefully started.

Jiyu bit her lip as she looked to the ground. “I know he’s avoiding me,” she mumbled. “Was it because of what I said this morning? I promise I won’t let it affect our comeback—”

“Uh, well, yes and no,” he interrupted. Jiyu looked up at him with a confused expression. Yeosang took a deep breath as he put his hands on his hips and looked up to the sky. Please don’t kill me, Wooyoung. He brought his gaze back to Jiyu.

“Did you know Wooyoung likes you?”

Jiyu felt as if someone hurled a ton of bricks at her. Her eyes widened as she felt herself go numb. “W–What?”

Yeosang carefully repeated his question, causing Jiyu to shake her head out of disbelief. “Are you joking with me, Kang Yeosang?” she asked.

“Would I really lie about something like this, Ji?” he asked, no trace of playing or joking in his eyes.

Jiyu went silent as Yeosang’s words sunk in. Wooyoung liked her? She did remember seeing things about it on the internet from ATINY, but she never regarded them seriously.

But it did explain his clingy and affectionate behavior towards her.

Suddenly, guilt washed over her as she remembered what she said earlier that morning. She practically rejected him indirectly. Covering her face with her hands, she groaned. “Yeosang, I’m literally the worst person,” she whimpered.

Yeosang panicked. Making her feel bad or cry about the situation was definitely not his intention. Looking around to see if anyone was around, he internally breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t see anyone. He put an arm around her and used his other arm to pat her head.

“No, you’re not,” he reassured, although it was a slightly awkward interaction for the both of them. Comforting Jiyu was something that Yeosang was always awkward with. He just didn’t really know what to say. “You didn’t know.”

Jiyu fanned her face to prevent the tears from falling and ruining her makeup. “But I should’ve seen the signs,” she said. “There were literally so many but I never took them to heart. If that doesn’t scream ‘worst person’, then I don’t know what does.”

Yeosang continued to pat her back. “Talk it out with him,” he suggested. “Give him some space for the day and talk to him when he’s comfortable again.”

Jiyu nodded. “You’re not mad at me?” she meekly asked. Yeosang’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion at her question. “You’re not mad at me for what I did to Wooyoung? He’s your best friend...”

Yeosang sighed. “You both were a little block-headed so I can’t really be mad at either of you,” he joked, laughing when Jiyu lightly punched his chest.

Taking a deep breath she rapidly tried blinking her tears away. “I just got my makeup retouched and we have to film THANXX, and now my nose and eyes are probably red,” she playfully complained.

Yeosang carefully ruffled her hair with a small chuckle.

“Wait, where’s Yeosang and Jiyu?” they heard Hongjoong ask back on the filming set.

“Come on, let’s go back before Hongjoong gives us an earful later on,” Yeosang said as he started walking back towards the set.

"Where were you two?” Seonghwa asked when he spotted the two coming back. “We’re about to start filming for THANXX.”

“Jiyu got lost going to the bathroom,” Yeosang said, biting back laughter when Jiyu gave him a betrayed and surprised expression. He knew she couldn’t refute.

She forced a smile to not raise suspicion towards her current situation. “Unfortunately,” she played along. Out of her peripheral vision, she noticed Wooyoung staring at her. She softly smiled.

He smiled back—a smile so small, it almost invisible to others unless you really looked at him. She felt a sense of relief.

Maybe things would be okay.

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lilywoood · 4 years

Text

You’ve got a Mail 1/?

Hi guys I’m back from my little hiatus, I want to thank you for bearing with me, for your support all along that painful time of my life, I want to thank you for all the love you gave to my family and I, most of all I want to thank you for your patience so here it is my new project, my ideal crossover, here is the surprise I was preparing hoping that you’ll come to like it and that you’ll want to embark in this new journey. ♥️♥️♥️

If you like it and want to be tagged in futur part hit my askbox ♥️♥️.

Tag list : @felicitous-one, @translucent-bisexual @cherishingstydia @diazbuckleysworld @chrrlees @justsmilestuffhappens @comablog2 @hardychick89

Word count : 1543

Song : When the party’s over - Billy Eilish

“Hello my name is Evan “Buck” Buckley, I’m a 28 Virgo firefighter in LA and I recently was diagnosed with severe PTSD”

Buck sighed looking at his computer screen, like every nights for the past three weeks he was writing and deleting the same message, battling with himself about wether he should post it or not, wondering if it would really help, if they were really people out there who could understand him, support him, comfort him... and just like every nights he resigned himself, he deleted the message, closed his laptop and went straight to his fridge shoulder slumped and a tired chuckle escaping his lips, he knew better than hoping, hope was for dreamers, for idealists, for the old Buck, not for the new him, the adult Buck, Buck 2.5.

Throwing a quick glance at the clock above the fridge he noticed how it was a little close to 2a.m, he knew he should probably get back to sleep, try to get some rest so that he would be fully efficient, so that he wouldn’t give his team another reason to criticize him, another reason to blame him if something were to go wrong.

It was an impossible task, sleeping didn’t mean rest anymore, sleeping was akin to torture for Buck, sleeping meant reliving the bombing, it meant that his left leg will start to ache, would get numb, it meant he would start to feel the heaviness of the truck, that his ears would start to buzz, that his breathing would get harder because the aches were clogging his lungs, and then water would replace the aches, then he’ll hear himself scream Christopher’s name but Christopher never called back, he was never saved...

His eyes kept on going from his couch to the six pack in the fridge, he was tempted to drink it all, tempted to down it until he passed out, after all passing out was not far from sleeping except that they won’t be nightmares, flashes, screams, passing out meant a dreamless sleep and that what he needed, what he yearned...

He wasn’t thrilled to get to work that morning, his head was pounding thanks to a raging headache and his muscles were sore due to the accumulation of sleepless nights....

He tiredly went through his morning routine, first a little run around his block, then a quick shower followed by breakfast and swallowing all the pills his therapist prescribed, final with little to no motivation got ready for work, already knowing what was awaiting him at the firehouse, knowing that they were going to make assumptions of how bad he looked...

He knew he looked like shit he felt like it too, that didn’t meant it was okay for people to remind him how bad it was, still he could already hear them, hear the critics, the whispers, could feel the glares...

He didn’t want to go, didn’t want to face them but he had to, he had to prove them he deserved his place, prove them he was right, show them he wasn’t a petulant kid, he was a fighter, a survivor, a warrior.

It’s been two months since he’s been reinstated, two months since he was ostracized, two months of nasty comments, two months of cold shoulders, two months of isolation, two months of loneliness.

If he was his old self he would have been gutted by it, he would have tried to win them back, would have been crawling at their feet begging for forgiveness , but he wasn’t Buck 2.0 anymore, gone was his childlike naivety, gone was his tendency to forgive and forget, he was like them now, an adult, a grown up forged by deception and betrayal, set on fighting for what was right, for what he deserved, he wasn’t going to beg, wasn’t going to forgive, he was fighting now, proving himself and not letting any of them makes him doubt his decisions, his choices they could either accept it or get lost.

He was always the first to get to the station, it was a decision he’d made three days after his reinstatement, after he overheard some of his teammates protest over his comeback, after he heard Chim and Eddie joke about how he wouldn’t make it till the end of the shift, after he heard them bet on what his next injury would be and if this time he would finally understand that he wasn’t meant to be a firefighter.

He never felt as betrayed and hurt as that day, never felt so much hate, bitterness and resentment for people he loved, admired, cherished, it wasn’t their comments, their glares and badmouthing that made him detest them, it was how they turned his love and respect for them into animosity, loathing, venom.

He was well entranced in reorganizing the inventory when he heard them, the taunting sound of their laughers.

He felt a shiver run down his spine, he felt his heart clenching in his chest, he felt stupid and ridiculous, it was pathetic how much he missed and loathed them.

It was close to lunch break when Hen joined him in the room, he was recounting the numbers of gauzes when she taped him on his shoulder making him jump back .

-Hey Buck, she smiled taking place next to him, didn’t saw you up here, she mentioned.

-Yeah, he shrugged, I didn’t, he stammered, I didn’t really felt like eating today, he chuckled still focused on his counting.

-You know avoiding us....avoiding them, she frowned, it won’t fix things, she offered

-I heard them, Buck whispered facing her, I heard them joke about how I wasn’t fit for this job, he snorted, how I was a walking disaster.

-Oh Buck, she gasped, I’m sure they didn’t...

-They meant it Hen, he cut, they meant every damn words, he growled stopping himself when he noticed her flinching, sorry, he croaked, god I’m such a mess, he mumbled kneeling down.

-Hey no no, she interrupted him, no need, to apologize, she reassured him, Buckaroo, she called softly, I’m not mad at you, she grinned.

-I’m just... it’s just I’m cranky cause I didn’t sleep well, he croaked, sorry I took it on you.

-You’re still having nightmares , she remarked sadly.

-I’m kinda used to them now, he tried to joke.

-Did you told someone about it, she frowned.

He nodded his eyes fixed on some stain on the floor, Hen bumped their shoulders accepting his sudden silence.

-I go to therapy twice a week, he whispered, I have a treatment, he pursued, but sometimes even the strongest medications can’t keep the brain from remembering, he admitted.

-I take that therapy doesn’t help, she stated.

-It help more than I though, he objected, it’s just sometimes I’d like to talk about it with someone that could relate to me.

-Someone with who you could share it without feeling analyzed, she nodded in understanding, did you told this to your therapist, she asked.

-Yes, he chucked, she, he cleared his throat, actually she...she tried to get me to join some sort of online therapy group, he frowned, for people with PTSD.

-And that’s not your thing, she guessed, Buck shrugged not knowing how to explain himself, is it the internet thing or the fact that it’s with people you don’t know, she pursued.

-I assumed that if I needed to talk about it, you guys would have my back, he wheezed, but then it all went wrong, he sniffed, and the only person that could understand me, the only person I could talk with now hates my gut, he gasped, so tell me how can I rely on strangers when my own friends turned their back on me, he smiled tears rolling down his cheeks.

-I’m not turning my back on you, Hen declared hugging him tightly, you have me and Karen if you need, she offered, but Buck, she added, maybe you should give that online thing a shot until things get better here, she offered before the alarm went off forcing her to leave him behind.

The rest of his day went smoothly, the 118 spend their shift having calls after calls, meaning that he never had to cone across one of them much to his relief, still Hen words have been playing in his head all day, that’s how he found himself glaring at his computer screen once he got home.

He was reading over and over the message he was about to post, trying to come up with an excuse, with anything that could make him delete it once more, but when he closed his eyes to think about it all he could see were the flashes, the memories, the reminders, he needed help, he needed friends and support and if his surrogate family couldn’t give it to him then maybe he could find it in the comfort of strangers.

So with trembling fingers and an over beating heart he clicked send, he took the leap and was rewarded mere seconds later with a new message less shorter than his, and a bit warmer, he took it as a sign that his wish, his prayer has finally been heard.

“Hi Buck my name is Tyler Kennedy “TK” Strand, I’m a 26 Scorpio firefighter in Austin, I’m also struggling with PTSD among other things, so if you ever wanna chat don’t hesitate”

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lixiefe · 4 years

Text

Can’t Touch- k.sm

Chapter Seven: D-Day

Words: 1.6k

Warning: none for now.

(I’ll put another gif because I love Seungmin’s smile. credits to pinterest)

“Oh my god! My baby, you look amazing!” your mother cooed, teary- eyed and fawning at you with the smile you knew would melt you.

You looked at the body-length mirror in front of you, noticing the details and the vile effort put into your whole attire. With little flairs of tousled hair cascading down your cheeks, straightened hair swept and pinned into a simple yet elegant chignon, your hair was styled to perfection. Also with a small tiara right where your veil was attached.

You swiped a hand on your inflated gown, coming to the realization that you were- however unnatural it sounded - going to get married. You weren’t really objecting to this wedding as much now, maybe because you had developed a tiny crush on your fiancé, or maybe because everyone just seemed so much happier and bustling with mirth. And you wouldn’t trade that happiness with backing out last minute.

You also smiled at yourself, faint and small. Your mother was supposed to walk you down the aisle, since your father was as good as non-existent and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Your mother had been so happy throughout the past month, with no signs of sadness and absolutely no slip of tears, that it hurt you to see her almost at the brink of tears.

But they were happy tears, that- you knew.

“Shall we?” your mother extended her hand, expecting you to take it. Much to your pleasure, your mother was also dressed in a white dress, except it wasn’t as flamboyant as yours. You thought that she looked even prettier than you did, with her smile lighting up her face.

You took her hand and inhaled a big breath, tightly shutting your eyes before opening them again. You felt- strangely nervous, as if the shift in your hectic and tight- schedule life would make you miss it. Nonetheless, no matter how much your heart wanted to calm down, there was no backing out. It was probably the pre-marital fright nerves that struck you.

“Dear, your bouquet!” you mother reminded, pointing at the bunch of plumeria and yellow roses wrapped at the branches with a silk ribbon. You hastily took the flowers in your other hand and entwined your other arm with your mother. It was flattering for you that Seungmin had remembered you choice of flowers.

You proceeded to walk with your mother and soon enough, you were in front of the porch. You looked around to see the people that you knew, including the festivity and cheer around you. You spotted Jisung aggressively waving his hands in criss-cross motions, magnetizing even more attention than what his looks drew.

Seungmin watched you from afar, walking down exactly towards him. For reasons, he felt something he's never felt before; fluttering and pleasant. You looked like a goddess, not even an angel but a very beautiful, stunning goddess. And then you smiled at someone, who he did not see, for his eyes were only on you. He could feel his heartbeat quicken and everything except you seemed to be a blur; a vague existence that he paid no heed to. And oh lord, he mentally swooned over your overbearing beauty. Unknowingly, one of his hands rested on his chest, feeling the rapid blood circulation of his heart.

When you looked at him, he felt nervousness wash over him. His hands started to get clammy under his white gloves and the tips of his fingers ice cold. He twiddled with his fingers and wondered what this sudden feeling was. What were you doing to him?

Your mother walked you to your soon-to-be husband. Of course, you were a nervous-wreck. And you didn’t even properly take a look at Seungmin yet. You could feel a jittery feeling amidst your stomach; as if a flock of butterflies were flapping endlessly.

You got the wrong sky, please leave.

And then, you're white-glove clad hand was passed to the scathingly handsome Seungmin that stood in front of you. You felt so diffident that you couldn’t hold eye contact longer than five seconds. It was like a fantastical reunion, cliche. ‘Come on, don’t screw this up,’ you said to yourself; mumbling on your own, inarticulate.

Seungmin had his eyes fixated on you, with the softest look in his eyes. His skin glowed under the sunlight and his vibrant suit complimented his black tie. Seungmin held your covered hand with his- your fingers barely dangling in his feeble grip. He searched for your eyes in an attempt to ease your tensions and heedlessly, it comforted you.

You both said your vows, most of it searched up from the internet and altered just a little bit to match with your situation. You fell into a short dilemma when you heard Seungmin verbatim blurt out most of the things that you mindlessly scripted on a page from the internet. And you began to nibble your lips. At last, you managed to turn that fake script upside down and used your underrated essay skills to make up something right away. It was, in one word, frenetic. One wrong word could ruin it all and you tried you best to make it seem natural.

You felt like you were retaking your college entrance exams.

And then came the moment you were afraid of. You were stressing over how you were going to kiss Seungmin the day before. Even though it made you anxious, you couldn’t deny the little bit of excitement you felt. You anticipated it, yet your brain told you that you couldn’t.

But that moment never came. Your ‘I do’s were the last thing that tied your hands regard of the wedding- literally. He’d released you almost immediately. The priest hadn’t even told you to hug him, the only thing he said was, you quoted ‘I now, pronounce you man and wife’ and that was it.

You felt the exact same feeling of letdown come back from your engagement night- if it could even be called engagement- except, it was stronger and it nipped at your guts. But you forced yourself to feign a carefree attitude and smile.

And you swore, it was so hard.

The dance gathering was now being held, everybody swaying their bodies to the rhythm. You had started dancing with your now-husband but somehow, you managed to twist your ankle and simultaneously scrape the back of your ankle with the harsh lining of you heels. So far, so bad.

You were sat on a chair, away from the bustling dancing, with your evil heels 10 feet away from your sight. It wasn’t really that boring, including the fact that Seungmin was here as well- that too, right beside you. It was frustrating that he was also beside your demonic heels. The heels that you wanted to throw into oblivion for paralyzing you.

Why you weren’t taken to the hospital despite Mrs. Kim’s insists went like this-

“Oh my god, dear! Are you okay? We need to take you to the hospital!”

“No! I am fine! I’ll just sit a bit.”

“But your ankle,”

“Nothing happened, really! Just my heels. Ahaha...”

Time skipped fast and you were inside Seungmin’s penthouse. How did you get here? Well, if it weren’t for Jisung, you thought you were going to be left behind. Because, Seungmin was not of any help. Jisung tagged along with the both of you, to help you get there with your horrible limp and to aid you with your injured ankle. He, for one, knew you were lying pretty to save yourself the bother of an uncanny bridal-hospital-journey.

You thanked him countless times to which he told you that there was no need. At last, he confidently twisted back your warped ankle, astonishing you as the pain of your ankle disappeared with a little soreness. Then, he saluted aptly and headed back. You stared at his receding silhouette in wonder, moving your feet, but there was no pain. Was he some magician?

Jisung surprised you in the most unique ways.

“Y/N,” you heard Seungmin call you from behind. You pivoted your head back, realizing that he had gotten changed into informal clothes. There was a damp towel around his neck and shriveled wet hair decorated his comfortable look. He looked so different than any other time you’d seen him; so much casual and indifferently handsome.

He came approximately 2 meters closer to you. Smiling sheepishly, he says, “How do you stay so long in such a—” he eyes your sitting figure head to toe, smile widening as he pointed towards the bloated gown of your dress, “In such a heavy thing?”

Your emotions drained from your face and you blankly stared at him. Still not over his uselessness and eyes screaming ‘do you really want to say this?’. He seemed to be fazed by your lack of response, initiating a soulless laughter as he finally picked onto your mood. But that too, brought nothing from you. In utter embarrassment, he shut up as his hands fumbled before his mouth.

That was actually cute. But would you let that show? no.

“You can wash up in your room. There is a nameplate in front of your door. My mother made sure there's everything but if you need anything, I’m right in my room.” He spoke, in the same canorous voice that baffled you. And then, he left to his room.

You noticed his voice had such a soothing touch to it. You could listen to him talk all day and still not be tired of it. A voice that could sing melodiously. But, unlucky for you, he wasn’t much of a rambler.

Maybe that’s why he was best friends with Han Jisung.

“Good night.”

a/n: It gets better... the soulless description will get better.... :’)

and I um forgot to say, I dont really know how christian marriages work. I have done my best to research properly before writing. If there’s any errors, please forgive me!

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xxisxxisxxis · 4 years

Text

Gateway Drug | Part Sixty-Four

***IMPORTANT: This was too long to put into one post apparently, so this is part 1 of this chapter, and the link for part 2 will be at the end of the chapter. Thank you and have good night/day***

Words: 5.8k

Warning(s): explicit language, violence, sexual situations

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LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED

“Damnit, bp is 183/111.” A nurse says after they get me on a gurney and she takes my blood pressure, twice. “Mrs. Sixx is your head or chest hurting, vision blurring?” She asks me and I nod my head, my eyes closed, still struggling to breathe, my skin beginning to get sticky with sweat.

“My head.” I tell her.

“Okay, I need you to keep your eyes open for me just for a little bit, so you can tell me if things start looking fuzzy, alright?”

I nod and she smiles reassuringly at me.

“Just stay as calm as possible and we’ll get your blood pressure under control.” She states, beforing looking at the nurse walking on the other side of the gurney. “I need an IV of Beta-blockers.” She tells her, and in what feels like seconds, she's scrubbing at the crook of my elbow with an alcohol pad, before I’m feeling the pinch of a needle sliding into my skin.

“Where’s Duff? The guy I came in here with?” I ask, trying to calm myself down, but I don’t think it’s working.

“He’s filling out some paperwork for you while the desk contacts your emergency contact to let them know the situation and then he will be right here with you as soon as we get you stable.” She informs me and I feel panic in my chest, as I try to sit up, only for them to gently push me back down. “Vivian, you are in a hypertensive crisis. You need to lay still and avoid getting yourself worked up even more.”

“My emergency contact is my husband and he is the last motherfucker I want to know about this!” I argue in between breaths. “Now tell the bitch at the front desk to leave him out of it or I will stroke out just to fucking spite you because I’ve got nothing to lose at this point!”

I sound pathetic, struggling to breathe, gasping out the words in the best scream I can muster, and she raises her brows at me.

They tried to stop Nikki from being contacted, but he was...well, they left a message to the machine at our house, which he ended up checking from his hotel room later that day.

They get my blood pressure down within a few minutes and keep me under watch for several hours, before my doctor finally decides it’s time to tell me what the hell happened, although with how many times I’ve heard the word “hypertension”, I’m assuming it’s not good.

“You had a transient ischemic attack, which, when you take the complicated sounding name away, is basically a ministroke.” He explains, and my eyes widen. “It’s not as major as a stroke, especially since this was caught before it could develop into something worse, but your brain was still not receiving the amount of oxygen needed in your blood because it’s pressure was way too high, but good news for you is that your brain isn’t showing signs of damage that can affect your mind like a stroke would. That being said, this does increase your risk of having a major stroke down the line. No one in your family has a history of stroke or high blood pressure, which typically suggests, more times than not, it is either something you took--medication, alcohol, drugs, etc. or it’s your environment. Is there anything you took, or drank, prior to experiencing your symptoms?”

“I took Nyquil...four doses worth in less than six hours.” I tell him and Duff looks at me, confused. “I couldn’t sleep.” I add.

“N-Nyquil?” Duff asks me, quietly, as if in disbelief. “You had a ministroke...because of an over the counter cold medicine?”

The doctor flips through my chart before pursing his lips.

“Are you still taking Nardil on a daily basis?” He asks me and I nod.

“Yes.”

“Okay, that’s where things went south.” He confirms. “There is a warning on the back of Nyquil syrup, stating that the way MAO Inhibitors, which is a class of antidepressant that phenelzine--Nardil--falls under, interact with the dextromethorphan HBr and the doxylamine succinate in Nyquil, has a high chance of causing hypertension--very high blood pressure-- which can really hurt the brain and the heart, and since you took eight tablespoons of it, it really is miraculous that you didn’t have a major stroke before you even got in the car to come here.” He adds and I feel shitty for being a complete dumbass. “I will give you a sheet of over the counter medicines to avoid before we get you checked out here in a couple hours.” He assures me before heading to the door of the tiny room.

“Thank you.” Duff says as he leaves, and he turns to look at me, trying to hide a smile. “Nyquil.” He states, raising his brows. “You can’t take Nyquil. Without--”

“--Shut up.” I state, trying not to start laughing because I could’ve really been in trouble.

“Oh, c’mon, Viv, you had me freaking out worried something horrible was wrong--which it was, really--but Nyquil?”

“I have seen idiots mix drugs with all types of mess and their bodies not even acknowledge it, but I take Nyquil…” I trail off, not being able to stop laughing. “...and it’s too much for me? Hell, at this point if I have one taste of a hard drug I’m just gonna croak over immediately.”

The two of us keep laughing for a couple minutes, until I’m sore in the stomach, and my watering eyes from laughter, are watering because the reality of everything that has happened to me in the past four three days, hits me.

Duff just sits on the tiny bed next to me, holding at my hand, wiping at my tears, giving me a big, encouraging smile.

“I love you.” I tell him and he nods, kissing my cheek.

“I love you, too.” He tells me. “This will blow over before you know it, Viv.”

Once I get checked out and we head back to Duff’s place, I quickly realize something I haven’t even thought about.

“Your album is coming out.” I say, looking at him and he glances at me, chuckling.

“Yeah.” He confirms. “In like, two days.”

“Holy shit.” I mumble. “I gotta take you guys out to dinner or something.” I rub my tired eyes and he shakes his head.

“No, no, it’s fine, Viv.”

“No, it’s not. This is a good time for you guys and I just came home all gloom and doom and shit all over it. I need to do something for you guys.” I explain.

“You’re not ‘gloom and doom’, you’re hurting. Which is normal for what you’ve been through, and being that we helped hide it from you, you don’t need to be worried about inconveniencing us. At all.” He argues.

“It’ll help me get my mind off of things.” I suggest.

“You don’t really need to get your mind off of it. You need to be processing everything and figuring out where you wanna go from here.” He politely tells me.

“I can’t go anywhere from here, Duff. Not until the tour’s over.” I laugh humorlessly and he furrows his brows.

“What?”

"Doc doesn't want us to split until the tour's over. Not that it should even matter. People don't give a damn about our marriage as much as Doc is convinced they are. It's not like the second fans hear we're filing for divorce they're gonna go on a strike over it." I roll my eyes.

"They won't care." Duff tells me.

"Exactly."

"...Do you want a divorce?" He asks next and I lick my lips.

"I don't know." I admit, tears coming to my eyes at the thought of it.

“Does he?”

“Duff, I don’t know, alright? We’ll just figure it out when the tour ends.”

“Vivian, that’s nearly a year from now.” He states.

“Well, then, I don’t fucking know! Okay?! I don’t fucking know!”

“I’m trying to get you to think about what you want to do because you’ll just end up putting it off and ignoring it like you do with all of your problems you’ve got with him.” He explains, keeping himself calm.

“I’ll deal with it later.”

“Viv--”

“--Duff. Please.” I give up, and he lets out a breath.

“I’m dropping it.” He mumbles.

After a few more minutes, he’s glancing at me again.

“We’re having a listening party for the album tomorrow night, by the way.” He tells me. “We’d really like for you to come, if you’re up for it.” He adds and a small smile comes to my lips.

“Yeah.” I nod.

“Yeah?” He asks, mimicking my smile.

“Yeah.”

The next day, I decide to go home and visit with Karen, trying to convince myself not to completely wreck the place the second I walk in.

She’s sitting on the couch with the TV playing in the background.

When I walk in, she looks up at me and gives me a soft smile.

“Hey.” She tells me, nervously, and I roll my jaw and look around.

I never noticed how many fucking pictures Nikki and I have up together from our wedding.

“Doc told me to keep an eye out for you, I was kinda worried when you didn’t come home.” She adds.

“I was staying with Duff.” I tell her, and she still tries to keep her smile on her face.

“Oh, um, you’ve got some mail, and Doc called and wanted you to call him back, and I’m sorry I wasn’t here when the hospital called. I just checked the messages late last night but Doc said Nikki had already heard the one the receptionist in the ER left.” She tells me and I let out a sigh.

“Great, something else to hear Doc bitch me out about.” I grumble, stepping to the phone in the kitchen, seeing the mail on the counter next to it.

I see she scribbled down the hotel phone number that they’re at now, and Doc’s hotel room number, on a paper pad and I punch the number in and request it to be put through to Doc.

Before I can get a breath out, I’m hearing all of it.

“Are you fucking out of your mind, Vivian? ‘Bless their hearts’?! I told you repeatedly what to tell the press and you don’t listen to a word of it?! And then you go home and end up in the fucking emergeny room?! What, did ya try to kill yourself or something, what the hell happened?!”

I raise my brows and blink a few times.

“I wasn’t paying attention to the warning label of some Nyquil and I took some to sleep, and it didn’t react well with my antidepressant. I’m alive, I’m fine, I wasn’t trying to kill myself, and would you rather me have said, ‘Vanity and Nikki fucked me over and everyone who was supposed to have my back, let them’?”

I hear his heavy breath exhaling on the other end of the line.

“Alright, Viv, alright. Just don’t say anything else to the press, please. The journalist at Rolling Stone is gonna be here in a couple of days, just please, please, please, be on your best behaviour. I’ve already talked to Nikki and he’s agreed to play nice, please, do so too.” He begs.

I didn’t want to “play nice” but I decided to so I wouldn’t make things harder for everybody, including myself, but just being blatantly hateful.

“Fine, Doc.” I agree and he sighs out in relief.

“Thank you, Viv.” He tells me and I roll my eyes.

“Yep.” I reply before hanging the phone up.

When I pick up the pile of mail, an envelope falls to the floor and I reach down to pick it up, seeing it’s addressed to me, from Playboy Enterprises.

I furrow my brows and open the envelope, grabbing at the paper inside and unfolding it before I read it.

“Dude.” I say to myself, furrowing my brows.

Someone had seen me half naked, demonstrating my flexibility, in the “Girls, Girls, Girls” video and a cover shoot for Playboy and a 12 page pictorial was on the table for $40,000, if I was up for it. Of course any other time I wouldn’t have thought twice...but this time, it was being considered.

“Forty-thousand?” Sharise asks me on the other end of the line later that day.

“Forty freaking thousand.” I reply.

“Who the hell wants to see you naked so bad?”

“I don’t know but I’m not mad at it.” I reply.

“Are you gonna do it?”

“I don’t know. Should I?”

“You just found out Nikki’s been cheating on you with one of your friends, Viv, I think you should take some time to think about it in case you make the decision to do it and then realize you shouldn’t have agreed to it, ya know?”

“I don’t have any money of my own, Sharise. If he leaves me, he’s not gonna leave me anything. I’m gonna be out of luck. I could use the money.” I explain. “And they didn’t say whether I had to be nude or not so I’ll look into the details and just go from there.”

“You are the absolute last person I would ever expect to take up an offer from Playboy.”

“Desperate times.” I shrug.

“More like, ‘what can I do to piss Nikki off’, times.” She points out.

“Vanity’s posed in Playboy before. Maybe he would've liked me enough not to cheat on me if I would've been more like her to begin with.” I sarcastically say, but there is a smile part of me that really feels that way.

"Don't compare yourself to her, Viv." She argues politely.

"I'm not." I lie, setting the letter from Playboy down.

I hear Skylar screaming and crying in the background and Sharise sighs out.

"I gotta go, Viv, I'll call you back later. Skylar just fell." She tells me.

"Alright, I'll come visit you guys before I leave." I assure her.

"Okay. We love you and we'll see you then."

"I love you, too, tell Sky I love her."

"I will."

"Bye."

I hang up and let out a soft breath, glancing at the number on the letter once again, rubbing my lips together before deciding to start getting ready to meet the guys for their album listening party before it drops.

For the first time in a few days, I look at myself in the mirror, taken back by how shitty I look.

The dark circles under my eyes are more prominent than usual, my eyes themselves look nearly dead, my hair is kinda nappy since I haven't brushed it in a couple days, and my mouth feels gross because I haven't bothered to brush my teeth.

I get in the shower, hoping it'll make me feel better.

The only thing it does is make me want to call Duff and tell him I can't make it tonight, but like I always do, I persist and finish getting ready, nearly fooling myself when I look in the mirror and make myself smile.

My doorbell is ringing within the next thirty minutes, and I'm spritzing on perfume as I hear Karen open the door to let the guys in.

I'm pulling my heels on, stepping into the living room.

"Hey." I greet Duff and Steven, and Steven's immediately hugging onto me.

"I'm sorry." He says, apologizing for the part he played in Nikki's bullshit.

I hug him back, not able to help but smile at how tightly he's hugging me.

"It's okay, Stevie." I tell him, genuinely.

He kisses my cheek and gives me one last tight squeeze before letting me go.

"Are we ready?" Duff asks me and I nod.

"Alright, we'll have her back home at a reasonable time." Steven tells Karen, and she chuckles.

"Stay out of trouble." She tells us as we head to the door.

"We will." I assure her as we head out the door to get in Duff's car.

All of their friends are there, everyone of them giving them wide smiles and big hugs as I hold onto Duff's hand as we weave through the crowd to the bar.

“Hi.” Slash says to me, sunglasses on, hat low, and I raise my brows at him.

“Are you okay?”

“Yep.” He replies, sipping from the Jack bottle in his hand, pulling out a cigarette.

“Can I have one?” Duff asks him.

“Yeah, if you’ve got a light.” Slash replies with a little grin and Duff pulls the lighter from his pocket and lights Slash’s cigarette before his own.

“You want a drink?” He asks me next and I look up at him.

“Water.” I tell him with a nod, suddenly feeling an arm slip over my shoulders.

It’s Izzy, and he looks like he’s been on cloud 9 for a little bit now, a loose smile on his lips as cigarette smoke flows from his mouth with his exhaled breath.

“Hey, you.” He tells me, and I lick my lips.

“Hey, asshole.” I shrug his arm off, remembering him yelling at me the other night.

“Ouch, am I on your shit list, too, now?” He asks me and I glance at him, making his smile widen, his eyes crinkling slightly. “I forget you’re sensitive, Viv.” He adds.

“Maybe me shoving my foot up your ass will remind you.” I state, Duff turning to hand me my water.

Izzy looks down at the clear liquid and frowns slightly.

“That’s why you’re sad.” He motions to it. “You need the strong stuff.”

I know what he means, but I try to play it off by saying, “what, sparkling water?”

“Izzy, man, she doesn’t drink.” Duff cuts in, lightly, but I know he’s being serious.

“Just making a suggestion.” Izzy shrugs, his eyes on a pretty blonde that passes. “I’ll be right back.”

He follows after her and I roll my eyes, taking a sip of water, as “Welcome to the Jungle” starts playing over the speakers.

Everyone starts cheering, all the guys stop what they’re doing, all of them sharing the same, proud smiles.

Once I’m done with my water, Duff, Slash, Izzy, Steven and Axl are all together, trying to gauge everyone’s reactions to their album so far.

Everyone seems to really like it.

“I’m gonna get another water.” I tell Duff, and he nods. “Do you need a refill?” I ask him, motioning to his cocktail.

“No, thanks though.” He tells me and I head to the bar, Izzy’s suggestion echoing in my mind as my eyes fall on the array of liquor bottles on display on the back wall shelf behind the bar.

My mind drifts to what would happen if I were to have a cocktail.

I step to the bar and order the last alcoholic drink I had, although accidental at the time.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m throwing back my shot of Tequila, nearly choking at the burn of it before feeling warmth radiate throughout my chest as it goes down.

Next thing I know, I’m seven shots in starting to feel less tense...even less tense when I try to walk and nearly faceplant, laughing instead of feeling embarrassed before walking as best as I can to the guys.

“Where’s your water?” Duff asks me, and I look at my hands, furrowing my brows.

“I don’t know.” I reply, honestly, and his brows raise and his eyes widen when he gets a whiff of my breath.

“Oh, shit, Viv, you smell like--”

“--Tequila!” I finish saying it in the way it’s said in “Tequila” by The Champs.

He’s stunned for a moment, and I’m trying to keep from looking him up and down.

“H-How much did you drink?” He asks me politely and I squint my eyes as I try to remember.

“I lost count after four.” I admit.

“Viv, I don’t think you’re supposed to be drinking with your medication.” He tells me.

“Doesn’t matter when the shit isn’t making me feel better anyway.” I reply without a thought, my speech starting to slur, my gaze focusing the best it can on the bottle in Slash's hand.

It reminds me of Nikki.

"I want Nikki." I say next and Duff can probably sense a storm coming, turning around and seeing the guys aren't paying attention.

"Hey, she's not feeling too good so I'm gonna take her home." He tells them. "I'll be back." He assures them.

"Alright, dude." Steven replies and Duff sits his drink down.

"Let's get outta here." He tells me, grabbing at my hand and leading me to his car, causing me to be sidetracked by the payphone.

"Gimme some change." I tell him.

"Viv, c'mon, you need to go home." He tries to guide me away but I refuse.

"I miss Nikki. I wanna talk to him."

"He's probably asleep right now, Viv. You can call him tomorrow." He suggests.

"He won't talk to me anyway. He hates me." I reply, stumbling to the passenger side of the car and he helps me stay balanced, opening the door for me and helping me get in before he shuts the door and walks around to the passenger seat.

It's a quiet drive home.

I miss Nikki.

He punches in the code of our gate and pulls into the driveway, helping me out.

I take my heels off and toss them down on the concrete, causing him to reach down and grab them for me as I clumsily make my way to the door.

"Here, here, I got it." He assures me when I try to open the door, singling out our house key from his car keys.

"I'm sorry for ruining your night." I tell him. "It was suppose to be a fun night--"

"--It was fun, Viv." He promises. "I'm going back anyway when I make sure you're settled here." He adds, opening the door. "I'll let Karen know what's up and--"

"Karen's out tonight, Duff." I cut him short, remembering that she told me earlier today about going out for one of her girl friends' birthdays, not able to keep my eyes off of him.

"Oh." He says. "Well, I can stay here until she comes back." He tells me. "I'll go ahead and get you some water." He heads to the kitchen, and a sick plan twists itself into my skull.

When he comes back with my water and hands it to me, I just sit it on the coffee table in the living room before turning to look at him.

"You need to drink that, Viv." He politely says, but I just step closer to him, and apparently he can tell what I'm thinking based off my expression because he's gently grasping my hand in his when I reach out to pull him closer to me. "We can't, Vivian."

"Why not? Because of Nikki? As if he gives a shit."

"But I do. I give a shit. And you're drunk. And you're heartbroken. And I'm not adding to the damage before you even process what's already been done." He states.

"You've wanted to fuck me for how long and here's your shot, and you're turning me down to spare my feelings?" I scoff out. "Where the fuck is Vince Neil when you need him?" I say to myself outloud, irritated with Duff, about to push past him to go to my room.

"Somewhere in the midwest, believing Nikki is still right for screwing Vanity." He argues, frustrated that I'm not understanding that he's trying to do the right thing.

I stop for a second, and turn to look at him, again.

"Vivian, I want to, but I can't--"

"--You didn't tell me about Nikki and Vanity, either." I remind him harshly. "So, when you think about it, you owe me, Duff." I hiss.

"I was protecting y--"

"--If you were protecting me, you would have told me!" I outburst, tears in my eyes. "You wouldn't have put me in a position that allowed me to be humiliated like that! Nobody would have if they were really looking out for me!"

He's got tears in his eyes now, and he exhales.

"I'm not gonna stay here and let you badger me for doing what I thought was the best thing to do." He says, walking to the door.

"Yeah, just leave me like Nikki! Just go get shitfaced and pout and end the night on top of another girl because that's how everybody else solves their fucking issues!"

He snaps around, causing me to bump into him from where I'm following at his heels.

"I'm not Nikki." He says through his teeth.

"You didn't tell me." I repeat weakly. "Nobody told me."

His frustration dissipates, and he takes a couple of steps to me, before leaning down, suddenly taking my lips with his.

The numbing effect of being kissed and held is potent, and a sick part of my mind pictures I'm with Nikki, and not Duff.

I try to keep my eyes closed the best I can to keep the illusion alive, even when clothes start being torn off, even when my legs are wrapped around his bare hips, my naked back against the wall and his tongue and mine dancing as adrenaline and ecstasy course through me.

With each thrust, I'm growing more sober, more conscious to the fact this isn't Nikki.

He stops abruptly, pulling away from me, furrowing his brows.

"Viv?"

"Yeah?" I ask, still not opening my eyes.

"Look at me." He says softly and I gently shake my head. "Viv--"

"--Just keep going." I tell him, my voice cracking, as a lump forms in my throat.

"Are you crying?" He asks next, and I finally look at him.

He looks horrified and guilty, as if he's screaming at himself internally for being shitty.

He's not shitty. I am.

"I'm sorry." I say next.

"Jesus Christ." He lets out, a single tear falls past his lashes and he's pulling out of me and putting me back on my feet as fast as he can.

"Duff."

He ignores me, pulling his clothes on.

"Duff, please." I grab at his arm and he shakes me off, putting his boots back on, sniffling, wiping his eye quickly, picking up his jacket and getting his car keys. "Duff, I'm sorry--"

"--I'm not Nikki." Is the last thing he says before slamming my front door shut.

"Vivian?" I'm snapping out of my daydream, seeing Steven furrowing his brows, the loud verse of "Mr. Brownstone" blaring in my ears from the club speakers.

"Yeah?" I reply to him.

"I was coming to get a refill, Duff wanted me to come check on you." He tells me and I look down at the empty water glass in my hand.

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine." I assure him with a smile.

"Okay, just making sure."

-> Gateway Drug | Part Sixty-Four (pt. 2)

#nikki sixx #mötley crüe #nikki sixx x oc #nikki sixx fanfiction #gateway drug

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katymacsupernatural · 4 years

Text

Married to the Job

Dean Winchester x Reader

1750 Words

Written For: BTZ Bingo, @spndarkbingo, @spngenrebingo

Squares Filled: Married to the job(BTZ), Character Death (Dark), Flannel (Genre)

Summary: Instead of celebrating your anniversary, Dean insists on taking a job. A job that results in heartbreak

Warnings: All the angst!! Character death

“Damn it, Dean,” you cursed, slamming your coffee cup on the table, wincing as the scalding liquid sloshed over the Eeyore cup you cherished. But it didn’t deter the frustration you were feeling.

Dean stood at the door, his arms crossed, his mouth in a tight line promising the fact that he had already made up his mind. You wanted to hurl your coffee cup at him, but you didn’t want to lose your favorite coffee cup. Instead, you stood up and poured your coffee and your breakfast in the trash. You were no longer hungry. Not after the bombshell that Dean had just dropped.

Taking a deep breath, you turned to face him. “Dean, why? You knew that today was our anniversary. You promised me. No research, no hunting. Just you, and me and a trip to that nice little resort a couple of hours away.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Things happen. Jobs show up when we least expect them. What do you want me to do? Say sorry, I’m not going to come save your lives because I need to go pamper myself.”

You rolled your eyes before pushing past Dean. “Once again, you’re missing the point. I don’t begrudge your saving lives. I just wish you weren’t so married to the job. That you would remember you married me. And sometimes, you have to work on that marriage as well.”

You turned down the hallway to see Sam standing there, his mouth hanging wide open. You smiled sadly as you passed him, not letting the first tear drop until you were alone. Dean’s bag was already packed and on the bed. Your bag was packed, but not for a hunting trip. It had your seldom used one piece swimsuit. A simple black one that Dean always said he loved seeing you wear.

You had also planned on surprising Dean with your new set of lingerie. Lacy and red, you had been hesitant to buy it, but you wanted something special for your anniversary. But now it didn't matter.

Angrily wiping the tear away, you yanked the items out of your duffel bag, throwing them in a heap on the chair before shoving in some flannel and Jeans. An extra shirt or two along with your holy water and angel blade.

"Here, I can take that," Dean spoke up from the doorway, no sign of regret in his eyes. You wouldn't have minded the change of plans if he had pleaded with you. But he had already made up his mind, without consulting you at all.

You threw your bag at him before storming past. Sitting down in the backseat of the Impala, you slid on your headphones. You were determined to stay mad at Dean for ruining such an important weekend for the two of you.

It wasn't like you asked for much. Your wedding had been a simple affair, officiated by Cas, attended by Sam, Jody, Donna and your hunter friend Slyvia. No honeymoon, no fancy night at a hotel. Just back to work with the promise you would do something nice later.

For your Birthday Dean had taken on a hunt in South Dakota with Jody, leaving you alone in the Bunker to drink an entire bottle of wine on your own.

It wasn't that you expected him to give up hunting. You had just hoped that he could pull away just a little bit to give your marriage the support you so desperately needed.

You stayed silent the entire trip, falling asleep somewhere in Colorado. Sam had kept glancing back at you while Dean had acted as if nothing was wrong. As if you weren't spending your anniversary on the road once again.

Instead of a night spent in a cozy little cabin, you were currently laying on a lumpy old mattress, the broken TV taunting you in the corner. Both Sam and Dean had gone to talk to the witnesses, while you had opted to stay behind, lounging in bed, wearing one of Dean’s old flannels.

“Broken heart?” a man’s voice spoke from the bathroom. This tall man ducked as he stepped through the doorframe, his shoulders brushing the trim. He had sandy blonde hair, a strong jaw and long legs that rivaled Sam’s. But it was the black eyes that had you reaching under your pillow for the blade you always kept there. “Oh, I don’t think so sweetheart.”

With a snap of his fingers, your blade flew away, landing in his hand. “Who the hell are you?”

He sighed, placing the blade in his pocket. “I do suppose you don’t recognize me. Not in this sweet little get-up. Isn’t this meat suit handsome? I’m going to try to hold onto this one. But the name’s Agarus. Ring any bells?”

Of course, it rang bells. He had been one of the Demons going through a small town a couple of years ago, killing anyone they could get their hands on. It had been one of the more horrifying hunts you had ever been on. You had been able to trap and kill one Demon, but he had vanished.

“I can see it has,” he answered gleefully. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long. To finally get revenge for the death of my dear friend. I set this trap, hoping that it would bring the Winchesters and Dean’s girl here, and it worked exactly as I had hoped.”

“So what? Now you’re going to kill me? All that’s going to do is set Dean Winchester on your tail until you die a slow, painful death.”

“I would like to think I’m smarter than that,” he seemed offended. With another snap of his fingers, he had you transported across the room and slammed into the wall so hard your teeth knocked together.

“How original,” You taunted. “Yet another power happy male Demon slamming people into the wall. Do you guys have any imagination at all?”

Your words dug deep, his smile turning into a snarl as he squeezed his hand into a fist. Immediately your insides turned to fire, trying to burn you from the inside out. Clenching your teeth together, you fought hard not to scream, a moan the only satisfaction he would receive.

“I should have realized that anyone who would marry Dean Winchester would have to be tough skinned,” he growled, watching with glee as you squirmed under his torture. “It will be my pleasure to make you scream.”

“If anyone makes Y/N scream, it will be me,” Dean’s voice was low as he stepped into the room. “And it won’t be from torture.”

“Kinky,” the Demon chuckled. “But I think I have the upper hand.”

You could see that Dean was by himself. But it was hard concentrating on anything else when it felt like lava was flowing through your veins. “Let her go now,” Dean insisted, pulling out the Angel blade he always carried. The Demon just shrugged at the threat, tightening his hand until blood slipped from your lips and you cried out. “Damn it, leave her alone!”

The Demon, you couldn’t remember his name, shook his head. “You took everything from me. I had a great life. I was topside with my best friend. We could kill whatever we wanted. We took whatever meat suit looked good. It was perfect and then you had to come along and take her away.”

You could Dean was as confused as you were. You had taken out so many Demons that it was hard to remember a specific one. “See? You don’t even remember her! She was the one wearing the gym teacher’s outfit. Who had a habit of taking out annoying students.”

“Oh,” Dean finally remembered. “And you were the sheriff, covering it all up, weren’t you? But you got away before we could kill you.”

“Exactly. So I could wait and plan my revenge. Let you find out what it’s like to live without the one that matters to you most. And do you know what I find hilarious?”

“What?” Dean’s jaw was clenched tight, his knuckles white as he squeezed the angel blade.

“This is so fitting! Because I know today is your anniversary. And you were stupid enough to come on this hunt instead of lavishing attention on the one you love. If I had known my time was limited with Crocell, I would have spent every minute of it with her.”

“How did you know it was our anniversary?” Dean asked, his eyes glancing over at you, concern and guilt filling the green pools.

Agarus rolled his eyes. “It was an easy knucklehead. Even Demons can use the internet, and I do have my sources. So instead of spending the day showing Y/N how much you love her, now you get to say goodbye.”

Dean’s eyes widened, and he charged, raising the Angel blade high and slashing it down. But Agarus was too speedy and he slammed Dean into the wall, the blade slipping from his hand. Tears rolled down your cheek, your entire body in agony. “Y/N, I’m so sorry,” Dean whispered. “I should have listened to you.”

It took a moment for you to realize the pain was gone. The Demon’s hold on you had vanished as well, and you took a step forward when Argus grabbed your arm. He had Dean’s blade in his hand and with a gleeful chuckle, he slid it home between your ribs.

“No!” Dean screamed, struggling against the Demon’s hold, watching as blood blossomed on your borrowed flannel. The once gray and black flannel now had a deep red spot as you slid down to the ground.

“Let’s see how you handle this one,” Agarus laughed before his eyes went wide. Sam was standing behind him, his Demon blade buried deep in his side. His eyes flashed orange before Sam threw him off to the side.

“Y/N!” Dean exclaimed, falling to his knees beside you, his hand hovering over the gaping wound in your chest. Blood was quickly pooling around you, taking all of your strength with it. “Damn it, I should have listened to you.”

You tried reaching up for him, tried speaking to tell him that it was alright, you forgave him. The words refused to leave your lips as blood trickled down your chin before your head tilted to the side, leaving Dean in a tidal wave of agony and regret.

Dean/Jensen Tags: @acortez82 @acreativelydifferentlove @adoptdontshoppets @a-girl-who-loves-disney @akshi8278 @bebravekeeponfighting @bi-danvers0 @brindz30 @burningcoffeetimetravel @cap-just-said-language @colette2537 @deansgirl215 @flamencodiva @hamiltrash1411 @its-not-a-tulpa @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @just-another-winchester @karouwinchester @keikoraventeller @krys198478 @librarygeekery @magssteenkamp @misspygmypie @mlovesstories @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @mrspeacem1nusone @nothinbuttrouble2 @ria132love @ruprecht0420 @sortaathief @superseejay721517 @squirrelnotsam @team-free-will-you-idjiot @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @torn-and-frayed @tricksterdean @wonderfulworldofwinchester @woodworthti666

Forever Tags: @aditimukul @alexwinchester23 @algud @amanda-teaches @andreaaalove @artisticpoet @atc74 @be-amaziing @camelotandastronauts @caswinchester2000 @chelsea072498 @closetspngirl @docharleythegeekqueen @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008 @esoltis280 @foxyjwls007 @gh0stgurl @goldenolaf25 @growningupgeek @heyitscam99 @hobby27 @horsegirly99 @internationalmusicteacher @iwriteaboutdean @jayankles @jensen-gal @just-another-busyfangirl @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @lifelovelaughangell123 @li-ssu @linki-locks11 @littleblue5mcdork @lowlyapprentice @maui137 @mogaruke @monkeymcpoopoo @musiclovinchic93 @nanie5 @percussiongirl2017 @plaid-lover-bay25 @roonyxx @ronja-uebrick @roxyspearing @samanthaharper2018 @samanddeanmyheroes @sandlee44 @shamelesslydean @simonsbluee @sillesworldofwriting @sgarrett49 @spnbaby-67 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spnwoman @superbadassnatural @thatcrazybookwormgeek @thewinchesterchronicles @vvinch3st3r @wecantgiggleitsafandom @whimsicalrobots @winchester-writes @zombiewerewolfqueen

#btz bingo #spndarkbingo #spngenrebingo #dean winchester x reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural reader insert #katy writes #spn fanfic #spn angst #dean angst #dean x y/n

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t-hollands-bitch · 4 years

Text

Starting Over (Part 1) // Reader x Tom

Warnings: None

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader (sometimes just referred to as R)

Word count: 1.1K

Summary: The love you have for Tom Holland consumes you so much that you sometimes can’t imagine how it would feel to not love him. But it comes a day when you start doubting your feelings. When Tom announced that he had a girlfriend, your heart was broken to the point that you thought you could never heal.

A/N: Thanks to the lovely @hollands-osterfield for giving me this idea and helping me out when I needed her! A lot of cred to her! AO3 link

⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕

I was carried along by the crowd. Still waiting for them to walk down the red carpet. When I heard the screams get hysteric, I knew that he had arrived. My breath was caught in my chest and I wanted to scream out of excitement but nothing came out.

I was in shock. I was happy. I was on the moon.

He walked down the red carpet, waving and giving the crowd and the paparazzi his biggest smile. My heart was skipping a thousand beats. It was so unreal seeing him this close.

I think it was when he got closer to the crowd and started signing pictures and drawings, that it finally hit me. He was here, barely 30 feet away from me, and that’s when my tears started pouring down.

Oh my God, he is here.

And just like that, he was right in front of me, signing the picture of him that I had printed out.

“Are you okay? I promise the movie will be good, don’t cry.” His playfulness and that little laugh along with it was like a wave of calmness and peace washed over my heart. He gave me a quick glance and a smile and I felt like I was the happiest girl alive.

Infinity War was amazing and I cried my eyes out at the end of it. I think everyone did.

----

A few months later, it was time for comic con and I had managed to get both autograph and photo-op tickets. The same went with the panel tickets.

When it was my turn in line to take the picture I was pushed into the little area behind the curtain by a guard, and everything went by so quickly. But for me, everything was in slow-motion. I remember it all as if it was yesterday, although sometimes it feels like ages ago.

I made a copy of the picture and saved it in my drawer. Maybe I would meet him again and that was a great thing to give to him. He might throw it away, but I would go on with the thought that Tom would have something of mine. Something that he was a part of.

And he did get that picture. He got the picture about a year later when he was doing the FanX panel. I wished he wasn’t wearing the hat so I could see his hair. Oh, how I imagined running my fingers through that soft hair while holding him close in my arms. Maybe give him a kiss on the cheek and quietly confess my love for him with a whisper close to his ear.

That day at the FanX photo-ops I got yet another picture with him and I felt the same joy as the last time. I had brought the framed picture with me with a note at the back of the picture, hidden in the frame.

“This is for you, there’s a note on the back of the picture, read it when you have the time,” I got the words out and handed him the picture with trembling hands.

“Thank you, darling, come here give me a hug,” I think my heart was about to explode and I don’t know how I could be so calm and collected on the outside while my insides were on fire. We took the picture and he gave me one last hug and one of those bright smiles of his that warmed my heart.

His laugh and how his eyes wrinkled at the sides were like a movie that one couldn’t get enough of. You just wanted to play it over and over and over again until you knew every frame of the movie like the back of your hand. He was like a movie based on a book that one couldn’t get enough of, the kind that you would watch the movie and then read the book back to back and still love it like it was the first time.

The tears in my eyes weren’t because of the sadness that he might never remember my face, they were because of how he was utterly and completely pure. His soul attracted me, to the point that I wanted to know everything about him, but through him, and not just the internet.

If someone asked me “would you rather have a conversation with him without any proof to the outside world that you had that conversation, or just have a picture with him” I would pick the conversation. I would choose to have a conversation with him and then afterward write down everything we said and read it all over again. As if I was writing my own book about him. With every ounce of his soul tinting the words written on the paper.

Don’t get me wrong, I was so thankful for the picture and those few moments I got with him. I will always be thankful for those moments.

I always thought that my love for him would never lose its strength and fire. But I couldn’t be more wrong.

Two months after the FanX panel, every tabloid was filled with headlines about Tom being seen with a mystery girl. She was gorgeous so I didn’t blame him for going out with her. She had light brown hair and a slim figure and she was about the same height as Tom himself. The pictures of them holding hands and being all cuddly were all over Tumblr and Twitter and Instagram and it was driving me insane.

I didn’t want to believe it. It was hard for me to believe it. After all, they could just be friends and Tom hadn’t said anything himself, until he did. A week later a video of him on BBC 1 radio was uploaded and the question about the mysterious brunette was brought up.

“At first I tried to ignore it all, but people were getting crazy and started sending her hate which I’m not happy about. Like, if you are a fan of mine you should be happy for my sake. So to answer your question, yes I am in a relationship with Madison and we have actually been dating for seven months. I am a really private person and this was the first time something like this happened and I thought that if I kept ignoring it, it would get worse. And I will continue to keep my private life private but it will probably be a bit easier, not having to hide.”

I watched that video twenty times and it hurt every single time.

He had a girlfriend and it hurt like hell.

⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this, although I love to have a third-pov but I liked writing from the reader’s pov and explore the thoughts. I will tag every part of this mini-series with #Starting Over and you can find it in #my writing as well in my bio. Please leave feedback!

#tom holland #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff #tom x reader #famous!tom #infinity war #comic con #fanX #far from home #Tom interview #my writing #H's writing #Starting over

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harleyquinnbluemoonlove · 4 years

Text

Welcoming the new Social Movement/Platform/Political Party in the World

Official Name: Blue Dog Bite Mafia 888 *BETA*

Owner/CEO/Founder/Dealer/Player/Delivery BAD B:

Current Name: Monica Gill FUTURE Name: Mercedes Lynnette Giovanni

Email: [email protected]

Current Financial Status: $0.00 ---- You may DONATE by using CASH APP Cash Tag #$bluedogbitemafia888

***MY CYBER FAMILY MUST ENSURE THAT DONATIONS ARE NOT HIGHJACKED/STOLEN****

BASIC IDEA/PLAN OF ATTACK/EXECUTION OR POSITIVE WORDS LIKE “LAUNCH”. We can issue an ATTACK or a LAUNCH CODE.

I will dumb it down a little bit. I am taking advantage of my position of power, now that I am a Celebrity in the World. Its the greatest feeling in the world, feels better than good sex and that is a hard thing for me to admit because I love some good, hot, sweaty sex and I’ve been going without for several weeks. I almost fell like a Nun because I cannot even pleasure myself because I was molested as a child by Lovie Price’s boyfriend “Frank Parker” a gasoline man from an early. I told Connie Price about it when I was 15 and her name at the time was Connie Dunford. It was the same day Brandie Ann Thompson said Curtis Triplett tried to rape her in the bathroom at the house In Frayser, Memphis TN. Brandie Ann in her hayday, resembled a youthful Cameron Diaz. Cameron Diaz dated Justin Timberlake once upon a time. She played in the move “The mask” and the mask was green. At the end of the movie, the dog put on the mask. You all know, when you wear that mask---you become a Shape Shifter, transforming into anything/anyone you think will grab the Hot or Not Rated #10 Woman’s ATTENTION/HEART/LOVE and will do anything, I mean anything to get it. The secret to my success is a compilation of everything good, bad, dirty, evil and let’s call it “The Struggle” or the “Human Experience”.

Old School (OS) Operating System (OS) Back to Basics (B2B) Brandie Thompson (BT) Barry Thompson (BT) Blue Tooth (BT) Brandie Smith (BS) Bull Shit (BS) Rent A Center (RAC) Roger Adren Crawford (RAC) $1K (RAK) Rags to Riches Richard Abernathy (RA) **secret boyfriend shh!!** Douche Bag (DB) or Douglas Belknap (DB) Thomas Jones (TJ) County Road (CR) Danny Thomas (DT) Deanna Thomas (DT) ... Trying to show you how I think period dot. In ya’ll are slow, period dot also equal two dots. You must have two dots to play connect the dots and draw the lines to illustrate inspiration into a masterpiece. The best pieces of Art are very old, have a solid reputation, and is properly curated to ensure it maintains its value for infinity times three.

Basically, you can get with my program, drink my Kool Aid, swallow your pride, do the right thing, if you have done something wrong, you really need to return to your basic religious beliefs what they may be, get right with yourself, because what you have done will come to light, exposed, we are moving on from there. We are, as a society going to change and deliver the children and the children’s children: a brighter future with more options, a limited amount of privacy, give them the world and see what they can accomplish with living in a world of positive vibes, beautiful colors, great music, entrepreneurship, dreams, and now, the little girls if we get married will truly believe in fairytales. This right here is whats up because we have an opportunity, once in a lifetime opportunity, to fix society, establish unity and peace, competition is good but everyone needs a chance to win sometimes to boost their confidence and pride. When there is monopoly or kingdom, it fosters the seven deadly sins, seven capital sins, and the seven cardinal sins, which is systemic to original sin.

Genesis clearly explains that certain things were created on certain days and back time was measured. You cannot just create a man or a woman. First, you need the Universe. Then, you need the Galaxy which creates Space. In Space, you have the moon, stars, sun, planets, black holes, asteroids, comets, shooting stars, orbit, gravitational pull. Here we are on planet Earth with 7 continents and 7 oceans. I like the number 8 because it represent a number, a symbol, and no limitations--infinity. My son was born on 3-8-03 weighing 8 pounds, 8 ounces and 19.5 inches long, color: BLUE, life: No sign of it. It took 10 minutes and PLEADING WITH THE LORD AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS SCREAMING PRAYING TO PLEASE GIVE HIM LIFE, I DON’T WANT TO HAVE GONE THROUGH 35.5 HOURS OF LABOR AND 7 HOURS OF HARD PUSHING WITH NO PAIN MEDICINE, NO EPIDURAL, GAVE BIRTH TO A STILL BORN BABY NATURALLY AND THE GOOD LORD ANSWERED MY PRAYERS AND THAT BOY CRIED AND WENT TO THE NICU AT BETHESDA NAVAL HOSPITAL IN MONTGOMERY COUNTY, MARYLAND. ITS ALSO REFERRED TO AS “THE PRESIDENTS HOSPITAL”.

He is 17 years old, already a MASTERMIND and a Professional Gamer. He is so smart like me, that he had to design/build/code his own computer because there is not a computer on the planet that can keep up with his level of gaming. I saw a photo of it. Its a desktop computer with the case taken off the side--lit up with blue LED lights

It’s Confession Time and Holy Communion Time that means confess your sin, wrongdoing, break bread, eat bread, drink wine, not whine. No days off, no excuse, no immunity, no setups, no blame game, no liars, no stealing, checks and balances, no absolute power because absolute power fosters absolute corruption, which is why were in this position right now with COVID-19, Corona Virus.

I think one person needs a pardon because he has stayed on the job, even though he was originally lied to by the Feds. He deserves a pardon, record expunged, and an opportunity. I see great potential, just needs an opportunity, believe in himself, and have the courage to escape his own prison of gold diggers, groupies, fans, and whores.

In this triad, it is a rags to riches story times three. There is only 1 TRUE VERSION of ME, and its right here in Memphis TN, age: 41(Birth Cert).

To succeed in any sports game, you must be fit, educated, content with yourself to include your pros/cons/demons and knowledgeable & intelligent enough to know that I am certified True OG, I got your back no matter what because to me money ain’t a thing, fame fades just like stars, but loyal dogs do not turn on their master unless they are abused or hungry. I am a Blue AKC Royal Bloodline Pitbull, Staffordshire Terrier. Pitbull is the image you need to have in your mind when you think of ME.

#donations #loyalty #888 #TRUMP2020 #IG #WHISTEBLOWER ACT #RULES #ESPNSPORTS #RAPGODS #GREEKGODS #GOD #CLASHOFTITANS #THEGAME #THEROCK #GLUE #DOCTORS #LAWYERS #COWBOYS #DANCE #L.I.F.E. #LOVE #SM #EM

#NEED SOME COM[ANY AND VITAMIN D

BLUE, COME ON UNLESS YOU ARE “CHICKEN” “SCARED”

I PROMISE I WILL NOT BITE. BUT, I AM STARVING, LONELY, NEED MONEY TO CREATE AND LAUNCH MY DREAMS TO POSITIVELY AND EFFECTIVELY CHANGE THE WORLD WHICH WILL PLACE ME AND PRESIDENT TRUMP IN THE HISTORY BOOKDS. AND THE HISTORY BOOKS ARE GOING TO BECOME FACTBOOKS, AND HISTORY CLASSES WILL BE MANDATORY THROUGHOUT LIFE REGARDLESS OF AGE, POSITION, JOB, FINANCIAL STATUS BECAUSE THE BEST EDUCATION IS A “CONTINUOUS EDUCATION”. IF YOU DO NOT CONTINUE LEARNING, YOU BECOME RUSTY AND THEN, YOU CANNOT KEEP UP THE FAST PACED CHANGES OF ADVANCE TECHNOLOGY IN THE REAL WORLD AND IN THE REAL GAME OF LIFE.

RECOMMENDATIONS ARE AS FOLLOWS:

1. DONATE MONEY TO MY CAUSE ON CASH APP

$BLUEDOGBITEMAFIA888

DO NOT HACK MY PHONE OR MY LAPTOP, DO NOT HACK ANYTHING OR ANYBODY BC YOU CANNOT DO IT BETTER THAN U.S. BC U.S. CREATED THE INTERNET IN WASHINGTON DC AT THE PENTAGON CALLED “DARPANET” IN 1974. THE FIRST COMPUTER WAS AN APPLE, SECOND COMPUTER WAS MICROSOFT. A GOOD BRAND IS A HP WITH MS WINDOWS. I HAVE A BLUE HP LAPTOP STREAM, I HAVE A BLACK APPLE IPHONE 7. I AM ON A WIFI WITH A VPN THAT KEEPS GETTING DISABLED. THE SOUND ON MY PHONE DOES NOT WORK. I AM BACKING UP BOTH DEVICES AND GOING TO RESET TO FACTORY SETTINGS SO I CAN GURANTEE EFFECTIVE DIGITAL SECURITY.

2. I NEED COMPANY TO SIT WITH ME, DRINK WITH ME. I WOULD LOVE SOME JACK AND COKE OR A BUD LIGHT. I WOULD ALSO LOVE SOME FOOD THAT CONTAINS RED MEAT TO ASSIST ME WITH MY BLOOD PROBLEMS. BUDDY OR BLUE OR YO -- FIGURE IT AND SEND ME SOMEONE I KNOW. I AM TOO PRETTY AND TOO COOL TO BE CHILLING BY MYSELF WITH NO FOOD, NO ALCOHOL, NO MONEY, NO WEED, ETC.

3. SELF EVALUATE OR DO A PEER REVIEW/. SELF EVALUATION IS LOOKING AT YOURSELF IN THE MIRROR AND THINKING ABOUT YOUR LIFE. I LIKE TO WRITE THINGS DOWN, IF HELPS ME. IT WILL BRING ABOUT A SENSE OF UNDERSTANDING WHO, WHAT, WHY YOU ARE WHO YOU ARE, HOW YOU BECAME PERSON, AND DESIGN YOUR OWN ROADMAP TO BEING A BETTER PERSON AND OPENING YOUR HEART TO REALIZATION THAT THE CHILDREN ARE THE FUTURE, RIGHT WE ARE THE WORLD, WE CAN ACHIEVE GREATNESS, A NEW TYPE OF MAGIC “UTOPIA”.

WHAT ARE YOU ABOUT? WHAT DO YOU WANT OUT OF LIFE? ARE YOU HAPPY WITH YOURSELF? CAN YOU FREE YOUR MIND? CAN YOU OPEN YOUR HEARTS? CAN YOU COMMIT? DO YOU KNOW WHEN TO WALK AWAY? WHAT DO YOU BELIEVE IN? DO YOU HAVE CONFIDENCE? ARE YOU IN YOUR OWN PRISON--YOUR MIND, YOUR FEELINGS, YOUR RELATIONSHIP STATUS?

WISDOM COMES WITH TIME, EXPERIENCE, EDUCATION, HARD WORK, SERVICE, LOYALTY, PURPOSE, AND TRAVELING.

At the end of the day, who do you want to be with?

Woman - Wise can deliver the world or drop the world, age 41 -- looks better than 20 & 30 year old GIRLS. Does not care about money, fame, status, power because the game was scheduled and unfortunately, unaware of the OP -- she walked, ran, sprinted STOLE the Flag, and won the game.

Everyone wants to still run their mouths, try to control a man, and those hos, have no power, position, fame, etc. They are with or around you because of who you are, what you have done, and what you can give them---in my opinion that is abuse of power and targeting someone to manipulating them to do what you want them to do.

I like structure, things to be done a certain way because I like cleanliness, organization, faith, love, hope, trust, and loyalty.

I would not cop an attitude with everyone, if I did not feel like the world was against me. Hint, hint -- I don’t trust authority figures because I was molested, abused, targeted, almost died several times, lied to, cheated on, setups, smear campaigns, gossiped about, bullied, beat on, yelled at, called names, jealous women everywhere so dumb they forget I have a hunger against Human Trafficking. People are on this RACISM BULL SHIT.

Its 2020, Racism = IGNORANCE AND IGNORANCE IS NOT BLISS ANYMORE, IGNORANCE IS DEADLY.

Basic belief system of Karma, it is a metaphysical/paranormal reality that is mixed with real, artificial, and soon-to-be virtual reality. It is what it is.

What you set your mind, what you do and the thoughts and actions you put into the world will either grant you your dreams or come back times three by the of karma, what goes around, comes around.

I want/will do good and be a good role model for everyone. I am going to teach, help you, do what I want, when I want, how I want because I know my worth, my value, and what I can GURANTEE/DELIVER.

Greed, jealousy, laziness, and all the ugly things that are in the world

WILL

get you no where but hungry, lonely but free, penniless, candy-less, eliminate sports.

COMMIT OR QUIT

MY MISSION WILL ENDURE AND CARRY ON UNTIL I FEEL MISSION ACCOMPLISHED. I DO NOT HAVE A FAILURE TO THRIVE AND I DO NOT LACK A WILL TO LIVE.

MY ISNT OVER, YET;

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realityhelixcreates · 4 years

Text

Lasabrjotr Chapter 63: Land of Enchantment

Chapters: 63/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Mature Warnings: none Relationships: Loki x Reader (There We Go) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Heimdall(Marvel), Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), What Beautiful Music They Make, Even When Diner Food Is Bad It’s Still Pretty Good, Not Very Healthy Though, Get Thee To A Waffle House

Summary: Loki visits Townsvill, USA

Loki had to admit a grudging respect for the human invention known as the internet. Such lawlessness. Such chaos. Such memes! And the fact that anything, anything at all, could be found there. Including information on the-to Loki's surprise-thousands of species of cicadas. It was one of the great mysteries of Midgard; this grand proliferation of living things. When just one version of something would have been fine, there somehow had to be dozens to thousands of kinds of that thing. Especially among the insect world. Why so many beetles? Why?

In your vast Iowa, there seemed to be almost twenty species, though, aside from size and color, there didn't seem to be much difference between them. They were all shaped like fat teardrops, with lacy, gossamer wings covering, but not hiding, their chubby, pointed abdomens. He did learn some interesting insect facts-there were some that only appeared every decade or so, some even went a full seventeen years without showing up, but when they did...

The word 'swarm' seemed to put it lightly.

Horrifying.

He learned about the singing frogs, and their whimsical names; the Bullfrog, the Chorus Frog, the Spring Peeper.

He researched the crickets, locusts, and grasshoppers.

He found recordings of all of these and more-coyotes, owls, the soft squeaking of bats. The loud, crepuscular Swifts, the equally loud, nocturnal Whip-Poor-Will, a well camouflaged bird named after its signature cry.

He could do something with all of this.

In the times in between doing his princely duties, he had things prepared. Some silk needed to be woven, some wooden frameworks made. It would take a little bit of time, but everyone worked faster when it was at the prince's request.

Once he had the blank 'canvas' on its series of wooden 'frames' he sent it to his favorite painters, with an image he wished for them to reproduce.

All the while he waited, he also dove into the study of your homeland.

Midgard was so very large, and he had spent so little time actually being there, and learning his surroundings. The sizes of countries baffled him sometimes. The United States was one of those countries that seemed to contradict its own existence. While not the largest of countries, it was still so large that its central government could not govern its entirety. Instead, it was broken up into 'states'; great chunks of land, many being so large as to be countries all their own. Each of these states governed themselves, reporting back to the central government. It was an odd arrangement, that struck Loki as woefully inefficient and ripe for rebellion.

In fact, his studies taught him that several such rebellions had occurred in the past, and had the possibility of rising again in the future.

He tried to listen to some of the music common to your nation-sized state, but could not stand it for more than a few songs. Modern Midgardian music was mostly terrible, in his opinion, lacking in melodiousness and refinement. The lyrics tended to be simplistic at best, examples of beginner's poetry.

He found some grudging enjoyment in the unusual instrumental achievements of what the radio stations called “Eighties Hits”, whatever that meant, but he would not be admitting that anytime soon.

The pictures and recordings didn't seem like enough. The music wasn't enough.

He needed to be there.

Loki could not take you to Old Asgard exactly, but he could make illusions to immerse you in the world in which he grew up. But you couldn't do that, you couldn't bring your homeland to him. If he was to understand you better, he would have to go there himself. Surround himself in your land, eat the food, breathe in the air.

And so he began planning a little vacation.

Or was it an espionage mission? No one other than Heimdall could know he was there: He was still very much a persona non grata in the United States. He could not take you with him. He would have to go in disguise. He would have to go at night, while you slept, so that you would not suffer for his distance from you.

Maybe someday he would be allowed back; to take you back to see all your friends and neighbors. Until then, he would just have to bring some of it back to you.

One evening, he kissed your forehead gently, telling you that he had an errand to run, and might not be back until morning. You were tired; it was clear to him. You didn't even question what he would be doing.

As he left the city limits, he let his outline shimmer and fade away, replacing himself with features that would be less likely to draw suspicion. Soon there was nothing but a grizzled old man in worn jeans and a stretched out black tee shirt. Boring. Ordinary. Unremarkable.

All the things he was sure he was not.

Heimdall met him with a sarcastic stare.

“What have we here?” He said in a flat voice. “A lost, Midgardian peasant? I suppose I shall have to send you home.”

In a time past, Loki might have felt bashful, but that was before he had realized that the gatekeeper had a sense of humor drier than the center of a star. Now he only felt grateful about how willing Heimdall was to break the rules.

“I wish to learn some things.” Loki said. “It's for the good of my subjects.”

“Plural?” Heimdall questioned. Loki pursed his lips and looked away. Heimdall twisted the sword.

The light gathered Loki up, and flung him across the sea.

*****

The fields were vast in the dying light, stretching so far on every side, that it was impossible to see their end. The only break in the tall rows was the equally endless road Loki walked. He could smell the green plants as the sun disappeared beneath the corn, and the dust, and the mud in the roadside ditches.

Heat distorted the distance, assaulting his senses, but not as much as the noise.

Everywhere, every cubic inch of the world was the sawing scream of cicadas. It filled his skull, filled his bones, inescapable and omnipresent. How did you sleep in this? How could anyone sleep here?

But as he walked, as the day faded and the night awoke, Loki began to hear the song. The insects cries had a rhythm that rose and fell in rounds, constantly changing as a frog in a ditch puddle sang along, as crickets among the corn roots added their harmonies. The interruptions as something, perhaps himself, disturbed the nearest singers, causing them to fall silent, and change the melody entirely.

The whole world around him was alive, and reveling.

A dome of light on the horizon indicated your town. He would be there soon, an hour's walk at most.

The closer he got, the less he could see the emerging stars, a problem even the smallest of Midgardian settlements seemed to have. There were more vehicles too, several of them stopping to ask if he needed help. These he waved away with a friendly declaration that he was just out for a nice evening walk.

Eventually, there came a break in the cornfields, a wide verge between farmland and civilization. A sea of grass and barely visible wildflowers, closed up against the darkening night. He leaped over the ditch and strode a few feet into it, focusing on the last vestiges of wildflower scent, of the insects that rose into the air, the evening choir all around him.

The flashlight shining in his face, the stern questioning of an officer. The warning to move along. He wasn't even bothering anybody, and still, he was somehow in trouble.

The officer also offered him a ride, but Loki didn't trust it. A ride to the local prison maybe. The fellow was a bit too canny; he didn't seem to believe a thing Loki said.

He finally passed a city limit sign, that boasted of its two thousand residents. Smaller, even than Asgard, yet you'd spent your whole life here. Hemmed in by cornfields, like great, green walls. Lulled by the song of nature. Sick, and starving, and scared, without him.

And for a year of it, nearly alone, surrounded by dead fields, like even greater walls, no word from the outside world. Isolated, endangered, without even a single member of your family to draw comfort from. All because of Thanos. Just like Thor had been, in the aftermath. Just like he had been, after he fell.

But never again. None of you had to be alone now.

For a town, the place was surprisingly empty. There were large spaces between buildings, overgrown lawns and poorly manicured houses. There were churches; though in this country, there seemed to be churches on every corner. There was the grocery store he had taken you from. The memory had grown soft and treasured in his mind. The way you had fallen so dramatically in front of him, like a swooning maiden faced with raw power. The way life had flowed back into your limbs when he touched you, the way strength seized your soul, and you had so adorably tried to break his nose.

All he had felt then was your warmth. The blow might have felled a human man, but he was so much more. And he had since proven that to you. Mostly.

You still weren't ready for further steps into this relationship. That was okay. You had a busy life now, lots to think about. Your days were full of so much more than just deciding what icing to put on the cupcakes.

Speaking of...

Loki wandered the isles of the grocery store, imagining that you had done the same. Day in, day out, up and down these cramped, harshly lit shelves, until it was memorized. He stood outside the bakery section-closed by this time of night-knowing that you had spent years in that very spot. How the work of your hands had been appreciated by everyone who had bought any of the wide variety of baked goods on display, but had never been attributed to you. Every worker in this place wore the same uniform, the same hat, the same color. They were forced into facelessness.

You had worn that same uniform when he first found you. You'd lost your hat in the mire outside New Asgard, and he'd had the ugly, ill-fitted uniform thrown out. Only the apron remained, decorated, bettered, made more worthy of you and what you were becoming.

Loki adored the style of clothing you wore now; a mix of traditional Midgardian forms and Asgardian details-as unique in its position as you were. And you had taken to it so naturally! It would be nice to see you in some purely Asgardian pieces though. Specifically, Asgardian lingerie...

Loki tore his wandering mind away from that alluring subject, lingering instead on the array of presumably delicious baked goods before him. There were confetti cupcakes with galaxy-colored icing, covered in glitter, labeled 'Sayd-cupkakes', and a little photoshopped picture of you with rainbows and sparkles fountaining from your hands. He was sorely tempted to filch it, but he had already stolen something from this place.

On a table next to the cupcakes, there were green iced croissants, slightly unfurled before baking, in order to make them look less like a swirl, and more like bulls horns. These were labeled 'Lossants', and Loki struggled with amusement at the awful puns, and awareness about how inappropriate this probably was, considering all he had done. This would never have gone over in New York. The store would have been shut down immediately.

But your old workplace honored you. And seemed to at least acknowledge the reality of himself. If this tiny town could do that, perhaps there was hope yet.

Loki headed down the street, where it seemed a majority of the local eateries were located, and chose the most rustic looking. This would be the place where the local poor would eat, when they could afford to.

The décor was odd to him-it seemed there was little thematic cohesion, with everything from old signs, to movie posters, to farm animals made of wood or tin affixed to the walls. The false leather of the booth seating was red and cracked, and the yellowish lighting threw a grungy pall over everything.

Even in the guise of a rough old man, Loki managed to charm the waitress, ordering a combo plate of breakfast foods, which he was pleased to find were served all day. These were delicious, but he could see how they would be unhealthy for a human, who burned calories at a slower rate than Asgardians did. But Loki knew that peasants of both species needed hearty fare, to do the work that they did.

Personally, Loki found these 'waffles' to be delightful in taste and texture. Did you like these? Had you sat in this seat, smiled at this waitress, eaten waffles off these plates? Did you like this sublime sweetness known as maple syrup?

Or did you eschew these things in favor of the protein? These heavy scrambled eggs, the crunchy bacon, the sausage that was uncomfortably greasy. Asgardian food had been refined over millennia to provide for the needs of mighty warriors: it would be much healthier for you than this.

But maybe he could have some greasy sausage brought for you sometimes. He knew how you loved strong flavors.

He could feed you little tidbits. You could lick his fingers.

Again, Loki had to drag his thoughts away from such subjects, and concentrate on satisfying his other hungers. He had to pay with Icelandic money, bespelled to look like American dollars, but he would likely not be back this way again, so it wouldn't matter when the spell wore off.

Besides, they could just exchange it, couldn't they? It was the correct amount.

He wandered out into the night, allowing himself to get lost in the streets of your town. It was mostly quiet, but the sounds of music and television sets could be heard inside the houses, and cars ran back and forth infrequently on the hot streets. There was smoke in the air, the sounds of gatherings in backyards, and even here, the cry of cicadas. Loki located your 'High School', and what must have also been your 'Middle School', and 'Elementary School', though he still didn't understand the distinction. But there was only one of each in this little town, so you must have attended at least one. Perhaps you had been selected for the 'High school' due to your intellectual acuity? But then why were you still a peasant among humans?

You were exalted in Asgard now, paramour to a prince. He wanted to believe that it didn't matter, but it was your upbringing. It was what had shaped your personality, and informed your outlook on life. This town, with its run down buildings and overgrown lots, fenced in by walls of corn, it had created you. This was your true maker; it moulded you, and was still a part of you, like the Shining Realm would always be a part of him, no matter what was going by the name of Asgard now.

Loki was not so sure that he really liked this place. For being so flat and open, it still felt hemmed in and constricting. But he liked you, so he liked something of this place.

He walked all the way to the other side of town, and out towards the corn. There was a verge here as well; grass and wild plants between the town and fields, and he lay down there, watching the stars go by.

He must gave dozed off, because next he knew, he was waking to a different song. Birds made up the chorus this time, and he sat up to the rising scent of clover, their little pink and white flowers heated by the light of the morning sun. They mingled with the honeysuckle vine winding along the fence behind him, and-yes those were the flowers you had shown him in the Akureyri botanical garden.

Eager to be gone before anybody noticed, he gathered a bouquet of the cheerful, purple blooms. These he pressed into your hands when you greeted him on his return, as well as a quick kiss on the top of your sleepy head

If you wondered how he had gotten them, you were too drowsy to ask, and he bid you go back to sleep. You could both be late today.

#lasabrjotr #loki (marvel)#loki x reader #Heimdall (Marvel)

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pookiethefrickinbunn · 5 years

Text

Human Shield, Gunpoint, and Dragged Away- Whumptober 2019 No. 4,5,& 6

Hydra infiltrates Midtown High in search for Peter Parker, and they're not above killing someone if need be. Peter just has to figure out how to save his school and get help at the same time.

If you want to be tagged, send me an ask!

@whumptober2019

Read Here on Ao3

Content warning: school shooting (kinda) and gun violence.

Peter should have known something was wrong when the internet went down. He had been sitting in his third period class, English, when it happened. One moment they were watching a video on the summary of Othello on YouTube, and the next moment the video stopped to buffer. Mrs. McCall has tried refreshing the page, only to get a message that told her she was not connected to the internet.

“Rats,” the thirty-something year old teacher hissed under her breath. “Well, there goes my plan for the next thirty minutes.” With that she looked up to give her students a tight smile. “Why don’t we have a study hall while I make some calls to the I.T. Department and get this sorted out,” she said. A few students whooped in giddy approval before the class fell in a hum of busy work.

“Is anyone’s phone working?” Ned whispered loudly a few minutes later, catching the attention of a few of his classmates that surrounded him. And of course Peter, the kid who had super hearing.

The teen tried ignoring his classmates, focusing on his trigonometry homework that he was hoping he could finish up before school ended. If he got that done, he wouldn’t have to worry about it all weekend long. Of course Peter’s curiosity got the better of him and soon he found himself checking his phone for service as well.

Low and behold, Peter’s three month old Stark Phone, that was connected to FRIDAY, didn’t have a signal. That was the second time Peter should have realized that something was wrong. Of course the teen chalked it up to some weird magnetic emission that might be happening in the area. It seemed plausible, and things like that normally sorted themselves out in a short amount of time. So Peter ignored it.

A quiet hum fell over the class as they quietly worked on their assignments, only to be disturbed by the PA system clicking on. The entire class jumped in reply and the secretary from the office spoke.

“Sorry to bother you Mrs. McCall, I would call but our phone system is down,” a woman’s voice called out. “Can you send Mr. Parker to the office please?” And just like that all heads turned to look at Peter. Some looked unamused, while some seemed a little upset that he was the cause of their interruption of study hall.

“Um. Yes, of course,” the teacher said hesitantly, giving the boy in question a look. Peter couldn't tell what the meaning was behind it, but she looked confused. Maybe a bit concerned.

“Thank you Mrs. McCall,” the secretary replied and suddenly it was quiet again.

“Peter, you’re welcome to take your things and go. I’m not sure how long you’ll be there,” Mrs. McCall admitted, watching her Student.

“Thanks,” the teen said under his breath as he pushed all his belongings into his bag. The only thing he could think about was the reason he was being called to the office. He hadn’t acted up in school lately, and his grades were doing fine. Peter began to worry about it as he slipped out of his desk and out of the room, but suddenly he’s mind started turning to darker things. What if May or Tony were hurt? What if all the phones were down and someone was there to collect him and let him know something was wrong. With those thoughts in his head, Peter did his best to pick up the pace as he walked down the hall. The fact that he was being called to the office should have been the third warning that something was wrong. But how could Peter know?

Things drastically changed, though, as soon as Peter stepped foot into the front office. Everything looked fine, it seemed fine, but it wasn’t. Ms. Gruss, the school secretary, sat quietly at her desk, blankly starring at her computer. Principal Morita could be clearly seen through his office door window, and he seemed focused on something laying on his desk. So why was Peter’s spider-sense going crazy?

“Hi Peter,” Ms. Gruss said tightly as the door closed behind the teen. Peter looked around for a second before his eyes landed on the woman. Her eyes were narrowed and her lips were held tight at she looked at the boy. “Principal Morita needs to talk with you,” She said, suddenly pushing a clipboard across her desk. “Please sign the sheet saying you are having a meeting with him and then you’re free to go inside.” All Peter could do was give the woman a confused look as he tried to ignore his brain that was screaming at him to find cover.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Peter huffed as he took a few more steps towards the desk. “I just don’t remember having to do this last time I was here. It kind of through me off,” Peter admitted, snagging the pen and getting ready to sign in.

“Oh yes. It’s a new policy, only a few days old. We’re just trying to keep track of meetings now, that’s all,” Ms. Gruss hummed. And with that Peter looked down at the paper on the clipboard to sign in, only to see three letters in large black sharpie scrawled across the paper.

RUN.

Peter’s body stayed still but his eyes instantly shot up to make eye contact with the woman who sat in front of him. She seemed to be in an almost stature like state as well, except for her eyes that bounced back and forth from Peter to Principal Morita’s office. -- And just like that Peter could hear it. The additional six heartbeats that the boy hadn't noticed before now rung out loudly from the principal’s office. The distinct sound of a gun cocking sent shivers down Peter’s spine but the smell of gunpowder made him utterly sick.

“Peter,” Ms. Gross, said firmly, bringing the teen out of his thoughts. “Sign the paper. Morita can’t wait all day,” She said, tapping the word twice before giving him a hard look. All the boy could do was look up at her with his big brown eyes and let out a hitched breath. He couldn’t just leave her and the principal, they were obviously in danger. In fact, the teen found himself shaking his head but the woman in front of him tapped the clipboard one more time. “Mr. Parker. We don’t have all day, sign the paper,” She insisted, her voice starting to shake. The two looked at each other again and then slowly Peter backed away.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered to her before turning around and bolting out of the room. It was quiet for a few moments as Peter ran down the hallway, but soon his enhanced hearing picked up the desperate pleas of Ms. Gruss as two other males shouted at her. He half expected to hear a gunshot, yet nothing happened.

Now Peter’s first instinct was to get out of the building. They were obviously after him, that much seemed to be clear. But the more Peter thought about it, the more he deemed that that would not be a good decision. He would save himself, but at the end of the day one of his schoolmates risked getting hurt. And Peter couldn't let that rest on his conscious. So staying in the school it was.

The other, more logical option was to call Mr. Stark. He would come and save the day and everyone would be safe. Or at least that was the more logical option, until Peter pulled out his phone.

Right. The signal wasn’t working.

Okay. So this was planned out, Peter knew that much. These people had blocked all signals from going in and out of the school. No one could call for help. They specifically had called him to the office and were waiting there for him, so this was one hundred percent about Peter. This wasn’t random. Meaning that perhaps no one would get hurt if he stayed close by and tried to deal with the intruders. The only problem was, were they there for Peter Parker, or Spider-Man?

In the short amount of time it had taken Peter to determine all of that, he had made his way down two separate halls and into another wing of the school. The teen had taken a moment to slow down and catch his breath, and decide what to do next when suddenly there was a person standing directly next to him.

“Hey, Penis. I don’t think you’re allowed to run in the halls.”

Now Peter knew that it was Flash, he really did. (Because who else called him penis?) But being in the situation that he was, and not expecting to see anyone else in the hall, the teen let out a shriek, nearly jumping out of his skin.

“Woah there Parker!” Flash laughed as he clapped his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “No need to pee your pants,” the other boy said as he looked at his peer up and down. “You got a hall pass or something?” he then asked, raising a single eyebrow.

“A-a what?” Peter squeaked.

“Don’t play dumb, dipshit. You know you can’t be out here without a hall pass,” Flash said as he removed his hand from Peter’s shoulder to cross his arms. Right, Flash was a hall monitor during his free track. A few questionable thoughts as to why Flash even had that job popped into Peter’s head but he did his best to shake them away.

“Flash, listen. I know you never do, but just listen this once,” Peter begged as he pulled Flash deeper into the corridor and away from the crossroads of the hallway.

“Parker, come on! Don’t bring up one of your excused to try and get out of this. You’re out here without a hall pass. That means taking you to the office is my responsibility,” Flash argued, rolling his eyes.

“No, listen to me you big idiot I-” Peter whisper-yelled, only to be abruptly cut off by loud talking from a group down the hall, followed by a gun cocking. The sound was so different from anything that Peter or Flash had ever heard at the school and the two quickly looked at each other in silence before scrambling down the hallway, looking for a place to hide.

“Here, here!” Peter whispered as he came to stop at a display table, it had a large tablecloth hanging off of it and it went down to the floor on all sides. It would be a close fit, but the two teens could make it work. With a backwards glance Flash dove under the table, followed by Peter. The following moments were excruciatingly long as the two boys waited for the voices to pass.

“You two take the East Wing, go door by door. We have people posted at every exit and the campus perimeter surrounded. We would know if Peter had left the building. And he hasn’t, so find him,” a man barked as he gave orders to the two other people with him. “He’s dangerous, so shoot him if you need to, just don’t kill him.”

By this time the group was directly in front of the table and Peter and Flash pushed themselves together to make themselves smaller. Flash’s eyes were wide and he had his hand clamped over his mouth to try and keep his loud breathing contained. The two boys looked at each other as the group spoke, silently communicating with their eyes.

What the fuck?

I don’t know!?

The two sat like that as the group disappeared around the corner and continued to sit under the table a bit longer before Peter poked his head out. No one was there, and he couldn’t hear anyone walking around the halls within a few hallways. They should be safe to move.

So on shaky hands, the two boys crawled out from their hiding space, only to move down the hall in the opposite direction in (short lived) silence.

“What the hell is going on Parker?” Flash whispered as he hit Peter on the shoulder. “Who are those guys? Why do they have guns? What kind of gang shit are you into?” Flash demanded. Peter could only stop and glare at the boy.

“Listen Flash, people are going to die if I don’t do something quick,” Peter whispered desperately. “This probably has something to do with Mr. Stark so-”

“Come on man! This is not the time to talk about your fake internship with Tony Stark,” Flash whispered as he continued to hit Peter. “I’m really freaked out and you lying isn’t helping,” the boy said, his voice shaking. And in that moment Peter realized that the details weren’t important. Flash didn’t need to know specifics.

“I know, I know! I am too,” Peter admitted. And it was the truth. Every time he went out as Spider-Man, he was stopping people from doing bad things that had nothing to do with him. This though? It was all about him. He was the reason that so many people were in danger. “Look, it doesn’t matter. All you need to do is get to the closest classroom and barricade the doors. Get them on lock down, and don’t be seen!” Peter said, his mind moving a mile a minute.

“And what are you going to do?” Flash asked, and honestly the answer weighed heavy on Peter’s chest.

“I don’t know,” Peter admitted, his voice cracking as he scrubbed at his eyes. “I’ll lead them back to the front, I guess. That’s were the least amount of people are. I can try and-”

“Wait,” Flash said, his voice growing in volume as he spoke. “You’re telling me you’re going to take them on, all on your own? Are you an idiot? You can’t do that,” the bully said, grabbing Peter’s arm as he tried to pull away from their small gathering.

“Flash. Please. I don’t have time to argue,” Peter said, his heart drumming in his throat as he spoke. “Our entire school could be killed if I don’t-”

“I hear voices, over here-” A voice called out, making the two freeze. The two boys instantly looked at eachother and quickly scrambled towards the opposite end of the hallway, only to get cut off by another group of men.

“We’ve located Peter Parker,” one man said into a radio as the two groups advanced on the boys. Soon there were four men in front of them while the two were backed up against the wall. And to Peter’s surprise, Flash was standing directly in front of him, holding his left arm out as if to shield Peter from the group.

“Peter Parker, Peter Parker,” One of the men said, stepping apart from the group. “We really didn’t want to involve others. You know, minimal casualties. But the second you ran from that office we had to change things,” the man said sternly, making Peter’s blood run cold.

“Ms. Gruss?” Peter asked, trying to build up his courage to actually step out from behind Flash.

“The secretary? Yeah. Sorry, she didn’t make it,” the man said with a dark chuckle. “All though I really didn’t check, we just left her to bleed out with that principle of yours. Maybe there’s still some life left in her.”

“What do you want from him?” Flash suddenly interjected, surprising both Peter and the men.

“It doesn’t concern you, boy,” The man said as he lifted his pistol, holding Flash at gunpoint.

“No, don’t do it,” Peter said loudly, pushing Flash so that the role was reversed and Peter was the one in front. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t hurt anyone else. Please. I’ll go with you, I won’t put up a fight. Whatever you want,” Peter insisted, his mind suddenly thinking of all the people who would be hurt if he didn’t just go. Ned, MJ, Betty, Brad, Mrs. McCall, Flash, and then countless other students that attended the school. Not to mention two people were probably dead because of him. The thought made him sick and Peter was desperate to turn the situation around, any way necessary.

“Perfect,” the man smirked. “Just come with us,” he said with a smile, and then suddenly Peter’s world exploded.

The fact that he had been shot did not actually occur to Peter when it first happened. All that Peter registered was that something loud had gone off in the hallway. Then came a large focused pain in his upper right hip. It honestly felt like Peter had been hit by a baseball bat...that was swung by the Hulk. It hurt so bad and knocked the wind out of him. Peter opened his mouth to suck in a breath, but nothing was coming in.

“PETER, PETER,” the teen heard from above him and his body crumpled to the floor. Peter thought it might be Flash calling his name, and his thoughts were confirmed when he found the other boy leaning over him. “-eter. Oh my God. Oh my God,” Flash gasped, his hands hovering over his classmate’s body. Peter opened his mouth to let Flash know he was okay but suddenly another shot went off and Peter found himself screaming.

He had been shot another time, and this time he felt the pain full force. A wet scream bubbled from his throat and Peter began to feel his vision tunneling as he looked up at the panicked face of his classmate. The pain was so much that he couldn’t even focus his thoughts anymore, his brain was just mush.

“Flash. Flash,’ Peter babbled, his words slurring together.

“Grab him, take him back up front,” the shooter demanded as the remaining men advanced on the two boys, causing Flash to grab Peter’s shoulders and hold him against his body.

“Get away from him you sick fu-”Flash said, only to get cut off by getting the butt of a gun slammed into his face, knocking him out cold.

“Stay down kid,” the man hissed, peeling a very lethargic Peter from the other boy’s hands. After readjusting his grip to Peter’s hair, the man began to drag Peter down the hallway and towards the front office.

Peter let out a strangled yell as he tried to twist away from his captor, but he didn’t have any strength left. He just had to let them take him.

----

Five hours had been too long. It had been Five hours since Midtown Science had been infiltrated by HYDRA agents, and no one had been alerted until an hour had already passed. Gunshots had sounded in the hall and that had put teachers into lock down. Of course no signal was going in or out of the building until after the agents had left. They had been gone for nearly an hour before someone was able to call the police. From there it took another hour for police to get there and alert parents who had not been contacted by their children, and another two before the school was cleared of any threat and the children and faculty were evacuated.

Tony had been notified at hour three when May called him in hysterics. The two quickly made their way down to the school and waited for more news.

“Come on man, just let me in there. My kid is there,” Tony said as he tried to get into the school. He partly wanted to just bust down the door with his suit and just take care of the problem, but he needed to be there for May. Plus, they didn’t have a lot of info on what was actually happening. Just that there had been gunshots.

“Everyone’s kid is in there Mr. Stark. Not just yours,” the police chief had responded as he stood in front of the blocked off entrance. “Just sit tight. We’ll have them out soon,” the man reassured. So Tony and May waited, and waited.

Eventually the school was cleared and students began to file out. Tony’s heart slowly began to sink, though, as all the other students ran to their parents, yet he and May were still empty handed. So Tony, being the impatient man that he is, asked FRIDAY to pull up the count.

“Hey man,” Tony said again as he jogged back over to the police chief. “My kid isn’t out here, he should be here. Was he maybe taken to the hospital or something?” Tony asked, his heart pounding in his chest. The officer frowned for a moment before reaching for his radio.

“Booker, I need info. Who’s been taken to the hospital? We got any casualties?” It was silent for a moment but soon someone was responding.

“We’ve only taken two to the hospital. Principal Morita and a kid named Eugene Thompson,” the man replied. “Only causality we have is a woman by the name of Jeannin Gruss,” he finished out.

“That Eugene kid yours?” the police chief asked, and Tony weakly shook his head.

“No,” Tony muttered as he looked back at the swarm of people. His kid wasn’t here. “Listen,” Tony then said, quickly turning on the chief. “You need to let me in there right now. He’s not out here. Just let me go look for him,” Tony begged, only to get a shaken head in return.

“No can do Mr. Stark.”

Tony felt sick as he listened to the man, and suddenly the police didn’t matter. Calling his suit, Tony strong-armed his way into the school. Peter had to be there. He was just hiding in some place that they hadn’t looked yet. Tony knew Peter was there, and that he was okay. He knew it.

Unfortunately, Tony's hopes were dashed when he rounded one of the hallway corners. There, in the middle of the hallway, was a long strip of red that pooled in one spot and then was smeared all the way down the hallway and around the next corner. Like someone had been shot and then dragged away.

“FRIDAY,” Tony gasped as he keeled down to touch the dried blood with the suit. “Whos is this? What am I looking at?” The inventor demanded.

It was quiet for a moment, but soon FRIDAY had an answer.

“I’m sorry boss, but it looks like it belongs to Peter Parker.”

#whumptober2019 #irondad #human shield #gunpoint #dragged away #whump #peter Parker whump #no. 4 #no. 5 #no. 6 #flash thompson redemption #school shooting #gun violence #kidnapping #gun shot wound #tony stark #spiderson

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365daysoftododeku · 5 years

Text

2nd August 2019

Author: Kenyoda

Admin’s Note: Another oneshot of @ebonyphd‘s Internet Friends AU! You can read the rest of the series over here!

________________________________________________________________

Unexpected Friends

Shouto had known that this was a bad idea from the moment Natsuo had suggested it. But he was too shy to actually ask Midoriya out on his own, so he leaped at the rather neat solution that his brother had offered at the time. His current partner - a guy this time - had been dying to meet Shouto. Natsuo claimed that Tenko was also a high nerd and that he and Shouto would get along like a house on fire.

Shouto was unconvinced.

The last partner his brother had was a snobby ableist that had also been “dying” to meet Shouto. They had spent the whole date “lamenting” over Shouto’s “misfortune.” They had no idea he could read lips. He had spent the whole time fuming: he was deaf, not dying. They were also super rude to Natsuo. He was quite glad when Natsuo dumped them.

Natsuo had suggested that Shouto and Izuku tag along on his date with his boyfriend to see a movie. That way, if things went well, Shouto could ask him on a real date. Shouto had reluctantly agreed, pretty much because he had no idea what to do otherwise. So here he was now, waiting for Izuku and this ‘Tenko’ to show up. When Tenko made an appearance with a blonde girl that looked like she walked out of a vampire manga, all of Shouto’s alarm bells rang at once.

He, presumably, was dressed in black from literally head to toe. If he did not know any better, Shouto would swear the open jacket they were wearing was from Empire Souls, specifically from Company XIII, one of the main antagonists of the game. Under that there was a black t-shirt with red lettering that said,

The Number of FXXXs I give today:

houto internally snorted at that. This was Natsuo’s boyfriend, huh? This was completely different than his usual dates. They were usually somewhat intelligent, sociable, but ultimately shallow. This guy screamed anti-social. As the two approached, Natsuo grinned. The hood of the jacket was thrown back, revealing white hair and red eyes. A devious smirk was etched into his face, but his eyes softened when they landed on his brother.

“Hey Nats!” greeted the blonde as they came to stand before them. Tenko just gave a halfhearted wave and mumbled something. Natsuo did not seem to be offended - in fact he smiled wider.

“Hey Tenko! Glad to see you made it! How did the competition go?” Natsuo asked as he stepped forward and hugged the shorter man. Shouto blinked in surprise when he hugged him back.

“Good,” was the only thing Shouto could make out from the angle. Suddenly, there was a tap on his shoulder. He turned to find a bright Izuku bouncing next to him. Shouto couldn’t help the grin that stretched across his face. He hugged his friend tightly, Izuku doing the same. It had been nearly 2 years since the two had become friends. They were both in high school, Shouto attending a school for the deaf and blind and Izuku one closer to his home. But they met often at each other’s homes, and they spoke all the time on Unplug. Izuku beamed at him again. Shouto’s heart jolted in response. He had also been pathetically crushing on him for the last year.

Shouto had tried on numerous occasions to tell his friend, but he always lost his nerve at the last minute. What could he offer Izuku? He couldn’t hear him - sure, Izuku never minded that he had to sign when they were together, but he could not expect him to want to do that forever, right? Izuku was clearly popular among his peers, and becoming more popular since his friends encouraged him to start the HeroTube channel to supplement his forum ramblings. He had seen personally that his friend was pleasant and attractive, especially after he bulked up to do a Valor cosplay. Izuku discovered that he loved working out and that Uraraka did too, so they continued. Sometimes Shouto would join them on runs.

Shouto had little to offer in return, so the thought of admitting his crush was a little daunting. Both his siblings had been insisting that he at least attempt to talk to Izuku about it but Shouto refused. He didn’t want to lose the easy friendship he had with the other boy. Izuku was currently rambling to him about some post he found regarding a potential TV serialization for Altered Reality Academia. Izuku’s facial expression turned curious and then he told Shouto that his brother was trying to get his attention.

Shouto turned to see Natsuo and Tenko standing in front of them, Tenko looking a bit curious. Natsuo formally introduced everyone. The vampire girl’s name was Toga Himiko. Then he was introduced to Shimura Tenko. He and his brother apparently met at the hospital where Natsuo was currently doing a hands on internship. Shouto, through Izuku’s helpful translations, asked the teen whether he had ended up there due to the vampire girl and Tenko laughed heartily. Natsuo scowled.

“No. I did not. I am apparently more of a vampire than she claims to be… I am actually allergic to the sun,” he said, surprisingly in sign language. When Shouto must have given him a surprised look, he explained that his sister was Hard of Hearing. Shouto found that it felt a little less weird now. That is, until Toga said that he looked good enough to eat; then he was momentarily afraid for his life. A sneak glance at his friend’s pale face said that Izuku felt the same. Tenko rolled his eyes and assured them that she had already “fed” and that they were safe.

Shouto was still dubious.

“So what are we seeing again?” Natsuo asked his boyfriend, signing for Shouto.

“Sako-chan is debuting his movie at this festival, neh neh— Ten-chan?” Toga said, her lips and curls moving rapidly. Natsuo stumbled translating a bit but Shouto got the idea. Ah, another friend is debuting a movie, huh? Interesting. Apparently, it was part of an independent film festival. It was called DartMan: The Dark Midlife Crisis. It was supposed to be a parody of edgy superhero films.

As the group made their way towards the building, he and Izuku caught up on their week. Shouto told Izuku about his thoughts on becoming a social worker or a lawyer. His friend thought that was an amazing idea and had no doubt that he could pull it off. When Izuku said that, Shouto couldn’t help the flush that washed over his face. He wanted to tell Izuku how much his support meant to him, but he couldn’t begin to form the words. His hands were shaking too bad. So he settled for a probably broken but vocal ‘thank you.’ Izuku beamed back. He then surprised Shouto by saying he was still thinking about what he wanted to do. This was unusual as Izuku had talked about being a comic artist for the longest time.

Izuku had always talked about his want to be the next Yagi Toshinori. His writing was excellent and his art was amazing. Shouto was sure he was a shoo-in for the art school he wanted to go to. It was part of a larger university. What had changed? He had entertained the notion of them going to that very same university together. He had thought that maybe mentioning it would not be a bad way to approach the crush problem. Start simple. After all, most people would probably run the other direction if someone suddenly blurted out that they would ‘dream of kissing them and never leaving their side ever again’ out of nowhere. But Izuku’s change in direction had thrown him.

“Why did you change?” he asked as they stood in line. Izuku looked thoughtful for a moment.

“Well, partially because of my mom and partially because I tried commissions for a while. Sure, it was nice getting the money and I did not mind drawing for people, but suddenly what I loved doing became a chore. I— I don’t want to lose what I love doing for money. So, I have been thinking lately that I should do my art for myself on my own time and find something else to do…” Izuku said, his face clearly saying he was not sure about it. “I still want to go to UA, though. They have good connections,” said the boy with a shrug.

“That doesn’t sound like you, though,” Shouto pointed out immediately. Izuku cringed. Shouto pounced on that, nerves be damned. His friend needed help and Shouto was going to give it. “What is really bothering you? Someone leave nasty messages about your work again?” Shouto asked. Izuku resolutely shook his head, even as he moved forward in line. “Then what is it?”

“My mom was talking with one of the neighbors and they said some things about how I was wasting my potential and that I was such a ‘smart boy’ and that mom was a bad parent for letting me waste my time,” he finally admitted, shoulders slumping. Shouto inwardly seethed. How dare they make Izuku feel bad about what makes him happy?!

“That’s bullshit! You are smart! That is what makes you so good at what you do! You would not be half the analyst you are if you weren’t! Sure, being a comic maker is not the first thing that people would think of for you, but that doesn't mean it's not what you are destined to do. Tell them to go pack sand,” Shouto argued. Izuku laughed, out of shock more than likely.

“Thanks Shouto, I just… I worry that I am not cut out for it… if I am not living up to my potential,” he said, forlorn. Shouto took the distraction to buy their tickets for the movie before Izuku could even protest. He then beckoned his friend to come along. Izuku pouted, saying it was not fair. Shouto just grinned.

“Don’t worry about it, you can pay next time,” he said with a grin, before turning scarlet. Way to be a pretentious ass! he berated himself. He was no better when he caught Izuku sporting a similar shade on his cheeks. Shouto decided to find another distraction. His eyes landed on his brother and Tenko walking together.

It was strange.

He had never seen Natsuo so relaxed around a date before. Most of the time, he was overdressed and drawn as tense as a bow string. Now though he was in a simple polo and a pair of jeans. He was walking with his arm around Tenko’s shoulder as they talked. They quietly laughed at some inside joke as Toga flitted around them all bouncing curls and energy.

He wondered if he and Izuku could ever be close like they were, so secure in their relationship. His eyes cut to Izuku and the boy seemed lost in his own head. But that was Izuku, forever dreaming. A soft smile pulled at his lips. Izuku’s eyes suddenly bugged and he turned red. Shouto was confused at first until he felt Izuku squeeze his hand. Then he felt his face heat.

When had he taken Izuku’s hand?!

But his friend only smiled bashfully as he stared at the floor. He did not let go of his hand. Shouto’s heart kicked in his chest. It was a lovely feeling. Maybe he had a chance after all? Shouto held his hand a little tighter. They settled into line for snacks and Shouto felt eyes on him. He looked up to see Tenko eyeing him as his brother talked with Toga about something. The ethereal looking teen gave him a kind, teasing smile.

‘Nice job,’ he mouthed before eyeing their joined hands then looking at him again. Shouto blushed again, but felt grateful all the same. Tenko had definitely been a nice surprise. The boy was strange and had equally strange friends but so far he had been nice. Far nicer than most people he had met since he had finally started escaping the house. Shouto smiled back and mouthed,

‘Nice jacket. Empire Souls?’

Tenko nodded before mouthing, ‘made it myself.’

Shouto gaped. Okay… maybe Natsuo was right. He was going to have to speak to his boyfriend more… maybe if he plucked up the courage… he could go on a real double date with them in future. That could be fun. He felt a tap on his shoulder.

‘What are you smiling about?’ Izuku mouthed.

‘The jacket is Empire Souls inspired. He made it,’ he mouthed. Izuku’s eyes lit up. He immediately started drilling Tenko for details. Shouto laughed, but he was keenly aware that despite his enthusiasm, Izuku still hadn’t let go of his hand.

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